The man nodded. "I understand what that is like, but you should be grateful. The world can be a rather unforgiving place." His eyes glazed, but he continued, "About thirty years ago, mercenaries invaded our kingdom. They burned countless villages and slaughtered hundreds, never leaving survivors. Three children escaped from their grasps after these invaders destroyed their village, but rather than wallow in self pity, they set out in search of a weapon that could put an end to the destruction.
"They journeyed to what is now the kingdom of Selvenor. Deep in the mountains of Aknar, hidden away in a mysterious cavern, the Virgàm waited to be found."
"The Virgàm?" asked Eramus.
"A weapon. An enchanted scepter with four gemstones, just like the one embedded in my dagger. It is the source of magic in humans."
Source of magic? Eramus struggled to wrap his head around the notion. "How can this weapon be our source of magic? I don't understand. And where did it come from in the first place?"
He glared at the ground. For every question the man answered, ten more took its place.
“Long ago, a man who lived alone on Mt. Kantinar created the Virgàm. He witnessed a strange rock descend from the heavens, and upon studying it, found the piece filled with colorful stones. He could sense the power they contained and eventually created a vessel to hold them. The three children found the Virgàm, and when they touched the scepter, it granted them the ability to use magic. Your power comes directly from those four gems, passed on to you at birth.”
Eramus's pulse quickened. Passed to him at birth? This man…could he know who his parents are? With so few magic wielders in the world, he probably did. Perhaps they even had a hand in him losing his power. The thought made Eramus shudder.
"So, these children gained the ability to use magic? What happened after that? Did they face the mercenaries?"
The man swiped a strand of black hair from his face. "They did, and they saved many lives. They obliterated the invaders, and the king honored them for their service to Izarden. Eventually, they had children of their own, passing on their abilities to a new generation." He nodded towards Eramus and smiled. "You."
Eramus swallowed hard. "I…you're saying one of my parents was a child from your story?"
"Yes, Eramus. That is what I'm saying." The man scooted closer to him and placed his hand firmly on Eramus's shoulder. "You don't know how strong you are, but I want to help you. I can teach you how to use your powers, if that is what you want?"
"I do. But…" Eramus ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to control his magic, but what he wanted more was to understand his past. What had happened to his parents? And when did the images that haunted him come into play? He felt so close to having the answers he'd wanted for so long.
"I want to learn more about my power, but I also want to know who I am. Do you know about my family? What happened to them?"
The man sighed and stared at the ground, seeming reluctant to answer. "I know what happened to them, but I think that is a discussion for another day. I do not wish to overwhelm you, Eramus. Besides, I cannot stay. There are things I need to attend to."
Eramus's forehead furrowed. "You're leaving?"
"For now. But I will return in one week. I intend to train you, teach you everything I know about magic." He rose and brushed the grass from his dark trousers. "Meet me here. I promise I will tell you more then."
He slipped his hand inside his cloak, and for a moment, Eramus believed he would pull out the jagged dagger again. This time, however, the man held a round amulet in his palm. Silver metal twisted together in an intricate lattice, and a large, blue gem rested in the center.
"Another gem," he said, noting Eramus's confusion. "Hidden within the same cavern as the scepter were several of these gemstones. When the children grew older, they returned and took the precious stones back to Izarden. A second generation magic user forged several items, embedding the stones within them. In time, we learned each piece had its own unique ability." He held up the amulet and sunlight poured through the transparent stone, casting a shimmering blue reflection on the man's face. "This, for instance, can transport a person anywhere. One only needs to have been there previously for it to work."
Eramus stood and leaned against the thick trunk of the oak behind him. "So, you've been here before? How long have you known I could wield magic?"
"I've watched you for some time. I didn't want to approach you until I believed you were ready. Now that the village knows your secret, I thought it best you learned the truth. Trust is not a battle easily won, especially when you differ from those whose approval you seek."
Eramus couldn't disagree with that. Many of the people he'd known for years had now taken to avoiding him. But as much as he wanted to trust the man before him, the only person to provide long awaited answers, something about him prompted concern. This stranger held hostage the information Eramus desired, and for what reason, he didn't know. He couldn't help but question the man's motives.
"One week," the man said, stroking the amulet with his thumb. "I'll see you then."
"I have one last question for today," said Eramus. "I want to know your name."
A smile tugged at one side of the man's mouth. His body slowly disintegrated, swirling into a cloud of black dust. When all that remained was his head and shoulders, he whispered his response.
"My name is Morzaun."
