“No, I mean like real magic. I can feel it, inside me, in those plants,” he said, pointing at some small weeds growing near the roots of a tree. “I’ve been learning to use it all summer. I even found a willow tree that’s full of magical power. I’ve got some of the branches and they increase my abilities.”
“Increase your abilities?” Todrek asked incredulously. “What are you saying, that you’re some kind of Sorcerer or something?”
“No, of course not,” Zollin said, aghast.
“Are you crazy?” Todrek’s voice was rising, his eyes wide in his round face. “Zollin, Sorcerers are evil. You really want to be some crazy old man in a tower casting spells and summoning demons?”
“Of course not,” Zollin said, a little shocked by his friend’s reaction.
“Well, that’s where you’re headed.”
“It is not.”
“That power that you’re talking about, it’s going to twist you into someone I don’t know, someone I don’t want to know. Perhaps it already has.”
“Don’t be crazy,” Zollin pleaded. He was shocked by his friend’s reaction, and while he didn’t mind being alone, he had thought that of all the people who would understand, Todrek would.
“I’m not being crazy, you are. You’re spending all your time out here by yourself experimenting with who knows what. How many rabbits and birds have you sacrificed to your demi-god for more power?”
“Todrek, you know me better than that. I’m not sacrificing animals.”
“Then where did this power come from?” Todrek challenged.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, it just sort of happened. You’ve just sort of learned to make things levitate and burn up on command?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. See I was helping my dad –”
Todrek cut him off.
“Does Quinn know about this too?”
“No,” Zollin said, raising his voice for the first time.
“Why not, don’t you want your daddy to be proud of you?”
Zollin wanted to double over. Todrek’s words had been like a punch in his stomach. His big friend had been the only person Zollin had ever confided in. He had told the Butcher’s son how he hated carpentry and how much he feared his father’s rejection. He had even cried once, shortly after Quinn had taken on Mansel as an apprentice. Zollin had felt betrayed, replaced, especially when he saw the camaraderie that his father had with his new student.
“I thought you were my friend,” Zollin said.
“Yeah, well, I thought you were a person, not a freak. I’ve got a life now, Zollin. Dad’s giving me more responsibility in the shop. We’ve even talked about negotiating for Brianna’s hand in marriage. If this is who you are, I can’t be your friend.”
Zollin was so shocked by all the revelations he had just heard that he stood mute and watched Todrek walk away. Part of him wanted to lift his friend into the air and spin him around or shake some sense into him. He felt the magic surging within him, and there was no question that he could do it, but it felt wrong somehow. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who used his power to hurt others.
It was also hard to believe that his friend had really considered marriage to Brianna. She was by far the most beautiful girl in the village, but she knew it and Zollin couldn’t imagine that she would make a good wife. He had never known his mother, and his father had lost all interest in women after she died giving birth to Zollin. He couldn’t really imagine having a girl in the house with them and had only really been interested in girls for the last year or so. Still, his best friend, his only friend really, was walking away and it felt to Zollin like the world was coming to an end.
He went home after that. He took off his willow belt and tried to push out all of the magic that swirled within him. He couldn’t, of course, but it felt good to try. He would have given it all up at that moment if could have. All the wonder and excitement was gone, replaced by a nagging feeling that Todrek was right. Was the magic changing him? Would he end up an evil, twisted, shell of a man, always grasping for more and more power? He had never considered that possibility before. In fact, he had never given magic much thought. His father was not a speculative man, not about philosophy or religion, and certainly not about such mysterious topics as magic. He fixed his mind on the solid things he could touch or build with, and there was never room in his mind for anything that wasn't rational. And yet Zollin knew magic, not much about it, but he had experienced it, channeled it, used it even to help him with the more practical things his father had him doing. He hadn’t used flint and steel to start a fire in over a month. He could conjure a flame by merely thinking about it with the willow belt on. And it had seemed like he was finally coming to know himself. Going to school and making friends with the other kids from the village and even apprenticing with his father felt somehow like he was imitating life. Magic was who he was, not something he did. And, he thought to himself, if I am good, then the magic in me must be good. But still, he didn’t want to leave the village, and if other people felt the way Todrek did about magic, if they jumped to the conclusion that all magic was evil, he would have to be careful. An icy chill of fear ran up his spine then as he wondered if his friend would tell people what he had seen. What if Todrek turned the town against him?
Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
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Third Prince (Third Prince Series) Page 19