The Tale of Tarrance

Tarrance's Troubles

The village green, where children played, and parents fussed. Where young couples courted under the watchful eyes of their parents. Where traders and their ilk would set up shop for a week or two before moving on. Where villagers would come to share their skills and goods with one other. And where their priest of Orros, Joshua, would hold ceremonies, share sermons, and teach the 'good' word of the church.

Tarrance would've argued it was more a word of terror and guilt that he had wrestled with for as long as he understood just what it meant for him. A discovery that had happened when he was far too young to be anything approaching good.

The weight on his shoulders seemed to increase at the thought. That anything the church was involved in was a danger to him and, as he now knew, his grandmother too. And as he looked around at the village green and the change it had gone through the last few weeks, he couldn't help but feel that it was a great shame that the church had such an intolerance of magic at its heart.

All the good it could do for people, cure the sick, feed the hungry, defend the powerless. It could be used for such good and the more he thought on it the more it angered him that the church wouldn't allow him to do all those things.

The village green for example had been devoid of all that for the last few weeks, a painful reminder of what was happening in the village, of the sick sequestered behind closed doors, corralled together so that the sickness would end with them. A slow agonising death for the people, and all anyone could hope was that the village wouldn't follow along with it.

Tarrance had felt all manner of ways when he had happened across the comparatively desolate place when he had walked through the village during those weeks. He had avoided it once or twice even in the hopes of avoiding the pain, frustration, and sadness that sat in his chest every time he happened upon the empty place.

But now, now the sickness was long gone, and life was finally returning to the village, and the heart of it beat once more. And it was all thanks to magic, his and his grandmother's. It was thanks to them that all this happiness and joy was being felt again and the church would condemn them for it. It wasn't right.

Tarrance, along with some of the other field hands had taken their midday meal in the village green just to bask in the relief and joy that could be found there. To come through such a dark time with little harm done in the long run was worthy of celebration, and in their own small way, they celebrated.

It truly didn't bother Tarrance in the slightest that no one knew the truth of it, of how close they had come to the worst possible outcome, or who they had to thank for it not turning out that way. It just felt good to see life in the village be happy once again. It bothered him that they had to suffer so long as he learned because of how he had hidden his gift so fervently for years.

But as he looked around the green, he'd felt that he'd rather enjoy each sight for the blessing it was for now. The children playing in the grass, their mothers and the oldest sisters watching on as they went around handing out food to the men who had been working all morning in the fields.

He even caught sight of Maria doling out bowls of her soup once again, with an extra special added ingredient. Just in case.

"Better safe than sorry," she had told him as she went through the same process she had before. This time with much less strain put on her channeling far less magic this time. She didn't even need him to ignite it with a healing spell this time.

The small frustrated and angry part of his mind asserted itself again at the reminder. As much as what they had done had saved everyone, Tarrance was angry at how Maria had gone about it.