The Mage's Son

by T Ariyanna

  Arion skimmed over it before focusing on the body of the clock. He brushed his glowing hands over the splintered wood and shattered glass, returning them to their proper state. He felt the energy being sapped from him as small pieces were made purely from his energy. The clock looked better than it had before. Arion hadn't realized what poor shape it had been in, and again hoped his father would not care to notice the difference.

  With the levitation spell at his disposal, replacing the clock was no problem. The pendulum sat still and the hands of the clock drooped, but he was sure his father wouldn't notice. He didn't even pay attention to the clock on the few occurrences it woke him. He wouldn't be bothered by it being lifeless.

  He scooped Tome into his arms and let out a yawn. Finally, he was tired, now that the sun had begun to rise. But his mind was anything but peaceful. He was abuzz with various ideas, and he planted himself in front of his dresser.

  He laid out his extra pieces around him. His locket swung from the handle of the top drawer, and Tome was propped up above it. With a smile, Arion followed the instructions on Tome’s chosen page.

  Experiment.

  Chapter 3

  Arion paced in front of the door, waiting his father's return. He had been preparing all week, doing anything he thought would appease his father. He cleaned the house, and stocked the kitchen. The locket made from the broken clock was nestled in his pocket. Now, he just had to wait to see if his work would pay off.

  Arion glanced into the living room, towards the large grandfather clock. With a laugh at himself, he pulled the locket from its hiding place.

  “That clock never worked right, anyway. This is a better use for it,” Arion reminded himself. He ran his thumb over the outline of the heart, his fingers playing with the chain that dangled from his hand.

  He popped the latch and opened the heart. At the sight of his mother, so young and happy, his breath caught. Her eyes were that of a night sky, and her smile was breathtaking. As an afterthought the next morning, he had carved his mother's name into the back of the locket in neat cursive: Theresa Luna.

  “I wish you were here. You'd protect me, right?” Arion asked aloud. What would it be like to have a mom? Would we even still be here with him? Would he still beat me?

  He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of his father stomping to the door. He heard the thud of the ax hitting the wall, and instinctively looked around for a place to hide. As the door handle began to turn, Arion sucked in a breath, squeezed the locket behind his back, and readied himself to face his father.

  The door was thrown open, and his father stepped inside. His frown deepened when he saw Arion, and he growled under his breath, “What are you doing out of your room?”

  Arion opened his mouth, but his words failed him. His father stormed past him into the kitchen. Arion turned to follow him just in time to duck out of the way of his father's boots flying toward him. He glanced at the locket in his hands.

  He froze in the doorway and watched as his father shuffled angrily through the new supplies. Many things were thrown and shoved to the floor. “What's all this crap?”

  “I bought it for us. While you were gone,” Arion squeaked. His voice faded away at his father's glare. “I had some money I found, and since you don't go to town much, I thought I'd go.”

  Kole's narrowed eyes darted to the new food stocked in the kitchen. He opened his mouth and whispered something to himself, his attention shifting back to Arion. He shook his head and pushed Arion out of the way as he walked back into the living room.

  He stopped in the middle of the room and whirled on Arion. “What else did you do while I was gone?” he demanded. His fists were shaking at his sides.

  Arion toed the floor and lowered his gaze. “I made you something.” He held the locket as high as he could, his eyes squeezed shut. It was snatched from his hands. He waited impatiently. After a moment of silence, he opened one eye. His father's face was red, but there was a hint of tears in his eyes as he looked inside of the locket.

  “How did you make this?” he asked quietly. He closed the locket and dropped it to the ground.

  Arion was too stunned to move or speak. He stared at the locket as it rolled along the floor.

  “How did you make this?” Kole asked again, more forcefully this time.

  “I used some old parts I found. They weren't being used,” Arion answered.

  When his father didn't speak, he asked, “Don't you like it?”

