The Trinket

By Thaleles

Daertul awoke from his bed early in the morning. He did not sleep much that night, as his mind was occupied with the events of the coming day. If he had come to know Jedalor as well as he felt he did, today would be the day that the wizard began to teach him to master the power of lightning. The apprentice could not imagine that his teacher could possibly be referring to anything else when he told him that he had interesting plans for the morning.

As a young elf coming of age in the city of Ta’Illistim, Daertul felt that all of his hard work was finally coming to fruition. He had spent most of his short life studying under the tutelage of the elven archwizard Jedalor, who was a close friend of his family. Certainly, he treasured his experiences and all of the knowledge he had gained thus far, but he was anxious to progress further. Should he, this very day, start training in harnessing the power of the elements, he would bring his skills to a new plateau.

Though the boy did not wish his family to see him in such a state, he could help but seem a hectic blur while preparing for the day. His little sister, Hilua, found the whole spectacle quite amusing, judging from her constant giggling as her brother repeatedly fumbled with his utensils at the breakfast table of his family’s rather large home.

Fortunately, this jumpy apprentice did actually manage to get organized enough to set out to his master’s home. The gardens of the upper class manors he passed only caused him to walk more quickly. To see the forces of nature at work in such settings truly made him realize with awe the power he longed to wield for so long.

Soon, the Jedalor’s elegant villa was in sight. In spite of himself, Daertul actually ran the last few steps. He knocked on the large door, listening to the echoes emanate from the airy rooms within the palatial home.

At first, the boy did not think anything could be wrong, but as time passed slowly on the wizard’s doorstep, he began to worry. His master always answered his door promptly, or would even be waiting outside for him. This was indeed strange behavior from one so set in his ways.

Although Jedalor did eventually open the door, it brought no relief to the mind of his apprentice. Normally, the wizard was always in a calm state. No one could tell his true age, and he made certain to enjoy life. Never, in all the centuries any in the city had known him, had the lines of worry crossed his features.

This morning was different, however. The man was visibly shaken, almost in a state of hysteria. The strangest thing about him, however, was his seeming shame over his right hand. It had been missing for as long as anyone had known him, and he never appeared to give it a second thought before. Why he never asked an empath to heal it was beyond the boy’s comprehension. His apprentice, the one closest to him, did not even know how he lost it. No one did.

The wizard’s words were just as unsettling, unfortunately. He did not even say good morning. He just told the boy that he should go back home, because he would not be able to teach him anything for a week, at least.

Daertul could not leave his master in such a state, though. He asked what was wrong, and was only met by a blank stare. Repeating the question caught the wizard’s attention, and the man cocked his head at the boy. For some time, they stood staring into one another’s eyes, until the Jedalor finally motioned for him to follow.

The two walked through the elaborate chambers of the home. Daertul knew that his master’s adventurous youth furnished this home, and the wizard took great pride in this fact, displaying openly the remnants of his more ambitious time on this world.

Eventually, they reached a small door at the back of the building. Daertul had never seen Jedalor enter this chamber before. Whatever was troubling him lay within, and to cause the man this much stress, must be powerful indeed. The boy began to doubt the wisdom of his curiosity.

Thankfully, when the door swung open, the young elf did not find himself looking into the eyes of a trapped beast, as he had feared. Instead, he was gazing upon some of the most amazing treasures he had ever seen. Artifacts to greatly enhance one’s magical abilities lay strewn about the floor. Even the wealthiest king would gawk at such an opulent horde.

One single trinket, though, immediately caught the boy’s attention. It was an amulet, but like none he had ever seen before. It was crafted from gold, and studded all about with dozens of gems, set into four separate spheres, depicting the elements of earth, fire, air, and water. He could not help but gaze upon it, his eyes glancing over the mysterious runes on its metallic surface. A single pedestal in the center of the room held it above all the other artifacts. The fact that the heavy stone of the carved base had not yet sunken into the soft carpeting showed that it was added to the room this very morning.

“You are drawn to it like all others,” the Jedalor said, shaking Daertul out of his hypnotized state. “Even I have to fight to keep myself from donning it.”

