The Old Magic by James Mallory

hair. “You have no choice, my dear. You cannot fight her—not yet.” She lifted
     his chin and made him look at her. “You must be brave. Your time will come.”
    “I don’t want to leave you,” Merlin said. He buried his face in her lap.
    Suddenly there was a sizzling sound, like bacon being dropped onto a hot skillet. A bright light like the noonday sun shone
     through the open door of the hut. Ambrosia gasped, and Merlin raised his head.
    *Come with me, Master Merlin.*
    For a moment Merlin thought it was the white stag, come back again, but this magic was far more powerful. A white horse stood
     at the edge of the clearing, glowing as brightly as a candle flame. He seemed to be standing just above the ground, his silver
     hooves not even touching the earth.
    *You’re to come with me. I will take you to the Land of Magic.*
The horse tossed his head, and Merlin could see that he wore a saddle and bridle of gleaming gold.
    “He’s talking to me,” Merlin said slowly. He got to his feet and stood, staring at the horse. His heart beat with excitement
     and fear. The magic was part of him. It was his destiny. But at the same time, it was a giant step into the unknown, and one
     he was reluctant to take. “He says I have to go with him. I don’t, do I, Auntie A?”
    Behind him, Ambrosia was rummaging through a clothes chest. She pulled out his best tunic, and a warm cloak of new wool that
     she’d spent the whole summer making. She came up beside Merlin and handed him the tunic. Once he’d struggled into it, she
     wrapped the cloak around his shoulders.
    “This will keep you warm on cold nights,” she said, not answering his question.
    Merlin searched her face, beginning to be more afraid than excited. The only mother he’d ever known was sending him away to
     live with the mysterious and powerful Queen of the Old Ways. Merlin wrapped the cloak about himself, looking from the shining
     stallion to Ambrosia.
    “Auntie A—” he began.
    “Now, now, chin up,” she said, interrupting what he’d been about to say. “Remember what Herne and Blaise and I have told you.
     Magic has no power over the human heart, and in her way, as far as she can, I suppose Mab does love you. Just don’t forget
     what I taught you. Never stop trying to be good and fighting for what’s right.”
    “I won’t. I love you, Auntie A,” Merlin said.
    Ambrosia hugged him fiercely, as if this might be the last time. “And tell Her Royal High and Mighty Queen Mab that magic
     or no magic, if she hurts you in any way, I’ll have her guts for garters!” She kissed him firmly on the forehead.
    Merlin stepped back. His eye fell on the pieces of the milk jug he’d broken, waiting on a shelf for someone to mend them.
     Had it only been this morning that he’d broken them? It seemed as if he’d lived a lifetime since then.
    “Go on,” Ambrosia whispered, smiling.
    Merlin raised his hand in a half-wave, then turned and began to trudge toward the impatiently-waiting white horse. By the
     time he was halfway across the clearing, the lighthearted optimism of youth had reasserted itself, and he was running to embrace
     his destiny.
    Ambrosia watched Merlin mount the white horse and ride away. When she was sure he could no longer see her, her face crumpled
     into tears, and she raised her apron to cover her eyes.
    Of all the things she’d ever done in her life, the hardest thing of all of them had been to let him ride to Mab without a
     single word of warning.
    The horse beneath him ran like the wind, and instead of hoofbeats, Merlin heard the sound of silver bells. All around him,
     the familiar forest was subtly different, as if now he saw it through different eyes. Tiny winged people flitted through the
     air, their voices as high and shrill as bats’. At the roots of trees were diminutive figures wearing pointed red caps and
     bright green coats. Perched on a tree branch, a griffin watched him hungrily, fanning its golden