by Peter Wacht
Nevertheless, the exhaustion he felt didn't keep him from dreaming. Again, he swept out over the Sea of Mist and into the Highlands, moving at a blinding speed. Abruptly he came to a stop. Looking down he recognized the Crag. This time, instead of seeing the grass and moss that covered the once formidable walls, he viewed them as they were after the attack — blackened and charred, with monstrous holes blown into the fortifications. Five years, five years, five years kept playing through his mind. He had left the Highlands five years before. He knew now with a certainty that he would never be able to escape from his responsibility. He could delay. But even then the time would come when he couldn't even do that anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Talent
The next morning, Thomas awoke to rays of early morning sunshine streaming into his small room. Besides a bed, a chest for his clothes, a washstand and piles of books, he did not have much of anything else. That might have bothered some, but not him. In his opinion, he had everything he needed.
In the bottom of the chest, covered by his clothes, lay the Sword of the Highlands wrapped in an oiled cloth. Rynlin had professed not to know how to use a sword. It was one of the first things Thomas had asked when he arrived on the Isle of Mist. If he ever ran into those reivers again, he wanted to be able to defend himself and exact some revenge. Rynlin had said that when the time was right, Thomas would learn how to use the blade. Thomas promised himself that he would not remove the sword from the chest until it was time. So far, the time had not yet come.
As he washed his face, he looked in the mirror. More soft whiskers. He might have to start shaving soon. And the red in his eyes was unmistakable. He had slept like a log, but it certainly didn't look like it had helped. Running a hand through his short hair, even now curling around his ears and in the back, he wetted the comb that lay beside the porcelain bowl and brought some semblance of order to his hair. Then, after scrubbing his teeth with soda, he put on a clean white shirt, brown breeks, and tugged on his boots. The smells of fresh bread and porridge topped with cinnamon and apples greeted him as he sauntered down the stairs.
Mumbling a greeting to Rya and Rynlin, who had already begun to break their fasts, he dug into the bowl that was placed before him. He was famished. Before either of his grandparents had gotten halfway through their porridge, he had refilled his bowl and eaten half a loaf of bread.
"Hungry, Thomas?" asked Rya with some amusement.
He could only nod, since he had just stuffed another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
"Then you've learned the first of your lessons for today," said Rynlin, leaning forward to make sure that Thomas understood the importance of what he was about to say. "When you use the Talent, the more you try to do, the more of your own strength it requires. That's why you slept so deeply, and that's why you're still tired this morning. Your body is not used to what you put it through last night."
Thomas put down his spoon, having finished his second bowl of porridge. He thought about having another, but decided instead to finish the loaf of bread. Rya had poured honey over the top of it, knowing he had a sweet tooth. Between bites of his bread, he asked a few questions.
"So my ability to use the Talent depends on my own strength?" Rynlin leaned back in his chair, nodding, glad to see that Thomas was listening so early in the morning. He had a tendency not to. "Does it depend solely on my physical strength?"
"That's a good question," said Rya, grinning at Rynlin. It was always a pleasure to tease her husband so early in the morning. "Rynlin didn't explain everything that he should have. Yes, it will depend on your physical strength. The stronger you are physically, the more you can do with the Talent. You will be able to control a greater amount of the power you derive from nature, which will allow you to do more difficult things. But it does not rely solely on your physical strength. It also depends on your will." Thomas was getting confused. What did his will have to do with it? "In fact, your will is more important than your physical strength. I've known sorcerers who were no more than skin and bones, yet they were more powerful than sorcerers who appeared to be carved from granite. Why? Because they had a stronger will."
"That's what we need to practice," said Rynlin, cutting in on Rya's explanation, and earning a sour expression from her for it. "In terms of your physical strength, that will obviously increase as you get older and continue to grow. But as Rya explained, you do not have to be solid muscle to be strong in the Talent. That's why we have to work on your will, and I don't mean the fact that you can be extremely stubborn and hard-nosed." Thomas grinned. He had long since decided that stubbornness was a hereditary trait, though he chose to keep that belief to himself.
"No, what I mean," continued Rynlin, "is that you have to learn how to control your will and use the strength of your purpose to accomplish what you want with the Talent."
"Almost like when Rya pulls a hot apple pie from the oven and puts it in front of me on the table," said Thomas, trying to understand what Rynlin was saying by putting it into his own words. "She expects me not to eat it, though she knows it's one of my favorites. I have to show some willpower in not taking a slice."
"Yes," said Rya, this time interrupting her husband. She also earned a sour expression for it. Rynlin didn't like to be cut off. "The better you can learn to master your will, the better you will be able to use the Talent. There are many reasons why you need to have excellent control in the future. The primary one is that you will have to use your Talent when you have very little time to think. Your will could determine whether or not you live or die in that and other situations."
A sobering thought, indeed. It reinforced Thomas' belief that no one was invincible, even someone strong in the Talent.
"So what I can do with the Talent will be determined by how well I can control it?"
"Yes," said Rya.
"What if I try to do something for which I'm not strong enough, or I don't have the necessary control?"
