ShadowKnight

Chapter Ten

Tarin whispered the word "Nom". The spell came easily to him, the flames jumping into his hands almost before he had spoken the word to conjure them. "No more flame than a match," he whispered to himself, cradling the tiny fire in the palm of his hand. Kneeling down, Tarin set the light grass and wood alight, and went to extinguish the magic flames, but then Eldrin was there, admiring the tiny glowing flame.
"And it doesn't burn?" He asked curiously.
"No, it doesn't burn me, but it might burn you," Tarin said as Eldrin reached for the fire.
"Oh, no," Eldrin said, bringing up a small glass device. "It won't burn me," He used the device to gather the flames into a small orb at one end. This was attached to a strange, flexible glass tube, which Eldrin put into a bottle. The flames shot through the tube, turning into a strange, glowing blue liquid that dripped slowly into the bottle. Eldrin turned to Tarin, who stood frozen, his hands clutching thin air. He choked for breath, as the magic from his flames drained from him. Slowly, Eldrin moved the small orb from Tarin's hands, moving it over his chest, like a doctor looking for a heartbeat, and the tube was filled with a stream of blue light. Tarin sank to his knees, unable to breath, unable to move as his magic was ripped from him. The elf was smiling again, and Tarin realized what had been so strange about the expression. Eldrin's mouth was smiling, but his eyes were as cold and as cruel as ice.

Eldrin watched the bottle fill up impatiently as he tied Tarin's hands behind him, then bound his feet. "I obtained this little device from a so-called Alchemist, some years ago." He said, gesturing at the device that was sapping Tarin's strength. Every so often, Eldrin adjusted the tube and it filled with a new flood of blue light. "Though I was not born with magic myself, I discovered, that with just a sip of the magic energy obtained from a sorcerer, I could do amazing things."
The bottle began to overflow, and Eldrin quickly replaced it with a second, stoppering the first with a cork. The blue light reflected in his eyes, and gave them a strange, feral look. Tarin recognized it as the same look that Angela had given him on the day he'd gone back to see her. She had reached for his magic then, wanted it so much that she could hardly help herself. 
"The pull of such power, it has swayed people much stronger than I am" she had said. Tarin realized he was looking at one of those people now. Eldrin was practically dancing around the fire as his bottles filled, first 2, then 3, and still the energy flowed out of Tarin.
"You are a powerful one, aren't you, my friend?" Eldrin laughed as he corked another bottle. Tarin was unable to respond.

Finally, the flow of energy stopped. Tarin struggled for air as Eldrin lowered him to the ground, almost kindly, and Tarin knew he was dying. The edges of his vision was going dark, and he watched Eldrin pack up the glowing bottles into his pack. Then, the elf knelt down, putting his fingers to Tarin's throat, feeling for his steadily weakening pulse.
"Your death will not be in vain, young sorcerer. I will use your power to bring the Queen her victory. Then she will finally know my worth to her."
Tarin couldn't respond, he couldn't focus. The world went black.
Angela found him a few minutes later. The boy was unconscious, laying partially in the water of a small stream. With a strength that belied her size, she took Tarin back to her cottage, but as they reached the small wooden house in its clearing, he woke up and began to thrash and shout. His eyes were forced wide open, and the glow from them lit up the dimly lit cottage. Quickly, Angela ran from the house again, to call on a friend of hers who was skilled in healing magical conditions. She wondered though, if the Alchemist had ever seen something like this before.