  “Like it?” Kole’s voice trembled, and Arion was taken aback. Just seconds ago, he seemed moved, and now, he was just angry as always. “I'm supposed to like that my stuff was torn to pieces for some stupid trinket? What the hell were you thinking?”

  Arion's head was swimming, and for the first time in his life, he finally felt a connection between him and his father. His rage was building, fueling the magic within him. He dug his nails into his palms, nearly ripping apart the gloves. He bit his lip at the power growing in him, tasting blood. “I just want you to stop being mad at me all the time! What did I ever do to you?” Arion screamed.

  Kole lunged for Arion. Arion ducked, much like he had when facing Kraven. The boy pushed off of the floor and started to make for the back door, but his father caught him by the back of his shirt. He lifted Arion off of the floor and turned him to face him.

  In the most terrifying voice Arion had ever heard from his father, he whispered, “You were born. That’s what you did to me.”

  Those words cut deeper than any wound his father could have inflicted, and all of the hope left Arion's body. All at once, the anger and power died, and he was nothing more than a lost boy, caught in the clutches of a beast. His arms went limp and he stared at his father's empty eyes as he was carried through the house.

  “If you had never come along, Theresa would still be here. You ruined everything! Every second you're alive and still breathing, my torture continues.” Kole threw Arion to the top of the stairs. He turned towards his father, but the look on his face made him cringe away. “You will remain in that room, and you can die in there, for all I care. Sooner the better.”

  Arion ran into his room as Kole barreled through the house. He shut the door as quietly as he could, though he didn't think Kole would have even heard it over his yelling.

  His book was still lying on the floor. He kicked it under the bed, and immediately felt guilty. He crouched to look underneath. Tome was as far away as it could get, trembling.

  “Please come out. I didn't mean it, I just…just…” Arion's voice trailed off as he thought of how he must look. The way he was treating Tome made him no better than his father. He was taking his anger out on others. He felt like he was going to be sick.

  “I won't become like him.”

  Tome's leather brushed against his knuckles. He was still trembling, but he was also watching Arion curiously, waiting. Arion shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He settled down the magic in him, and with it, the rage was gone.

  He scooped Tome up and set him on the bed, plopping down next to him. He dropped his head into his hands with a huff, smothering the storm in his mind.

  There was a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. He clenched the bare threads of his shirt and pushed against his gut. The rumbling shook him, and the room filled with the growls and gurgles. Though he had bought plenty of food while his father had been away, he had been too scared to eat much.

  He lay perfectly still in his bed, waiting for the storm to crash down around him, but there was no sound in the house. He glanced out the window to see the orange and red threads woven across the sky as the sun began its descent. Too early for him to go to sleep. Did he leave again? he thought, climbing from his bed.

  He crept to the edge of the stairs, and saw a faint glow coming from the bottom of them. He stopped in his tracks, worried that even the slightest breath would draw Kole’s attention.

  His stomach erupted into a fit of growls. He doubled over, trying to muffle the soun
d. He cursed under his breath, and waited to be caught.

  But he never was. His interest peaked, and he forced himself down the stairs, avoiding all the loose boards with ease. There were odd sounds coming from the living room, and he snuck along the walls as silently as he could.

  As he grew closer, he made out his father's voice, though he had never heard him talk so quietly. Arion inched around the corner with a last bout of courage, and was left speechless by what he saw.

  Sitting in his chair in the middle of the room, was his father. A half empty bottle was at his side, and his mother's urn was in his lap. Kole was slouched forward, his head falling into his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled out large clumps, dropping them to the floor with disgust.

  Arion turned to flee while he could, but his father's shaking voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “What am I supposed to do now, Theresa? That boy…I don't know how to deal with him. He's been acting strange, and something just seems…off about him. I don't think he's human. He's something else. I promised you I'd take care of him, but I…I just can't anymore!”

