by S. C. Stokes
“You say it is not a matter of power but I don’t understand,” Syrion said.
“Let me show you.” Kalifae reached into her satchel and produced one of the purple fruits from the jungle world they had visited. With a flourish of her hands Kalifae opened a small portal before her. Before Syrion could react Kalifae hurled the fruit through the rift, and Syrion watched with interest as the bizarre fruit disappeared through the shimmering window.
A moment later something slammed into the back of Syrion’s head. Behind him Syrion saw the plump fruit on the ground, and a portal shimmered in the air beside his head. Kalifae dissolved into fits of laughter. Embarrassed, Syrion picked up the fruit and drew back, ready to hurl it at the sorceress.
Kalifae raised a finger. “You can throw that, but if you don’t use a portal I’ll ensure you regret it.”
Syrion suppressed his embarrassment and focused his mind. Moving both hands he fashioned a simple portal before him, and a second window materialized in the air before Kalifae. Having achieved his objective, Syrion went to hurl the fruit. But having had a moment to cool down, he thought better of himself and gently lobbed the piece of fruit through the portal.
Kalifae stretched forth her hand to catch it . . .
A moment later the fruit re-emerged, but as a shower of pulp and juice spraying from the portal, showering Kalifae and her outstretched hand. This time it was Syrion’s turn to laugh.
“It’s funny now, my young Astarii friend, but the day you step through one of your own portals, you will be gambling with your life.”
“You will, too.” Syrion laughed.
“Oh no,” Kalifae replied. “I’ll not be willingly stepping through one any time soon. I have no desire to end up like this piece of fruit.” Kalifae brushed pulpy chunks of fruit off her dress. Looking at the sad state of her clothes Kalifae continued, “I need to change. You are to keep practicing. Don’t let me catch you slacking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Syrion replied as the sorceress disappeared inside the shack. The young Astarii cleared his mind and focused on the task at hand. Yet each time he tried, his memory of Kalifae’s smile and melodic laughter distracted him from his studies. In that moment Syrion recognized the feelings that he had been trying to suppress the past few weeks.
My heart belongs to Althea, Syrion thought, reminding himself of the woman he’d first fallen in love with in Tolanis, but had now not seen in almost a year.
*****
The days passed swiftly for Syrion, and under Kalifae’s guidance he continued to apply himself to his studies. At first the magic required to open a portal had felt entirely alien to him. The energy required to do so seemed strange, and the magic itself felt different from the elemental magic that came so readily to him. With Kalifae’s tutelage, however, he was making steady progress.
With concentration Syrion was able to open a portal and pass objects through it without tearing them apart like the poor piece of fruit he had mauled on his first attempt. The potent energy of the portals could prove devastating if not balanced and summoned correctly. “Your magic bridges the gap between two points in space, Syrion,” Kalifae told him. “If done correctly, the portal will be able to move you seamlessly from one place to the other. But if you lose focus or control you may be torn asunder by your own magic or lost completely.”
“Lost?” Syrion asked.
“Have you wondered what might happen if your portal fails while you are within it?” Kalifae asked in response.
“I hadn’t before . . .” Syrion replied uncomfortably as he tried to ponder the implications of such a series of events. “What happens, Kalifae?”
“To be honest, we don’t know.” Kalifae responded. “Our people have postulated that someone lost in the place between portals would be torn asunder, or simply cease to be. Others think there may be a realm through which we are passing that remains to be explored. If there is, we yet know nothing about it. We’ve never had anyone return to bring word of it.”
Syrion’s concentration intensified as the reality of the perils facing him set in. Diligently the young mage practiced, cognizant of the fact that while he enjoyed the quiet and seclusion of Empyrea, his home still faced the very real threat of the Glaciadal. Syrion studied for hours on end, his discipline and devotion to mastering his arts driving him back to practice.
One morning Kalifae awoke early to find the shack empty. The sorceress experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. Not knowing why, Kalifae ran for the door and threw it open. Syrion was standing before a portal. In the shimmering surface Kalifae could see the blackened earth that marked the ruins of the Astral Palace, the place where she had found the Astarii weeks before.
“Syrion, what are you doing?” Kalifae shouted.
The young mage turned, the expression on his face akin to that of a child caught in the very act of mischief.
“I was . . .”
“About to traverse your own portal, without my aid or guidance?” the sorceress accused.
Syrion was speechless. He knew he’d been reckless. His desire to investigate the stone was strong, but something within told him that was not the only reason for attempting the feat. Part of him was embarrassed. He didn’t wish for Kalifae to see him fail. When Syrion didn’t speak Kalifae swept across the clearing to where he waited.
“You must learn, Syrion—you tinker with arts that neither you nor I completely understand. If something goes wrong here you could die. These portals, that artifact you seek to play with—these are dangerous, Syrion. The day you find yourself outside your depth it will be too late. If you don’t temper your curiosity it will kill you eventually.”
“Careful now—you’re beginning to sound like my mother,” Syrion replied, laughing.
