chapter Seven
Hidden Gems
His hair hung over his shoulders with a few pieces tied at the back of his head. Red streaks the color of blood weaved between jet black locks, and his dark eyes popped in contrast with his pale white skin. Small wrinkles on his forehead and near the corners of his eyes suggested he was much older than Eramus, but his tight sleeves revealed a person in top physical condition.
Eramus's stomach twisted. The man's sudden appearance and demeanor made his heart race. "What do you mean, you are here to help?"
"Just that," replied the stranger. "I know the power you possess, and I can teach you how to use it, how to control your magical energies. You don't know your full potential, Eramus."
"And you do? You don't know me, so how could you possibly understand?"
The man chuckled. "A question with a simple answer. I understand because I am like you. I know what it's like for magic to flow through your veins, for it to be fueled by your emotions—a caged animal waiting to be unleashed."
"You can wield magic?"
Eramus narrowed his eyes. The only known occurrence of magic he was aware of came from the rumored battle between the previous king of Izarden and a powerful sorcerer. It was said that every soldier found death that day, including King Sytal, leaving his son to inherit the throne. The new king insisted his father had gone to face a magic wielder, a man who had once held a top rank in Izarden's army. But there was no proof the battle that had decimated the militia was against a sorcerer. King Sytal had led Izarden into many conflicts with neighboring kingdoms, and any of them could have sought revenge.
"I will not take the word of a stranger just like that," said Eramus. "Prove it to me. If you can use magic, show me now."
The man's expression tightened. "I suppose I must correct my statement. I wasoncelike you. My ability to use magic is…gone. At least for the time being."
"Gone?"
Eramus chewed the inside of his cheek. Could a person lose their ability to use magic? He had no way of knowing whether this stranger spoke the truth. It wasn't as though he knew other people like him. Even if there were more with similar powers, they probably kept them a secret, as he had done for the last decade.
The man released a heavy sigh. "Yes, gone. Other wielders stole my power from me years ago. But that is not what is important right now. You wished for proof, and I can attempt to provide it for you."
He reached inside his cloak and pulled a small, jagged dagger from inside. Eramus took a step back, and the man held up his hand. "I've no desire to hurt you, Eramus. I am a friend who only wants to help."
Eramus's gaze fell to the dagger. He'd never seen anything quite like it. The jagged blade glistened in the sunlight, but it was the blue gemstone in the hilt that captured his attention.
"A young man forged this dagger with magic." He flipped the piece so that the handle pointed towards Eramus. "The gemstone you see here is…well, let's just say it's very rare. The same magic that flows through your veins exists inside this stone. It is part of what little magic I still have control over. I hope it will be enough to ease your concerns."
The gemstone illuminated, and a faint blue aura surrounded the hilt. Eramus could sense the magical energy as it glowed. Whether he could trust the man or not, Eramus knew the stone contained a power similar to his own. He could feel it, like a pulsating wave that beckoned to him.
Eramus opened his mouth to speak, but words escaped him. He had so many questions, all fighting for priority. The man placed the dagger back inside his cloak and smiled. "I know you must have a thousand questions."
"And then some," said Eramus, scratching the back of his head. "I've never met anyone who didn't quake at the mention of magic, let alone who could use it."
The man laughed and gestured to the edge of the meadow where the tall oaks shaded the grassy ground below. "Perhaps we should move out of the sun first?"
Eramus nodded and followed him to the tree line. He remained uneasy about the situation, but curiosity fueled him forward. He may not trust this man in the black cloak, but he was desperate for answers. If he could understand more about his power and where it came from, perhaps his people would trust him again.
The man plopped down beside the oak and leaned against the bark. Eramus joined him, resting against a tree a few feet away. "Where shall we begin?" the man asked.
Eramus thought for a moment. Where did he want to begin? The man's name would be good to know, but too many other questions demanded answers. It was hard to know what to ask first, but he finally settled on what he thought was most important. "Are there others like me? More people who can wield magic?"
"As of now, there are six people in all of Virgamor with such power, including yourself."
"Six? And do you know them?"
The man’s deep growl sent shivers down Eramus’s spine. “In some ways, it is unfortunate that I do.” He shifted on the grass and stared out into the meadow. Eramus wondered what the man was thinking with his intense gaze and tightly pinched brows. Did he have an unpleasant experience with other magic wielders? He said some of them had stolen his power, but why? And how?
Eramus plucked several blades of grass in frustration. This stranger was testing his patience.
"Perhaps it would be best if we started from the beginning," the man said, finally breaking his focus. "Magic, or at least its presence among humankind, has only existed for a few millennia. How much of Izarden's history do you know?"
Eramus shook his head. "Only a little. I live in an isolated village. We miss out on a great deal of news."