  His father took a swig from his bottle, downing what was left. His hands shook as he set the bottle down, and it knocked over. Kole spilled out of his chair to save his drink and sent the urn toppling. He dove to save it. He held it close for a moment, running his thumb over the smooth surface before setting it down carefully despite his trembling. He sat back on his heels, staring at the urn.

  “He's getting out of control! He's not a boy! He's a monster that took you from me, and is ruining what sanity I have left! I've asked the Mayor for help. Damn, I even asked the church a few towns over! But they all say the same thing. The whole village is saying it…get rid of the monster, before we have to do it for you. Ha! Like it's just that easy. But if I don't do something, they'll toss me out, too!

  “Theresa, I can't do this without you. I can't destroy the only thing that's left of you, even though you've left me alone with it. But I can't let whatever he is to just…go on.”

  Kole stood, picking the urn up with him. He set it on its place atop the fireplace, nestling it in its perfect ring of dust. He ran his hand over it once more, staring at the floor. When he spoke again, tears dripped from his cheeks and filled his voice, “He's yours, and it's kept him alive this long, Theresa…but you've left me with no choice. I told you a long time ago I wouldn't be a good father, but you didn't listen.”

  The hand that was caressing the urn slowed as he talked, and came to a standstill when he finished. He scrubbed his face with his hands, flinging the last of his tears to the ground. Slowly, the hand that had been so loving just seconds ago reached toward the ax leaning against the fireplace. The hand was steady as it gripped the handle, breathing slow and calm.

  Arion pulled himself from the wall and stumbled away from the doorway. He held his breath, though his sobs were determined to give him away. He had to keep silent. He had to run. His head spun side to side and he struggled to see through the tears overflowing his eyes. He fumbled forward, and ended up within the pool of light.

  As Arion stood there, frozen, his father began to turn. His eyes caught sight of the crying child behind him, eyes going wide with sorrow. It was the first time Arion had ever seen his father with anything but hate in his eyes.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, both unable to speak. His father was the first to move, dropping his ax and reaching out, as if he were to embrace the child.

  “Arion,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse from crying. He took a step toward him.

  Arion began shaking his head frantically. His father continued to walk towards him, and Arion backed away, tumbling to the ground. Kole stretched his arm towards him, croaking, “You don't understand…”

  Arion blasted through the back door, and ran with incredible speed to the safest thing he could see…the Dire Woods bordering their land.

  The forest that surrounded the town swallowed him up. Arion ran on, bumping into trees and tripping over upturned roots. Arion ran until he couldn't breathe. He collapsed against a tree, his gasps for air tearing his throat.

  Night was fast approaching, and the forest was growing even darker. Arion looked around him, but every direction looked the same. He tried to find his footprints, but the ground was hard and untouched.

  He threw his hands over his face and screamed in frustration. His voice echoed all around him, and the forest came to life. Creatures scurried out of hiding and the wind whistled through the boughs. A group of howls rang through the air.

  Arion spun to face each howl as it sounded, but there were too many for him to keep up with. He backed away from the howls and ran deeper into the forest.

  The sounds of panting followed him through the trees. Arion ran into a wall of trunks entangled together, with holes in them like faces. Their eyes bore into him and their mouths twisted up into hungry grins. Arion yelped and turned sharply, his feet skidding out from under him.

  He spotted a tree that had been torn halfway out of the ground. It was stuck on other trees, preventing it from falling. The space underneath was small, and the roots were thick, with little space between them.

  He dove for the largest opening and forced himself through. He dug into the hole under the tree, hiding himself as best he could. He held his breath and waited. A pack of wolves with dirty and matted fur passed by the tree, furiously sniffing the ground. They barked at each other and ran off, away from Arion. The howls faded into the distance. Arion sighed when they were gone entirely.

  With all of the light in the forest gone, and his body completely drained, Arion fell asleep in the mud.

