Check this out please. Have decided not to make Micah a baddie, rather an unwitting agent of trouble.
No title as of yet
Chapter One MIcah Small
The village of Sowston lies on the edge of the Dark Forest. The people of the village were pig breeders. Their animals spent as much time as possible in the clearings in the forest. Once a year, the pigs were rounded up and slaughtered, except for the boar and the breeding sows. The villagers had a huge feast at this time before sending the meat to the market in the capital city.
They made the mistake of ignoring a witch named Magrib one year. She was so annoyed by this that she put a spell on the villagers, which turned them into pigs. They would have stayed that way until the next hog day, when the next village down the road planned to round them up and slaughter them.
However, Magrib wanted to be the next Witch of the Dark Forest, so she boasted about her evil deed to a very good man called Eddo. He found a way to remove the spell. Verity Small reverted to human form and gave birth to a son at the exact moment the spell was broken. They gave him the name Micah.
He grew up in the village, being told how lucky the people had been to be rescued from the spell. He was fascinated by the thought of being able to do magic and spent as much time as he could trying his best to cast a spell. He failed utterly. Despite having spent some time as pigs, the village continued breeding pigs. Like every other child in the village, Micah spent much of his time herding the pigs in the forest. He grew to hate the pigs.
When he was old enough, he left the village and went looking for a way to be able to cast spells. He kept himself alive by poaching, and getting jobs as a casual farm labourer. While he was not a thief, as such, he could be best described as a collector of ill-considered trifles. In other words, if he saw something lying around, he would pocket it. He wandered up into the hills and found a ruined town. In a tumbledown tower, he found a strange box. It was about two of his hands long, one of his hands wide, and half of his hand deep. What made it strange was that it was lined with leather that looked as if it had been made from something like a snake. The material had scales.
Whatever had been in the box had long since turned to dust. Micah emptied it out and put it in his pack. It was ideal for keeping his few treasured possessions. He put his razor and a pair of scissors in it along with the few coins he got paid for working.
A little later, he chanced upon the village of Othermore. Wandering around the edge of the village, he found a clearing in the forest where there had been a bonfire. It struck him as being very odd.
The fire had happened a long time before he got there, yet the forest had not yet begun to reclaim the land. There was no grass or trees growing in the ashes. The fire must have been very hot for there to be nothing growing. Micah kicked at the ashes. He found a gold chain with a large jewel.
Micah picked up the gold chain and examined the large jewel. It was a deep red colour and seemed to be glowing slightly in the dim light of the clearing. He had never seen anything like it before.
As he held the chain in his hand, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was as if the jewel was pulsing with energy, almost as if it were alive.
He opened his pack, concerned, and placed the jewel inside. Even then, he could still feel it. He took it out again and stood deep in thought. Then an idea struck him. He opened the box, put the jewel inside, and closed the lid.
The strange sensation vanished instantly. He kicked some more of the ashes about, but there did not seem to be anything more to find. He picked up his pack and continued his journey.
The next village was only a few miles along the edge of the forest. He was offered work by Dulcie Wokeham, the local alewife. Ale had to be brewed every few days, as it went sour very quickly if left undrunk. Dulcie had damaged her back and needed someone to do the heavy lifting of the pots she used. Micah was glad of the job, as she also offered him somewhere to sleep.
Not being used to working with hot pans, Micah managed to scald his fingers. Dulcie looked at his red fingers and shook her head. "Not too badly damaged," she said. "I have an ointment that will help." She gently wiped it over his hand.
She smiled. "You are lucky," she said. "Not only do I make the ale for the village I also make the lotions, potions, and ointments that they need." While they were talking, one of the villagers knocked on Dulcie's door.
He showed her a large wart on the side of his hand. "Can you do something about this?" he asked. "Only I keep catching it and making it bleed." She sat the man down at the table and took a leaf from a pot of herbs. She covered the wart with the leaf and muttered some strange sounding words. She removed the leaf and threw it onto the fire. To Micah's astonishment, the wart had disappeared. The man muttered his gratitude and put a small coin on the table before leaving.
"What kind of herb is that?" Micah blurted out.
Dulcie laughed. "It is just a dandelion leaf, it does nothing. It is only to conceal the wart's disappearance."
"Then you must have used magic," Micah said.
Dulcie nodded. "It is a very simple little spell," she said.
"Then you must be a witch," Micah accused.
"No, no, no!" exclaimed Dulcie. "Don't say that." She looked around nervously. "There is only one witch, Calizone. She gets very angry if anyone else claims to be a witch."
