Klair's callused hands were used to willow cutting. He was grateful he didn't have to use an ax. Once he'd proved his loyalty to Poral and the rest of Koova, it'd be easier to earn quick money through wizardry and get his Mom away from the North. Then he could earn bags of gold like he planned. Everywhere further south seemed to favor magic. He'd been stupid to think he could hide his skills with a cloak. Klair had assumed that possible hidden strings could explain his sleight of hand. No one seemed to believe he'd used strings.
He performed magic outright and there was no hiding that.
They labeled him wizard.
Others like him must have gone to Taaken before they could display their powers. Maybe so they could be protected against Seiun harvesting? Or perhaps, wizard masters wanted to influence and control the power rising from within their children? No wonder the people only heard of magic but few saw it. It sounded like those who went to the Taaken didn't have much of a choice.
His mother gave him a choice.
First to pay off the silver he owed Poral.
A third wagon waited at a juncture in the woods. It carried an additional four men. The old man sitting in the front made the total count to be eight men.
The older man gripped the reins with bone-thin fingers. With a bare head, the man's spotted and wrinkled scalp had been tanned from the sun. His features were similar to Poral's. Was everyone bald in the family? Poral's brother Jerkanis, he didn't act mad. Klair had expected him to be much younger.
Klair had to disable him and his men.
He braced himself, eyes darting around the forest floor in search of something that could be used as a weapon before glancing back. He stood up in the wagon. Why doesn't the man attack? The question made him realize that he couldn't be the first to attack. All the damaged he'd done in the past has been to things, not people. Fighting in defense came more easily.
Poral thumped Klair on the chest. "Relax, that's my Dad and the rest of my men."
Klair sat down heart pounding like a woodpecker.
The old man led them farther into the forest. The road dissipated into the thickening undergrowth. The aroma of wood and leaf permeated the air and a high-pitched whistle from some bird pierced the treetops.
A dust devil of about four feet rose from the forest floor briefly and disappeared. As the magic heightened his senses, Klair relaxed in his seat, taking in the familiar aromas and lush greenery. They reminded him of Bejja. Klair had come to appreciate the different textures of wood, their diversity and their beauty, through him.
Glancing up, Klair saw the old man grinning at him when their eyes met. Klair found it hard not to smile back and looked away in response. It appeared Poral's father had chosen which son to pledge his allegiance to in this sibling rivalry. No one could know how scared he was.
How could he stop Poral's brother and his men if they did come?
He'd trip them again and again so they couldn't attack or run. If they used chakrams or arrows he'd slam them out of the air with bursts of magic.
The woods were so thick and high Klair squinted to pierce through the shadows around him. Cool air thickened perceptibly in the deepening shade. The trunks were long and straight with branches webbing out amongst their neighbors often entirely obscuring the sky directly above them. Klair made a second abrupt twist of his hand and another small dust devil erupted next to the wagon and his senses sharpened farther.
YOU ARE READING
Pursued - Entire book
FantasíaKlair is a teenage wizard who HATES magic. He was born as a result of a wizard's one night stand with his other when she worked as a prostitute. Now over a decade later they live in Merrsain, a city located an area of the country that hates wizards...
