Chapter One

Input.  I'm reminded of the movie short circuit, you know the one with the laser carrying robot whose eyes go red.  I used to watch that as a kid over and over.  I loved the part where the robot has just been zapped, and is wandering around saying "need input... input".  I feel the same way.  Comments rock!  To all of those who have left comments either here or on Facebook, I want to thank you.  Anyway,  I think its time for everyone to meet Tallon Drage.

 

Chapter One

Healings

            Tallon Drage walked the Ridgeline Road toward Lower Blacktips as the first rays of the late spring sun cleared the tops of the Blacktip Mountains.  The peaks high above were still covered in winter’s white, but where the snow had retreated, black rock glistened. The new morning light chased away the darkness of night and began to warm the cooled ground.  Tallon was grateful for the warmth.  He had been out before the sun was up collecting wood for Master Adams, the town fletcher.  From the dew covered grasses and underbrush, Tallon’s breeches were wet up to mid calf.  Yes, he was grateful for the arriving warmth.  He shifted the large bundle of sticks that he was carrying over to his other shoulder so his face could feel the sunlight

            Last winter was long and hard. His parent’s had needed to use some of the seed corn and potatoes as food, forcing them to buy more seed with the little money they possessed.  Tallon’s parents were giving and always found ways to help their neighbors.  They were rather generous, sometimes too generous from his point of view.  He had seen his parents donate several sheep to neighbors in need.  One time they even gave one of their few cows to a struggling family, a cow that could have been cooked and placed in his own belly.  With money short and mouths to feed, Tallon went to work for Master Adams, the fletcher.   Master Sandy Adams was a kind old man with wispy white hair who thought that finding arrow shafts and general cleaning were jobs for the youth, and since Tallon had reached the age of fourteen, it was a perfect job for him.  He rather enjoyed the work.  Firstly, because Master Adams was always quick with a grin and a deserving compliment and secondly, for every bundle Tallon brought to Adams, the old fletcher would give him one copper stub.  It wasn’t much but every little bit helped the family.  Tallon would rather have gone out and found wood for arrow shafts than be watching sheep or milking cows.  Tallon’s father Ander, and older brother Broman, did the majority of the heavier work, such as harvesting, repairing the numerous fences, and general labor.  Tallon and his younger sister Ania got to help with some of the smaller things namely collecting eggs, herding the sheep, planting, and feeding, but it was certainly nice to get away for a couple days a week to work in the town.   He moved the bundle of sticks back to the first shoulder, and walked a little faster to get back into the sunlight after a patch of shade produced by large pine and Jasper Oak.

            Quickly combing through his dark brown hair with a free hand, he attempted to dislodge whatever twigs the forest had deposited.  Of his parents’ three children, Tallon was the only child to inherit his mother’s bright green eyes.  Tallon was rather inquisitive and tried to be mature for his age.  He was tall but not strong like his older brother Broman. Tallon hefted the bundle of wood higher up on his shoulder and picked up his pace, Master Adams liked him to be early.

            Master Sandy Adams made the best arrows around.  Hunters came from all over the Blacktip Mountains to purchase Adams Arrows.  Sandy used a process he called footing.  Using hardwood around the tip where the shaft was likely to break, gave the arrow added strength.  The rest of the shaft was made from soft wood because it was light weight.  One reason why Tallon loved the Ridgeline was because of the trees.   The old road had plenty of the broadleafs that Master Sandy favored as well as the softer pine.   Besides, Sandy was busy and hunters were in the process of restocking their supplies after such a long winter.  Tallon fervently hoped that he would get to hear some of their stories of far off cities and battles with bears, wolves and other wild animals.  Living in the woods was a far better choice than living on a farm.  Broman disagreed, Tallon’s older brother would often chuckle at him whenever he heard the, I want to be a hunter talk, while a twelve year old Ania would just shake her head with a grin.  Tallon’s parents encouraged him to learn woodcraft and as such he spent long hours at Sandy’s, listening to the hunters as they bought bundles of arrows.  After tales were told, some of the hunters would take Tallon to the woods around town, and demonstrate the art.   There was so much to learn, like how to move silently through twig infested underbrush, trapping, tracking, where to find food and water and how to build a shelter from what the forest provided. Tallon loved the outdoors especially because there weren’t any people around that looked at him strangely. 

