The Mage From Nowhere

The Mage from NowhereBy B.T. Narro Legends of the Tainted: Book 1 Copyright 2023 by B.T. NarroCover and Map by Beatriz RareThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder. CHAPTER ONEThe cold wind nearly took Tarak off the edge of the mountaintop. He stumbled to a stop, managing to stay on his feet. Another freezing gust tore through him, sending him to his knees.“I am damn well tired of this!” Tarak yelled to his father. “Either you tell me what I am to do up here, or I will climb down without you!”His father stood tall, seemingly unaffected by the wind. He didn’t bother to help Tarak up.“You will fall without my aid,” his father said. “You will die.”“I may challenge you on that.” Tarak crawled over to the only protuberance on the flat mountaintop, a cluster of rock slabs that seemed as if they had been stacked and leaned against each other by the hands of man. He held onto the rough edge nearest to him.“I cannot explain.” His father finally seemed troubled by the wind as he kept his body low and followed Tarak to the slabs of rock.Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked. Sleet pelted Tarak’s back as he took cover against the tall standing rocks.“Fine! Fine! As long as you finish this fast!”His father went around the side of the rocks and took hold of one large slab with his massive hands. He groaned as he pulled it away from the rest, creating an opening just large enough for Tarak to squeeze through.“Walk inside,” his father instructed.Tarak peered in cautiously. It was dark inside, but there seemed to be something within. It looked like a shimmering sphere of sorts but made from something intangible.Sorcery, he figured. My father’s sorcery. What could he possibly want with this?“Is this because you think me to be difficult?” Tarak asked rhetorically. “You would not consider me difficult if you left me alone—”“I only wish to keep you safe,” his father interrupted. “This is the only way. I cannot explain more, or this will not work.”His father was always cryptic, but this was different. There was desperation in his father’s tone that Tarak had not heard before. If Tarak was not mistaken, his father actually sounded worried.“Because if you do explain,” Tarak realized, “then I will refuse to obey you.”“Tarak, this is the only way. Walk inside.”“If you will not explain, then you will have to force me, because—”His father shoved him inside and pulled the slab of rock across Tarak’s only means of escape.“He actually pushed me!” Tarak muttered to himself in shock.His father had done a lot of disagreeable things, but pushing him was new. Light pierced through crevices of this enclave, reflecting off the sphere of sorcery. It was close enough for Tarak to reach with his hand if he was to lift his arm.Unwilling to touch it but curious as to what it was, he moved his palm close to see what he might be able to feel.Nothing.Tarak’s father had implored Tarak to learn sorcery, claiming he would need it one day. Perhaps that day was today, and this was nothing but an annoying test.Tarak had wanted to skip all the boring studying, the painful errant spellcasting, and the frustrating moments of near success that young sorcerers invariably went through. He had tried to convince his father to start with teaching him a real spell, an illusion, but his father said that could not be done.Illusions were some of the most complicated spells to learn and even more difficult to maintain once successfully cast. Tarak needed to start with something simpler, like casting a spell of light.Tarak had tried and failed, over and over, countless times. If he could not even make light, how could he ever hope to do anything more? Even fire and water were out of the question.He had plenty of healthy hobbies to keep him busy while trying to avoid his father’s ineffective lessons. He frequented taverns to keep up his wit and charm. He never shied away from a fight, which kept his senses keen and his body in top shape. Both hobbies went hand in hand and were so exhausting that he often needed much of the day to rest and recuperate—another hobby—but he still managed to find time to chop down a few trees here and there. Always at night, of course. It had to be at night, and usually while drunk, incidentally, though chopping down trees while intoxicated didn’t go together as well as his other hobbies.After he’d been felling trees for a couple years, the lord’s guardsmen had begun looking for the people responsible for the illegal logging. Little did they know that it was only one man responsible, a teen who needed coin because his father was stingy.Tarak had a portion of his father’s strength, and a portion was enough to make a living his own way—without having to wake up early and report to anyone. His father didn’t approve, but then again, his father didn’t approve of just about anything he did.This is not a test, Tarak thought. It is a punishment.He tried to move the slab of rock blocking his exit, but it was far too heavy.“Are you still out there, Caarda?” he asked.“If you had kept up with your studies,” his father replied, “you would be able to sense I was here without asking.”Tarak rolled his eyes. “My ears work just fine, though.” He looked back at the shimmering sphere. It took up nearly the entirety of the small space within these huge rocks.“What in the hell are you?” he muttered to the sphere and gave it a poke. The edges rippled as if it was made of water, though he felt nothing on his