A Prince of Aelon

by Michael E. Villanueva

  “Oh my! Titan!”

  “He’s fine. Fed and watered him. As well as took the chance to have him know me better, I think he likes me. Or at least detests me less. After that I inquired if anyone knew where you were, a villager said he saw you heading to the knoll. There were enough people to ask along the way. So that is the full extent of my tracking skills. Meat and potatoes?” Marcus offered, as he brought out and opened a parcel from the small satchel he slung on his shoulder.

  Emilia smiled and politely declined.

  “Come now, you must be famished. I have been hiking since midday with this food. The least you can do is have a bite.”

  “What about you?”

  “To lighten the load I ate most of the contents along the way.”

  At that Emilia laughed and said, “I’ll just have that apple…for now.”

  There was a knowing look on Marcus’ face, “You seem to have been lost in your thoughts.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I got near enough without you noticing. You were almost startled when I spoke.”

  “Well, not like ‘someone’ who was walking in the middle of the road and did not even hear the approaching gallop of a charging steed.”

  “Touché,” said Marcus as he took a drink from a flask. “But seriously, what were you contemplating?”

  “Oh, just revisiting recent events. Wondering how I could have missed it.”

  “Missed what?”

  “For weeks now your power has been manifesting itself and I did not even consider the possibility.”

  “It was? In what way?”

  “The morning weather Marcus. For some time since we started trying to identify your inherent power, each morning we woke up to damp or at least cooler weather. Then each morning was moister than the previous one, I realize that now. Also, my bias towards fire made me fixed on you affecting leaves or other things that were mostly concerned with my own power. And because we kept moving, I just assumed that the chill and cool temperature was the prevailing weather of the place.

  “The most obvious manifestation was our first morning at Tanvar. The merchant had said the weather was hot and even suggested we leave the windows wide open. The following morning after the deluge I was so preoccupied with Titan that I completely ignored what was self-evident.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We spent hours in training and concentration. If it did not happen then, how could you have known that the morning coldness or evening rains were a manifestation?”

  “Because I know or at least am supposed to know, that one’s true inherent power comes about when one is actually at ease rather than in active concentration. Sleep is when one is most at ease. The more at ease you were, the stronger the waters flowed and as you awoke the rains ceased.”

  “But why could I not stop it yesterday?”

  “Possibly because you were in a state of panic. Thus, you had no influence over it whatsoever.”

  Marcus had no response to that. He had been trying to make Emilia feel better but she knew exactly what had been happening. After a few more moments of silence he asked,

  “What do we do next then?”

  “You need to master control. There are several ways to go about doing that, but which is best is highly subjective.”

  “I suppose more training then?”

  “Definitely. And there’s a more pressing concern that I see.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This power of yours is no longer in hiding. What began as a cool damp breeze has escalated into an uncontrollable torrent. I fear what may happen if you do not tame it soon enough.”

  “But you have your own power. Can’t you influence the rains in some way?”

  “I cannot. It finds its way through you. As such it is only you who have a chance to discipline it. Otherwise, wherever you are it may leap forth, stronger than our last encounter with it.”

  Concern is etched on Marcus’ face. Emilia continued.

  “I would like to be able to seek counsel from an elder wizard so we have to travel to Eldor. The wizard Syton resides within its territories.”

  “You did not seem interested in seeking counsel before.”

  “These are one of the times that I am not fully certain about what to do, and under such circumstances there is no shame in seeking counsel. It would be reckless arrogance to do otherwise.”

  Marcus was unsure how to respond to Emilia. He realized that up until yesterday evening he had always assumed she knew everything, and that regardless of the mistakes he made Emilia could remedy them. But now he was uncertain what to think or how to feel. Emilia spoke,

  “I propose we leave tomorrow.”

  Marcus nodded. The two of them sat silently on the knoll overlooking Tanvar, taking in the breeze and gazing upon the distant mountain range.

  The following morning just after the sun had risen, Titan was on the road bearing Marcus and Emilia. The previous night they had decided on an early start as they planned their route with the intention of always being able to arrive at a town by days’ end. That is, until they were sure that Marcus had control over his power.

  There was a hint of unspoken anxiety about them. A whiff of a cool breeze made Marcus and Emilia sit up in nervous anticipation. Specks of moisture on his skin made Titan noticeably fretful, and instinctively he would sway his head in expectation of Emilia’s tug on the reins signalling a quick dash back to Tanvar. However, they pressed onwards.

  After a week that proved the wisdom of careful planning – and shame from unintentionally drenching the vicinity of the six inns they lodged for the night – they were within the territory of Eldor.

  To Marcus’ surprise, Emilia turned off the road that led into town and headed down a grassy path.

  “Are we not going into Eldor?” asked Marcus.

  “No, not yet. First we must find the wizard Syton and ask his opinion on how you might control your power. Then we must train until days’ end. After that we can go into Eldor.

  “But could we not have gone to town for a meal and to rest…” Marcus cut himself short.

  Emilia continued his thoughts “From previous experience I would rather not risk the chance that you, taking a simple nap, might start a deluge.”