Tallon kicked at a rock in the road and nearly lost his balance, the bundle of sticks teetering dangerously on his shoulder before he stabilized his footing.  Whenever people saw him, they were always talking with hushed tones and looking at him as though he were an animal from one of the hunter’s stories…or perhaps even a demon.   The old lady Hunderton had thrown sticks at him from her yard a few days back, banishing him from the area just in front of her property.  But it was a group of children his age that were the worst.  Broman always protected him and finished more fights than Tallon could remember.  Broman at the age of seventeen was strong, much stronger than the kids that loved to torment.  While Tallon tried to be like a hero, it was his older brother that acted the part.  In appearance they didn’t share very much as far as resemblance was concerned.  Broman had curly light brown hair and soft brown eyes, looking much like their father in build and color.  Broman’s size made him perfect for forge work and often talked about becoming a blacksmith.  In his free time to help the family, Broman had even helped Master Tolmes pound red hot metal. 

His mind stopped wandering when he saw some kids on the ridgeline road in front of him.  At the center of the group was none other than Will Darion.  Will loved finding any excuse to plant a punch anywhere that was soft, as did the rabble that followed him.   Without Broman, Tallon decided that avoidance was best.  He didn’t think they had seen him, but to be safe he softly moved off the road and into the forest.  He used every bit of hunter training he could recall to move through the trees as quietly as possible.  There was a short cut through the woods that would lead him the rest of the way to Master Adams shop at the edge of town.  Avoiding the gang didn’t make Tallon feel like a coward.   Besides, walking through the woods was always more fun than walking along a dusty road, and although his breeches were nearly dry, the dew needed to get them wet again.  Enjoying the sounds of the insects and birds and the lush smell of the forest, Tallon continued quietly on his way trying to convince himself that he was not a coward.  

The path through the woods led to the back door of the fletchery.  Tallon undid the latch and opened the door, carefully setting his bundle down on one of the work benches.  He ran his eyes across the room and quickly rubbed his shoulder where the heavy bundle had sat.  Great crates of goose feathers littered the work area— as well as the benches, floor and tables.  Large wooden boxes contained the metallic broadheads and all around the room were stacks and bundles of the finished Adams arrows.  Stepping lightly, Tallon was sure to observe the one rule of Master Adams, and didn’t touch anything.  On the first day Tallon came to work, Master Adams had said sternly, ‘Don’t touch anything.’  The kids that did, no longer worked for him.  And after several months, Tallon was the only youngster that remained employed.

Tallon moved quietly up through the work area to the door that led to the front of the shop, already he could hear the crackling voice of Master Adams.  Opening the front door quietly, Tallon slipped into the front area of the shop where hunters and buyers would come to talk and buy arrows from Master Adams.  The moment the door opened, the old man paused in his conversation with a hunter to give Tallon a leathery smile.  The hunter was a bear of a man, clad in a patch work layer of animal skins that nearly touched the floor.  Several knife handles jutted out from his jerkin, while he leaned casually on a large, dark-wood bow.  Master Adams on the other hand, looked like a bundle of sticks tied together haphazardly.  His wispy white hair and creased face was an entertaining sight.  Tallon liked Master Adams. He was genuinely kind and always showed real interest in the happenings of a fourteen year old. 

“As I was saying Sandy,” continued the bear-like hunter, “Although the winter was long, the season was good.  I was able to reuse a lot of your arrows multiple times.  The tips don’t break or bend on impact.  In fact, I convinced several groups of hunters that your arrows were far better than anything else around.”  

Tallon had heard it all before, he could guess that the hunter would then ask for a discount or something like that. 

“You know, I imagine that the whole lot of them will be coming down to purchase several bundles from you before spring ends.   I’m like your unofficial seller!  So Sandy, how about a few silvers off the price tag?”

Master Adams looked over at Tallon and grinned.  It was contagious and Tallon found himself grinning as well. 

“Now Tray you know my rules, I don’t heckle prices, I don’t lower prices and I don’t need sellers.  So don’t even think about getting a discount.” Master Adams crackled. 

“Sandy!  Not even for an old friend?”

