The Sharded Boy by L. Darby Gibbs

Author:L. Darby Gibbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult, heroic fantasy, fantasy books, high fantasy, fantasy world, fantasy novel, new adult, magic powers, magic series, ages 16 and up

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As the china crate and the Marsons’ repairs rolled away on Beon’s wagon, the three prepared to examine the newspapers Tran Donnel had saved. Each set down a month’s stack on the cleared workroom table. The friends, too noisy with laughter and teasing, failed to notice the front door opening and Mahre Pratter entering the workroom until she gasped her son’s name. Her hands clutched at her chest as though seeing him standing upright and stepping with straight though awkward steps were more than her heart could take. She staggered back to the door and grabbed the molding for support.

“Mom! What are you doing here?” Jahl turned at the gasp to see his mother pale and terrified.

“What have you done?” she said, oblivious to Jahl’s shock at seeing her.

Donya moved the quickest, grabbing the chair behind her and rushing it to the woman still clutching the doorframe. “Please sit, Mrs. Pratter. Nothing has happened to Jahl. He’s just a little thin is all.”

Mahre’s hands swiped at the girl as though she were a distraction, but she sat in the chair. “Your leg,” she said. “What have you done to your leg? How?”

“Donya, we should leave,” said Rouen.

Mom’s gaze shifted to stare at the Marsons as if suddenly aware they were there. “Don’t tell anyone about his legs. Please don’t tell a soul.”

“Not a word, Mrs. Pratter, we promise.” Rouen waved again at Donya. “Come on. We’ll check back with you later, Jahl.” He backed out of the room into the kitchen, and Donya joined him. They left practically on tiptoe; Jahl, stunned by her reaction, stared at his mother.

Rivulets of tears ran down her face. She seemed oblivious to them. Unheeded tears dripped from her chin and blotted her brown blouse. “Come here,” she said. It was an order, though it was whispered and struggled to exit her lips.

Jahl walked, making every effort to make his steps smooth and confident. They weren’t, but he knew he was moving better than he had that morning, or all the days prior he reminded himself. He raised his chin. “I repaired my leg myself.”

When he stood in front of her, she leaned forward and reached out to touch his once crooked knee but stopped short of actually making contact. “Did it hurt?” she asked. She looked up at him, and he saw for the first time a bewilderment in her eyes as if she believed she was dreaming or imagining his legs straight and well-formed.

He crouched down and she took his hands in her own.

“I didn’t dare hope,” she said.

For the second time today, a rap at the door startled Jahl. “I’m a popular fellow this afternoon.” He began to rise, but his mother gripped his hands and kept him from standing.

“Don’t answer it. Nobody must see you like this.”

“It’s okay. I’ve practiced my crooked walk.”

“No, I’ll answer it. I’ll say you’re resting, overworked.”

The knock was much firmer, as though the person at the door suspected Jahl hadn’t heard the first rapping.

“Mom, I’m fine.

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