by D N Meinster
"The Belly's got it right," the man confirmed. "You don't have to apologize. We asked for it." He stood up and held out a hand for the King. "Rantiford of Kytheras. It was an honor to partake. Just wish there were gorgeous women on the other side."
Aergo shook Rantiford's hand. "You should be glad there weren't. I mean, look at you." The King searched for a reaction, and Rantiford let out a delayed guffaw. Most of the room broke out in laughter.
Aergo beckoned Leaf. "Find these men appropriate lodgings. They deserve a restful stay here at the castle, until they're ready to depart."
Having slept the entire afternoon, the Queen was wide awake when Aergo returned to his chambers. She was propped up on the bed, flipping through the pages of a book on child rearing.
"There's no need for that," Aergo told her. "We have experts here to help raise our child."
"If you think I'm going to let any of those fools near my baby, then you are mistaken," Eloris said. "Who knows what poison they'll whisper to him, or what magic they'll cast on him. Oh no, he's staying with me. A mother must raise her child."
"I'm not having that discussion again," Aergo said, nearing his wife on the bed. "But now you're certain it's a he? Speaking with the mages you abhor?"
"It's intuition," she said.
Aergo nodded. "Of course." He slipped each arm out of the heavy green coat and tossed it onto one of their impressive beige chairs. "You'll be glad to know that there's one mage I specifically detest now, bringing me one step closer to your position."
"You'll get there."
The King grabbed a seat at the edge of the bed. He sat silently for a while, contemplating the simple fact that he was about to relay to the Queen. It had weighed on him all day. "Four men didn't come back."
Eloris shut the book and placed it on her rotund stomach. "You must have known that was a possibility."
"I want to blame the mage for this, but I know it's my fault. I sent them out there." Aergo slouched over, trying to hold in the tears which were ready to flow. Only here, in private and in front of his wife, could he show the true extent of the emotions that weighed on him every day. "I sent them to their death."
The book slid off the Queen's body and she moved over to her husband at the far end of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him. "Would those men have lived any longer without you? What war would they have died in if you had not ended war? What unjust cause would they have followed if not for you? They may be dead now, but it is a better death. One that had meaning."
"I should have only sent a mage out there," Aergo asserted. "They could have soared over the Mountains in less time, with less peril."
"One mage that could lie or change his mind and shift back. Look who's repeating discussions now."
Aergo knew the Queen was as right now as she was when they first spoke about it. She never trusted the mages, and this latest news seemed to justify her feelings. But were the lives of loyal men worth the possibility of a fib?
"What if the other expedition is already dead?" Aergo wondered aloud. He lifted his head up. "Do you know what is on the other side of the Mountains? The Unending Seas. They truly could go on forever, and I sent out a group to chart them. They can't chart them if they never end. They'll be out there until all their supplies are gone."
"They could still fish," the Queen stated.
"But what to drink? Saltwater?" Aergo twisted his head so that the Queen could see his own salty water descending his cheeks. "Their vessel will float for an eternity on the endless waters. Their bodies would forever be trapped aboard a voyage that could never be completed."
"Hush," the Queen ordered. "There is no way that the seas go on forever. Do you know how I know this?"
The King didn't answer.
"Come." The Queen rolled herself off the bed and grabbed Aergo's arm. She tugged him off the mattress and dragged him outside, onto their balcony. "Look up there." She pointed to the night sky. "You see them."
Aergo looked up into the darkened sky. Only a fragment of the two moons was visible, but that only enhanced the twinkling of the other lights. "Stars," he murmured.
"Yes, but they're more than that," she said. "Those stars are other worlds."
Aergo glanced at his wife. "A Bellish theory. Most in Kytheras believe that's the Great Bastion up there. Fauns think those are the eyes of their ancestors. And the Twileans, well, they're certain that the sun disperses into them each night, before reforming every morning. Who's to say which is correct?"
"The Queen has that right," she said. "And I have no doubt the Bellish are correct. They may be a reticent community, but they are smarter than all others."
"What does it matter if they are?"
"Oh, Aerie," she said. "If those bright dots up there are other worlds, then surely we must look the same from their perspective. That means we are as finite as they are. The seas might appear unending to us, but to them, they're just a tiny light in the dark sky."
Aergo understood what the Queen was trying to say. "So there's no way the seas actually go on forever."
"Exactly," she said.
"That's if you're right."
The Queen punched Aergo in the arm, which caused more soreness than when she did it before she was pregnant. "I am right." She smiled at her husband and headed back inside.
Aergo kept his neck tilted upward, unable to take his eyes off the stars. He had learned over the years that the Queen had a keen mind and was almost always proven correct. So he really had no reason to doubt her belief on the stars. But unless there was another land mass out there, the seas could go on until they stretched across the entire world, from the Kytheran ports back to the other side of the continent. They may not extend into the skies, but from their perspective, the Unending Seas could truly be immeasurable.
Whatever the case, he did not want to carry the weight of any more deaths. If the ship did not return before their two years was up, he would send a legion of mages to search for them. Aergo would not abandon his men. He would use all his might to find those who risked their lives for him, and the King of a united Kytheras had a lot of might.