Still smiling, Tallon walked past the hunter and the seller’s counter to a small closet.  Pulling out a rough woolen apron and a broom, Tallon secured the apron around his waist and began to sweep the floor, making sure to get the corners and around the counter.  Luckily, Master Adams wouldn’t have him sweep the feather covered shop floor until the spring rush was over.  At seasons end, the shop floor, with all of its feathers, would take an entire day to clean, if not three!  Tallon enjoyed working. His parents had taught him well.  Mother always stressed that cleaner was better.  He could just hear her say if it isn’t cleaned right it isn’t clean! Tallon grinned as he swept, unfortunately for his mom he was never this thorough at home.  He moved the broom over the floor, slowly gathering bits of dirt left from the many buyers that came to Adams.  Hunters wore soft leather boots for stalking prey, and they were often beyond dirty.  As soon as the dirt and grime was swept up, Tallon switched the broom for a rag and an old wooden mop bucket.  Filling the bucket with a few soap shavings and hot water off of the iron stove, Tallon began cleaning the floor on his hands and knees, while occasionally stealing glances at Tray the hunter and Master Adams as their conversation moved from arrows to hunting and from hunting to general concerns like the weather.  Because Master Adams liked the store front to be spotless, Tallon didn’t spend too much time listening to the conversation of the two men.  He would only listen to the stories that hunters brought with them of daring escapes, dangerous hunts and the like.   Tallon didn’t understand why adults loved talking about the weather.  Plainly put, weather was dull.  It seemed like whenever his elders ran out of neat stories, they would talk about weather.  Tallon figured if it rained, it rained, if it was sunny then it was sunny.  Worrying about it didn’t change it, so you might as well leave it alone.  Tallon turned back to his work, moving the rag in large circles and mopping up whatever the broom missed.  Pausing to clean his rag in the water, Tallon stopped and stared intently at the fletcher and the hunter, something sparked his attention.

“Barnes was telling me that there was this man dressed all in black that came to the inn last night.  Said he took an interest in a bunch of rumors… something about the folk out on the old Ridgeline Road.  Barnes said the man was just strange, like a story that just can’t be true.  The man didn’t fit in and there was something very different about him.  Walking death he was.  It was his eyes.  He said they were black, black like polished obsidian and deeper than a moonless night.  And his skin was pale white like the moonlight.”  The hunter said slowly.

Tallon gaped, the rag lay forgotten in his hand.  A cold fear began to settle in his chest.

Master Adams retorted, “Those foreign folk are always sticking their noses around, ready to have the Creator curse anyone that isn’t up to their standards.”  Sandy paused to rub his bony jaw with an even bonier finger, “Funny thing is they’re so busy looking down their noses that they seldom realize there’s more to life than the nose on their face.”

“Barnes said the man wasn’t a normal traveler— didn’t even have a horse.  Sandy, who travels across the Blacktips without a horse or a pack animal at least?  I don’t know of anyone that can make it through the Blacktips with so few supplies!” 

Sandy coughed, “Well in that case, I hope he is one of your lot that’s going to stop on by to buy up all my arrows.”

Tray leaned forward on his dark wood bow, “That’s what I’m saying Sandy, Barnes said the man didn’t carry a knife or even a bow!  No one travels the Blacktips without something to defend himself with.”   

“If you think you’re so good as a seller, why don’t you go sell him a bow and a few bundles of arrows while you’re at it?” Adams chuckled.

 “Nah, you wouldn’t want him here. Barnes said the man struck fear into everyone that looked at him!”  Tray continued shaking his bearded head.

Master Adams cackled, jabbing a bony finger at the hunter with every word.  “Ha!  Old Barnes was probably too drunk to notice anything, let alone strangers in the night!  Barnes probably was telling you the story to get you to buy him another drink!  The sun doesn’t have to set before Barnes has filled himself with booze.” 

 “Barnes does like his drink,” Tray spoke and moved back a few steps to avoid the bony finger, “but Sandy, I’ve never heard Barnes admit he was afraid, not even last year when him, and his mule got attacked by a bear protecting its cubs.  Sandy, Barnes said that he was terrified of this man.”  