Before his apprentice could even question the wizard’s puzzling words, the man led him out of the room. The boy knew it was time to go. He found what was weighing upon his master, and now the wizened elf needed some time alone. With a quick farewell, Daertul was on his way back home.

Naturally, the boy spent the rest of the day in an attempt to figure out just why his teacher would keep such a treasure if he did not ever wish to use it. He had always trusted Jedalor before, though, and he convinced himself to do so again this day.

Unfortunately, the transformation from day to night brought with it another change. Daertul tossed fitfully in his sleep, his mind filled with dreams of the amulet. The runes upon the artifact kept running across his brain, affording him no rest. Slowly, the strange symbols transformed before his sight, becoming clear. A soft voice began chanting in his head, gradually gaining in intensity as the enigmatic runes became words he could read. Before long, both were telling him the same thing: “Master of the Elements.”

He awoke in a cold sweat, the moon still high in the night sky. Could this be true? Could this artifact truly grant him the powers he had always wanted? What of his master’s words, though? Why would he not want to use it, and even fear doing so? It was all too much for the boy, and he fell back to sleep.

Again, it brought no relief. The voice in his head returned, filling his mind with answers, and even more questions. Could Jedalor be testing him? Could he wish to see if his apprentice had the skill and determination to attempt to use the thing? Even worse, did Jedalor lack them, and fear that his apprentice would surpass him?

The final question shook Daertul back to consciousness. It all made sense to him in his groggy state. He knew that the wizard was holding him back, keeping him from reaching his true potential. He would change that, though, and it would all start with the amulet…his amulet.

It was still only slightly after midnight, and he had the opportunity to achieve his goal that very night. He ran to Jedalor’s home after hastily getting dressed. The wizard would be fast asleep, and he could be in and out before his master had the chance do anything about it.

Luckily for him, Jedalor, in his state, did not remember to lock his door, so the boy made it into the house and to the small room with little difficulty. As his eyes locked upon the treasure, a feeling of triumph welled up within him. Nothing could stop him now.

As he slowly reached for the thing, his body no longer functioned as his own. All he could do was reach for it. All he could think of was closing his hand about the trinket, feeling its warmth…feeling its power.

Power was not what he felt. He was about to touch the amulet, when suddenly, prongs sprung out of each of the four gems, tearing through his flesh. For the first time that evening, his mind was his own, but it did no good. The boy could only scream as the thing began to drain him of his very life. He soon lost consciousness.

The next thing Daertul saw was the ceiling of his bedroom. Soon, Jedalor and his family came into view, all heaving a sigh of relief. He did not know what happened at first. His relatives could do nothing but embrace him, but soon, the wizard asked for some time alone with his student.

With a gasp, all of the events from the night of his attempted theft flooded his mind. He frantically looked to his hand, but fortunately, found that the thing, whatever it was, was missing. Intense shame filled him as he realized not only his actions, but his thoughts, as well.

“It’s gone,” Jedalor said, obviously knowing the boy’s concerns. “You were lucky that I could not sleep and heard your cry. I was able to get it off before it did any real damage. You merely slept for a few days. When it grabbed me, the only thing they could do was to remove my hand.”

“Why did you keep it?” Daertul asked.

“To keep it from others,” the wizard replied with a sigh. “I know well what it can do, and because of that, I have searched for it ever since that day long ago. I thought that if I always kept the reminder of that time, I would be able to control myself.”

“I could not,” the boy said. “I have failed you.”

The man only shook his head, saying, “No, you have not. I have failed you. In my state, I did not think clearly. I exposed you to this because I could not keep my wits about me.”

Daertul bolted up from his bed. He thought that his teacher would no longer wish to have anything to do with him. The idea that he could still learn from this man, after all of this, was almost too much for him.

Jedalor only smiled at the look on his student’s face. “Concentrate on recovering for the time being. When you are feeling better, I can finally show you how to properly master lightning, as I originally intended to do that day.”

The boy was so shocked he could hardly speak. With a second smile the wizard left the room.