There are many spells that bow before me but none that can rid my heart of this wound. Duny was a peculiar child. He came to me at a time that I felt nothing and brought to me the capacity to feel everything. He was not like his mother and if I ever did believe in miracles, that was the reason why. That woman was a despicable product of humanity and her death was well deserved. Nevertheless, I should have realised that apples don’t fall far from the tree. I gave to Duny the language of magic and he left me without a goodbye. I should have known better though… Men have nothing to give, only women to take.
There was a time where my hands did good. I blessed the crops, cured illness, brought the sun and smiled. That time has passed though. I am now a withered woman that sits in my cave, stirs my cauldron and becomes the witch the villagers see me to be. The life I have led has made me resilient but I now know that resilience only exists because my heart is cold. The villagers throw things at me and feel nothing. Yesterday a piece of timber came at my head and I turned to it, eyes wide open, and welcomed the hate. I am content with being seen as nothing because to myself, I am nothing.
“Open the door!” An outsider bellows.
Thinking my end is finally here, I let open the door. A man stumbles in with a blue child dying in his arms. Call it woman’s intuition if you will, but it doesn’t take much to identify death. The young boy moans and reaches for my wizardry.
“Please help my son! The fever is taking him!” The man squeals.
Whether it is seeing a man beg or a child teased to the other side, I cannot say no. I pick the boy up and lay him upon the dusted mat.
“Stand back.” I order the Father.
With a chant here and a wave of the hand there, the child’s life returns. The man places his hand upon my shoulder and speaks without asking.
“It’s a shame you’re a woman… you would make a great sorcerer.”
My aura pushes him away and changes its colour. I begin to wave my hands yet again. Pus claws through the boy’s skin as I boil him without water. His skin was blue, then it was brown and now it is red. His moans turn into screams as flesh falls through the slits in his skin. The father runs out the door and leaves a woman sitting in her cave, stirring her cauldron and becoming the witch they see her to be.
I have not much time. I lift myself from the river of the inside out boy and seek the book of all books. There it is. I snap at its spine and pull to my face. The villagers gather their weapons and ready the rope as each page undresses before me. There towards the very end is my saviour. I hold the book up high and begin the end while letting the image of a sparrow peck at my brain.
“Uzmi moju supstancu i stavi ga u ono što sam htio i tako , daj mi još jednu tvar!”
My clothing falls beneath me and I am but a bird, a mere witness of the horror in this hut. I release my wings from their locks and take for the open window. The sky becomes all that I have known and perhaps all that I will ever know.
Destiny is a God that many people of Earthsea serve. Of all the islands in this world, I ended up here and that is why I now serve destiny too. Every woman who knows magic has a sorcerer who taught her that magic. Mine is Adal, head sorcerer of Roke. As I sit on this tree, my soul nearly identical to that of a bird, I see him. He wonders along a bridge and without word, tells all of his power.
As a child, I was told stories of men who travelled through the water wearing fins. They soon forgot their humanity and became children of the ocean. I’m not a man though. I see Adal and I remember who I am. That man showed me my passion but he also gave birth to my hatred. At the time I did nothing but now I intend on doing everything.
Forty-two days. That’s how long it took to reclaim my body of wrinkles. My feathers are now skin but the remnants of the sparrow are still there. They always will be.
On the Eastern shore of Roke is where you will now find me, shrouded in my own spells. A cliff side has become my ceiling and beneath it I gather the power needed for redemption. I think I’m finally there though. The time has come. I will rise from my burial ground and seek out the sorcerer who bruised my life with his manhood.
The easiest way to find an emperor is to find the tallest building in the land. Naturally so, that is where they will reside. With handmade clothing and a staff carved from driftwood, I run from the lips of the ocean. My desires have awakened. There in the distance is the hill of Roke and on that hill is a tower standing taller than the rest. The moonlight becomes my torch and I follow a path of my own creation. If a woman is found on Roke, she will be turned into the very soil that lays beneath the feet of sorcerers. Come to think of it though, I have been coughing up soil for years. Nevertheless, I must be cunning because only the cunning can kill.
The door of the tower bows before me and I step in, as if finally returning home. Cobblestone stairs move beneath my feet and I come but a meter away from Adal. Time is not at my disposal. I lay my hands upon a body colder than my own and walk him to the end of the plank.
“Ti si čovjek bez duše i tako da ću uzeti dušu i ostavili samo čovjek!”
His eyes pry open revealing the demon I know him to be. I hold his breath within my hands and refuse to let go. Not this time. His body rattles on the bed demanding his life but he has no rule over me, for I am not a sorcerer. The colour purple scratches at his skin and makes itself known. This is my chance. I think back to the village, to my hut and pull from my bookshelf the book of all books. I need not search through the pages though because within me is the spell I need.
“Uzmi moju supstancu i stavi ga u ono što sam htio i tako, daj mi još jednu tvar!”
Every sorcerer on this land falls to their feet, offering me their entirety. Being the way I am, I cannot refuse either. For you see testosterone is an item of trade that sits between my legs and unlocks Earthsea. Its power is a riveting thing, a language that has become my mother tongue. What a wonderful world indeed… I sit in my tower, the tallest of them all, and carve the sorcerers of Earthsea. Well that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. I keep telling myself that this is wonderful. However, if I was truly content with what I have become then why can I not look into a mirror?
My eyes awaken into his body and my fear is carried by puppet strings before me. A mirror. It breathes at the end of my bed and screams with reflection, a song I do not crave. I rise from the silk and become acquainted with reality. In the mirror stands a man with three legs, with muscles undeserved and with eyes darker than I all I have known. Animal instinct, perhaps the product of the sparrow, drops a blade within his hand. I raise it to his neck and its bitter lips kiss at his dry skin. His staff rises from the ground and begins to dribble in anticipation. A new fate is forged. I lower the blade and let it at his staff. It whispers to each vein and eventually makes its teeth known. With a final wave of the hand, raspberry ripple smears the ground and his penis drops to its knees.