Although Tallon didn’t know Barnes, he agreed with him. There was something about this man with black clothes that was very unsettling.  He shifted his eyes to the store front windows, sure that the man would be staring through.  But only the rippled image of the town looked back.   With a shake of his head, Tallon returned the rag to the hot soapy water.  It was foolish to think that the black cloaked man would somehow be after him.  Yet, rumors and trouble seemed to follow after him, like the time when he was helping Master Joe Samerson, the local tanner.  Tallon accidentally cut his arm really deep, and after a day’s time, the cut healed enough to look more like a cat scratch.  The tanner never let Tallon work for him again. Whoever the man in the black clothes was, he hoped to never get the terrible opportunity to meet him.  

Tallon was too busy with his thoughts and had missed Master Adams reply.

With a thick finger, Tray picked his front teeth, “But that isn’t all of it.  That man was asking questions about the boy who’s not quite right.” 

Tallon’s jaw dropped, the man in the black was looking for him.  He felt sick.   Quickly, he wondered what would happen if Tray realized that the boy from the rumors was scrubbing the floors behind him.  But what ever the hunter could do was not as frightening as the knowledge that the black cloaked stranger was looking for him.  That thought made the blood in his veins feel like the pointed tips of icicles.

Noticing his distress from the corner of an observant eye, Master Sandy Adams replied with a secret grin for Tallon, “Tray, you of all people should know not to believe rumors.  Master Ander and Annabelle Drage are the kindest people this town has ever seen.”

Tallon smiled, feeling the fear settle… slightly.  If anyone in all of Lower Blacktips was on his side, it was Sandy Adams.  Tallon finished the mopping as the conversation turned back to the weather.  He couldn’t help but feel troubled— some stranger was asking questions about him, a stranger that struck fear into people, a stranger with black eyes who could cross the Blacktips without a horse or a weapon.  Tallon walked into the workshop to the back door and threw the used mop water out into the woods.   Returning to the front of the store, Tallon put the bucket back and tossed the rag onto the pile of dirty ones in the closet.

He had just started to oil the wooden counter when Broman rushed into the store, breathing hard.  Looking at Broman’s shoes on his clean floor, Tallon was about to make some comment about dirty older brothers, but the look on his brother’s face stopped him. Something was wrong.

“Master Adams, hunter sir, excuse me,” Broman turned to Tallon, “Tallon, Dad’s hurt. Part of the tree we were cutting, fell and hit his leg. He’s hurt bad.”  Broman panted, out of breath.

“Master Adams—” Tallon started.

“Go boy!  No use standing around gawking.  Run home with your brother, if your father’s alright you can come back and finish or just work a little extra tomorrow,” crackled Sandy. 

Tallon rushed to put the oil away and ran out the front door with his brother.  “Is Dad okay?” 

Broman spoke between breaths, “Tallon, he’s hurt bad, his leg is all funny.  You know that oak tree we were cutting and moving from off the smashed fence up on the northern end, well it broke loose while I was cutting and Dad was standing under it when it fell.  He jumped out of the way, but it caught his leg, he’s roughed up really good.  I carried him back to the house as fast as I could.”  Broman huffed heavily, “There isn’t anything we can do.  The bones are crushed.  Mom told me to run and get you.  You better do something, Dad’s in a lot of pain.”

His brother’s words came out in near panic.  Tallon took off at a sprint.  Fear for his dad compelled him onward.  Tallon had always been quick on his feet and his lithe form flew over Ridgeline Road.   Though Broman was strong, he lacked a runner’s body, and was quickly outpaced.  The rocks on the ground crunched as he ran, the wind rushing through his dark brown hair.  Just as Tallon peered over his shoulder to look for Broman, there was a sickening thud.  Tallon fell to the ground, gasping for breath, something had hit his chest.  Stars flickered across his blackened vision as Tallon realized he was on his back laying on the road.   His vision cleared slowly enough to reveal Will Darion staring down at him with a smirk. 

“Look what we caught, a dirty Demon running for home.”

Tallon could only gasp in reply. His lungs struggled to replace the air that was knocked from them. 

When Will continued, his voice was full of scorn. “You thought you lost us this morning cutting through the woods didn’t ya?”

Tallon looked to either side and saw Todd Darion, Jesse Andrews, and two of the Smethers boys laughing stupidly. 

“Our dad,” Will said, motioning to his brother Todd, “fought in the Demon Wars.  Do you know what he did to Demons?” Will sneered. 

Tallon coughed, “He should have drowned the both of you.”

