“Eric...Eric, quick get inside, it looks like that’ll be all you get done today.”
A storm, dark and menacing could be seen along the breadth of the horizon. The clouds moved thick and fast in over the plains of Abu. A boy of sixteen, in the neighbouring field lifted a stack of hay onto a cart his muscles stretching the dirt covered shirt he wore tight against his skin. “Ok I’ll be in soon, just let me finish getting this hay in the barn” he replied.
He had striking blue eyes, childlike but at the same time filled with an ancient knowledge.
Eric led an old mare in the direction of a large beech framed barn. Inside to the right of the entrance stood a battered bench, above which hung a selection of carpenter tools. To the left was the horses stable and most of the back was stacked up with hay already. After Eric had finished putting the hay and horse safely away, he ran across the path separating the house and barn ruffling his short brown to get whatever loose grain had got caught in it.
Inside the house was small but larger than most of the other houses in the Abu lands, made up of two bed rooms and a slightly larger room which Eric and his parents used as the living area. Eric entered the house to be greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire. He shut the door quickly, to keep the heat in. As he did so the fire swirled attentively.
His mother looked up at him smiling. She always smiled, never seeing the flaws of the world only its beauty. If only she knew her only son was a Dokumacilar, how would she react then? Not with a smile as far as Eric was able to conclude. Eric had thought of telling her multiple times but decided against it, no need for her to worry over something he had total control over excluding the dreams, no they don’t count everyone has them, even if they are recurring ones.
“There’s some bread on the table for you” she said warmly. Eric scampered to the table. He pulled out a stool from under it and began tearing apart the slices of the freshly baked loaf as his mother returned to chopping some leeks, her bracelet jangling as she did.
The bracelet was the only piece of jewellery his mother had left after a group of Dokumacilar bandits’ raided and blundered the village. The Dokumacilar are hated throughout Saladonia and the rest of the seven continents and it no wonder after all the stories the travellers tell people when they pass through.
“One of them placed a pelage on the village of Glacstin because he felt like it”
“Aye and I seen this one poor man that lost his legs because his wife turned out to be one of the witches”. Every time the travellers would tell a horrible story that would stir anger and fear among the villagers which only added to Eric’s own fears of what the village would do if they found out but what frightened him the most was what he might become.
Since the raid as far as Eric knew the bracelet had never left her wrist as his mother said it reminds her of how fortunate they are to still be alive. Still alive, they were that and so was the rest of the village to. In fact no one even lost a hair the day of the Dokumacilar raid. This is the hope that Eric holds onto that not all Dokumacilar and roofless and cruel even if they are misguided.
The bracelet was made of seven crystals, six white and a large blue opal, laced together by small silver links. Eric’s mother said that they represent the beauty of the world and the courage it takes to stand against the people who seek to destroy it.
“What’s tha eek’s for” Eric asked between mouth full’s.
“The “leek’s” are for the soup.” She replied.
It was as Eric feared leek and potato soup. His mother had a habit of making it every week and it tasted awful. The only thing stopping his father or him telling his mother was that she thought, in her words, it was fit for the gods.
“Great” Eric lied through a locked jaw.
Leaning forward he grabbed another three slices of bread and swallowed them down whole before his mother brought over two bowls of the leek and potato soup. “Where’s dads portion” Eric said shocked to see him own portion had doubled in size
“Your fathers out hunting with Merlock” she said grinning broadly “and since you’re a growing boy I though you should have the rest.
“Thanks mum” replied Eric said.
One thing about Eric’s mum that he and his father had forgot about her is her uncanny ability to see right through people and since neither of them would admit their hatred for the soup every week she would without fail to cook a pot up every week! For a minute she sat there just looking at her son eat the soup, wishing that he would just tell her so she could tell him he was not the only one burdening the cross of being Dokumacuilar.
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The sky was a mixture of the dark blue night and the refreshing orange dawn. Eric was once again walking through the emerald trees of an unknown wood. His legs carried him along a winding path, against his will, until he reached a clearing. Eric turned quickly on the spot to leave but was unsurprised to see the path was replaced by a solid wall of ancient oaks.
Then he heard it. The same vessel-less voice, he had been dreaming of for the past year. “You were warned Eric, of Abu, and now you are out of time to accept your gift...”
“Gift” Eric scorned “You call it a gift! Ever since I got this magic I have been scared of being discovered, and hunted from Abu. That’s if they didn’t kill me!!!”
“By rejecting your magic, you have allowed it to build up inside you and now it wants out.” boomed the voice, drowning out Eric’s every attempt to rebuke it. “Goodbye Eric of Abu.” Eric felt himself lift from the ground. Next thing he was soaring through the trees smashing through the branches of the oaks.
