Chapter Seven

 

Midas

Twenty Years Ago

 

Nothing grew in the village of Celliwig.

A century before, forest groves had covered the rolling hills, as lush and verdant as anyone could imagine.  The trees there had a magic all their own.  They soared as high as buildings and grew together in thickets as thick as weeds.  Green and sprawling, the branches waved hundreds of feet in the air, cooling the shaded land below.  Meanwhile, the trees’ roots sunk deep into the marshy ground, anchoring the land so a town could be built.

The woods of Celliwig were Celliwig.

The lumber they provided made it one of the wealthiest villages in Camelot.  Hundreds of people worked in the forest, chopping and sawing, and everyone got rich.  Money seemed to rain from the sky like leaves in autumn.  Buying timberland was a surefire, no miss, chance-of-a-lifetime investment and everyone wanted in on it.  Soon thousands of people were cutting.  Mansions sprouted up as the trees came down.  Bigger and bigger, richer and richer, there seemed no end to Celliwig’s prosperity.

Until, inevitably, all the trees were gone.

Within two generations, the thick forest had been seriously depleted.  People realized the danger, of course.  Talked about it.  Wrote concerned essays and discussed it in serious tones.  But solving the problem wasn’t so easy when there was so much money to be made by simply ignoring it.  Somehow the villagers convinced themselves that deforestation was just a temporary setback.  That their lifestyle was sustainable.  That millennia of growth could be replaced with a few rows of newly planted pines and a newspaper recycling program.

Another forty years of denial and logging left the woods decimated beyond repair and the ground as soft as a sponge.  By that point, there was no turning back.  Everyone who could leave Celliwig abandoned it, never to return.  Those who couldn’t leave were forced to live in mud and squalor and rotting stumps.  Blackened acres of them covered the hills, like gravestones in a cemetery.  A decade after the last tree fell, only the poorest, most hopeless villagers remained in Celliwig.

And, once upon a time, Midas had been the poorest and most hopeless of all.

Technically, he wasn’t an orphan.  He had parents.  Somewhere.  After a while, he couldn’t recall their faces, but he remembered what mattered most about them.  Remembered the bitterness and resentment that never left their beige house.  Remembered sleeping in the attic, terrified of the dark.  Remembered their constant fights about money and their countless schemes to acquire more.  Remembered the scorn they’d showed him and the beatings and the tears.

Most of all, he remembered that fucking bologna sandwich.

His parents hated him.  Midas accepted that.  On some level, he even understood it.  Their dreams had been drowned in oppressive poverty and, somehow, they channeled all their disappointment into despising their only child.  They were Good, with grand and unfulfilled ambitions that ate at them every day.  They’d prepared to pass down a spectacular legacy, except their timberland was nothing but a mud puddle, their once grand house was being repossessed, and Midas, their heir, was Bad.  That kind of failure was enough to make anyone want to run away.

And so, one winter day, when Midas was nine, his parents did what everyone in Celliwig dreamed of doing: They packed up their meager belongings and left town forever.

They just neglected to tell Midas about their plans.

He came home from the ramshackle shed that served as the village school and found his parents gone.  The door was locked, the windows boarded up, and a single bologna sandwich was left on the porch for his dinner.  There wasn’t even a note.

That was the part that angered him the most.  They didn’t have the balls to write a brief good-bye, or a half-hearted apology, or a simple explanation.  They just made him the sandwich, piled his single change of clothes on the steps, and vanished without a word.  They hadn’t even left Midas his one “toy,” the sock full of sawdust, so he could hold it while he cried himself to sleep.

For a few nights, he deluded himself with the idea that his parents might return and stayed right there on the porch, waiting for them.  Then the bankers came to chase him away and sold the house to new owners.  With nowhere else to go, Midas began living in alleyways.  Unprotected and small, he would have died quickly, except an old woman had come along before any of Celliwig’s desperate, immoral men found him.

Corrah Skycast was as forsaken as Midas, dying and broken in a foreign land.  Quite possibly, she was the last female gryphon still free in the world and she intended to stay that way.  She’d once been a warrior and she could still kill a man as easily as she flew.  Remote and proud, she clung to the old ways like those customs were the only thing left for her.

They were the only thing left.  Midas’ people had stolen everything else.

Like all gryphons, protecting the young was a sacred responsibility for Corrah.  …Even the young of a race she despised.  The innocent belonged to all who would care for them.  There were no gryphon left to judge her actions or inactions, but that didn’t matter to her sense of duty.  She still lived by the code of her vanished people and she shielded Midas from the horrors of the streets.