  At that Marcus remained quiet, as they rode deeper into the grassy plain.

  After a while they sighted where the field ended and the woods of Eldor began. Between the two points a small cottage at a distance became visible, they rode towards it.

  “Syton lives there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought magicians never settled anywhere.”

  “Syton is advanced in age, so his destiny now is to be available to those who need counsel.”

  “So this is what old wizards do? Find a place apart from civilization to sit and wait to be approached?”

  “You seem to be under the impression that aged magicians are hermits who shun society but anxiously await the visitation of acquaintances.”

  “Don’t they?”

  Without warning, an explosion emanated from within the forest and echoed through the field. Titan momentarily paused but Emilia’s prodding kept him moving. Getting nearer, a thin red cloud became visible from within the forest some distance from the small cottage.

  “Ah, so that is where we’ll find Syton,” said Emilia as she directed Titan towards the red cloud.

  “Still alive, hopefully,” murmured Marcus, slightly unnerved by the blast.

  As they approached the area from which the red cloud had risen, an old man came out from among the trees in a tattered robe. Marcus was shocked at what he thought was blood splattered on the man’s person and clothes but he quickly realized that it was some sort of red residue which was also on the man’s hair and beard. The old man was so preoccupied with wiping his face that he did not seem to notice their arrival until Emilia cheerfully called out,

  “Syton!”

  “Emilia my dear!” replied the old man as h
e now focused his gaze on them, his arms wide open.

  When they were near enough, Syton patted Titans nose and jaw before putting a hand around the horse’s neck, keeping him steady while Emilia and Marcus dismounted. Syton’s hand left some of the red residue on Titan; this residue the horse curiously sniffed, and as soon as the three humans had their backs to him he made his way to a patch of grass to wipe it off.

  “How goes your foray into alchemy?” Emilia asked Syton good-naturedly as they strolled along the path leading to the cabin.

  “Well my dear, as you know alchemy had always been my weakest area, but that is no reason to not bother to try and improve in it,” replied Syton in a cheerful light-hearted manner.

  “But of course! And what are you working on now?”

  “I am currently experimenting on how to turn pieces of lead into gold nuggets.”

  “Oh, wanting to be rich in your old age, I see,” joked Emilia

  “No, no my dear! You see, I thought that if there was an abundance of gold people would stop fighting over it.”

  “But that would only render gold worthless,” blurted Marcus.

  At that Emilia and Syton turned to him.

  “Exactly. And who is this insightful young man?” asked Syton with a smile.

  “Pardon my rudeness,” said Emilia, “this is Marcus of Aelon.”

  “Marcus…Aelon,” thought Syton out loud which made Marcus nervous. He wondered if the old man had heard of him. Would his identity as a prince now be divulged? He cringed at the thought of Syton exposing him as the heir-apparent to the throne of Aelon. The old man’s eyes widened as he suddenly exclaimed:

  “Oh, the nut-kingdom!”

  “Yes, Wizard Syton,” replied Marcus in relief, “I am from the nut kingdom.”

  “Well, you see Marcus of the nut…Aelon,” corrected Syton, as he held Marcus’ left arm in his right hand and Emilia’s right in his left so as to have their full attention as he walked and explained. “I have always been intrigued by man’s obsession with what they perceive as wealth, more so, the assignment of gold as the representative of that wealth.”

  “Gold? The assigned representative of wealth?” repeated Marcus curiously.

  “Yes my dear boy. For if you think about it, gold is merely a bright, malleable substance and nothing more. Granted, it is beautiful, scarce, and has a unique thickness. But to go to war and subjugate races to attain it…I am sorry, this defies my understanding.

  “That is why I thought that if so many people are enamored by its beauty, brilliance and malleability, and all had their fill of the thing there would be less war and less oppression.”

  “But that belies the point,” argued Marcus. “People have always had tangible representations of wealth, things of inherent value. If not gold then precious jewels and so forth, it is the way things have always been.”

  Emilia was about to get cross with Marcus, but then she realized that Syton was not only smiling, he seemed to be enjoying the discussion.

  “Inherent value you say…like precious jewels. Yes I have seen how people venerate these. But as for inherent worth and value…Marcus, if I had shall we say, ah, the imperial diamond of Kurtush and handed it to a child. Would the child be awestruck and bow before it as do the adult citizens of the Kurtushian Empire? Or would the child simply play with it and maybe even put it in his mouth?”

  “Yes of course. But that is because a child does not know and appreciate what the diamond represents or its value.”

  “And who teaches the child the value of things?”

  “That would be the child’s parents, mentors as well as other adults.”

  “In other words, people. It is people who decide and assign the worth and value of things.”

  “Based also on how rare and scarce an object is,” added Marcus.

  “Of course. Rare and scarce. Tell me my boy, before you were born, has there been another?”

  “I do not understand.”

  “After you will there ever be another Marcus of Aelon? Are you and will you ever be repeated?”

  “I…I dare say no, Wizard Syton.”

  “Precisely. There has never been nor will there ever be another you, nor another Emilia, not even another Syton – thank the gods!

