by Jay Swanson
“Why didn't they wait for you to get well?” she asked indignantly. “Why couldn't they make you well?”
“They didn't know that I would get well,” he answered. “No one knew why they couldn't restore me to health, but I imagine that our power was simply no match for his poisons. Even though we imprisoned him, he was able to reach out and do harm.”
“I've heard stories of him,” she said. “My mother told me some before she left me in the care of the Guard. Was he as evil as I imagined him?”
“More so.” the old Mage responded unequivocally. “The Relequim... never has anyone held such a claim on malice and hate as the old Demon. He twisted them into an art.”
“Why did he fall so far?” she asked.
“He fell in love with himself,” he said as he stood and began to walk towards another set of doors looking in on the courtyard. “And in doing so, lost all regard for the Creator and mankind. This continent was scarred by him, in some ways beyond repair. And when he returns, we will find ourselves hard pressed to subdue him again.”
“When he returns?” she said, shocked at the idea as she followed him into the chamber. It was much like the one Ardin was staying in. “I thought you imprisoned him!”
“All prisons have doors,” responded the Mage as he left her in the room. “And all doors are weaknesses that can be exploited. We knew he wouldn't stay there forever, and now that the Magi are no more, we can only pray that the Creator sends someone else to protect us.”
His last words echoed in her mind as she lay down to sleep in the late morning sunlight. Someone to protect us, she thought. Someone powerful, like her mother. As she drifted off into sleep, she dreamed that she was like her mother, and that someone might be her.
Ardin woke slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and staring at what looked like tree branches above his head. He soon realized they were the intricate inner workings of decorative windows in the ceiling. A tree did stretch out over them, however, and the leaves twisted and fluttered gently as he watched them dance in the breeze.
He tried to roll over to his side but found that he was stiff. Moving produced a sense of soreness that encouraged him to lie still. He obeyed for the moment, uncertain of where he was and if he should really be moving all that much anyways. He looked around as best he could, turning his head as little as possible. The place he was in seemed friendly enough, white walls decorated with intricate engravings that seemed to tell stories all their own.
The bed was soft, that perfect blend of warmth and comfort that kept one from feeling chill and simultaneously from sweating. He felt like maybe he would just stay put as he sank into his pillow a bit more.
But soon his curiosity got the best of him and he worked tenderly to sit up. The room looked as if it was hewn from solid white marble, or sandstone. Ardin didn't really know much about rocks, but even the furniture seemed to be carved from the same stuff.
He could see lush green trees outside of his windows, his room jutting out like a peninsula from the rest of the building into the gardens beyond. Two large stone slabs stood in a tall arch at the end of the room, he imagined they were the doors to whatever lay beyond.
Ardin stood slowly, testing his sore feet on the cold stone before putting his full weight on them. He was dressed in a loose gray robe, tied together with the softest sash of blue he had ever touched. The whole thing was disorienting, but he felt relieved.
Moving slowly to the door he pushed, but the slabs didn't move. There wasn't any latch or handle to grab onto, just shallow engravings and moldings on the door itself. He put his hands out and pressed into it with his full weight, but again it refused to budge.
Uncertain of what to do he remained yet undeterred as his curiosity turned somehow into familiarity. He ran his fingertips along the engravings, tracing the trees and stars therein and smiling to himself. The long, elegant spirals that made up a sort of border around the two doors were conjoined at the very center by a diamond. In its center, split gently by the bevel of separation between the two doors, was a tall star over an odd rune he didn't recognize.
He placed his fingers in the grooves and let them guide his touch through the various shapes in front of him. As he did so the familiar warmth stirred in his chest and gently worked its way through his fingers. As if in response the diamond glowed a gentle blue. He cocked his head to the side, as if to discern what was happening, when the star set to glowing as well and the door cracked open.
He stood there in stunned silence as the light in the door faded. The warmth in his chest dissipated with it. He shook his head as if it were all a dream, and then took a cautious step forward. All it took was a gentle nudge and the doors swung silently outward. And to Ardin's surprise, on the other side stood a tall man dressed in white.
Alisia wore fresh clothing that had been laid out for her on the bed. The dress was short and fit snugly over a long-sleeved blouse, short hemmed leggings running down below the skirt. A magical mixture of blues and greens on deep gray material, it felt comfortable yet designed for active movement. She had smiled at herself in the mirror as she spun, sending the skirt flying.
She found lunch laid out for her in the courtyard. The old Mage joined her as she finished eating. The nearby fountain trickled gently and echoed faintly among the stone walls, soothing her nerves. They sat for some time in silence. She was convinced Caspian had been praying, but if he had, he didn't let on about what.
As if to prove the old Mage's point that he had the ability to use magic, Ardin opened the enchantment in the door with ease. Alisia was shocked, so much so that she didn't follow Caspian when he moved to greet Ardin's arrival.
Caspian's eyes had opened as soon as Ardin began to unlock the enchantment on the door. He had asked her to join him, but she had wordlessly refused. Emotions of varying and indistinguishable sources were rising inside her, competing for dominance. She didn't even know what she would say to Ardin the next time she saw him, or if she would be able to keep her composure.
