Traphis: A Wizard's Tale

By James D. Maxon

A year after the death of his father, fifteen-year-old Traphis stumbles across his father’s hidden collection of books. Forbidden from learning magic at a young age, he resolves to read the books in secret. Doors to a dark and formidable world begin to open, and a treacherous adventure awaits both him and his newfound friends. In their journey to fight the power of lies, betrayal, and greed, they discover that no matter how well they master their magic skills, they are powerless without the most important skills in life, such as the abilities to trust, care, and forgive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James D. Maxon
• Release date: Oct 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310498978

James D. Maxon

James D. Maxon (1977-Present) was born at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, Alaska. His parents were divorced when he was three-years-old. Raised in a strictly female household, James grew up in the midst of mental illness and depression. He, himself, struggled in school due to a learning disability. Without a positive male role model, James learned how difficult it can be for children to realize their true potential. Having acquired a love for fantasy at a young age, he began to write stories of his own, providing children and teens with messages of faith, hope, and insight. Overcoming his disability, James graduated college with a 4.0 GPA. He deepened his connection to the creative world by following a career in design. He now lives with his wife and daughter in a suburb of Austin, Texas, and spends much of his free time applying his imagination to the real world.

Book preview

THE CAVERN WALLS became visible before fading back into the darkness. A surge of power flooded through Traphis’ fifteen year old limbs and then vanished. He wrenched forward, dropped to his knees, and gasped for air. Breaths echoed throughout the cavern as sweat trickled down his cheeks. When he regained his composure, he leaned against his father’s staff and wiped the dampness from his brow.

At this rate, I’ll never become a wizard. Traphis tensed at the thought. He always made it look so easy. Why his father had prevented him from learning magic, Traphis never understood. It only seemed natural for a wizard to pass down his secrets to his son, but that no longer mattered; it was too late for answers. He bit his lip. This was not the time for sorrow—he would take his father’s place and become the greatest wizard of all time.

A soft breeze ran through his dark brown hair. He tightened his grip on the wooden staff and stubbornly pulled himself upright. Despite the pain and fatigue, he would try again. He had come too far to give up now.

Traphis breathed deeply of the cool cavern air. He sat down, shifted on his makeshift wooden chair, and then closed his eyes once again. Deep in his mind he pictured a three-dimensional realm, a fathomless, empty void. A moment later his father’s face surfaced, which exhibited a variety of expressions; some happy, some sad. For just a moment, Traphis fixed his gaze on his father, cherishing every smile, smirk, sneer, and grin. And then his father was replaced by a field of flowers, which withered and died. New images formed and came at him in a flood of confusion like wasps attacking their prey. He tried to push them aside, but as soon as he averted one, two more took its place.

No more! Without opening his eyes, a sensation of foolishness fell over him, but he knew no one would be within earshot. His cave was too far away, or at least he hoped so.

Regardless of what the images showed, they were blocking his path, and he knew he would have to push past them in order to move forward. A furrow appeared on his brow as he ventured back into his mind. Like before, the images came at him, but this time he pushed them away. His awareness strengthened and the images faded into the background like mere shadows. In less than the count of three breaths, his vision had cleared and the images were nowhere to be seen.

Only empty white space remained. No objects, no images, no hints of anything at all.

What now? he thought. Then, as if in answer to his question, a dark cloud materialized. The massive bulk towered over him like a twisted, gnarled tree. He stared up at it. Goosebumps ran across his arms and he gripped his father’s staff more tightly. It wasn’t the lurid appearance of the smoky, overshadowing surface that bothered him; it was the feeling of a presence, one that felt threatening, sinister, and cruel. It seemed as if the cloud was a living entity. And if that were true, what did it want from him? The dark object stared down with faceless eyes, mocking him, challenging him to move forward.

And then, just as he thought it was going to attack, another presence made itself known over the menacing aura of the cloud. It was faint, but enduring. As if it was the polar opposite of its rival: warm and kind.

Traphis wondered whether the cloud was guarding something, whether it was keeping this other presence a prisoner, or merely blocking the path. Whatever it was, he had to find out. There was no good to be had by remaining where he was.

His thoughts traced along the edges of the mass, outlining its shape one section at a time. He imagined the cloud moving, but it did not budge. With renewed effort, he tried again, focusing on the object in his mind, but still nothing changed.

And then another idea occurred to him. You don’t have to move it, just move through it.