Pain exploded along his side where Will kicked him.   Tallon could taste blood in his mouth.  He had been a fool, letting himself out pace his brother.  A look down the empty road only verified how truly alone he was.

Noticing the look, Will snickered, “I’d be careful if I were you, big brother isn’t here to save your worthless Demon hide.”

Todd put his mouth next to Tallon’s ear, “You don’t know when to keep your slobbery Demon mouth shut.”

“How about we shut it for him?” Will spoke softly to his gang. 

Their bodies cast shadows over Tallon as they gathered around him.  He closed his eyes and rolled up into a ball awaiting the wrath of Will’s mob.   Usually he was better at watching out for them, he had left his caution back down the road with Broman.  Whether his ribs twitched from the first kick or the knowledge that there would be more seemed oddly important.  Tallon tensed waiting for the onslaught when there was a high pitched scream.

Tallon opened his eyes to see Broman deliver a kick to Jesse.  Todd was already on the ground with a bloody nose— Broman dodged a punch from one of the Smethers boys, deliberately landing upon the already fallen Todd. The Smethers brothers came from two sides, while Will tried to corner Broman from a third.  Tallon reached out and got a hold on Will’s feet, tripping him. Will kicked out, hitting Tallon in the face. Tallon’s vision blurred but refocused on Broman as he delivered a full legged kick to the fallen Will.  The blonde haired Smethers boy landed a punch on his brother’s side.  Broman turned just in time to dodge a punch from the red haired one.   Spinning to the left, Broman hit the blonde fellow with an elbow.   Todd Darion tried to get to his feet, but was kneed in the mouth, adding to the blood already covering his face.  Broman faked and circled, trying to land a good hit on one of the Smethers.  In anger the red haired Smethers boy rushed Broman, hoping to knock him to the ground.  Broman dropped his forehead into the face of the rushing redhead, bright red blood exploded from a broken Smethers nose.  Tallon came to his feet and stood by his brother. 

The blonde Smethers boy took one look at his fallen comrades, and another at Broman then took off running and shouting, “I’ll get you for this, you demons!!”

In frustration Tallon threw a rock at the departing figure, but missed.  The Smethers were only brave when there were numbers on their side.

“Tal, are you alright?”  Broman said between breaths of air.

“A little worse for wear, but nothing’s broken,” Tallon replied.

He surveyed the scene of the battle— four boys lay in agony clutching bloody noses and mouths.  When Broman fought, he fought for blood.

Tallon looked at his brother, “Are you okay?” 

“It’s a good thing I’ve got a hard head.  One of the Smethers got a good hit in the ribs, but it’ll just bruise.”  Broman replied while eyeing his handiwork.

Tallon watched as Broman walked over to Will Darion and delivered a kick to the boy’s ribs. 

“I’m going to tell my dad!  He fought in the demon war,” squealed Will.

 “I don’t care, have the pansy come out, I’ll bloody him up too!”  Broman yelled at him, sending another kick to the fallen Will. 

Broman grabbed Will by the tunic, pulling him to his feet and whispered, “You touch my brother again and your mom won’t recognize you,” then dropped him.

Dusting large hands, his older brother gave him an accusatory look. “Come on Tal, let’s leave these pigs to bake in the sun.  And go slower this time.”

Tallon couldn’t agree more.  He made sure to walk very close to his brother, Broman the bodyguard.  No matter how many times his brother stepped in and broke up fights, Will’s gang never gave up.  Tallon scolded himself for running headlong into them. With a roguish grin, Broman handed him a bunch of leaves to clean off the signs of the fight.   He took the leaves and immediately started cleaning the area around his nose, while Broman wiped Smethers blood off of his forehead.

“That was really stupid Tal,” he said, “You know those fools hate you.  You know it.  I don’t think you should be going into Lower Blacktips to help Master Adams.  It’s too dangerous!  Will’s taken a big disliking to you.” 

“Broman, you’re just going to have to knock ‘em around a bit more.  Besides I’ll heal.”  Tallon grinned.

Broman chuckled, “I’ll have a bruise the size of Mom’s best pot on my side tomorrow and you won’t even have a scratch.” 

