A Tale of Two Warlocks - Part 1

()

1860 – Somewhere near the Moravian-Russian border.

OOO

Sophie’s voice ricocheted off the walls of their humble abode, piercing Kazimir where it hurt the most – his heart. He had spent countless sleepless nights attempting to discern the cause of her hysterics. But try as he might to unearth the source of her angst, she steadfastly refused to confide her secrets. Today, the end of his rope had been reached. More of her endless ranting and vitriol he would not tolerate.

Kazimir looked around his small, but hardly shabby, residence. Working for her father had brought him enough in the way of funds to support them easily. And she was welcome to it all. Her wrath-filled request for him to leave, however, had pushed him over the edge. But where could he go? His life was with her, as it had been for the better part of a century.

He stood tall, but inside he felt anything but. Kazimir was, in fact, a totally defeated man. “Please, Sophie,” he implored through the sturdy wooden door that separated their bed chamber from the common area. “Talk to me. Tell me what it is that I’ve done. Even a condemned man deserves the right to know that of which he is accused.”

He clenched his fists at his side and ground his teeth in anger. If she didn’t want him, he’d go. “Sophie,” he called again. “If I leave this house, I shall not return. Is that what you truly desire?”

The deafening silence, broken only by the ticking of the battered clock beside the doorway, told him all he needed to know. Kazimir pulled the sack of coins he had been saving from its hiding place under the cupboard and headed to the stable. His gorgeous black stallion, Midnight, neighed at him as he entered.

He laid his hand lightly upon her mane. “You ready for an adventure, my friend?”

The mare stomped her apparent agreement, nudging him affectionately. It was late and as the duo fled through the cold night air, Kazimir had no clue what he was going to do. He just knew it couldn’t be as it had been before. Obviously, in some way he did not understand, he had failed the woman he loved.

He drove his horse as though the very demons of hell were chasing him. Midnight was not used to such desperate measures, but performed as beautifully as always. The faster they rode, the more his angst grew, eventually turning to crimson rage. Still, he knew they needed shelter for the night.

The drunken shouts and banter of the Banded Bough rose up to meet them before the place came into sight. What he no doubt would have considered an off-limits establishment hours before, was now a welcome sight. Tying Midnight to a post, he walked inside, noticing how the locals seemed to grow quiet and somewhat afraid. He wasn’t surprised. Folks often reacted this way when he was in their presence. A man who looked to be in charge eyed him up suspiciously and stiffened. No doubt, people of his kind were not all that welcome.

Ignoring the man’s obvious discomfort, Kazimir tossed a coin on the counter. “I’d like a room for the night.” Suddenly, the desk attendant’s countenance brightened.

“Of course, Sir,” he said, reaching for a key on the wall behind him, then fumbling and dropping it on the floor. Kazimir sighed and waited for the man to regain control of himself. Then, taking the proffered key, Kazimir attempted a less severe countenance. Forcing a smile, he said, “Water and food for my steed?”

“Of course, Sir,” the man replied, seeming even more uneasy. Perhaps the smile had not helped. He decided to leave it out in the future.

The room was conveniently located down the hall and, while far from decadent, it offered a bed, a small wash stand and a yellowing mirror on the wall. It would have to do. Exhaustion caught up with him as he sat on the bed to remove his boots. The springs squeaked as he sprawled out and tried not to think of earlier events.

Of course, he couldn’t stop thinking of just that. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered how his relationship with Sophie had come to this wretched ending. They had once been so in love. He promised her the world and he had meant to keep that promise. But something had changed. She had changed.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, his mind wandered down roads to memories past. He recalled how giddy Sophie had been when she first learned the levitation incantation - she couldn’t wait to teach him the spell. He found to his delight that he enjoyed flying as much as she. Both of them understood, however, that they needed to be careful. There were always those who viewed the ways of their kind with a jaundiced eye.

And so they decided it was best to practice their craft late at night in the nearby woods. There are some secrets best left buried. Being a witch or a warlock was definitely one of them. He learned of his heritage when he was a boy of 12, having asked his father why the townsfolk always seemed uncomfortable around them.

“Son,” his father had said, with a heavy sigh, “It’s just a fact of life that people aren’t comfortable with those who aren’t like them. And we are definitely not like the townsfolk. We are part of a blessed, or cursed race, depending on your view of things. Your special abilities have not manifested themselves yet. Usually, but not always, they are provoked by a traumatic event.”

Seeing fear in Kazimir’s eyes, his father had laughed and tousled the youth’s long, black locks. “Don’t worry, son, it’s not all bad. You’ll learn to adjust, like we always have. Perhaps when you fall in love, your talents will make themselves known.”

Kazimir couldn’t make sense of what his father was telling him. “What are we, then? Demons?”

Smiling, his father shook his head. “No, nothing so evil as that. We’re warlocks, Son.”

Kazimir’s eyes grew wide with amazement. “But I don’t feel like a warlock.” Then fear gripped him. “Does everyone know about us?”

“No one knows anything for certain. We have worked hard through the centuries to maintain a sense of mystery.” Seeing the look of terror on his young son’s face, his father had chortled softly. “Do not fret, my son, you are still human enough. You will love and suffer as deeply as anyone, perhaps more so. And in time, you will discover your strengths … and weaknesses. Your mother is a powerful witch as well. That is why you must find one such as yourself to marry. Only another touched by magic will truly love and accept you for who you are.”
And so he had found Sophie. Once he discerned that she was enchanted, he poured himself into wooing her to be his wife. She finally agreed and he had gone to her father to ask her hand in marriage. Her father blessed their union immediately. What the Ivanovs lacked in coin, they more than made up for in respect.

The next morning he awoke with a start, memories of his family and Sophie clouding his thoughts. He looked around the dimly lit room and, for a moment, forgot where he was. Then it all came crashing back.

When he felt tears welling up, he roughly wiped them away. That life was over. She had made her choice. Forcing himself to get up, he glanced in the broken mirror and pushed his mangled hair back from his face. He looked like hell, but what did it matter now? The smell of fresh-baked bread hit him hard as he opened the door, causing his stomach to rumble.

Down the hallway, he found a door that was partially open. Peering inside, he saw two women kneading bread on a table. He also noted that two baked loaves sat unattended just inside the door. When they turned their backs, he reached in and snatched them; to hell with proper decorum. From now on, he would take what he wanted and do what he wanted. If Sophie didn’t want him, he was certain other women would. He quickly returned to his room bearing his treasures and ravenously ate until he was sated.