Fiction: The Charm

By Paul F. Hyde
arttimesjournal July 27, 2020

The Charm was created eons ago by ancient mages in a month-long ceremony that was held in the deep, sacred caverns of Javenaugh. It was made of purest madrim, painstakingly encrusted with tiny gems. It was formed in the image of Desedra, the ancient green dragon, and the mages actually managed do him justice.

His scales were individually and magically carved from emeralds, each so small it could hardly be seen, and then placed with a strong bonding spell (the physical kind, not the spiritual kind - think of it as a sort of magic super glue) as well. The miniscule scales formed a limber-looking body, with two small yet solid pieces making up his spread wings. Two fiery sapphires winked and glittered, representing Desedra’s piercing eyes. Clutched in his claws was a small diamond, representing knowledge and wisdom, the two main traits that Desedra was legendary for.

The Charm was less than two inches long overall. His long tail curled neatly around his body, and his small, deadly-looking jaws opened in a roar. It had long guarded the heirs to the Throne of Armanial, the line of kings come down from the ancient era. All kings from that line had worn the Charm in his turn, and it protected them as they reigned (whether that reign was one of goodness or of horror, and there had been both breeds; be very assured of that).

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Thamar the Second sat up through the marble top of his crypt. It was an odd feeling, moving through solid marble. Not nearly as passing odd, he thought, as the feeling of not breathing. He tried to fill his lungs with the damp air of the mausoleum, but he felt absolutely no response whatever from his chest. He did not feel the need to breathe either, however, and felt no panic whatsoever as his lungs (assuming he still had them) failed to respond to his commands.

He rose up from his coffin and crypt, and stood stock still on the cold marble floor, assessing his new situation. He had died very young, (he had only been twenty-three when the massive embolism had struck, something not even the great Desedra could foresee), and he had not officially had any offspring to take possession of the Charm and the power that dwelled within.

It was subsequently buried with him.

That would not do.

Thamar knew he would find the Charm still hanging from the neck of his corpse. He would retrieve it, though he dreaded trying to push the marble lid from his crypt.

He heard the sound frigid sound of marble scraping marble. The lid was already sliding open for him.

Handy, that.

When the top had shifted enough, he used the force of his spirit to open the coffin’s mahogany lid. Then he changed his concentration to the Charm itself. Using the power of his recently freed spirit, he invoked the Charm to levitate from the coffin, and into the air in front of him.

Incredibly handy.

He briefly wondered whether this was a new ability or one he had possessed when he was alive that had merely gone undiscovered. He decided quickly that it made absolutely no difference at that point, and that he should focus on the Charm.

He knew just where it needed to go.