Tallon felt his back where the sharp rocks from the road had cut him, already the wounds were healing.  They were small enough that in a few hours they’d be completely healed.  For the thousandth time, he wondered why his body healed so fast.  He could get cuts and scrapes and they would be gone without a scar before the days end. Unfortunately, he thought ruefully, he couldn’t heal the holes in his tunic.  Mom was not going to be happy, Tallon mused.  It would be one thing if he just healed quickly… the strangest things were the lines of power.  When Tallon was little, he assumed that everyone saw the white and dark lines— strands that crisscrossed without form or fashion that were as soft as the gossamer streamers of spider webs, only dimmer.  Like the soft flicker of a distant candle.  How could they miss something that seemed to be everywhere?  Yet people walked through them as though they didn’t exist.  They were so natural that he rarely even noticed them himself, until night.  The dark lines were especially visible at night.  Their soft black glow was greatly emphasized by the surrounding darkness.  Often he would ask his mom what the lines where, but she didn’t understand.  No one did, the lines were some strange thing that only he could see, that only he could tap into.  It was that power made him a target for people like Will.

Broman interrupted Tallon’s thoughts when he said “There’s Mom.  Let’s hurry, and don’t tell her about the fight.  You know Mom.”

Tallon chuckled, “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you enjoyed fighting local thugs.” 

“For you little brother, I would fight Todd and Will’s Dad!” Broman laughed, “No matter what they say, that scrawny goat kisser couldn’t have fought in the Demonic War.”

Tallon laughed.  The entire time he had been pondering about the lines, Broman must have been thinking about Will’s dad in a war.  Now that he thought about it, Master Darion in a war was laughable.  The picture didn’t fit.  The man hated anything that sounded or looked like work and the effort of lifting a sword would probably incapacitate him. 

Their mom finally reached them.  She’d been running with her skirts hiked up since she saw them.  Annabelle Drage was slight and slender, with nearly black hair.  The few strands of white made her look regal.  She had a strong, delicate manner about her.  Something that didn’t make sense, but that was the best way to describe her.  She could out work many of the townsfolk and yet show the deepest concern for anyone who struggled.  Her mouth was always quick with a smile.  Her bright green eyes sparkled in the sunlight. 

He didn’t have to tell his Mom about the fight, she took one look at him and Broman, and put her hands on her hips, which was always a bad sign.  “Broman and Tallon Drage, you’ve been fighting those kids again, haven’t you!” 

Full names— Tallon knew that Mom was going to let them have it.

Broman started, “But Mom, they were—” Just as Tallon said, “It wasn’t our fault they—”

“Broman dear,” She cut them both off. “I’m glad you won.  Next time though, try using your head instead of your hands.” 

Tallon lost it, chuckling, he said, “Mom he did.  He used it to hit the Smethers boy right in the face.”

Broman laughed, pushing Tallon playfully.  The corners of her mouth lifted in a slight grin.  She rarely stayed mad for very long.  Tallon continued to laugh until he looked at his mom and saw that she had gotten serious.

Worry creased her eyes as she said, “Tallon,” she paused with a look of deep concern, “Could you go in and see your father?” 

“Yeah Mom… is he okay?” Tallon said softly.   The worry and fear from earlier returned, making the laughter of just moments ago seem grossly out of place.

“I’ve given him boiled sundew root to reduce the pain.  He’s sleeping right now in our room,” She turned to Broman, “Tell me what those boys tried to do this time.”

Tallon left them in the ankle high grass and climbed the stone steps into their house, Ania rushed to him holding him close.  He could see that his sisters hazel eyes were red rimmed.  Putting a hand to her light brown hair, Tallon asked, “How’s Dad?”

Ania swallowed hard, “Papa’s hurt Tallon.   I’m scared.  But I know that you’ll be able to do something for him.  You need to help him like you did for Betsy!” 

