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.
Excellent start. I am looking forward to buying your book to finish the story!
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