“You've had a hard couple of days by the looks of things,” the friendly old man said as Ardin stared up at him in disbelief. He seemed to tower over Ardin, who figured the old man must be almost a foot taller than himself. But he had a regal, kindly presence. He'd never seen anyone like him.
“Who are you?”
“I suppose that remains a question, doesn't it?”
“Well it will.” Ardin rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. “At least until you answer it.”
The old man laughed, the joyful belly laugh that only comes with age.
“How true that is. My name is Caspian, and this is my home.”
He led Ardin out into the hall, where he saw Alisia for the first time. She looked beautiful as always, well rested. Her clothes looked as strange as his own. He smiled at her drowsily as he walked alongside Caspian. She looked away almost immediately.
“You are safe here for now,” continued Caspian. “I would invite you to rest and heal before you carry on.”
“Thank you,” Ardin said. “I really don't know what to say.”
“Thank you will suffice,” the old man said as he led Ardin past the courtyard and down another hallway. “But I have many questions for you, if you don't mind. Consider it payment for the room and board you are to receive here.”
“Ok,” Ardin said hesitantly. “Perhaps you could answer a few of mine first, I don't even know you.”
“Quite right.”
The old man led him through the outer gardens towards a table on the far side of his house, though to Ardin it felt more like a small palace. A very beautiful and intricately built castle even. They walked past another lush tree that stood between the house and the half-built wall beyond. It rose nearly ten feet in the air, but had a good ways to go to match the height of the completed sections. They rose even above the large trees that surrounded the house.
Off to their right the wall came to an abrupt end as it met the cliffs. Ardin could hear the waves breaking
lazily against them below.
“Where are we?”
“This is the easternmost shore of Grandia, some distance south of Brenton. There are no major cities left of which to speak on Grandia. Not that naming any would give you a real idea of where on the continent you are.”
Ardin accepted the answer, though he wasn't certain it was much of one.
“And who are you? Are you a Mage?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I am.”
“That was magic back there,” Ardin continued. “On the door?”
“Indeed, a simple enchantment to keep the doors locked.”
“Why would you want to lock me in that room?” Ardin asked.
“Lock you in?” the Mage's eyes smiled at the thought. “My dear boy, it was a simple test.”
“A test?”
“Yes,” he said as he leaned forward and pushed a long finger towards Ardin's chest. “There's something quite different about you, young Ardin, and I wanted to know more about it.”
Ardin didn't need to ask what he meant by different, he had been struggling with the fact ever since he had killed that soldier up by the Cave. But the old man's apparent ability to test his mysterious powers captured his interest,.
“What did you learn?”
“Well,” the Mage responded. “That whatever the source of your power, it's been refined. That enchantment required a level of response, think of it as a combination. Simply activating the Atmosphere around it would do nothing, you had to respond to its presence in a particular manner to get it to open.”
“Which means what exactly?” Ardin was as intrigued as he was confused.
“It means that somewhere along the line, you were trained to use your abilities.” The Mage looked off towards the ocean for a moment. “Either they were cultivated in you or you took them from someone.”
His voice took a vaguely accusatory tone. Ardin was uncertain if that were the case or his imagination but he felt uncomfortable with it either way.
“I didn't take anything from anyone,” he said in his defense, entirely uncertain against what he was defending himself.
“Which is why I would like you to answer some questions for me, young Ardin,” the old man's gaze returned to the boy. “Very few people have ever had the ability to manipulate the Atmosphere. The Magi were created for it, in fact, without it we become weak beyond reckoning. Our bodies are a mere shell that houses and utilizes the Atmosphere. Humans, however, were never intended to garner the ability to handle the unseen. Some with a particularly high awareness found ways, but few ever truly refined their ability.”
“And you think I'm one of those people?” Ardin asked.
“No,” he responded. “In fact I'm certain that you are not. Would you mind telling me how you came here?”
“What?”
“Not by boat, I know that much,” the Mage continued. “But tell me about your family, and why you have come so far from them.”
To Ardin's surprise, he began to open up and tell Caspian everything. He hadn't realized how much he had needed to talk with someone until that moment, and as he poured out his heart along with the story, he found himself increasingly relieved to do so.
He wept over his family for the first time in a long while. He hadn't shared his failure to save them with anyone. He told of the Witch and her Cave, being sure to correct himself and call her a Magess out of reverent fear for the stately man in front of him. How she had captured him and tortured him with her ethereal voice and beauty and burning power.
He shared how he had been compelled to find the girl, dreamed about her, and finally had rescued her from the Hunters. He shared his fears of what was happening to him, how he had been so scared to kill men and how part of him reveled in their deaths. He had felt both a growing fear of himself and confidence at the same time.
Ardin told of how the magic had come to his aid a number of times, but had failed in others. He shared about the fisherman and their attempt to join the Droning Ingrid. In the end there was nothing that he hid from the Mage. He didn't know why but he felt safe with the old man and wished nothing more than to have his counsel.