Chapter Seven
Eulogy
300 Years After the Parting (300 A.P.)
Rikki's face was bloated, and her eyes were irritated and red. She was certain that she had no more tears to cry, yet more kept trickling from her eyes. Her staff had become more of a walking stick, for she could barely stand since she heard about him. Even now she was leaning on it, as she stared at the closed coffin before her.
Death may be a natural part of existence, but this death was just wrong. He was not supposed to die. It felt like that it was not only her weeping, but Magenine as well. This was not part of any plan.
There were so many reasons Milo should have still been alive. He was young by any standard, but especially for a mage. Mages could live several lifetimes compared to normal folk. They weren't supposed to die before they were even teenagers. He had so much potential in him, and the Goddess' gift only enhanced that. He was intelligent. He was loyal and obedient. Rikki sometimes found herself envying the young boy's qualities.
Their world had lost an individual with infinite potential. Everything he could have been, and everything he could have done, were no more. All that was left was the lifeless body tucked inside a coffin that should not have been made.
Rikki dropped her head onto the closed casket. Visions of a vibrant boy danced in her mind, even as she knew that inches away was the corpse of that same boy. A familiar fragrance touched her nostrils, and though she tried to associate it with Milo, she couldn't quite place it. It was a sweeter scent than death, yet somehow more chilling. Whatever it was, she wanted to get away from it.
She picked her head up and tried to move on, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon him. If she left his side, she'd feel more alone. He was the only other young mage in the castle. She had known him for his entire life. The second she walked away, it would just be her and Hatswick left, and that wa
s not a comforting thought.
Rikki felt a hand touch her shoulder and it slowly guided her away from the tiny casket. The staff she was leaning on dragged on the floor as she was moved from the front of the windowless room to one of the many chairs that had been set up.
The room wasn't very crowded, but all of the attendees were dressed in black. So many had solemn expressions on their face. They all knew what a tragedy the loss of a child was, but not one of them could really understand how especially horrid this death was. None of them could feel what Rikki felt. None of them were mages. Even the other mage there could not comprehend it. Hatswick wore his usual black garb, and his face mimicked all the others. That sadness that the world was feeling was not present on him.
Rikki finally looked over at the person who had guided her to a seat. Doren was sitting next to her, draped in black, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He didn't say anything to her, but he didn't have to. She was grateful for his presence.
Both of her hands were still clutching the staff. She still felt that she couldn't let go, or else she'd slide right off the chair and collapse on the floor.
Rikki watched as several individuals passed by the coffin to pay their respects. She recognized members of the High Council as well as castle servants. None lingered as long as Rikki had. Off to the side, Hatswick and King Halstrom were muttering to each other behind a podium that had been set up. The King scribbled some notes on the papers propped up on the stand throughout the conversation.
When the last of the onlookers took their seats, Hatswick left the King's side and grabbed a chair in the front row. Halstrom situated himself behind the podium and studied the pages that were before him. Even in this dark room, lit only by a single chandelier, the King's layered black outfit seemed to glisten. Royalty always wore fine clothes, even in the most depressing of circumstances.
King Halstrom surveyed the half-occupied chamber before beginning. "When I look out at all of you, I see a collective grief that touches my very soul. It wants to paralyze me and stop me from continuing. But I won't let it, for I know what all of you know. This boy is not truly gone. The Great Bastion has welcomed him as it will welcome all of us some day.
"There was a time when we had a reason to grieve; when we had a reason to fear for our departed loved ones. What happened when we died was a mystery, and all we knew of death was the body that was left behind. These lifeless shells only aggravated our fears. That would be us one day. Lifeless. Empty. But we no longer live in such ignorance.
"The Goddess Magenine once toiled in secret. She influenced our lives without us even knowing Her name. The Great Bastion was just a theory; a hope, really. There wasn't proof, only faith.
"A terrible beast revealed the truth to us. There was a goddess influencing our lives. There was a place for our souls after death. The Great Bastion was real.
"So I ask you, why do we grieve? We know that Milo has returned to Magenine. We know that his soul is with Her, in the Great Bastion. We know that we will see him again one day. Hopefully not too soon," Halstrom quipped, and there were a few cackles throughout the room.
"But this is, of course, a rhetorical question," Halstrom continued. "I know why. Yes, Milo's life was cut drastically short. Yes, his gifts never had time to develop. Both reasons should be enough. But they are not the true reason. We mourn because we are selfish. We wanted this boy to be in our lives as long as possible. We know where he has gone, but we did not want him to go. He should be here, with us. We should be able to speak to him when we wish. We should be able to ask him for assistance when we need it. We are not supposed to continue on without him." There was a ferocity in the King's voice as he went on. He wiped a tear off his cheek and caught his breath.
"Kytheras is not the same as it was. There is now a staff without an owner. There is a desk without a pupil. There is a future with less magic. Milo's departure has left an absence in all of our lives. We can only ask that Magenine fills this void for us. But even if She does, we will not forget our young mage, who perished too soon."
