He spent the remainder of that day trying to find out but was mostly unsuccessful. Either the magic refused to respond or it refused to do what he asked of it. By sunset he was so frustrated he was using what power he could manage simply to destroy things—trees and shrubs, small animals that wandered into view, birds that foolishly tried to fly overhead. He went home dismayed and disgruntled, but eager to tell Tarsha.
It should have gotten easier after that. Tarsha should have been able to teach him how to control the magic, how to make it do what he wanted. But for some reason, she couldn’t seem to find a way to explain it so that he could understand. She told him what to do, how to do it, what it would feel like, and how to keep the magic from breaking free. She had him practice using his powers over and over again, out in the forest, away from everyone. But he struggled with everything he tried, the magic elusive and stubborn, his efforts repeatedly falling short. He worked so hard, but nothing helped.
In the end, she told him it would take time for the magic to settle within him. His gift was incredibly powerful, and he was still very new to it. In time, he would learn to command it better. He would just have to wait.
But Tavo Kaynin was not patient and never would be. He was reckless and wild and infuriated by his failures. He never quit trying to do as Tarsha told him, and after a time he gained a measure of control—but never like the control Tarsha had mastered, and never to a point where he could feel comfortable with using it. It was odd, but the only times he felt comfortable were when the magic broke free of its own accord, spiraling out of him like fire fed with accelerant, hot and raw. The destruction was terrible, but it eased his pain and sense of failure.
After a time—months after his discovery of the magic within him and while he was still struggling to come to terms with it—he began to actively court these spontaneous releases, encouraging them with his wild, irrational behavior. Tarsha warned him against doing this, but what did she know of his suffering? She meant well, but no one could understand what it was like to try to fight back against the dominating influence of such power. There was no escaping what it did to him when he repressed it, how it diminished his sense of self, how it scrambled his thoughts and preyed on his mind.
Eventually, his parents discovered the presence of the magic within their children and tried to stop them from using it, but they were woefully inadequate to the task—at least where Tavo was concerned. Tarsha pretty much did as they asked and used the magic only sparingly. But Tavo was less controlled, more susceptible to his anger. His use of the magic became wilder and more destructive. Property damage became rampant in the village of Backing Fell. Other children who taunted him into fits of rage found themselves mysteriously cast away by sudden winds. One of those children—a boy who bullied Tavo relentlessly—mysteriously went missing and was never found again.
—
Tarsha Kaynin could remember the exact day when they took her brother away. It was two days after her thirteenth birthday, one her brother had helped her celebrate in the family home with their parents. Tavo was being punished at the time, but Tarsha made her parents promise they would release him from his room where he was serving out a five-day disciplinary sentence for killing a neighbor’s cow.
Even with all the guidance and encouragement she had given him, even though he knew what would happen if things went wrong, events like this continued to occur. It was as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Listen, Tarsha,” he’d told her. “These are things I have to do, even if they go wrong. I need to find out what is happening to me. Why can’t I control this like you do? It’s so easy for you, but for me it is like pulling out my fingernails. I’ll try my best; you know I will.”
He always tried his best—or so he claimed. It was just that his best was never enough.
So he had used his gift—yet again, in spite of her repeated warnings—and the effort had failed and the cow had died. It was just a cow, he had argued as his parents locked him in his room and left him there. What difference did it make? No one cared about a cow.
But Tarsha did. She loved saggy-bellied old Bella with her whiskered face and her big dark eyes, and she cried when she was gone. She loved the way Bella had followed her around the field like a puppy when she went to help care for the old cow’s new calves. She loved how Bella nuzzled her with her soft nose. She was sorry for her brother, but he should have known better. He shouldn’t be so stubborn. Her parents, however, had gone way beyond the limits of their patience. For them, it was the last straw. They had put up with their son for as long as they could. The neighbors hated him. The people of Backing Fell hated him. If he’d had any friends, they would have hated him, too. He didn’t know how to win people over, to make them like him, even a little. No small part of this was his fault. But he would blame others, of course, as he always did, saying they picked on him, made fun of him, played nasty tricks on him, and sometimes hurt him, so that was why he hurt them back.
But she knew better. He did it because he wanted to see if he could. Just as he did with Bella.
So, two days after her birthday, her parents made the decision to send him to his uncle—his father’s brother—who lived ten miles south on a small farm. There he was to remain until he had outgrown his dark proclivities and learned to manage both his temper and his gift. His uncle would let them know when he was beginning to come around and become the young man he was supposed to be. His uncle would tell them when he had ceased to misbehave.
In the meantime, he would not be allowed to use his gift for any reason. He would remain on his uncle’s farm and do the work he was given. He would see them now and again, but he was not to come home on his own.
Tarsha was still young then and not fully aware of all that had happened because of Tavo’s foolish acts. She knew of some of what he had done, but some her parents had kept hidden from her. She knew enough, however, to understand that everyone was afraid of Tavo—especially her parents—and letting him continue to live with them in the family home was no longer an option.
Nevertheless, she begged them not to send him away. She cried and wailed and pleaded and demanded, but nothing would change their minds.
Later that same night, Tavo came into her bedroom and sat at her bedside and told her not to worry. Sending him away was not going to mean they would never see each other again. It did not mean they wouldn’t continue to be each other’s best friend. He would serve out his time on the farm and come home again. He would show them that it didn’t matter what they did to him; he could endure any punishment and still be strong. He wouldn’t stop using his gift, either. He would not let his uncle know, but he would keep using it. And he would be careful, just as she had told him.
“No, Tavo, no,” she had pleaded. “Don’t do it. Don’t take the risk. Please don’t use the magic without me there to help you!”
But he talked right over her, repeating himself. He kept saying the same thing, over and over.
He would show them. He would show them.
When he left, she was afraid she would never see him again, that he would never return to her. And eventually, she decided to do something about it.
THREE
Tarsha waited two whole years before taking action. She had asked her parents repeatedly when Tavo was coming home, ever since the day he had been taken away to live with his uncle, but their responses were always the same.