“What's happened to me?” he asked after the Mage had sat in silence for a considerable amount of time. “What's wrong with me?”
“Well, nothing is wrong with you, I should venture to say,” the Mage looked back at Ardin after a moment. “There is an awful lot to straighten out, however. Are you thirsty?”
The old man stood, and started walking towards his expansive house.
“Yes,” Ardin said.
“Fine,” the old man said. “Let me fetch you something to drink and I'll be right back.”
And with that the Mage disappeared into the shadows under the archways that surrounded his house where Alisia stood listening.
TWENTY-SIX
ALISIA STOOD IN the shadows of the house. Ardin got up after a few minutes and wandered over to the cliff. A balcony was built into the side of it, perhaps it had been carved. She stayed hidden, watching him go until he dropped below the edge of the cliff. He hadn't seen her and she hadn't wanted him to. She had overheard his entire story and things started to make sense to her. She couldn't understand her mother's actions to begin with, and it crushed her to know that Charsi had hurt Ardin directly. She hoped that he would be able to forgive her mother. To forgive her.
“Unable to keep our curiosity at bay, I suppose,” Caspian said, appearing from within the house and startling Alisia.
“No,” she said. “I suppose not.”
“No matter,” he said. “I believe it was important for you to hear what he had to say, whether or not he was ready to tell you.”
“Why wouldn't he tell me all of that, though?” she asked.
“Perhaps he's trying to keep you separated from what happened to his family.”
“But it's not my fault that they were killed!”
“Perhaps, then, you never asked.”
The idea accusation struck like a slap to the face. Alisia stood stunned, ashamed of herself in the recognition of the truth.
“You should join us now. What I have to say concerns you both.”
With that he handed her one of the drinks he was holding and walked out into the gardens. She followed him hesitantly.
Ardin was looking out over the ocean, inhaling the breeze as deeply as he could. He smiled to himself as he watched a pair of gulls bounce and dive their way through the wind.
“You seem to be feeling better,” the Mage's voice came from behind.
He didn't bother to turn.
“I do,” he said. “Believe it or not, I feel like I'll be back to normal in a day or two.”
“I do believe it,” responded the Mage as he came alongside. “Here, drink this. It will help you mend even faster. I would have given it to you earlier but, well, obviously you weren't in much of a drinking mood.”
He handed Ardin a tall slender glass containing a clear liquid. In it floated small, bright green leaves and what appeared to be tiny purple crystals. Whatever it was, it tasted delicious. Ardin finished the glass in one deep draught.
The Mage laughed. “It’s one of my favorites too.”
He motioned for Alisia to descend the stairs and join them. She did so slowly. She almost looked angry to Ardin, but then he thought maybe it was something else. He was about to ask her what was wrong when the Mage pulled something out of his pocket and extended his hand.
“This is for you,” he said, holding a gem clasped in a cage of thin gold and attached to an equally thin chain.
“What is it?” Ardin took it tenderly in his hand, surprised by the weight of the gem. It was dark; he thought it might be purple but it looked black.
“This is a Uriquim, or a Soul Stone,” he said. “Every Mage is given one when he or she is born.”
Alisia's brow furrowed. “But why would he need one?”
“I believe you have been given a very special gift, Ardin,” he continued. “When the Mag
i were created, they were entrusted with the stewardship of mankind. Originally there were three of us made, among which I was the first.”
Ardin and Alisia sat down on nearby benches as the Mage began to pace slowly, telling his story.
“We were given the duty to act as Magistrates for mankind, which is where our name comes from. We were charged to guide them in their development, both socially and spiritually. Our purpose was simple, and though the task was monumental, we were given long life and powers beyond those of men to aid us in it.”
He paused for a moment, looking out into the sea as if weighing what to say next.
“Your mother, Alisia, was another of the original Elders. The third, Cervoix, was your father. He died in the battle with the Demon, but you know all that.” He turned back to Ardin.
“The whole process of Magi having children is one that humans have a difficult time comprehending, but suffice it to say that it leaves a strong bond between a Magess and her children. Magi, when they die, pass on to the next life like humans. Unlike humans, their knowledge and innate abilities in using the Atmosphere can be separated from their life as it passes. This is known simply as separation. It can be done forcefully with the right knowledge which, unfortunately, was supplied by the Demon during the Continental Wars.”
He took a moment to be sure Ardin was absorbing it all. Caspian wasn't sure that he was but he continued anyways.
“A Magess, when she has a child, is able to give her abilities and knowledge freely as she passes to the next life. All of this is exceedingly rare as, until the Wars at least, Magi rarely die. Thus we don't fully understand it, and I think it's possible, in fact I believe wholeheartedly, that Charsi managed to pass her powers on to you in an act of desperation.”
“What?” Alisia stood aghast, horrified and offended all at once. “How could she?”
“Please, child.” The Mage beckoned her to her seat. “Sit, I'm not yet finished.”