Traphis pushed his thoughts forward. He sensed himself moving closer. A flash of light emitted as he submerged into the cloud’s fathomless depths. Lightning? He couldn’t tell. The darkness was like smoke all around him. Then another flash and he saw something blue. A clearing? Energy surged through his body and then he heard a snap!

His attention lurched back into the physical world. The walls of the cave appeared before him, and warmth rested against his hand.

He could see? He could feel warmth?

With a glance at a small fire pit, to his amazement, he noticed that the pile of twigs was burning. The small flames danced before his eyes like welcoming friends.

I did it! Traphis jumped to his feet so fast that he hit his head on the low ceiling. He winced at the bump and brushed loose dirt from his hair. Was it possible? Had he actually started a fire using magic? He looked again, worried that the flames had been an illusion, but to his relief they continued to burn.

Even though a true wizard might not have regarded this accomplishment as any great feat, excitement washed over him; it was a magnificent breakthrough. He could not imagine anyone forgetting his first use of magic, and he knew he never would.

Traphis sat back down and gazed at the fire’s hypnotic beauty. The hungry flames crackled and snapped before him, casting shadows along the stony walls. Reaching down, he picked up a dry twig and tossed it atop the burning pile. Orange sparks flew into the air. Traphis wished his father could see him now, though he did not know whether he would be angry or proud. It did not matter. He would have given just about anything to hear his voice again.

Bending down, Traphis picked up one of the many books scattered on the ground. He shook it and blew the remaining bits of sand from the cover. The cool, moist air of the cavern did not help the drying process any, but at least the precious books were safely hidden from his mother.

He held the text in his youthful hands. Some of the words were smeared, but legible enough to read. His mind absorbed the letters, driving them further into the recesses of his memory.

Time passed. Motionless, he sat on his wooden chair until at last he put the book down. He stood and stretched his stiff legs. The fire had faded to glowing embers and his eyes ached from the dullness of light. Next time he would bring more wood, even if it was a nuisance to carry it up the side of the cliff.

Traphis pushed a pile of sand over the top of the glowing embers, which smothered the coals. It was better not to risk catching something on fire, particularly the books he rescued from the creek just a few days ago.

The cave became pitch black once again, but he did not have far to go. He sprinted through the cavern, hopping over protruding rocks and gliding his hand along the wall—with as many times as he had been there, he could have easily found his way in his sleep.

He reached the entrance and gazed down into the forest below. The setting sun made the trees dark and eerie. It was later than he thought—his mother was sure to be angry.

The grooves in the rocks guided him safely to the ground. When he stood against the dirt, he peered up at the cave and tried not to feel as if he was abandoning a friend. The small hole in the cliff’s surface was deceiving. No one would guess at the sizable cavern inside, and he hoped it would remain his secret for years to come.

A woblock hooted its deep and chanting melody, sending a chill down Traphis’ spine.

It’s only a harmless bird, he thought to himself. It won’t hurt you. Just then, he noticed a fresh pile of dung only a few steps away. His heart skipped a beat when he realized what type of beast had left it. A learcat. The wing-like ears, long tail, and narrow face had left a distinct impression in his memory the last time he saw one. But that was at a distance; having one nearby was a far greater danger.

Branches lightly brushed against his brown weathered sleeves. With each step, his feet softly compressed the dirt and sticks beneath him. Traphis knew these woods; their twisting paths and strong trunks had been his playmates for as long as he could remember. Traveling through the forest at great speed was usually easy, but he was not about to take any chances at giving away his position. The terrible feeling that a learcat was watching him, following him, persisted in his mind.

Cool night air nipped at his lungs while he continued his steady pace. The woblock resumed its haunting call over the chirping of various bugs. Small creatures darted under logs and bushes as soon as he approached. The occasional glowing of eyes from unknown beasts intensified his alertness until at last a sound of trickling water came within earshot. It was not much farther now.

Traphis made his way across a tree that had fallen over the creek. The thick trunk and bark made it easy to balance on. A fish jumped and splashed, producing a ripple in the water, which not long ago was filled with his father’s books. Traphis was thankful that he had seen his mother hurling them into the creek; otherwise he would not have been able to rescue them in time. Safely hidden behind a bush, he had waited. Once she left, he had leaped into the water, pulled them out, and brought them to dry in his cave. Once again, Traphis wondered why his parents wished to keep him from learning magic.

After crossing the log, he passed by several more trees. A welcoming light beckoned from the windows of a small, two-story cottage. He sighed with relief.