"Then you will die," said Rynlin. Thomas gulped at the finality of his words.
"You don't have to say it so harshly," said Rya, giving her husband a withering look. This time, it did not faze him.
"Yes I do. Harsh words or not, it's the truth," answered Rynlin, ignoring his wife. "Thomas has to know what he's getting himself into." Rynlin turned his gaze to his grandson. "This isn't a game, Thomas. This is very serious business. Are you ready to learn more of what you can do with the Talent? Are you ready to risk the possibility that if you don't do it right, you will die?"
Thomas looked from Rynlin to Rya, then back again. He had never been faced with a decision like this before, where something he chose to do could lead to his death. Strangely, he didn't think it would be the last time.
"Yes, I'm ready," he replied in a firm voice, doing his best to hide his nervousness.
"Good," said Rynlin. "Then let’s begin. Both Rya and I will be teaching you in the morning how to use the Talent, and we will continue with your current lessons. In the afternoon, you will be learning another new skill as well, but we'll discuss that after lunch. We have too much to do now as it is.”
Thomas wondered what that new skill might be. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though.
"Before we get started there are a few things we need to discuss. First, you must promise not to use the Talent unless Rya or I are there to help you." Rynlin raised his hands to ward off Thomas' attempted objections. "I know that there is much you can already do, and for that reason, we'll take searching off the list, as long as you don't go so far as to tax your strength too much. But what Rya and I teach you, until we give you permission to do it on your own, must only be attempted while we are present. You must promise to obey us in this."
Thomas didn't really see it as much of a choice. "I agree."
"Good," said Rya. "Now, for your second lesson, let's discuss the Talent." Thomas settled more comfortably onto his stool. He sensed it was going to be a long discussion.
"The Talent, as
was explained yesterday evening, comes from nature. There are certain people in the Kingdoms who are closer to nature than others, and it is they who have the Talent. Their ability, of course, depends on their strength and their will. When we use the Talent, we link ourselves to nature, using its strength and redirecting it in a way that meets our desired objective. Let me show you." Rya adopted a look of intense concentration as she gazed directly at Thomas. He wondered what she was doing.
"Hey," he said in surprise, as he was lifted several feet off the ground, stool and all.
"Let me explain how I did that, Thomas," said Rya, as she gently lowered him to the floor. “As you do when you're searching, I opened myself to the Talent — that's another way to describe linking to the power of nature — and then used my will to redirect that power so I could lift you off the ground. This might help you understand a little better. I opened myself to the Talent, and then in my mind I looked at you and the stool and thought ‘Rise.’ By thinking that thought and directing the Talent with my will, I was able to do it.
"You'll be able to give it a try in just a moment, but there are a few more things you need to know. One is that there are actually two forms of the Talent. The first is one that both Rynlin and I practice, in which we derive our power from nature. There is another type that does much the same, though with far darker purposes. The best way to describe it is to simply call it Dark Magic, since it doesn't really involve the Talent at all. Dark Magic is practiced by warlocks, men and women who have sold their souls to the Shadow Lord in return for some skill in this cursed art."
The Shadow Lord! While growing up at the Crag, he had been told that the Shadow Lord was dead, destroyed in the Great War two hundred years before. But Rya had talked of the Shadow Lord as if he were still alive.
"What's the difference between the two?" he asked.
"Not much in the way they are practiced," answered Rya, "but certainly in the way they are applied. There is an evil that comes from Dark Magic. It changes those who use it, and not for the good."
"Most of the people who have turned to Dark Magic did so for a reason," said Rynlin. "They wanted power or wealth or revenge — you name it. It could be anything. But they all felt that the only way to get what they wanted was to sell their souls for it. That is the greatest mistake you can ever make. When you're dealing with the Shadow Lord, you don't know the cost of doing business until it's too late."
"What is the cost?" asked Thomas.
"It depends," said Rynlin. "The Shadow Lord is a hard master. Though we call those who have gained some ability in Dark Magic warlocks, which connotes strength or power in battle, if you look back into history the word has an older, mostly forgotten meaning — oathbreaker, or betrayer of covenants. In a literal sense, these people have betrayed nature, since the true enemy of nature is the Shadow Lord. They are nothing more than servants. They do what he wishes, and if they don't, they die — or worse. He doesn't have to worry too much about not having enough servants to perform his given tasks. There are always plenty of people who desire something and will go to great lengths to get it. In reality, they are weak people, and you need to remember that. If you ever come up against one, you can use that to your advantage, much like the Shadow Lord already has."
"I think we've traveled far enough away from the subject for now," interrupted Rya, moving back to her lesson.
"What about spells?" asked Thomas. "All the books speak about using them to perform magic. Does the same apply for the Talent?"
"Thank you, Thomas. You've brought me to my next point. You're right, many books speak of spells. But there is no such thing as a spell. Do you remember from last night what Rynlin was saying about prestidigitators?"
"About what?" asked Thomas, thoroughly confused.
"Sorry," said Rya. "Prestidigitators are those people who say they can perform magic, but really can't. It's all just sleight of hand. The disappearing bunny and all at the country fair?"