Midas adored her, even though she couldn’t feel the emotion back.  She didn’t have to.  Her actions were enough.  Corrah gave him most of the food-scraps she found, and taught him her language, and traded for books so he could read, and let him sleep wrapped safely in her wings when it snowed.

When he cajoled for long enough, she even grudgingly told him the stories of her people.  Tales of rocking-horseflies so big that they carried children to the stars and mighty queens who swept down to save their clans from destruction.

But no one came to save Corrah.

She died in an abandoned building, less than three years after he’d found her.  Midas wasn’t sure if was her age, or her ancient battle wounds, or her broken spirit that finally took her.  But he cried when she left him, like he’d never cried over his parents’ departure.  Missed her far more than he missed them.

After she was gone, he was alone.

Nobody else in Celliwig was going to take in a Bad folk, even if he was just a child.  Why would they?  They didn’t possess the gryphons’ sense of communal responsibility for the young.  There was no hope for Midas’ future, so why invest in his food and lodging?  He was a waste of resources.

Later, Midas would wonder why he hadn’t turned to crime far sooner than he did, but, as a boy, it hadn’t occurred to him to break the law.  Instead, he’d gotten work in the stable, two doors from his old house.  He received no money for the backbreaking labor, but he was allowed to sleep in the straw at night.  Midas was big for his age and very smart.  He read everything he could find and worked hard, every day, for two years… and got exactly nowhere.

Slowly, it dawned on Midas he would never get away from the servitude and loneliness of his dismal life.  There was no escape hatch for Bad folks.  No pot of gold waiting for them.  No warm home and happy family, if he just tried his best and kept believing.  Mucking stalls and staying hungry and wading through mud was all he could ever have.  All he would ever be.

There was no hope for him, at all.

The day he had that realization was the bleakest of his existence.  He sat down in an empty horse stall and wept as darkness settled over him. He had nothing.  He would always have… nothing.

Through his misery, he cast around for someone to blame.  For some reason he was so alone and forgotten.  It didn’t take long to find a cause.  It was simple, in fact.  In the end, he didn’t blame his parents for abandoning him.  Didn’t blame the Good folk for their uncaring ways or even destiny for making him Bad.

No.  He blamed himself.

More precisely, he blamed his own poverty.

Money was the root of all his problems.  Or rather the lack of it.  If he’d had money, his parents wouldn’t have left.  If he’d had money, he could have gotten a doctor to tend to Corrah and she wouldn’t have died.  If he had money, it wouldn’t matter that he was Bad, because no one would look down on him.  He could just buy anything he wanted:  Friends, food, a house, respectability.

Class.

In that stable, at the lowest point of his life, Midas made a decision:  He would be rich.  He would be so rich that no one would ever be able to keep him from what he wanted, ever again.  Hard work and prayers wouldn’t do a damn thing to grow his pocketbook, though.  He was going to need to steal and cheat… and use some magic.

And so Midas did what no one else in Celliwig would ever, ever do.

He went to see Vivien, Lady of the Lake.

Once Midas set his mind to something, nothing stood in his way.  Certainly, not the fact that no one who’d visited Vivien’s domain survived the journey.  He had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

The Lady of the Lake had lived in peace with the townspeople, until they’d destroyed the dense forest where she lived.  Now, she sought to ruin them for their disrespect.  All of Celliwig knew that and so they stayed away.

All except Midas.

He was the first one to reach the shores of her lake in generations.  The first Vivien didn’t strike down with her magic.  He wasn’t sure why she let him come to her private sanctum.  Maybe she was simply curious.

Vivien was ageless and beautiful, like most of her kind.  Red hair fell to her waist and her green eyes missed nothing, even though she was older than the land itself.  She watched him arrive, safe on her island in the middle of the lake.  It was said that she would live forever, so long as she never left it.  The island was the last place in Celliwig where trees still grew and no one else could reach the rocky shore, no matter how hard they swam.

Midas tried to think of something intelligent to say, but his mind was blank.  Truthfully, he hadn’t imagined getting this far. “I’m Midas.”  He got out, trying not to stare at the trees she protected.  He’d never seen real ones before.  Only pictures in books.

“Just Midas?”

“Just Midas.”  His parents had never wanted him to use their name, which was just as well, since Midas refused to carry it.

Vivien nodded.  “I’ve seen you, Just Midas.”  She told him, calmly.  “In the past and your deeds yet to come.  The Great Queen will one day choose you over all other men.  You are most welcome here.”

Midas had no clue what she was talking about.  No one had ever chosen him and no one ever would.  Certainly not a queen.  Ignoring that weirdness, he went with his original plan and dropped a single coin into the water.

A gold coin.

“That’s everything I have.”  He told her, proudly.