A whinny filled the night air as he approached the barn. He opened the doors and walked to Neha’s stall. She bobbed her head both in welcome and seemingly in hopes of receiving a pat on the nose. To her obvious pleasure, he did just that. She sighed in ecstasy, blowing through her nostrils as he gently rubbed her brow.

It’s okay girl, he said. I’m home now.

And about time too, a voice said from the doorway. Traphis’ mother looked at him with steady brown eyes, the same color as his own, but a frown of displeasure pulled down the corners of her mouth.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay out so long.

You need to be more responsible Traphis. You know what type of creatures and beasts come out at night. What if something happened to you out there? I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too . . . Her firm mouth trembled a moment, but she turned to look at something in a nearby stall and when she looked back, her face was steady again. Well, at least you’re home now. I’ll heat up your dinner for you. You’ll need your energy to finish harvesting tomorrow. How you can go so long without eating is a mystery to me.

Thanks, Traphis said, knowing better than to argue with her.

She turned and left him to finish saying goodnight to Neha.

He patted his horse lightly on the nose one last time before making his way to the house. After locking the doors behind him, a smile crept across his face.

I used magic today!

* * *

The sound of a tara bird’s call woke Traphis early the next morning. Karooooouk!

He wanted to kill it. Morning was his least favorite time of day.

Karoo, karoo, karoooooooooouk!

I’m up, I’m up, he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He forced himself onto his feet and then stumbled over to the sunlit window. Staring out at the piles of potaras in the fields below, a moan escaped his lips. How many more potaras did they have to dig up already? All he wanted to do was go back to his cave and study his books, but that would have to wait. If only his father was still with them, then Traphis would not have to work so hard. But there was no use in wishing for the impossible.

Sitting back down on his bed, Traphis lifted his feet off the cold wooden floor. He knew that if he were to lie back down, it would be risky. Sleep would surely take hold of him again, and so he resisted the temptation; there was just too much to do.

After tying his sandals, he staggered down the stairs that led from his cozy room. The sound of eggs sizzling and snapping on the stove met him at the bottom as his mother, Anjetta, busily worked in the kitchen.

He plopped down on a chair at the kitchen table.

Traphis, she said. Please set the table.

He sighed, not wanting to get up again, but did as his mother asked. Once everything was in place he sat back down.

Here you go, his mother said while scraping a tara bird egg from the pan and setting it onto his plate. Next she took out a potara that was cooking in the fire; poking it first with a wooden stick to be sure it was done.

Aww, not again, he complained. When are we going to eat more than potaras and eggs? Of course, he knew the answer to that question, but it felt good to propose it all the same.

Be thankful we have what we do, Anjetta said. If there’s a good turnout this festival we’ll have plenty more to eat.

Anjetta sat down at the table. Traphis, will you say our appreciation?

He hated to be asked, but he knew better than to protest. Complaining never worked on her in the past and would not likely do so now.

Thank you for this food, he said, and for watching over us. Then he threw in, And please provide us with something better to eat.

When Traphis opened his eyes, he thought he saw a smile pull back from his mother’s mouth.

After breakfast don’t forget to feed Neha and gather eggs from the tara birds.

I know. I won’t forget.

After inhaling his food, he asked to be excused from the table. She nodded, still chewing with a mouthful of eggs. Traphis pushed back the chair and sprinted through the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

Traphis entered the barn. Neha bobbed her head in greeting and her hooves impatiently stomped as he climbed the ladder to the upper level. Gathering an armful of dried grass, he tossed it over the edge of the loft. It stirred up a haze of dirt when it hit the ground. Then, as was his routine, he took a few steps backward, ran to the edge, and jumped over.

Umph! Traphis landed hard on the ground. He stood and rubbed the soreness out of his elbow. I’ve still got to perfect my landing, he said, looking at Neha. Her brown coat shimmered from the light in the doorway. Was that a smile on her face? It could not be; she was just a horse after all.

Traphis gathered up the grass and placed it in her trough. Looks like we have something in common girl, you and I are both stuck eating the same old stuff. She did not seem to mind; her lips happily caressed the bottom of the trough as if enjoying every bite.

Traphis brushed her coat and pulled burs out of her long black tail. How do you find these things? he asked, not expecting an answer.

A sneeze shot out of his nose. I’ll never get used to the smell of this place, he thought, sniffing and rubbing his sore eyes. Something in the barn always seemed to trigger his allergies.