“Your mother is a smart woman—it seems keeping you from killing yourself spectacularly is a full-time job,” Kalifae answered with disdain. “I can’t even get a full night’s sleep without you trying something foolish.”
“Don’t stay up on my account!” Syrion replied determinedly, turning back to face the portal.
“Wait!” Kalifae shouted as Syrion began walking towards it. Hurriedly Kalifae scooped up a stone and hurled it through the open portal. Her eyes followed the small rock as it slipped beneath the surface of the portal, and much to her delight the stone appeared neatly on the other side, flying a short distance before skittering across the glassy black ground of the crater.
“You did it, Syrion!” Kalifae cried exuberantly, throwing her arms around the young mage with a celebratory embrace.
Syrion enjoyed her elation as she took great pride in his accomplishment. When he didn’t reply, Kalifae released him and spoke again. “Don’t you get it? You did it!”
Syrion smiled back at her. “Oh, I know. I realized it mere moments before you stormed out of the cabin.”
“Huh?” Examining the portal before her, Kalifae saw a stick resting on the ground on the other side of the shimmering gateway a short distance from the stone she’d just thrown through.
Syrion chuckled. “Come now—after these weeks, surely you expected me to learn something? Curious I might be, but it seems I do listen to you after all.”
“You could have said something sooner,” Kalifae replied, shoving Syrion a bit off-balance.
“You’re right. I could have. But where’s the fun in that?”
“Go on, then. What are you waiting for?” Kalifae asked.
“Oh, I see. A moment ago I was being reckless but now it’s almost like you want me dead.”
“If the portal doesn’t do it, I just might,” Kalifae answered.
“What was that?” Syrion asked, his hand raised to his ear as if he were hard of hearing.
“I said, step into the light,” Kalifae answered unconvincingly.
“Very well.” Syrion drew a deep breath and summoning his courage, jumped through the portal. Plunging through its shimmering surface, Syrion was relieved when he emerged intact on the other side.
Syrion exhaled sharply and found himself standing in the blasted stone crater where Kalifae had first found him.
A moment later a second portal opened and Kalifae stepped through. Syrion looked at the sorceress with disgust. “I left my portal open and everything. After all this time, you still don’t trust my abilities.”
Kalifae grinned. “One can never be too careful now, can one?” It was Kalifae’s payback for his having made her look foolish in the clearing. Kalifae fixed him with a look. “Why get mad when you can get even?” the Empyrean asked.
“Why indeed?” Syrion responded appreciatively.
“So what has you so interested about this stone that you were willing to risk your life to examine it again?”
“I’ve been thinking about the stone and this crater since we left. Clearly the stone possesses some type of magic—that much is clear. The fact that it is the only thing to be found anywhere in sight, other than the rubbish we threw through the portal, is also significant. Whatever took place here not only created this desolate crater but has kept it so ever since. Have you noticed? Nothing has grown back. There isn’t a flower, a weed, a thistle or even a blade of grass as far as the eye can see.”
“I hadn’t really given it any thought,” Kalifae answered. “My people don’t come here. Since Apollos vanished they believe it is cursed. Those who have wandered here have not returned.”
“Of course not,” Syrion answered. “Without an idea of the arcane they would have no sense of this artifact or what was occurring here. They would simply grow weary as they wandered meaninglessly across the land. Eventually they would succumb to fatigue and fall into a sleep from which they would never awake. While they rested the obelisk would drain the life from them, and when none remained it would begin to leech energy from the body until nothing but dust remained.”
“To what end?” Kalifae asked.
“That I am not sure of. But I do not think it’s coincidence that this stone alone survived the conflict here. This stone was once owned or used by Apollos or his sons. If we can learn its purpose, we may learn more about what occurred here, and perhaps gain insight into the gods themselves.”
“Or we will fumble about blindly until you succeed in blowing us both to pieces,” Kalifae concluded.
“Come now, Kalifae—a little optimism goes a long way.”
“Yes, and blind optimism will take us all the way.”
“Not entirely blind. I know what happened when I touched it before. The stone drained my strength but grew in size. I believe it is trying to restore itself by drawing on the energy of others and the land itself. If we probe it a little more carefully this time we can see how it reacts to our manipulations.”
“Be very careful, Syrion. If things go poorly I’ll open a portal for us to flee through. If that stone caused this crater, we don’t want to be standing here when it happens again.”
“Very well. Now that you have our escape plan covered, let us begin.”
Syrion approached the stone, and cautiously he unwrapped his cloak from around the black pillar, taking great care to avoid touching the surface of the stone itself. Syrion could feel the subtle drain of the stone’s magic but this time he was expecting it. If the draw became too great they could simply retreat and recover their strength.
Syrion raised his hand with his palm toward the stone, and with a thought he channeled his arcane energy and unleashed it toward the stone. His power went not in a singular destructive burst but in a refined, precise lance of energy that struck the surface of the stone. It was a subtle attempt to probe the stone’s reaction.
Syrion had no desire to destroy the artifact—something within him knew it was of great significance. As the azure lance struck the stone it began to glow and bubble around the point of impact. Almost imperceptible at first, the reaction grew more prominent each moment.
