are four magical potentia. Magica is the ability to control the most powerful magical energy. This is usually found to be strongest in Mages and Wizards. Cognito is the talent for reasoning and remembering, which most substantial in the Memorix. Morphos; the ability to shape-shift and commune with other life forms, is only really well developed in Metamorphs. Then finally there is Alchemy, the skill to create and synthesise charms, venoms and potions to promote healing for instance, a skill located primarily within the realm of the Alchemist. You will all have some ability in each of these potens but will be stronger in one or two of them, than in others. Your prime potentia will be the one in which you are the strongest and this will become your major area of study.”
Again, Dux was interrupted by the excited chatter of the new ascendants enthusiastically debating the relevant merits of each potens and discussed their preferences. However, they rapidly quietened as the young Whyte slowly raised her hand. Dux nodded his consent for her to continue.
“I think, I mean... from what you have said... I am a Rhodium Whyte? ”
“That is what we believe,” Dux replied softly, “soon, when you have completed your soothing, things should become clearer.”
He made to turn away.
"Excuse me,” she said, getting to her feet “I don’t understand. If ascendants are immortal, then how can Whytes be extinct? Surely there must be other Whyte ascendants in Rhodium who survived the war?"
"I am afraid not my child,” he said, his voice tinged with melancholy. “There is a terrible charm, cast by using fractionation venom; it is called the confractio charm. It can be cast only by an extremely knowledgeable and skilled Alchemist. The confractio is powerful enough, not only to kill mortals, but to fractionate the spirit vapours of immortals for eternity. It was the confractio that caused the annihilation of the Rhodium people. Only one being has ever survived this charm long enough to retaliate and that was Lord Eldwyn the Whyte, but alas, he was only able to slow down the process, ultimately he did not survive."
The young Whyte’s eyes brimmed with tears, blinking them away she swallowed hard.
“So I, as a Whyte, have no land, no home and no people. What then am I doing here? What use can I possibly be to anyone?”
“I do not have a solid answer for you at present my child.” He said, with a small sigh. “All I can tell you is that it was prophesied by Lord Eldwyn that a Whyte female would ascend again. It is not yet clear if you are, indeed, the Whyte of whom he spoke. Hopefully, the Sooth will enlighten us. So be patient my child, time tends to reveal its intentions sooner or later.”
With a kind but dismissive smile he returned to the impluvium. The young mud to her side placed his hand on her arm as she sat down next to him, looking rather despondent.
“Look at it this way,” he said, grinning irreverently, “at least you’ll be the only girl at the party wearing white.”
The Gold girl at her side shot him a brief look of disapproval and put her arm protectively around the young Whyte.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re your people now.”
The scarlet haired boy frowned.
“I am sorry,” he said, “but we evidently are not her people. Your people are the Golds, his are the Muds and apparently, mine are the Bloods. None of us are her people are we? She is a Whyte.”
The three of them responded to this with a collective withering glower.
“On the other hand,” he said, seemingly confused by their hostility. “I suppose we did all ascend together in the same quarter. So that could suggest that we do, in fact, have something in common, but we are certainly not her people. She is evidently one of a kind.”
The Whyte girl lifted her head and wiping her tears she glared defiantly into the boy’s slanted black eyes.
“You’re right,” she said, her jaw tightening. “You are not my people, but it can’t be a coincidence that our cell is made up from one ascendant of each cast. I think that means something, and judging from the councillors’ reactions, they think it means something too; something important. We are here for a reason, probably something to do with Lord Eldwyn’s prophecy. So, although you may not technically be my people, I suggest that we try to get on, because I’ve a feeling that sooner or later, we are all going to need each other.”
The Mud boy whistled through his teeth.
“Well, I’ve no objection to being your people,” he said, “after that little outburst I’d rather be with you than against you, that’s for sure!”
Dux called Baroque to his side before addressing them once more.
“We will now begin the Soothing,” he said. “Ascendants, you will come forward in your cells, commencing with the Aurum cell. Please form an orderly line at the top of the steps of the impluvium and then wait until you are called forward. Each of you in turn will enter the Sooth and you are to remain in the centre of the impluvium until the Sooth bids you leave.”