Waaaaa, waaabula, waaaaa, waaabula, chanted the tara birds when Traphis entered their coop. He reached under a bird and grabbed two green, blue-spotted eggs. He went from nest to nest, finding some empty and some with one or two eggs. For some reason, one hen in particular did not like him. Leaving the unpleasant one for last, he finally reached under the bird, and as expected, it pecked his hand. Ouch! Come on. This isn’t fun for me either, he said, scolding it. Stop trying to be the queen. No one likes you anyway. She stared at him, head bobbing front to back.

Waaabula, she scolded as he pushed under her again only to find there were no eggs. No wonder you’re always crabby, he said to the bad-tempered fowl while rubbing his sore hand. You hardly ever lay anything. He was met by her beady eyes and bobbing head.

After leaving the barn, he walked into the kitchen and handed Anjetta the basket of eggs. Can I please go for a walk before we start?

Her expression told him that she wanted to tell him no, but she also had a sympathetic gleam to her eyes. Okay, but don’t be long.

Thanks! The door slammed shut behind him.

Traphis ran past the potara patch, and then he entered the woods. Glad it was daytime, he never got over how different the forest looked. Night predators were out of sight, sleeping, allowing smaller creatures to emerge from hiding. He could have wandered forever, losing himself amongst the trees and solitude, but there was only one thing on his mind now: the cave. He might be able to read a few chapters before going back to work. Dodging branches, jumping over logs, and running as fast as he could, Traphis felt he could not get there soon enough.

A little skimpit darted across a branch, stopped, and blinked its reptilian eyes at him. Traphis stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Then suddenly the creature cocked its head and dashed away.

Traphis’ heart skipped a beat as soon as he smelled smoke. Where there was smoke, there was sure to be a fire. He looked around in all directions, but saw nothing unusual. With a hint of caution, he followed the smell until at last he came to the side of a cliff.

To his horror he discovered where the smoke was coming from: his cave.

Chapter 2

LOOSE STONES FELL as Traphis climbed the side of the cliff. An eerie silence accompanied the strong scent of smoke, which tasted bitter against his tongue. His hands gripped hard against the well-worn grooves, and his heart pounded with each forward thrust. Images of his father’s books ran through his mind. He imagined their pages burning and their covers smoldering into lumps of ash. Other than his makeshift wooden chair, nothing else in the cave was likely to burn; the walls and ground were made of stone and sand. If he were to lose the precious words of his father, after finally getting his hands on them, he felt he would fall down and die.

When he reached the opening of the cave, an onslaught of smoke stung his eyes. He forced himself inside, covered his face with both arms, and breathed through his sleeves. Each step brought him closer to the frightening mystery.

The passageway felt longer than usual, as if it were willing itself against him—his cave betraying him when he needed it most. It had been a friend that did not taunt him, or tell him he was foolish. It was always there for him, always dependable. But now it seemed like a stranger. Like a foreigner that meant to do him harm.

Light shimmered through the puffs of smoke like rays from the sun. Warmth brushed up against his flesh, and with it came a host of fears. His pace quickened, and for a moment he nearly believed he was dreaming, but as soon as he entered the main chamber, reality struck him hard.

Squinting his eyes, Traphis stared into the face of the fire. The light coming from it was so bright that he could barely see it, yet its form was unmistakable. Below a volley of billowing smoke, a single flame stood. White. Unnatural. Peculiar. The flame was too fine, too exact, and too perfect. Its edges sharp as a knife, and the tip ready to stab anyone who dared approach.

He knelt down on the sand, cupped his hands around his eyes, and edged closer. Heat nipped at his flesh. Sweat streamed down the inside of his shirt and beaded on his face. The tart taste of smoke nipped at his tongue.

Then he saw something below the flame. It squirmed as if writhing in pain. Crawling closer to get a better look, Traphis gasped. Under the flame, a book lay open. Its pages fluttered below the sparkling inferno, slapping together in a blustering wind. The whiteness of the flame bounced from page to page, dancing like a demon. Yet the pages seemed unharmed.

Without thinking, Traphis reached out his hand and plunged it into the sand. His fingers moved just below the front cover, and with an upward thrust, the book snapped shut.

All became dark, still, and silent.

Traphis’ ears rang with the hollowness of the cave. He coughed out the remaining smoke from his lungs, and with a shaking hand, wiped the sweat from his brow. It had all happened so fast that it took several breaths before his thoughts caught up to him. He sat there and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out what happened—but one thing he did know: this wasn’t a natural fire. Only magic could do such a thing. How else could there be a colorless fire or a single flame that produced so much smoke? It was as if the book contained a power of its own. Perhaps this is why she threw the books away. But still, he had to learn. He needed the books in order to train, and he would not give up on them yet.