Eric’s eyes snapped open. He could not move. From the tips of his fingers and the pour of his skin beams of neon blue light burst forth. Eric felt a searing pain erupt behind his temple. He let out a roar of pain. His back arched and twisted in an awkward angle. Then the pain stopped and Eric fell back on his bed limp.
That’s it, Eric thought. It had to be. It’s gone. It’s gone. Eric silently laughed to himself. He felt an over powering sense of relief, knowing, he no longer had to worry about magic.
As Eric started to get out of his bed he began to feel unnaturally warm for the time of year. He moved over to the window to allow the cool autumn air into his room. He swung open his window, closed his eyes and stood for a while to appreciate the chill of the breeze, the songs of the birds and the faint crackle of a new born fire coming from behind him in the direction of the door.
Wonder why mums up so early this morning he thought. Turning Eric saw a flame about the size of his hand had ignited on his bed. SHIT. Eric grabbed the tunic he had been wearing the day before in an attempt to put out the now multiplying flames. As he tried to put out the fire Eric noticed that the tunic had also caught fire where he was holding it. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
“Stop” Eric commanded the flames in the most powerful voice he could muster. The result of this was far from what Eric had wanted.
Like a cobra the flames lashed out throwing him against the wall. In his anger Eric ran at the flames and tried tackling them. Instead he flew over the bed landing hard on the other side. The fire retaliated to this obvious attempt to hurt it. It whipped at Eric catching him around his ankle. He tried to stand and reach for the door but before he could, the fire slid him to the back of the room.
As he pushed himself up off the ground Eric was faced by a flaming lion of such magnificence that it took him a while to remember the extent of the trouble he was in. The flaming lion raised its head in an elegant curve as it let out an ear splitting roar. Without warning the lion became a small sphere, no bigger than an apple, before it exploded with such force it knocked Eric through the timber wall behind him.
The sun was high in the sky when Eric woke; face down, on the ground. His head was light and his body was tense and sore. Breathing felt hard and painful. Eric pushed himself up. Looking around he saw that a large ash circle had formed around him.
The only piece of the house that remained was the flooring, from where he had moved. No other rubble could be seen. Only the dusty ash showed any evidence that a house once stood there. And that will properly be swiped away by the plain winds Eric thought.
Eric scanned the circle once more, his striking blue eyes, trying to find anything that was left. His eyes still somewhat childlike were no longer flowing with the ancient knowledge as they had before. Then something forced itself to the front of his mind.
MUM! His mother was still in the house when the fire had started and he could only hope that his father was still out hunting. Eric ran to where he pictured his parents room would be if the house still stood.
There was a small mound shaped perfectly like that of a sleeping woman.
Eric knelt down reaching out for his mother. As his hand touched hers, the mound collapsed, all except for a bracelet made of seven crystals, six white and a large blue opal, laced together by small silver links, which had caught around his fingers. A tear formed, and slide down his face.
“Mum” Eric whispered.
A small pot, retrieved from the unharmed barn, lay beside Eric filled with the remains of his mother. Eric closed the lid of the pot before carrying it over to the hole he had made for her, in the general area that was the kitchen, where she spent most of her time.
It was a grave, even though it was rushed. Around the edge of the grave Eric placed a ring of stones and facing the east a small cross, made of two branches lashed together by rope.
He gently lowered his mother into the hole, said his final goodbye and filled it over. He knew this was not the burial his mother deserved, but it was the best he could give her. Then, without knowing what he was really doing he placed his hand upon the grave.
A warm glow emitted from his palm, powered by his mind and heart, he imagined a grave fit for her. Below his hand an assortment of the most exotic flowers bloomed atop the freshly turned soil. The stones around the grave transformed into crystals similar to his mothers bracelet and the cross turned to silver supported at the bottom by a dragon, sculpted form diamond. Eric stood in awe at what he had done knowing that nothing not even the Dokumacilar could plunder it.
After he buried his mother Eric wasted no time finding some clothes. He changed out of his charred night wear, into the ones he had snatched from the neighbours’ clothes-line. He could not stay in Abu or he would be killed for using magic he was sure of that much how else could anyone explain the remains of the house. He fled north-east to the capital of the, Yamsa, in the hope to start a new life.
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Dokumacilar (people of magic for book taken from the Turkish word meaning weaver)
Authors note: All comments are appreciated throuout the story as well as votes :P and if you like the story please let others know about it. xP sinserely your friendly neighbourhood Silversquirrel =D peace out.