Baroque motioned to the four Aurum ascendants to rise, before leading them to the top of the steps.
“Just step in,” he said as the first Gold ascendant hesitated on the top of the steps. “You will find that it feels like water although it does not cause you to become wet. Don’t worry there is nothing to be afraid of.”
Nervously the slender, blond girl stepped down into the sweet-scented, fluorescent amber coloured liquid. It rippled around her, making a pleasantly melodic sloshing, bubbling sound. When she reached the centre of the impluvium, the liquid began to bubble, rising up around her like the petals of a giant flower. It formed into long thin tendrils, like blind fingers that stroked, caressed and explored her body. The tendrils plunged beneath her skin, disappearing inside her and glowing brightly as they merged with her spirit vapour. Within a few seconds the tendrils emerged, descending back into the liquid with a small splash. The liquid swelled and rippled before transforming into a two-dimensional image; the face of an old man. The young Gold flinched as he spoke to her, his loud echoing voice seeming to emanate not only from the impluvium, but from all around. The audience became instantly mesmerised by the face of the ancient Sooth as it spoke to them, through its reflection in the mirror.
“The Sooth am I, as Sooth I see, who you were and who you’ll be. A child of Aurum, spirit essence of acclaim, Mage be your potentia, Saffron be your name. Go now child of Aurum, a quarter to your cell; tend to your magic, and learn to use it well.”
Her soothing complete Baroque reached out a hand to steady her as she climbed the steps out of the impluvium. Dux went to greet her, a young native boy carrying a jewelled box, stood at his side.
“Welcome Saffron,” said Lord Dux, “please give me your right hand.”
Saffron did as she was bid. The page opened the lid of the box and Dux picked out a gold ring from the selection within. The ring he chose was similar to his own; a golden hawk’s talon grasping a yellow stone. He slipped it onto her right index finger.
“Saffron, I induct you into the Oratory of Aurum as a Novice of the Mage. Do you swear to strive to be greater and better than before, to honour the Oratory and the Magister’s Law, to defend the Afterlands from all enemies without and within, until your descent. Do you so swear?”
The boy held up a card on which was written four words. She read them, then, after a slight hesitation, she looked up into Dux’s gold speckled eyes and in a clear, steady voice said, “I do so swear.”
“Then we welcome you Saffron the Gold. You are now a novice Mage of the Gold cell twenty-two, twenty-seven. They are your blood, your kith and your kin until your next descent.”
The remainder of the Gold cell Soothed in turn, Gladwin the Gold a Metamorph, Joel the Gold an Alchemist and finally Sani, who would be the Gold’s Memorix.
The Mud soothings followed, revealing names born of the forest; Cedar, Willow, Rowan and Tamarix. Then came the Bloods, whose strange sounding names, Tor-el-van, Mai-li-sax Jar-sur-tan and San-tin-lo, seemed eminently appropriate for thi
s striking and seemingly dispassionate cast of people.
Finally, it was time for the Whyte girl’s cell to sooth. The atmosphere in the Atrium became instantly charged. The high councillors, seated at the back of the hall and who had previously appeared somewhat bored, now watched with unwavering concentration, their eyes fixed on the Sooth.
Baroque led the extraordinarily eclectic group to the steps of the impluvium.
“I think we’ll maintain the traditional soothing order.” He said cautiously, explaining, “normally it’s the cells that are ordered, not novices within a cell, but we have no precedent for this. So I think it’s sensible that we preserve the generally accepted order.”
He led the young female Gold to the front, moving the young Mud, after some resistance, into second in line. The Blood boy stood behind him, with the Whyte girl at the back of the line. She would be the last to Sooth as had been all of the Whytes before her.
As the young Gold stepped into the impluvium, she turned to the others, letting out a long breath she gave them a brief smile of relief.
“It’s fine,” she said, “it’s warm and sticky and it smells like honey.”
She quietened as tendrils of the golden liquid rose up and completed their exploration before falling back and forming into the face of the Sooth once again.
“The Sooth am I, as Sooth I see, who you were and
Ascension of the Whyte Page 4