It occurred to him that someone might have seen the smoke. If they discovered his cave, they would find his books and put an end to all his plans. No more magic, no more studying to become a wizard. Regardless of what caused the fire, he wasn’t about to get rid of the books. But he also wasn’t going to take any chances.

Still shaking—but not as badly as before—Traphis felt around in the darkness. He grasped the end of a book and then set it next to him. Repeating the process, he piled all the books together, making sure they were shut tight, and then he dug a large hole in the sand. Once it was deep enough, he placed the books inside. With a push, the cool sand washed over them, burying their contents from any possible tampering. Hopefully, if someone did find his cave, the risk of his books being found were minimal.

Traphis staggered to the entrance of the cave. The skin on his face, arms, and hands stung with pain. As soon as he came in contact with sunlight, he looked down and gasped. His hands and arms were bright red. The heat from the flame must have burned him.

How was he going to explain this to his mother? She worried about everything.

He grasped at the rock surface and lowered himself from the entrance. A surge of pain ran through his fingers as the rock pressed hard against his tender skin. By the time he reached the ground, the stinging had turned into heavy throbbing.

It was a long walk back to the creek. His pace slowed considerably by the time he arrived at the log. When he made it halfway across, he stopped and gazed into the water. The reflection staring back at him looked like a stranger’s. His cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin all lit up the water with a beaming reddish glow. If only he was old enough to grow facial hair, then the redness could have been better hidden, but then again, the hair on his thin forearms concealed very little. He had to think of a way to cover up the burns.

Just then an idea occurred to him.

He stepped forward, faked a slip, and fell into the cool water with a loud splash.

Liquid sprayed as he kicked his arms and feet—the water was shallow enough to kneel in, but in order to gain the full effect, he needed to be completely wet. Moments later, he crawled out of the creek and onto a pile of mud. He smeared it all over his clothing, skin, and hair before looking at his reflection once again. The clay and mud covered him like a large scab. It worked; it was enough to hide the redness.

Traphis walked up to the field, and to his surprise, his mother was nowhere to be seen. Maybe there was no need for explanations after all.

If only his problems ended there. Gazing at the remaining rows of plants, he knew this was going to be a long day.

A nearby pile of potaras loomed over him, casting a shadow of dread. He grabbed a three-pronged fork, dug it into the earth, and pulled a potara out of the soil. After shaking the dirt from it, he tossed it onto the pile.

Yes, this was going to be a long day.

* * *

As the day dragged on, both his mind and body became weary. The layers of mud cracked under the rays of the hot sun, leaving a peculiar, but not unpleasant sensation on his flesh. He worried that his cover-up would rub off, exposing the redness, but it seemed to stay attached like a leech to its prey.

He plunged the fork into the earth and pulled out another potara. By now his knuckles were rubbed raw and dirt had wedged under his fingernails, but he kept on. As usual, he made a game of it, counting how many potaras he could pull during a specific amount of time and then trying to beat his record.

Anjetta joined him. Surprisingly, she remained quiet about his extra-dirty attire.

The two of them worked without speaking, digging into the earth and straining their backs. After awhile, Traphis forgot about counting the potaras. His thoughts turned to his books, and how he had almost lost them. Thankfully, they were untouched—even the one that caught fire had been unharmed—but how long would it be before he perfected his understanding of their contents? He only just learned his first usage of magic yesterday, but it seemed less impressive than it did before. And then he began to wonder if he could repeat the magic from memory.

Summoning the same vision from yesterday, Traphis found himself staring into the dark cloud. His thoughts became clear and the details more pronounced. He moved his mind closer to the cloud, this time without hesitation. A light flashed as he submerged into the smoky substance and he felt as if the world had suddenly been covered by a huge, gray blanket.

Deeper and deeper he traveled, unable to see anything but the dullness all around him. And then he began to feel the cloud’s presence—cold and cruel—a barbarous brutality with a ferocity unequaled to anything he had known before. The sensation of floating suddenly stopped and he felt something jerk at his leg. He struggled to pull away, but it was no good; he was being forced closer to the heart of his captor.

Traphis felt his physical body jerking as he tried to pull away, struggling to force himself out of the vision, the nightmare. And then a voice spoke to him. Without sound, it spoke through sensations he never knew existed. Was it delight in his torment? Pleasure in his fear?

