The Last Mage

There weren't always dragons in the valley.

Then again, there wasn't always Calliope Fogg.

Now, when dealing with the tale of Calliope Fogg, I find it's always best to start not from the beginning, but nearly. The unusual girl appeared on my doorstep on the eve of Rendreley's midsummer festival with a scrawny human boy in tow. A funny looking thing, he was. Glasses so thick his eyeballs looked three sizes too big for his head and cinnamon colored hair that stood in every direction but flat. I could tell his origins immediately by his overwhelming stench, like raw onions and day old fish. They arrived before the sun had time to crest the horizon, looking bedraggled and filthy from their nobs to their toenails, several of which were poking out of their tattered shoes. Calliope's wildly unruly mane could have been harboring a mischief of rats for all I could tell and their garments were worn so thin a more modest woman would have blushed at the sight of them. Had I not been expecting her – for quite some time, I might add – I would have shooed them away without a second thought. Granted, the boy was an unexpected addition but one look into Calliope's steady gaze told me all I needed to know; the two were a package deal and I would hear the story soon enough. As it were, I ushered them in and immediately set to cleaning them up and feeding their growling bellies. Thank heavens, I even had a tonic to cloak the human's smell. It was hardly the poor boys fault after all.

I scrubbed them both until their skin was pink, dressed them in some of my oversized frocks, and fed them each three bowls of piping hot potato soup while I attempted to comb through Calliope's mass of tangled hair. We passed time in an easy, almost silent rhythm. The quiet pull of destiny wound itself around the three of us, binding us together, leaving little room for unease. I learned the boy was called Virgil and surmised that he was a last minute addition to this adventure. He clung to Calliope as if his life depended on it, as I'm quite sure it did. By the time I had them tidied and fed the two of them could barely keep their eyes open, so I made them each little nests in the front of the stove and they slept.

And slept. And slept, and slept. Through the remainder of the day and deep into the following morning. I was too riled up to catch even one wink and so spent much of my time studying Calliope. She was a curious looking child and I knew it would be near impossible for her to go unnoticed, which could prove problematic, as I'm sure I wasn't the only one expecting her. Her hair was a mass of riotous curls, white as the distant snow capped mountains, that fell to her slender waist. It was the biggest thing about her. Physically at least. I would learn that she packed quite a personality into her spindly frame. Her skin was incredibly pale and as smooth as a river tumbled stone and I watched as her pulse beat an unpredictable tempo below her jaw. I knew from our earlier encounters that her eyes were nearly a translucent blue with speckles of gold like tiny constellations. Her presence stirred a long dormant gift within me and with a little effort I was able to see her dreams and follow her journey up until this moment. I could see she was brave but unsure of what lay before her. Nothing about Calliope was expected and I found myself delighting in her company, unconscious though she was.

It had been nearly sixty years since I'd first encountered Calliope Fogg and foresaw the future that awaited me, us. I was just a child then, having just turned ten, and like most ten-year-olds in Rendreley, my magic was just beginning to reveal itself to me. Calliope came to me as I picked flowers in the field behind my home one late autumn afternoon. She was unlike any girl I'd ever seen with her odd clothes and her feral hair, and though she seemed to be only a few years older than me, I had never crossed paths with her in the village. She began speaking to me as if we were long lost friends, as if she was picking up a previous conversation that had been interrupted, except of course, I'd never met her and I had no idea what she was talking about. She spoke of the realm's lost magic and of a great battle against the dark force that was on the horizon. She informed me that the two of us were bound by fate and that when she returned, I needed to be ready to do my part for the resistance. I barely knew what the word resistance meant, let alone how I could ever be of use to one. Honestly, I'd assumed she had lost her marbles as the realm of Rendreley had been in a time of peace for many years. I knew nothing else. However, in an attempt to be polite I listened to her tale as I continued to collect flowers for the dinner table. I gave her a lot of "uh-huhs" and "you don't says" and nodded my head noncommittally as she persisted in keeping me company. It wasn't until my mother came to fetch me for supper and caught me talking to myself did I come to realize I was having a vision. My first vision. My mother interrogated me for what seemed like hours as she wrote down everything I could recall, her mood going from bad to worse as my words sunk in. I saw a fear in her eyes that I had never witnessed before. She became more serious after that night, more strict with my lessons in magic, less forgiving of my childish ways. Had it not been for my mother I would have shoved my visit with Calliope to the very back of my brain never to be thought of again, but she insisted that my destiny and the destiny of Rendreley was tied to what I had experienced and so, after much badgering, I promised never to forget Calliope's promise to return. Not that my mother would let me, mind you.

It would take nearly twenty years after Calliope's visit before things in Rendreley took a dark turn; before my mother's fears and Calliope's prophecy became a reality. Magic, the very life blood of our realm, was banished, a powerful spell cast acting as a vortex that sucked the magic out of our very marrow. The very mention of magic was grounds for severe punishment. A new power took hold and dispersed a flock of menacing guardians that patrolled the realm, keeping order and tormenting the people. The people of Rendreley became skittish and angry, no longer trusting their neighbors. Folks were quick to turn their friends, even family in to the guardians in an attempt to earn favor. A darkness spread in the hearts of the people who once shared so much love. Without magic, life in Rendreley became bleak and tired.

Meanwhile, I waited. Life carried on, I married, raised my own children and missed my magic terribly. My mother grew old and passed quietly in her sleep, never having witnessed the promised resistance. My husband would follow several years later and my children began lives of their own, never having known the magic that once enveloped the realm. Sixty years is a long time to wait for one's destiny to come knocking. Months, even years would pass that I wouldn't think of Calliope at all. The vision I'd had all those years ago began to grow soft around the edges and my faith in what had once felt like destiny began to falter. But one night, just three days past, a dream alerted me of Calliope's looming arrival. My heart hasn't settled down since. Gone was the youthful exuberance I once carried with me and in its place were arthritic fingers and a persistently aching back. Where I could once hear the caw of a crow from a great distance, I now heard only a muffled rapping when Calliope banged upon my door. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly the mighty force I once believed myself to be. Though I'd had times of doubt I still had sixty years of anticipation and preparation on my side, and even without the benefit of my magic for many of those years, I felt as ready as ever for the daunting task before us. The task of taking back the magic. I knew I would be but a small cog in the machine of the coming resistance, but even small cogs play an important role. Or so I told myself.

Now, you must forgive me. I know I mentioned dragons and I bet you're just chomping at the bit to get back to the story behind them and here I am prattling on and on about a girl called Calliope Fogg.

But, I think you'll come to find that you can't have one without the other.

Let's start from the beginning.