"But you used magic to remove the wart?" said Micah.
"Calizone does not mind if we use simple little spells like that, as it saves her having to put up with a constant stream of visitors wanting small things like removing a wart." Dulcie told him.
"I see," Micah said, nodding. "Are there any more people like you who can do magic like that?"
Dulcie nodded. "Yes, most villages have someone like me. Wasn't there one in your village?"
Micah shook his head. "The only one in my home who wanted to do magic is me and try as I might, I do not seem to be able to."
He sighed and continued, "So, if you are not a witch, how come you can do magic?"
Dulcie felt sorry for this scruffy little man who seemed so eager to learn about magic. "I can only tell you what I know," she said. "As far as I understand, there are two kinds of magic, small and great. Great magic is what the witches of the Dark forest do. "You have to be really good at magic to practise it."
"What do you mean by great magic?" asked a puzzled Micah.
"Big spells, like putting a princess to sleep for a hundred years, or turning a whole set of villagers into pigs. Those kinds of spells take a lot of power to do. They also only last for a certain length of time, like a year and a day, or one hundred years, or whatever. They also have to have a way of being broken. So the princess one was broken when the prince kissed her." Dulcie said.
"The spell on my village was broken when all the food that the pigs were eating was turned to stone," said Micah excitedly. "So, what about small magic?"
"That is what people like me do. The spells are tiny and work right away," smiled Dulcie.
"If you are not witches, then what are you?" asked Micah. "And what were the words you muttered over the man's hand?"
Dulcie shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose you could call us 'charmers,"
"And what were the words you muttered over the man's hand?" asked Micah.
Dulcie shrugged her shoulders. "The words are just nonsense I made up to help me concentrate."
Micah was a little disappointed. He had hoped that the words were a spell that he could try for himself. "Are there any men who can do small magic?" he asked.
"There could be," Dulcie said slowly. "But I have never met one, and us charmers meet up once a year at the big market in the capital."
Micah sighed again. Then he looked at Dulcie carefully. "So you use your magic to help people, but if you wanted to, could you do nasty things with it?"
Dulcie frowned. "Yes, I suppose I could put the wart on someone or turn the ale sour, but why would I? The people here are my friends and neighbours and there would be no point in being horrible to them, and I am sure that the Witch of the Dark Forest would come calling if the villagers here went and complained about me."
"I just wondered," Micah said, blowing on his painful finger tips.
"Now," said Dulcie. "There is enough of the ointment for you for the next few days. I will wrap some of it in some leaves for you. Put it in your pack. Oh, and here is your payment for the work you have done."
Micah tried to open his pack, but his fingers were too sore to manage the straps. Dulcie undid them for him.
"There is a box in there," said Micah. "If you open it you can put the money and the ointment in it for safety,"
Dulcie took the box and opened it. She squealed in pain and quickly put the box lid down.
"What's the matter?" Micah inquired.
Dulcie clenched her fists. "The box," she said. "It is like sticking my hand inside a patch of really strong nettles. I can't touch it."
Micah shook his head. "I don’t understand. I have no trouble with touching it. "
Dulcie thought for a few moments, then she said, "I remember from stories I heard a long time ago, that there are some things that people who do magic cannot touch. The inside of that box must be made of something like that."
"Well, I can't do magic, so the inside of the box doesn't bother me," Micah explained.
"I will see if I can make your hand heal quicker," said Dulcie. "Then you can deal with your pack."
Micah held out his hands. Dulcie took hold of them gently and muttered some strange sounding words. They both looked at his reddened fingers. Nothing happened. Dulcie tried again. Again nothing happened. Micah's fingers stayed red.
"Odd," said Dulcie. "That spell has always worked before." "I hope that box has not made it so I cannot do magic anymore."
She dropped Micah's hands and went over to a lamp. She muttered something. The lamp did not light. She tried again. The lamp still did not light. She frowned in concentration and muttered the word fiercely. The lamp lit. "I have never had to work that hard on that spell before, " she said. "Your box seems to have taken away some of my power. You had better pack your things and leave before you do any more harm."
Despite the pain, Micah slipped the money into the box. He did not notice that as he opened it, the jewel inside glowed faintly red for a moment. There was a split second of the odd sensation again, almost too brief for him to notice. "I am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to harm you."
"Well, " said Dulcie. "Either your box or you has done something to my power, so please just go." He shouldered his pack and left, deep in thought.
What he did not know was why he could not do magic. His birth at the moment the spell was broken had had a strange effect on him. He was the opposite of a magic user. He was anti-magic.