He felt fear, but the one he sensed seemed greater than his own. It came on so suddenly that at first it was unnoticeable. Not his fear, but the cloud’s. Why? Wasn’t it the one pulling him in? And then he felt it: another presence had come into existence. It flooded in like a storm of beauty. It was benevolent and gentle, yet powerful and strong. Darkness washed out of the cloud and a deeper color of blue appeared. It was the same blue he had seen the first time; the same presence that had rescued him before.

Like a muscle spasm, Traphis felt a surge of power flow through his body. Noise pierced his ears and he felt something slap against his face. The smell of a cooked potara entered his nostrils, and he opened his eyes. He was back in the real world and could see the familiar sight of the field, potara patch, and layers of dirt. He lifted his hands only to see a flat piece of brown skin covered in a white creamy substance. He flicked it off and wiped his palm against his leg.

Traphis touched the stickiness on his face and picked something off. His eyes widened; it was another piece of brown potara skin. What had happened? He looked down at the skin and tossed it away. It really was a potara, or rather, what was left of one. More pieces were scattered around him, and then it hit him—he had exploded the potara using magic.

He cringed. Did his mother see? A sinking sensation flowed through his stomach. He dared not look around, but he had to. With teeth clenched, he turned, but to his relief, no one was there. His shoulders dropped to his sides as he exhaled. She didn’t see; he was safe. And then he noticed that the patches of mud covering his skin had rubbed off. He reached down into the dirt and smeared on a fresh batch. Hopefully it would stick. With the sweat pouring down his body, he knew it shouldn’t be a problem.

A noise from the distance broke his concentration. Traphis turned toward the house and saw a horse tied up to a post. Brow furrowed, he looked closer at the animal. A familiar looking saddle caught his eye, and then he knew whose horse it was—Greagor’s.

He forgot all about the potara. Why does he have to be here? he asked, with a tone of disdain. If he cares so much, why doesn’t he help us?

* * *

It will be almost a year now, Anjetta said, sitting down at the table and handing Greagor a hot cup of ketchem. He took a sip of the tart herbs and nodded.

Yes, for the both of us, he said.

There was an uneasy silence. Anjetta stared down at the table, not sure what to say next.

At last Greagor spoke, I appreciate all he did for us. If it wasn’t for Mardin she wouldn’t have lived as long as she did.

Anjetta looked up at him. That stranger took away what was dear to both of us. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help Sarahn. If only I had Mardin’s skills, I might have been able to keep back the effects of her illness.

You were a good friend to her. That was what mattered most; there was nothing else you could have done. The Mayor held out his hand.

She took it.

Tears glazed her cheeks. It was true, only Mardin was able to help Greagor’s wife. If only he could have healed her completely, but even his powers had limits. The man who came and took her husband’s life away was the one to blame. If only Mardin hadn’t accepted the challenge. If only he would have kept to his promise and left that life behind him. But that didn’t matter now; she had lost both him and her friend. She had to be strong. She had to be a firm foundation for Traphis, but right now she would allow herself to be weak, and she would allow Greagor to see her this way.

Traphis walked in and stopped by the doorway. Anjetta retracted her hand and rubbed away the tears.

Traphis scowled at the mayor.

I was just getting ready to make us some lunch, Anjetta said, standing up and walking to the stove. The mayor kindly stopped by to visit with us. Say hello to the mayor, Traphis.

Hello, Traphis said. The word sounded forced.

The mayor was nice enough to bring us some meat and vegetables. Would you like to stay with us for lunch? she said first addressing Traphis and then Greagor.

Greagor looked up from the table and into her eyes. Thank you for the offer, but I’d better be going. A mayor’s work is never done. A smile creased his lips, but it was tense like the atmosphere of the room.

Thank the mayor for visiting.

Thank you, Traphis said, moving from the door as if to indicate he was welcome to go.

Her son’s rudeness disappointed her, but a feeling of guilt kept her from saying anything.

Greagor stood up, I would like to visit you again, soon.

I would like that, she said, and then turned to face the fire.

Greagor walked to the door. Did he look back at her? She didn’t want to know; if he did, she might start crying again.

Traphis’ steps thumped across the floor and he sat heavily on a chair. The door shut and the mayor was gone. Anjetta turned around and looked at her son. How did you get so dirty today? she asked, as if Greagor’s visit had never taken place.

Traphis’ expression suddenly changed. I fell into the creek, he said, turning his eyes down toward the ground.