Soon a confluence of colors was visible. Shades of red, blue and yellow seemed to shift together as they swam across the surface of the stone. Syrion continued channeling energy into the stone.
A subtle grinding noise could be heard emanating from the stone, and Syrion realized it was growing before his eyes. The stone was grinding against the floor of the crater as it slowly grew in size. The rate of growth now was much slower than what had occurred when he had accidentally touched the stone days earlier.
Steadily the prism of stone grew in width. Syrion continued patiently to channel energy into the stone, eager to continue his experiment. He guided the lance of energy across the prism’s surface, and colors played along the prism’s surface wherever it was struck, finally settling into a distinct pattern. When the lance struck certain portions of the stone it glowed an angry red hue, like that of a ruby being struck by sunlight. When the lance played across other sections it would glow gold like the sun. At yet other points on the stone’s surface it would glow a deep royal blue.
Kalifae, too, noticed the pattern. “What do you think the colors mean?” the sorceress asked.
“I’m not sure, but with every second that passes I grow more confident that this stone is of tremendous value. We just need to access whatever is stored within it.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Kalifae asked.
“I believe the stone is trying to restore itself to its previous state. That is why it has been draining life and power from anything it comes in contact with. When it is whole, I believe we’ll be able to access whatever is stored within. It’s simply a matter of making it whole.”
Syrion intensified the power he was channeling into the stone. This time the stone grew rapidly before their eyes. Without warning a storm of lights blossomed from it.
Syrion dove out of the way, wincing in pain as he struck the stone floor of the crater, then slowly rolled onto his back to find Kalifae standing over him. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“I’m fine—I just wasn’t sure what type of magic was emanating from the stone. I thought it best to avoid contact with it.”
“It seems harmless enough. What do you suppose it is?” Kalifae asked, gesturing to the sky about her.
The stone was now glowing steadily, no longer black and inert, but pulsing with arcane energy. The light that had burst from the stone now hovered in the evening sky above them, thousands of tiny specks lighting the sky. A host of gold specks hovered together in a cluster, and separated from the sea of gold by an empty void was a dense mass of red specks glowing angrily in the night air. Scattered in among the red and gold and in seemingly random clusters around them were patches of royal blue.
Kalifae moved through the mass of lights trying to make sense of the pattern, but could not.
Syrion studied them from his back, still lying on the crater’s floor. The sea of lights was dazzling but it wasn’t until Syrion focused on what lay beyond that he understood the stone’s purpose.
“Can you see it?” Syrion asked.
“See what? Kalifae asked. “The lights are very pretty, but why would anyone make something like this?”
“You are looking at it from the wrong angle. Lie down,” Syrion instructed.
Kalifae fixed the mage with a skeptical look, hesitant.
“Don’t worry about your clothes—it’s worth it. Lie down here.” Syrion patted the ground beside him.
Reluctantly Kalifae lay down next to the Astarii and the stone. Gazing skyward she replied, “It’s still beautiful but I don’t see the difference.”
“Look beyond the lights themselves—look at the sky.” Syrion instructed.
Kalifae’s gaze wandered across the panorama of the night sky resting above her. “It’s the stars,” she concluded, as she realized what Syrion was seeking to show her.
“It’s a map,” Syrion answered excitedly. “This is how the gods did it.”
“Did what?”
“Traveled to worlds they had never been to before. You taught me that I must visualize the place I wish to go in order to open a portal that will lead there. I know you travel to wor
lds you have been before. It is based on knowledge that has been handed down through the generations since Apollos himself taught your people to travel the stars. For weeks I have wondered how those worlds were first walked by the gods if they had not been there before. I supposed their magic operated on a different plane from ours, but not so. This artifact showed them where the worlds were in the sea of heaven. Using this stone they could travel freely among the stars.”
“Incredible,” Kalifae concluded, realizing the extent of what Syrion was inferring. “I think we have found the reason Apollos made Empyrea his home. This stone would have enabled him to spread his domain among the stars, and travel them freely.
“But what do the colors mean?” Kalifae wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” Syrion said, “but I know who might. Mother.”
“Shall we fetch her?” Kalifae suggested.
“We could, but I’m afraid it’s time for me to return home. I’ve lingered here longer than I should have. Meldinar faces a great threat in the Adal. I must be there to aid my people against them.
“Oh . . .” Kalifae answered, disappointment evident in her voice as it trailed off.
“Don’t get me wrong, Kalifae—I love it here. Of all the places the Adal could have marooned me I am glad it was here. But I can’t hide away here on Empyrea and ignore what is out there.” Syrion gestured toward the stars.
“I know,” Kalifae replied reluctantly.
Suddenly the lights above vanished, the artifact’s power having been momentarily drained. Syrion rose to his feet and began to wrap the stone in his cloak once more.
“You’re taking the stone with you?” Kalifae asked.
“We need to study it and learn its secrets. With Apollos loose we will need any advantage we can gain. Do you mind?”