Thomas nodded in understanding.
"They say that the power to perform their magic comes from the spells they repeat when they are standing on the platform. They're lying. It's just a way for them to maintain the crowd's interest, and it adds to the mystique. But believe me, Rynlin was right. It truly isn't magic. And you definitely don't want to confuse tricks like those with the Talent. There is more to handling the Talent than trickery.
"True sorcerers don't learn tricks; they learn control. That's the hard part. If you can't control what you're doing, you can kill yourself and others. That brings me to my last point. When you use the Talent you have to be very careful. As Rynlin and I explained before, the more of the Talent you use, the weaker you become. It doesn't matter how strong you are, or how good your control is, it happens to everyone. When you're weak, you're vulnerable. That's why you should only use the Talent when absolutely necessary."
"Now it's my turn to give you an example," said Rynlin. He had a very hard time not adding a word or two to a conversation about a topic he knew something about. "Let's say you're using the Talent to fight someone skilled in Dark Magic." Rya threw her husband a black look, her face resembling a thundercloud. She certainly didn't approve of his example. "You defeat the warlock — man or woman, it really doesn't matter, since it could be both. It was a long battle, and it took a lot of energy. What happens if right after your victory another warlock appears? The warlock might not be as strong as you in the Talent, but if you're in a weakened condition, that really won't matter. What happens then?"
"I die," said Thomas with a cold certainty.
"Most likely, yes," said Rynlin.
"If you're done scaring the boy," said Rya, "perhaps I could continue?"
"Certainly, my love," said Rynlin, giving his wife his best, and hopefully most disarming, smile.
Sighing in exasperation, Rya took up where he left off. "Though Rynlin did not choose the best possible example, he did, in a way, explain what I was going to say next." She again shot Rynlin a withering look, just to make sure he knew she wasn't very happy with him. "When you use the Talent, you will be vulnerable if you weaken yourself too much. And just like anyone else, an arrow or a sword can kill you just as easily as a warlock. Now, when you use the Talent, it marks you."
"What do you mean ‘marks me’?"
"I mean that since you are using the power that resides in nature, you are shaping it in a way that differs from its intended purpose. That will be obvious to those with the Talent. And perhaps even more important, it will also be obvious to those skilled in Dark Magic. They will know where you are as a result. Which, I must admit, makes Rynlin's example somewhat relevant. There are ways to get places very quickly with the Talent, or Dark Magic, and because of that your vulnerability increases."
"So anytime I use the Talent, others who can use it as well will know?"
"Not exactly," said Rya. "It will depend on how strong they are in the Talent. Some might only feel you using the Talent if they're within a mile of you. Some may be hundreds of miles away, yet they'll still be able to mark exactly where you are, and be there in a matter of minutes, or perhaps even faster, if they have the skill."
"Let me get this straight. If I use the Talent, you're saying I need to be careful because I could die if I don't do it right, and I could also become a target for someone else skilled in the Talent, or more likely Dark Magic?"
"Rya, I think he's got it," said Rynlin, with a touch of misplaced humor.
"I believe you're right," she replied.
"The Talent certainly isn't what I thought it was," said Thomas. "I always thought those who could use it were all powerful, at least that's what all the books say."
"And that," said Rynlin, "is just another reason why you should take everything you read from a book with a grain of salt. When something is written in a book, it doesn't necessarily mean it's true."
"I'll have to remember that," said Thomas, promising himself that he would be more skeptical in the future.
"Good," s
aid Rya. "Then it's time for you to learn what you can do with the Talent."
Thomas instantly sat up straight on his stool. He'd been waiting for this since last night, though he did have to admit he wasn't as eager as he was earlier. His grandparents had certainly done a good job of deadening his excitement with their somber attitudes and stories.
Both Rynlin and Rya stood, and Thomas did the same. He stepped out of the way as they pushed the table against the far wall.
"Now," said Rynlin, standing next to Thomas, "I want you to pick up that chest over there." He pointed to the chest that sat next to the door against the wall. Rynlin kept extra pieces of firewood in it so he wouldn't have to go outside on a cold night. Made from an old piece of oak and several inches thick all the way around, it also happened to be very heavy.
"You want me to move that?" Thomas asked, waving at the chest with his hand in skepticism.
"Yes," said Rynlin. He then hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited.
Thomas looked at the chest, weighing it with his eyes. He had tried to move it by himself once. Rya had given him a leather ball as a gift and it had fallen behind the chest. He couldn't reach the ball, so he tried to move the chest out of the way. That had been a losing struggle on his part, and it took the combined efforts of him, Rynlin and Rya to move it just a few inches. This was definitely not going to be easy. Well, if he could search all the way to the border of Armagh, he should be able to do this.
Taking a deep breath, Thomas focused his attention on the chest, closing out everything around him. There was nothing else in the room except for the chest. Almost immediately he felt the Talent surge within him. Now that he thought about it, it did, in fact, have the feel of nature. If he really concentrated on it, he could sense the soft caress of the wind, the taste of dew in the morning and so much more. Thomas pushed away those thoughts. He had to focus on his task.