The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (34 page)

The fisherman seemed to be of particular interest to Caspian, who asked a number of questions before allowing her to continue. Their time at sea had been the most nightmarish part for Alisia. Her fears and sense of helplessness were only compounded by the seasickness and sense of constriction within the hull of the ship.

She burst into tears as they passed through the gates in the wall and entered the courts of his small castle, its white stone walls still unfinished. She told him of how Ardin had been beaten within an inch of his life trying to rescue her, and how she had been unable to do anything to stop it.

“And now he's gone,” she said, her tears spent.

She felt weary.

“He gave me enough time to save myself,” she said. “But I couldn't do the same for him.”

“Why are you so sad over the loss of the boy?” the old man asked, curiosity and empathy mixing in the question. “You knew him for such a short time.”

“I don't know,” she said. “He was so kind to me, and did what he could to protect me.”

She sniffed back against the tears.

“I guess he was the closest thing to a true friend I've ever had.”

“I should agree with that,” Caspian said smiling. “It sounds to me as if he were a valiant friend above all others.”

She nodded, realizing for the first time that they were in a long, arched hallway. It was covered in beautifully decorated inscriptions and carvings. The walls were all white, and light crept in through the numerous small windows that appeared near the roof above, as well as from the courtyard she could see down the way. Small blue and purple flowers seemed to grow wherever they could find a foothold. In front of them stood a tall stone door, bordered by two engraved trees and covered in beautiful script that she barely understood.

“Which is why I'm glad you managed to send him close enough for me to sense his presence,” Caspian continued as he swung the doors open.

In the large room beyond, sleeping peacefully in a big white bed and covered in golden rays of sunlight lay Ardin Vitalis. And once more, Alisia wept.

A
LISIA WALKED TO
the side of the bed, disbelieving her eyes as she looked at Ardin. His face was still battered and bruised, but looked far better than it had the day before.

“Where did you find him?” she asked quietly as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He was just off shore, floating on some debris.” Caspian stood in the doorway, leaning on the post as he watched her.

“But how?” she looked up. “He was nearly dead when I lost him.”

“Even more so when I found him.”

Alisia looked back at Ardin's face; she wondered if it would ever be the same. He had risked so much to save her, faced such insurmountable odds for her. She wondered how he felt about her, or if he was driven by something else.

“He must love you a lot to have followed you this far.” Caspian seemed to read her mind. “He's lucky to be alive. Whoever did this to him should have killed him.”

“He was trying to save me,” she said, hardly more than a whisper.

“So it would appear.” Caspian walked over to the other side of the bed.

The light from the windowed ceiling illuminated his shoulders and set his white hair aflame. She noticed then that there was no glass in the intricate arches and curls above. The cool of the ocean breeze swirled gently around her. He took Ardin's right hand in his own and held it up.

“I may be a great healer,” he said. “But there's something special about this boy. He's been kept alive by something beyond himself and it's made apparent by how quickly he's recovering.”

“Why doesn't he wake up?” She looked concerned for a moment.

“He will, when he's ready. Until then, I shall continue to minister to his needs and bring him back to health. As for you, I should very much like to speak with you when you have rested.”

He lay Ardin's hand on the bed and began to walk out of the room.

“Shouldn't someone stay here with him?” she asked.

“He will be fine where he is,” Caspian said, comfort in his voice as he turned and beckoned her join him. “There is little that would disturb him here.”

He shut the doors as she exited and placed his hand on the seal that bridged the two. It glowed for a second, and then he turned and walked towards the courtyard.

“There is much to discuss, in fact. But I fear for your friend,” his tone hushed and confiding.

“I do too,” she said. “He's been through a lot, I think this is the second time he's almost died on this journey alone.”

“I'm not referring to his physical health, dear girl.”

The old Mage turned and sat on a bench in the open courtyard. Sunlight trickled in through the large tree at its center which created a canopy to give them shade. The tree looked like a statue itself, something from a drawing where its bark curled up from the ground and out into branches. It was thick and sturdy; its bark so light in coloring that it looked to be nearly white itself.

“What do you mean?” she sat next to him.

“Do you know where he came from? Where his family is?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I'm pretty sure he's from Levanton. His family died there I believe.”

“How?” he asked.

“Elandir's army burned it to the ground after my mother... do you know what my mother did?”

“Yes,” Caspian's brow furrowed in response. “The Peninsula, wasn't it?”

“I think that's why he hates my mother so much; to be honest, she brought it on them.”

“I had wondered the same thing.” The Mage looked up into the tree.

“Why do you ask?”

“When I found him, he was feverish, having nightmares of some sort. He mumbled things in his sleep that made me curious, more curious than I already am I suppose.” The corner of his mouth formed a slight smile.“And the power that's flowing from him... when I picked him out of the ocean, I could feel it. It was coursing through him, seeking release. His presence was like a hilltop beacon in the night. There hasn't been power of that magnitude here since the Magi left this place.”

He turned to look at her.

“I don't think I know of any save the Elders, including myself, that can boast such strength. And though I remain uncertain of how strong he is, I have suspicions that he may be as or even more powerful than I am.”

“That's impossible,” Alisia said. “He hasn't manipulated the Atmosphere once since I met him. In fact magic seemed completely foreign to him whenever he saw it in action.”

The old Mage sat motionless for a while, lost in thought or otherwise distracted. The grass beneath their feet was lush, green, and cropped short. Alisia looked around at the pillars that ran along its edges, each tall and slender. They resembled the tree in the center with curling engravings and moldings that ran along their faces and branched out to support their arches.

She sat next to him for a while before asking the question that had bothered her all her life.

“Why didn't you come back with the others?”

“I'm sorry.” The Mage turned and looked at her, flustered as from a dream. “What do you mean?”

“After the Continental Wars, when the Magi returned home from Grandia, why didn't you come with them?”

He looked at her a bit longer, deep blue eyes unblinking as he finally turned his gaze to the courtyard.

“I was needed here,” he said. “And at the time I was uncertain I could make the voyage.”

“You were sick?”

“Very,” he said. “When we entombed the Enemy in the mountains to the west, I took the brunt of his resistance. It was my duty to hold him in place while they created the seal, it took a lot out of me.”

“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.