Betsy was one of a few heifers. A little less than a year back, Betsy had been found with awful slashes and deep bloody gashes around her neck.  Tallon’s Dad was certain that it had been a bear.  He didn’t think there was anything to be done with Betsy except a quick death to remove her from her misery.   He left Tallon in charge of the dying cow and went out to the fields with his bow and a brimming quiver of arrows.   Tallon remembered staring at the poor cow as it suffered and struggled to breathe.  That was the first day that Tallon used the white power lines to heal.   He remembered the pain as the power was unleashed through him into Betsy, the smell of his burnt and blistered skin and the feeling of the grass while staring at his hand in horror.   He remembered the look of surprise on his Dad’s face when he returned from killing the bear and saw Betsy without a mark or scar, grazing on the nearby grass.  It was then that Tallon told his Dad about the white and black glowing lines of power.  Though they existed everywhere, only Tallon could see them.  He remembered the bitter feeling of cold fear as he told the story to his Dad.  His father however, had understood and thanked him for helping Betsy.  Somehow he must have sensed Tallon’s fear, because he sat down in the grass and talked.  There was a peace and calmness in his words.  They talked amid the sounds of insects under a bright blue sky.  It’s funny how certain things just have a way of standing out.  Tallon still remembered his father’s words of counsel.  He had pointed to his own skin while saying, Son, this isn’t what makes us who we are.  Paused softly, and then lifted his large scarred and calloused hand to his chest, it is what is in our hearts and our minds and what we do with them.  Tallon, the things that are a part of us don’t make us good or bad.  It is how we live.  It is the way we treat others.  It is how we use what we know and what we feel.  That is what makes us good.

Those words echoed in Tallon’s mind as he felt his little sister cry into his shoulder.  No matter the pain it would cause, Tallon knew he would use his gift to save his Dad. 

“It will be okay Ania,” said Tallon, hoping it would be true. 

He carefully let go of his sister, her eyes were wet.  Taking a deep breath, Tallon walked to the back of the house to his parent’s room to find his father.

It was an awful sight.  Tallon’s Dad was asleep in his bed.  His left leg was lying at a funny angle and large deep abrasions covered it from the knee down.  Tallon choked back his tears— it was hard to see his father in such a state.  Tallon knew that his Dad was tough.  He was a very strong man with large hands and arms heavily callused from years of farm work.  His gray streaked, light brown hair was matted to his sweaty forehead.   Tears finally found their way to the surface, and Tallon had to wipe them from his eyes.  Softly, he sat down next to his Father.  Taking a deep breath, Tallon closed his eyes and stilled himself, slowing his mind and focusing inward.  Gently, he placed a hand on his father’s leg, then calming himself further, reaching out to the white lines of power that lay everywhere like wisps of spider webs.  Most of his knowledge came from trial and error, but he somehow knew that for healing, the black lines must be avoided.  Tallon reached out with his stilled mind and touched a white strand.  Instantly a power of pain filled him; Tallon clenched his teeth against the onslaught.  Although the power burned with agony, there was a savor, making him hunger for more.  That feeling almost caused him to release the strands.  In determination he focused the power, transferring it down his arm to his father’s leg, bathing the wounds in vivid white light. 

It only took seconds, seconds that felt like slices of eternity.  Tallon cut off the power.  His father’s leg was straight and perfectly healed.  The only thing remaining was all the old scars of ancient farming wounds.  Tallon withdrew a shaking hand from his father’s leg and clenched it tight.  He knew what he would find.  There was a terrible throbbing.  Tallon looked down at his clenched fist and slowly opened it.  All along his palm were blisters, burns and blood.  Wisps of smoke were still spiraling upwards from his ruined flesh, filling the room with a thick smell of oily char.  Whenever the power was released it left a painful mark.  Tallon wondered if that was why his body was supposed to heal so fast.  Did the Creator decide he should heal others through his own pain and rapid healing?   Maybe he really was a demon.  Maybe Will Darion was right.  No one else could see the lines.  No one else could touch such power.  No one else healed so fast.  Demons from the war were said to have been magic.  Old stories, from several grizzled hunters, spoken in hushed tones about the Demonic Wars.  Always there was a touch of fear that resided just behind their eyes.  Demons had done horrible things.  Tallon shivered as his mind filled up with unanswerable questions.  He was covered from head to toe in a layer of sweat.  He felt weak.  The power always left him feeling this way.  Tallon wobbled on the stool, where his Mom caught him, delivering a warm hug and tears. Tallon couldn’t remember seeing her enter the room.  Everything moved slowly as if time had become like cold honey.

“Thank you my Tallon.”  His Mom said with tears running down her cheeks.

Tallon nodded numbly, noting that her eyes were red and not knowing why such a detail was so important.   His mother gently took him to the kitchen. 

“Broman, Ania, see that your brother gets some food,” She nodded at their questions, “Your father is fine, your father is fine.”  With a relieved and slightly pained smile, she turned and walked back to be with her husband and closed the door without a sound. 