Halstrom appeared as if he might start bawling at any moment, but Rikki was certain this had more to do with thoughts of his wife's premature death than Milo's. Surely, the King might have known Milo, but he doubted they were close. The King wasn't even able to get close to his only son.
"The Grand Mage Hatswick would like to say a few words," Halstrom said. He grabbed his papers from the podium and took Hatswick's vacated chair.
Hatswick held his staff in one hand, his eyes peering out over the audience. Many were wiping away tears with handkerchiefs. Before beginning, he removed his trilby hat and set it on the podium, revealing trim black hair speckled with gray. The Grand Mage had no papers before him, for he must have known exactly what he wanted to say.
"Thank you, my King," Hatswick began. "Your elegant words have touched each of us. If Milo can hear you from the Great Bastion, I am sure he is honored and moved by your eulogy. However, I do feel the need to correct you. You said that a terrible beast revealed Magenine's presence to us. I disagree. Magenine has always been trying to get our attention, since the very first mage was born into this world.
"It was once believed that the word 'mage' originated from the word 'magic.' This is, of course, untrue. The first utterance of this word 'mage' came from a mage. Before that, they were referred to as wielders or the gifted.
"You see, mages get their abilities directly from Magenine. It is even said that Magenine herself resides in us, granting us but a small portion of her immense power. So our gifts are not magic. They are a bit of the Goddess' capabilities manifested here, in this world. Thus, it only makes sense that 'mage' is actually short for Magenine.
"Losing our dear Milo is not just a personal loss, it is a divine loss. Not only have we lost a wise soul, but a piece of the Goddess has left us as well. Why did She take him from us? Why did She leave us? I will ponder on these questions for the rest of my life. All that I do know is that Kytheras is a much darker place now..."
Hatswick continued to speak, but Rikki could no longer comprehend the words. The whole room started spinning around her. First, she would be sitting on a wall; then she was sitting on the ceiling. No one else seemed to notice that it was all becoming jumbled.
Rikki swayed in her seat with each apparent rotation. She was able to peek at Doren, who was unaware that they were upside down. Rikki pushed her head into her arms and closed her eyes. "Make it stop. Make it stop," she whispered to herself.
And it finally stopped. She opened her eyes, looked up at the orating Grand Mage, and promptly puked on the floor in front of her.
Upon hearing the splatter of vomit, Hatswick paused his sermon. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"I got her," Doren said. He placed one arm under Rikki's legs and another on her lower back. He promptly lifted her right off the chair and carried her out of the room.
Doren kicked open the door to Rikki's room and made his way inside. He gently placed her from his arms onto the bed. She seemed to be on the edge of consciousness since they left the memorial. Her eyes were open, but they weren't focused. She didn't speak, except for a few mumbles of incomprehensible words.
"Can you hear me?" Doren asked her.
She didn't respond. She merely lay there, both hands clutching her staff. She appeared weak yet held onto the staff the entire way upstairs. Was she just extremely upset? Milo's death was a tragedy, and it undoubtedly weighed heavily on the mind of the only other young mage. No one was even certain how he died. One day he was fine, the next he was in a box.
Doren didn't know Milo very well. Most of what he heard about him was from Rikki. He felt so terribly for her. The only loss he could compare it to for himself was his mother. But how similar is the loss of a parent to the loss of a friend? Doren wasn't quite sure. He would only learn that if Rikki died, and that was a lesson he could do without.
Rikki, who had gone through her life without parents, was now down one friend as well. It onl
y made sense that she would throw up in the middle of a eulogy. It was a sick set of circumstances she had to live through.
Doren hung around in her room for a short while, staring at her to see if her condition improved. But the longer he stood by his barely-there friend, the more awkward it became. She could be like this for the rest of the day, maybe longer. He'd come back later to check on her.
He left her room and headed back downstairs, intending to return to the memorial. He hadn't been gone too long, so the service was likely still going on.
Back on the first floor, he had only walked a few feet from the staircase when he saw two members of the High Council huddled together. Wilma and Kelvin were both dressed in black, the latter wearing a cape with his cane in hand. Wilma had a handful of gold and purple gems that were heading in Kelvin's direction. This had to be investigated.
"Is the funeral over already?" Doren asked as he approached the pair.
Both their heads shot right at him as he spoke. "It's just the Prince," Kelvin said.
"Nah, it's still going on," Wilma relayed. "Hatswick wouldn't stop blathering. We basically followed you out."
Doren couldn't stand these pretentious morons. He had only left to bring Rikki to her room, not because he was bored. "What's with the gems?"
Wilma dropped the tiny stones into Kelvin's open hand. "We're making bets on the Celebration."
"Of course you are," Doren sighed.
"Does the high and mighty Prince disapprove?" Kelvin mocked. "I should just give these right back to you, Wilma." He let out a horrid guffaw. "You should get in on this, Doren. We're all gonna make some stone."
"What exactly are you betting on?" Doren asked.
"Whether Thalians are going to show up at the ceremony," Wilma answered.
Doren's mouth opened slightly, as he tried to comprehend their actions. A serious security situation was being turned into a game by these buffoons. There were no worse people residing in Castle Tornis.