  “Now gold, though rare, most assuredly will be found again. Jewels, rarer still, may be mined and it is not impossible for a finer example to be unearthed. But each human person will occur only once and never again.

  “The two points of your argument were that of value and rarity. So, Marcus of Aelon, who bestows value if not people? And which is rarer if not the unique individual who comes upon this world but once and never again?”

  Marcus was silent but his thoughts were now racing at such a speed that it would make Titan’s gallop appear that of a snails crawl.

  He could sense a threat to the concepts of tradition, civilization, and especially trade which was the life blood of his kingdom. These were ideas that were deeply ingrained in him, as such. Although Syton made sense, it was too much for him to bear.

  “Syton, are you advocating the abolition of commerce as we have come to know it?”

  “Oh no, my dear boy, just a reassessment of what people value. Gold and precious jewels have their place. But perhaps people have overvalued their worth, and by doing so have unwittingly debased that of individuals.”

  “So you wish to turn simple ore into gold nuggets just to prove a point?”

  Syton smiled and said “At present there is a color that is of such difficulty to create that by its rarity it has come to represent royalty. But mark my words, as sure as this residue is on my person someone someday will be able to recreate that imperial color to such an extent that no one will care or give value and reverence to the dye purple.”

  Perhaps Syton sensed that enough had been discussed about his thoughts and his alchemy, so he turned to Emilia and inquired, “And to what reason do I owe your visit this day, my dear?”

  “It’s about Marcus.”

  This answer did not seem to surprise the old wizard though he kept an intent demeanor.

  “Marcus started on a quest to be a magician and the fates brought us together, but now…I have my doubts about whether I am the right person to accompany him on his quest.”

  Emilia’s words stunned Marcus. He turned his face to her and saw that she herself was somewhat surprised at what she uttered; Emilia looked like someone wishing she could take back what she had just said.

  Syton, however, was calm now though contemplative. His glee and childlike mannerism was replaced by a collected but serious disposition.

  “So my dear, though Marcus is involved, your visit here is also about you,” said Syton gently as he held Emilia’s right arm in one hand and softly patted it with his other and continued to speak,

  “When I entered what most consider to be old age I was given the opportunity to settle anywhere in the entire known realm. I chose to stay here because of the beauty of the sun as it sets behind the mountains. It rejuvenates my thoughts and refreshes my spirit. The both of you shall spend the night here.”

  “But we…” Emilia’s attempted protest was hushed by a wave of Syton’s hand.

  “You came for my assistance, and this is how you shall have it. The two of you shall spend the rest of the day walking about this area in silence and apart from each other.

  “I dare say that you two have probably done enough talking and thinking. Now is a time to be quiet, to not focus on anything in particular, and give your minds and your souls their due rest. Be at the cabin before the sun begins to set. Off you go then.”

  At that Syton nudged them towards opposite directions, then he continued to walk towards his cabin without even looking back.

  Marcus and Emilia froze where they stood. No more than seven feet apart but they felt as though a ravine separated them.

  They stared at each other for a few moments, neither one speaking. Then something – a glimmer of light, a whiff of bre
eze, or perhaps a faint scent appeared to have caught Marcus’ attention and slowly he started walking eastward.

  Emilia glanced at Marcus as he walked away. Then, not being entirely sure what to do, started walking to the south into the forest from which Syton emerged.

  Emilia’s trek through the forest led her to a small pond. She sat nearby to rest and take in the scenery. She noticed that kingfishers would swoop down to catch fish in their beaks and fly off with their meal. She eyed a particularly regal looking bird sitting on a tree branch, patiently waiting for prey.

  It looked as though it had spotted a target. It stretched its thin legs, fixed its gaze on the water, unfurled its wings displaying such marvelously colored feathers, and majestically dove towards the poor unsuspecting fish.

  Emilia knew a champion when she saw one. The fish stood no chance as the birds beak sliced the water and surfaced bearing its prize, a struggling, helpless, wide-eyed fish that appeared to be in shock at what had just happened.

  ‘Too bad for you,’ thought Emilia but as the bird flew up into the sky, the tail of the struggling fish whipped the bird’s face.

  It probably hit its eye because the graceful kingfisher seemed to lose balance and thrashed about in the air while letting out an audible squawk of pain, freeing the fish which fell back into the pond.

  The bird barely made it to a tree branch, where it stroked its eye with one of its wings. Emilia pursed her lips to contain her laughter, for she wanted to see what else the bird would do.

  Eventually it straightened itself up and though not as gracefully as before – took to the heavens with a wet patch around its eye.

  Emilia laughed gleefully for a while, before a thought came to her mind which led her to quiet contemplation.

  Not too far from where Emilia was, Marcus weaved through his part of the forest in an erratic fashion. As it turned out, his attention was caught by a butterfly. It was not particularly colorful, large, nor striking. It was of a simple bright yellow and black variety that contrasted with the deep green of the trees as it glistened in the sun. Somehow Marcus felt that it was beckoning him to follow as it fluttered its way around the woods.