  Arion woke to a few scarce rays of light pooling through the treetops. Though the woods were still engulfed in darkness, the boughs above him had enough gaps so he could see his surroundings. Everything was green, from the dark ferns and weeds that came up to his waist, to the moss covered trees and the slime that oozed between the bare spaces. The sunlight caught the dust particles in the air, seemingly sparkling in front of Arion.

  He reached out a hand to steady himself as he climbed out of his hiding place. The tree was wet, and he slipped, the bark cutting into the palm of his hand. The wound slashed across the scar on his palm. Arion stared as the blood seeped from the wound for a split second before the skin stitched itself back together over the bolt. The cut on either side still bled, so Arion tore a strip from his shirt and tied it around his hand.

  He pulled his gloves from his pocket and put them on, hoping it would keep the makeshift bandage in place. He flexed his hand and winced at the sting. He could feel the dirt covering the wound, burying in his skin. He worried it would get infected.

  He moved a short distance from the tree and looked for tracks in the ground. He found the prints of the wolves going in one direction, and turned to go the other, but stopped when a familiar sound rang in his ears. It was a sound he knew all too well, and couldn't just ignore. Something was crying, and it was in the same direction the wolves had gone.

  Arion looked towards the sound and bit his lip. He thought of all the times he had wished someone had cared about his tears, and ran toward the source of the noise without another thought.

  After a short time following the tracks, the sobs veered to the side. The trees were more tangled that way, and Arion didn't want to return to the dark.

  The whine split the air again, and Arion cringed. “It sounds so close,” he whispered. He looked around him one last time before climbing into the maze of trees.

  It was too difficult to see where he was going, or where he had been, so Arion relied solely on his hearing to guide his way. He hadn't thought of how to get out of the mess of plants yet, but he pushed the thought of being trapped from his mind.

  Arion came upon a tiny clearing filled with small blue flowers. At the far edge was a small wolf pup, curled in on itself. One leg was snared in a bear trap and its light gray fur was matted with blood. The pup threw its head back and
tried to howl, but no sound escaped. It whined again, gnawing at the metal trap. A long chain connected the trap to a tree, but the wolf had tied it in knots while attempting to get free, and he had little space to move.

  Arion took a slow step forward, crouching low to the ground. “Hey there.”

  The pup turned on him, growling as viciously as it could. Arion paused before advancing further. The wolf lowered its head and flattened its ears, snapping at Arion’s outstretched hand. Arion flinched, but froze when he noticed the wolf's eyes.

  “They're just like mine,” he gasped. The wolf studied his face, and relaxed. Arion reached his hand out to rest it on top of the pup's head, and the wolf sank to the ground.

  “See. I'm not that scary.” Arion chuckled nervously, glancing at the trap still clutching the poor animal. He looked around, snatching a few thick sticks from the ground. He shoved them into the trap and tried to pry it open. The sticks broke under the pressure, and the trap tightened on the pup's leg.

  Arion threw the sticks down as hard as he could. He started to pace, pulling at his hair. He wasn't strong enough to pry the trap open, and he didn't have the tools to open it the right way.

  “What do I do?” he screamed.

  The pup covered its ears at his sudden outburst, but Arion ignored him. He stared down at his hands, wishing he had his book. He clenched them into fists and took deep breaths. He felt the magic roiling in his stomach, and his hand began to warm. A victorious smile broke his face. “Maybe I don't need the book.”

  Arion tore the glove from his hand and tossed it aside. The bloody bandage fell to the ground, and he scrubbed at the dirt and dried blood covering the bolt. It was pink now, and turning redder by the minute. He pulled his other glove off with his teeth, and rubbed his hands together with the glove still dangling from his mouth.

  He knelt beside the wolf, who was now watching him with wide eyes. It was whining lightly, eyes never leaving Arion's hand as the boy pressed his palm to the spring mechanism on the side of the hinge. Arion pressed harder, imagining the whole thing bursting into pieces. He slid his fingers between the teeth of the trap and pulled carefully. The metal bit at his skin, but he only tried harder in response.