Was there an uneasiness she heard in his tone? You need to be more careful, she said. You could have gotten hurt on a rock or something worse."

The meat snapped in the pan and the smell of it pleased her senses. As good as the cooking meat smelled, Greagor’s visit was worth more than the food he provided. Through the passing days, she found solace and understanding in his presence, and it was one of the few things that kept her going.

Do you think we will be able to finish today? Traphis asked.

I hope so, Anjetta said while turning the meat over. But only with harvesting. As you know, we will have to load the potaras tomorrow.

She turned to look at Traphis, who appeared to be peeling something off his face. He quickly flicked it to the ground, looking guilty, but about what, she didn’t know.

We’ll never finish in time, Traphis said.

We just have to trust that we will.

She distributed the meat and vegetables before sitting down. Let us ask for help, shall we?

Traphis rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

Anjetta lowered her head. Thank you for protecting us and providing us with shelter and food to eat. Please fill the emptiness left by the loss of our dear one and help us to finish in time for the festival. A tear ran down her cheek, but she wiped it away before Traphis could see.

* * *

Traphis’ tongue danced around the salty meat; it was delicious. It had been a long time since he ate such good food. He felt a little guilty for not being more thankful to Greagor, but when he remembered how the man had held his mother’s hands, the guilt soon faded.

Traphis tried to think about the food instead. He chewed slowly, enjoying every bite as the meat’s juices flowed into his mouth. It was hard to wait for the festival, with all the samples of food, but this made it easier. Besides, the festival was only a day away. He imagined the smells and the tastes. Hopefully, the potaras would be traded for good food, rather than more of the same. That way, the two of them would eat well until the next harvest, at which time he would have to do it all over again.

He sighed.

Someday he would be the main attraction just like his father once was. He would be the head wizard and entertain everyone with his skills. Children would watch with gaping mouths, the kids his own age would cower before him, and all the adults would tell him how masterful he was. Yes, no more long hot days in the field; he would be a wizard. That was the life for him.

Traphis closed his eyes in pleasure as he swallowed the delicious morsel. Thoughts of grandeur became minuscule compared to the enjoyment of his meal. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last ate meat. Though, in truth, he knew it was his own fault for not going hunting. After all, he knew how to hunt—that was something his father made sure of—but with all the extra time in the field, he didn’t want to spend the remainder in the forest stalking some poor creature. As much as he was sick of just eating potaras and tara bird eggs, he knew that learning magic took priority if he was ever going to become a wizard.

A rattling broke his concentration. He strained the limits of his ears in an attempt to identify the source. Clearly the noise was outside, but the quiet air allowed for the slightest of sounds to be heard. At first he thought that the lorax were in their corral and engaging in another head-to-head brawl, but then he figured it was probably Neha stirring in the barn, wanting to go out for a ride. He wished he could take her, but he knew he had to go back to work after his meal.

The noise grew louder and a squeaking rose above the rattling, which sounded more like metal rubbing against metal. Recognition dawned on Traphis. It wasn’t Neha at all, but a carriage, and it was coming up their road.

The pattering of hooves and jostling of reins echoed over spinning wheels. It grew louder and louder until finally coming to a halt. A door slammed and then footsteps came toward their front door. After a brief pause, there came a knock.

Chapter 3

THE VISITOR’S IDENTITY was clearly unknown to both Traphis and his mother. They weren’t expecting any guests, and rarely received visits—other than Greagor, of course. But Greagor had already come and gone. Company stopped over from time-to-time, but for the most part the two of them kept to themselves. With a hint of confusion, they exchanged puzzled glances.

Another knock rapped on the door and a voice spoke, I know you’re in there. You aren’t going to make an old man stand out in the sun, are you?

Grandfather, Traphis said. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. It swung open and a large, burly man scooped him up into his arms.

Well, well, he chuckled, still holding on to Traphis. This is more like it. He smiled through his gray beard, which prickled against Traphis’ cheek. And how’s my beautiful daughter doing? No hugs for her old man?

Of course, Father, Anjetta said, shaking out of her surprise. She gave him a big hug.

He lifted her off the ground and squeezed her tight, turning her face red.

Traphis released a stifled laugh as he saw his mother suspended in the air by the bear of a man.

It’s been a long time since you hugged me like that, she said, gasping for breath.

After putting her down, Braun said, You’re still as tough as ever. I remember when you used to push all the boys around. He winked at Traphis, who smiled even bigger. Sometimes I wondered if I didn’t have a son, but she was too cute to fool anyone. I see you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Anjetta blushed.