Tarin lay on a hard surface. Blue light blinded him, but as much as he turned, and covered his eyes, the light wouldn't dim. He pressed his face to the rough wood of the floor he was lying on, groaning in pain. It was like every nerve in his body were on fire. His own heartbeat was loud in his ears, pulsing in time with the blue light, which was only getting brighter. He dug his palms into his eyes, hoping to somehow block that bright, bright light.
"Tarin," came a woman's voice. "Tarin, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes—"
"I can't!" Tarin cried, "It hurts, it's blinding me!"
"Tarin, that light is coming from inside you, you need to open your eyes." A cool hand took his and lowered them slowly from his face. Tarin cracked his eyes open, and saw a familiar woman with catlike eyes that reflected the light, so it looked like hers were glowing.
"Angela," Tarin whispered, and the woman nodded, smiling. The light seemed to recede around the edges of Tarin's vision, and he was able to look around. He was in a small, one-room cottage. A bed lay in the corner, and in the center of the room was a large cauldron on a fire. Smoke from the fire was swept up into a hole in the center of the roof. It was impossible to tell what time it was, thick curtains blocked the narrow, glazed windows. Plants and herbs hung in bundles from the ceiling, and the sight reminded him of home, where Ella would hang herbs and spices to dry. Behind Angela stood an older man, maybe fifty or so, looking at the pair of them intently.
"Too much magic energy," he said, looking into Tarin's eyes, and then his ears with a small telescope-like instrument. "Your body can't contain it, so its trying to expel it any way it can. Can you use a spell for me?"
Tarin tried to concentrate, but fire and ice and light shot from his hands before he could form a coherent thought. Angela and the Alchemist dove out of the way of his errant magic, and Tarin shoved his hands into his armpits, curling into a ball, trying to contain the spells.
"Just as I thought," The alchemist said, turning to Angela. "Too much more of this and he will burn out, and all that energy will become airborne. Quick, hand me those herbs there."
The alchemist bustled around the small cabin, throwing various herbs into a pot of boiling water, filling the air with steam and strange smells. Every so often, the pot boiled over, and the water caused the flames to flash a different bright color for a moment, before reverting back to orange.
Tarin watched for a little while, checking his hands for more magic, but nothing was happening, until Tarin looked around at the clouds of herbs hanging from the ceiling, and groaned. There were a great deal more plants than before, and a lot of new growth.
Angela sneezed at the pollen in the air, but she and the Alchemist continued to throw things into the cauldron. Then she turned to Tarin, who jumped back in fright.
"Calm down, fear only makes it worse," Angela said.
"It's never been like this before," Tarin protested as another spell went haywire, sending blue sparks shooting across the room. "Not even when—agh!" The blue light blinded him again, and Tarin squeezed his eyes shut, gasping in pain. Angela put a hand on his shoulder, her calm touch causing Tarin to relax slightly. Her eyes reflected the light from Tarin's own, that continued to pulse, brighter and brighter. Tarin could not see anything besides the light, but he heard her voice.
"You'll be okay," Angela whispered. "We are going to take care of you, Tarin."
"You know my real name. You remember me?" He said in wonder.
"I've known you longer than you know," Angela said. "Of course I remember you. Now, tell me, do you have something special to you, that you would normally wear on your person? Given to you by a friend, or family member? These sort of things work best."
Tarin nodded, and reached into his shirt and pulled out the small iron pendant that he wore around his neck. The one that Jim had given to him on the day of his banishment. "Will this work?" He asked. It gleamed dully in the firelight and Angela took it gently.
"It will work perfectly," She brought over the tiny piece of iron and gave it to the alchemist, who held it in a pair of tongs as he lowered it into the boiling potion in the cauldron. After a few seconds, he withdrew it, and handed it back to Angela, who brought it back over to Tarin.
"Wear this around your neck," Angela said. But Tarin could not move. His eyes were squeezed shut and his arms were wrapped around him, and he shivered violently, his teeth gritted in pain. Angela reached for the boy's hand again, but his skin was hot to the touch, and seemed to glow blue beneath the surface.
"He's burning out, quickly, before the magic sheds his skin completely," the Alchemist urged. "That kind of power will level the forest."
Deftly, Angela grabbed the chain and threw it over Tarin's head. It rested on his chest for a moment, then began to glow even brighter. Color leeched into Tarin's hair, and his eyes slowly dimmed, the ice blue replaced with a dark chocolate brown. The hair was brown too, a little tousled from his exertions, but there was no sign of white in it at all. As the magic glow dimmed, Tarin relaxed, releasing his fists and after several seconds, he stood, fingering the small lump of iron, which pulsed with the blue glow.
"Well, you look less magical than I've ever seen you," Angela said, amazed at the boy's transformation, though she sort of missed the magic glow in his eyes that had been there since he was an infant.
"Take a look at yourself," The alchemist said, holding up a small mirror, and Tarin took it, looking at his reflection, and running a bewildered hand through his hair.
"Brown eyes..." He whispered.
"Your father had brown eyes too, before he became a sorcerer," Angela said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"That little doohickey is a kind of magic filter," The alchemist explained, a little put out that his patient had lost interest in the subject. "It takes the magic energy flowing through you, and controls it, like a water tap, or spigot."
Tarin nodded, understanding. "So to use spells, I just have to hold it?"
"Yes," the alchemist said. "The magic is still in your blood, and performing spells should not be a problem. But be careful not to let that get into the wrong hands. If it is destroyed, all that power will come flooding back through at once, and we would have this same problem on our hands, or worse."
"Worse?" Tarin gulped, fingering the small, now suddenly very fragile piece of metal with one hand. Iron couldn't be smashed, or shattered, but it could be carelessly tossed into a fire, or melted in a furnace. Tarin did not want to experience the pain he'd felt that day ever again.
"It was a miracle Angela found you when she did. Too much later and you may not have made it and quite possibly would have burned down half the forest as well."
Tarin nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Angela," he said, "for everything."
Angela smiled and nodded "You're very welcome, Tarin."
"It's... Trékon, now," Tarin said, running a hand through his hair again. "The king had my name changed when..."
"I see," she said. "Trékon, then. You're very welcome." She smiled at him then, and for once, Tarin actually felt good about his name.