The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (35 page)

“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.

A
LISIA 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 Magi 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.”

“I don't know that I can hear any more,” she said, face reddening in anger. “How could she give away my inheritance like that to some boy?”

“I doubt in the moment she had much choice,” he said. “And for all we know she had some device in mind to pass them on from him to you.”

Caspian turned calmly back to Ardin to continue, allowing Alisia to sit in her own time.

“So you're saying that I'm a Mage?” Ardin ventured to ask.

“Not hardly,” said the old man. “You're some sort of amalgamation, but certainly not a Mage. You've retained your human nature as much as you've gained that of any Mage. Take for instance the occasions on which Alisia was rendered helpless by the technology of the soldiers. Were you?”

“No.” Ardin thought for a moment. “No, but I felt sick to my stomach every time.”

“I don't believe that's just your power being capricious, young Ardin. I don't know what exactly has transpired inside of you but I do know this: you've changed. And I believe it to be a marvelous change, one that might just alter the tide of events unfolding.”

“How could he possibly fit into what's going on?” Alisia's bitterness was thinly veiled.

She was so confused by how she felt, conflicted, upset, disappointed. It was all she could do to put on an angry face and wait for the answers.

“I believe that is yet to be seen,” he responded quietly. “But I dare to hope. There is only one step that remains.”

“The Uriquim.”

“Precisely.” Caspian's expression was pleased, but concerned for the boy at the same time.

“She's yet to be released,” Ardin said. “That's where the voice has come from.”

“Indeed,” he said. “I don't think she has too terrible a hold on you, and in fact I would imagine she has only been able to act on you in moments of vulnerability. The apparition of the Shadow King, for example. I doubt that was actually him, staying to gloat in the murder of your family. I hardly expect he knows you exist, which is good for you. By the sound of it, he's hunting for Magi.”

Ardin simply nodded, knowing somehow what had to be done.

“What are you two talking about?” Alisia finally broke the silence. “Why does he need a Soul Stone?”

“She's still inside my head, Alisia,” Ardin spoke softly. “She's been driving me to exact revenge for her. I never told you about all that happened to me before you found me.” He turned to look at her. Stoic, sad. “I never wanted to burden you with any of this, with what drove me to find you. With what drove me to kill those men. I didn't know what you might think...”

“He must be rid of her.” The Mage stood up suddenly, taking the dark Uriquim from Ardin and showing it to Alisia. “You have one of these, do you not?”