Aah, I almost forgot. Here you go, my boy. Braun rummaged in his leather satchel, pulled something out, and handed it to Traphis.

Traphis held the black handle in disbelief, looked up at his grandfather, and then asked, Is this for me?

It sure is, Braun said. I’m sorry for missing your fifteenth birthday, but I made this dagger especially for you. It’s forged from pure tolframium—took many days for the fire to soften it well enough to form. And the handle is made from a sturdy lorax horn, but not just any lorax horn; one from a beast that your father and I slew together. It was wild, not like the domesticated ones you use for labor, no, this one put up a tremendous fight. We struck him hard, piercing his side, yet even with the large wound he still ran from us. He motioned with his arms as he spoke. It took us a day’s walk just to find him, but finally the great beast fell. And this, he held out his hand, revealing a black leather sheath, was made from the creature’s thick hide. I treated it with sap from a gumunkin tree. No water or sun will be able to harm it. He looked deep into Traphis’ eyes and said, You are old enough to possess such a fine tool; take it and always remember to think before you remove the blade. Never pull it out in anger or with foolishness in your heart. He held the sheath out to Traphis, who looked at his mother for approval.

She nodded.

Traphis took the sheath from his grandfather, held it up to his nose, and sniffed the leather binding. It filled his lungs with a strong, but pleasant odor, which reminded him of Neha’s saddle. Flame-like lines were pressed into the leather and wrapped around in an elegant design, but amazing as the sheath was, Traphis couldn’t keep his eyes away from the dagger any longer.

The beautiful, double-sided blade was dark like the hilt, yet shiny as silver. He stared at it, fixated; watching his own eyes reflecting back at him from the surface. Beneath his fingers, imprinted text flowed along the blade from hilt to tip. A u-shaped cross-guard sat below the curly, finger-length handle. It ended with a sharp, pointy pommel, evidently designed to strike against an adversary’s skull.

What do the words say? Traphis asked, examining the text on the blade.

Braun rubbed his chin and said, In the ancient language of Ronum, it says, ‘Always be true.’ Do you know who said that?

Traphis shook his head.

Those were the words of your father.

Anjetta bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. A moment passed before she spoke. Always be true, no matter what the cost, no matter what wrong was done, always be true. The words came from her as if they left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Yes, Braun said. That is what your father said. Keep these words written on your heart, just as he did.

Traphis placed the dagger back in its sheath, making sure not to cut himself. Thank you, he said. I will be very careful. He realized his voice sounded overly noble.

I’m sure you will, Braun said. It is very sharp and can cut into almost anything, including the fingers of a fifteen year old boy. He smiled. Oh, and there is one other gift I wish to give you, but you must first do something for me.

What is it? Traphis asked.

My horses need tending. They had a long trip and will need water. When you are finished with them, you can pick out an axe from the back of my wagon. I saw that old rusty one sitting beside the barn.

An axe for chopping wood wasn’t quite the gift Traphis hoped for, but right now he was too excited about the dagger to care. He held it tightly in his hand and thought of his father’s words. Though he had no idea what they meant.

Don’t forget to thank your grandfather, Anjetta said.

Traphis looked up and thanked him, then made his way out the door without taking his eyes away from his new gift.

* * *

Thank you for giving him such a nice gift, Anjetta said.

He’s a good boy, Braun said. He sat down at the table beside Anjetta. I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but he looks a lot like his father.

I know, she replied.

How is he taking Mardin’s passing?

I don’t really know. She lowered her head. We don’t really talk about it. I don’t know how to talk to him. I know it hurts him, I see it in his eyes, but he keeps to himself.

I see, Braun said. Does he have any friends to talk to?

No, not that I know of. I don’t think he really relates to other boys his own age. It’s something that has always worried me. I’ve watched how he acts, he tries to be polite to them, but he’s just so different. The only one he really talks to is Neha. Sometimes I hear him sharing things with her, telling her stuff that he keeps from me. Maybe he feels a bond because she was Mardin’s horse—you know how much she was babied and treated like part of the family. She looked up at her father and lifted the corners of her mouth; though the smile was just for show. He tries to act strong, she continued. It’s as if he’s taking Mardin’s place. I don’t know what I’d do without him, but . . .

But? Braun asked.

"But he hardly ever smiles anymore. When he laughed just now, I felt my heart jump for joy. But it was only because you came. He’s so serious about everything. I miss his laugh; I miss both their laughs