He’d stolen odds and ends for over a year, and now he had gold.  Crime paid, just fine.  Anyone who said different was doing it wrong.

Vivien’s head tilted.  “You surprise me.”  She stepped to the edge of the water on her side of the lake, looking him over with deep interest.  “And it takes much to surprise me.  Come closer.”

Midas edged into the lake, so it washed over his bare feet.  For a second, he was overcome with its beauty.  He hadn’t known water could be that clean and clear.  The deep, startling blue instantly became his favorite color.  It was like peering into peace and magic.

“You owe me a wish.”  He persisted, refusing to be distracted from his quest.

“A sorceress chooses, boy.  We choose our partners, and our families, and our paths.  …And we especially choose who we help.  I do not choose to help anyone from Celliwig.  I wish none of you to prosper.”

Midas had been expecting her refusal.   It didn’t matter, though.  Life had taught Midas one lesson well: If you waited for someone to give you what you wanted, you’d never have anything, at all.  Taking was the only way to succeed.  “It doesn’t matter if you want to or not.  You made a deal and you’re honoring it.”

His total assurance seemed to catch her off guard.  “A deal?”

“You made a promise to the people of this town, long ago.  You said that you would dispense magic to us, so long as we gave you all we have in exchange.  Well, I come from this town.  And that,” he pointed to the gold glittering beneath the surface of the water, “is all that I have.  I’ve upheld my end of the deal.”

She looked amused.  “This isn’t a wishing well, child.  You can’t just toss in a coin and expect me to give you happiness and…”

Midas cut her off.  “I want to be the richest person in the world.  The richest person who’s ever existed.  Then, I’ll buy myself happiness.”

Vivien studied him for a long beat, taking in his dirty skin and tattered clothes.  “Where’s your family?”

“I haven’t bought one, yet.”

She shook her head.  “Gold can’t buy you that, I’m afraid.”

“Then I’ll get more gold.”  He retorted.  “I want to keep getting more and more and more gold, so nothing can ever touch me.  Until I have… everything.”

Vivien arched a brow.  “Everything?”

“Everything.”

“That is a very big word, Just Midas.  A powerful word.  It’s why I used it in my vow to Celliwig.  Everything can be a lot more than you think.”

He glowered at her, prepared to play hardball.  “I think that even you are bound by the rules of magic.  You struck a deal with the people of this town and I come from this town.  I want you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“I foresee many bargains for you, child.  Only two will matter, though, and this isn’t one of them.”  She gave him a strange smile.  “But I’ll give you what you seek.”

He hadn’t expected such a quick victory and it made him suspicious.  “You will?  You’ll really help me?”

“No, it will not help.”  Her head tilted to the other side now, like a bird.  “Not in the way you believe, anyway.  But if you ever understand what it is you truly desire, you’ll have a path to reach it.  Choose wisely.”

“What do you…?”

Vivien cut him off.  Her hand waved out, power gleaming in the air and the coin disappeared from the bottom of the lake.  “You will have more money than you can ever spend, Just Midas.  You will grow richer and richer, but nothing will touch you.  And the magic will go on and on and on, until you realize the truth.  …Until you finally have everything.”

Before he could finish asking her what the hell that meant, she vanished right before his eyes.

Midas stood there, blinking and feeling exactly the same.  Still, exhilaration filled him, because she’d said she’d granted his wish.  He would be rich!  He would finally have everything!  He would never again have to be unhappy or afraid or hungry.

He’d done it.

A rocking-horsefly flittered by.  He’d never seen one before.  How could he?  They lived in gardens, not mud holes like Celliwig.  The mysterious, iridescent creature was the most delicate thing he’d ever beheld.  It was probably the only one for a hundred miles and it was right in front of him.

For a moment, Midas thought of Corrah.  She would be proud that he had fought for this prize and won.  She wouldn’t be able to feel the emotion, but she would still be proud.  He reached out to touch the fragile insect in wonder, feeling exalted.  If she were here she would…

Instantly, his excited mood turned to horror.

The rocking-horsefly froze in midair, its perfect, translucent wings becoming thick with gold.  The tiny miracle fell to the ground with a thump.  What had once been a magical part of nature was now a lump of cold metal lying in the mud.

Dead.

He’d killed it.

It was his wish.  It had to be.  Without meaning to, he’d taken something beautiful from the world.  Something that could never come back.  Midas looked down at his large, scarred hands.  Confusion and dread and disgust filled him, as he tried to make sense of what had happened.  He’d just wanted to touch something special and instead he’d destroyed it because he’d been thoughtless and greedy.

This was his fault.

And it was then that Midas understood his wish wasn’t a wish, at all.

It was a curse.