Tallon looked out the window and noticed the sun getting low on the horizon.  He hadn’t realized that it took so long.  His stomach grumbled loudly as his sense of smell was reawakened by his mother’s stew.  Tallon’s eyes blinked with surprise when he realized that he was sitting at the table with a bowl of soup in front of him.

“Hey Tal, your food won’t feed you, so you’d better start eating it.” Broman said around a mouthful of steaming stew.

Tallon picked up the spoon and winced, and had to hurriedly shift it to his uninjured hand.  It was hard enough trying to eat with his left hand, but it trembled so much that his mouth received less than half of what the spoon could hold.  With each successful bite of hot stew, his body warmed up with it.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full of food. It’s not very nice.” Ania said with her bottom lip pointing to Broman. 

“Ania neither should you.”

Ania stuck her tongue out at Broman as she filled her spoon, she then turned to Tallon.  “Is Papa okay?”

Tallon smiled, nodding to her.  “Dad is alright.”  Ania was the sweetest thing.  She had gotten all of their mother’s kind heartedness.  Ania was so concerned with the welfare of others that she rarely made time to think of herself. 

Broman tossed a hot roll that Tallon barely managed to catch. “Tal,” he said, “what did it look like…you know after?” 

Tallon dipped his roll into the stew, “there isn’t a mark.  Everything is better.” 

Ania smiled at Broman, “See, I told you he would do it.” 

Broman glared, “You told me… it’s more like you asked me so many demonic questions that I can’t believe I’m still alive.”

Ania folded her arms, looking just like their mom.  “That is no way to talk to a girl.” 

Broman laughed sarcastically, “I’m sorry… I didn’t notice you were here.” 

Not catching the sarcasm, she went on with her meal, directing skeptical looks toward Broman.  Tallon chuckled behind his roll.  Broman loved to tease her. 

“Tal, are you okay?” Broman asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, while Ania harrumphed and pointed deliberately at the cloth napkins.  She could do a fine impersonation of their mom.  Tallon unclenched his right hand where the skin was an angry red, parts of it stuck together, bleeding.  The sight made Broman whistle softly. 

“It’ll heal.”  Tallon whispered.

Ania looked at him with all the seriousness a twelve year old could muster, “I knew you’d be able to do it.  Just like when you healed Betsy.  Oh, she’s wanted to say thank you for a very long time.  It’s been so long ago, but I don’t think that she ever got the chance.  She really likes you.”

Tallon grinned, swallowing a mouth full of the hot stew, “Well, you tell Betsy she’d better continue to be careful around the wooded areas.”

Ania nodded earnestly.  She loved animals.  After the feeding was done in the morning, she would spend hours with the sheep, cows and chickens.  She spent more time outside than in.  Even the sheep followed her.  Whenever it was Tallon’s turn to get them into the barn before dark, the stupid animals would run all over.  Ania on the other hand just had to walk out into the fields and the sheep went where she walked.  Tallon ate another spoonful.  His mother was an artist in the kitchen.  The stew was perfect, and satisfying, with just the right flavor.  Soon their parents joined the table, dishing up two more bowls from the large pot on the stone hearth.

“It feels good to be able to walk again.  Thank you Tallon my boy!”  His father said gruffly while taking a seat.

Before their dad could even put the spoon in his bowl, Broman blurted out, “Dad is it true that Master Darion fought in the Demonic Wars?” 

Ander gave a deep chuckle.  “No.  Old Taren never left his farm.  Most folk around here didn’t either.  Why do you ask?”

“Will and Todd said he did.”  Broman said softly as he pushed a few potatoes around with his spoon.  Tallon sopped up the last bit of broth with his roll.  Healing always left him starving.

“And you believed them?”  Annabelle said wryly.

“That old codger has been after my land since the day I bought it.”  Ander added with disdain, “His boys must share the sentiment.”

Broman said something to their mom, as Ander motioned to Tallon with his spoon, “So how’s ole Sandy doing with all of those hunters come to buy arrows?”

Tallon froze in mid bite.  He had forgotten all about the conversation between Master Adams and Tray, the hunter.  He turned to tell his parents to tell them about the black-eyed man, when there was a weighty knock on the door.  Somehow, Tallon knew who was standing behind their old oak door.