Forest Magic

'What are the other reasons? You seem to imply there are others.' The elder commented dryly.

'The quirin does not exist where the Mushtrans are not, not in significant quantities. Without the quirin, the world is not productive. Ariantha does not tolerate usurpers so upon coronation your rulers are cursed and their people with them. She sees each coronation as further usurping of the power that should be for her protectors.'

'Her protectors.' He snorted.

'Yes,' Ferik replied calmly. 'The kings of Ariantha are her protectors and all of their blood.'

The elder was incensed, his nostrils flared with outrage and he seemed to vibrate with it. 'How dare you speak such lies about our noble families and with his majesty right here? All that arrant nonsense is...'

'...the unvarnished truth.' The Daelen master finished with a weary sigh and the elder glared at him unwilling to bend. 'The Daelen have known for the past two and a half centuries that our end is near because of that very reason.' He turned to Ferik. 'However, if the princess were to marry you the house of Quagari would be safe.'

Ferik hesitated not wanting to think about marriage let alone to someone whose destiny did not align with his. 'Perhaps I should try to undo this curse of yours,' he said instead.

They looked oddly at him and he could imagine why, no one in their right mind refused a throne, but it was not theirs to give. No one pressured him on the point though nor did they refute his suggestion.

'You mentioned the quirin, what is that?' The queen asked.

Ferik shrugged. 'It is the essence of this world, the purest form of nature as never seen on any world.'

'Magic?'

'The quirin is unlike what you call magic. It is somehow the sense of all worlds. The aspects of nature, its balance and creativity, magic on the other hand is power from a specific place, within mostly.'

The master gaped.' And you temper with it?'

Ferik frowned. 'We do not temper, it is our nature to use it, as it is part of our nature. Our history tells us we are the embodiment of all humanity even as our world is the embodiment of all worlds.'

'What of the object on the islands they call the quirin?'

'Probably something left behind in its truest form.'

The queen nodded slowly and as no one ventured any more questions Ferik followed his impulse, touching the floor of the room, he closed his eyes. The darkness he had sensed before intensified about him; he stilled himself against it and plunged down the tree holding himself from the evil. By the time he reached the roots he was holding back from screaming as the icy fingers racked into him, cutting deep into his flesh with phantom knives that nevertheless hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. His skin itched with the slime of it, coated with a film of icy nothingness. Beyond the darkness, he felt the earthpower repelling the iciness, but it had no motion behind it. Instinctive knowledge told him that without human direction, the earthpower would destroy all and so it was still. Few could even contemplate using it as it was beyond mastering with a consciousness to it. By that instinct, he knew he could safely direct it so he called upon it to repel the sinister force that was blight to it. The amount he took was precise, the forest awareness he had guiding him in taking what would free the oak bound people. More than that and they would be killed. Like a flash lightning quick it lashed at the evil embodying the oaks as if it were merely an insect to a mammoth. Just as quickly, it retreated, caressing Ferik in thanks. He was thrust back into the heart of the tree in time to see all in it dissolve like wisps of smoke before he was once again in the cobbled courtyard thoroughly exhausted. The earthpower burned in him, not unpleasantly, but as tired as he was it sapped his strength that he staggered unaware that the eight he had just freed attempted to catch him. The earthpower and the quirin in him repulsed them. He grabbed the ash to steady himself and instantly he was out of himself, this time the corridor he traversed was fused with greenish-golden light, the wall the pale brown of ash wood. It all took an instant but as he propelled into the heart of this tree through a door that was pure light, he remembered walking the length of the corridor.

The rooms could have been from any of the palaces of Mushtra; resembling strongly his own rooms. A huge arced fireplace with an identical notch for wood stood opposite the door, a beautifully carved mantle running their combined lengths housed artful crystal pieces. To its right, close enough to the fire to be cozy, was a backless couch with curved arms growing out of the bark, its two legs entwined and highly polished wood and upholstered in fine cool material only found in Mushtra, a blue so pale it was almost white and was wide enough to be a bed. Opposite it was another one with a back, a crystalline table between them made entirely of the blue Miklalia, a stone more precious than a diamond ten times its size, by the standards of the land the table was priceless. Other seats ranged about the room, armchairs, lounging chairs, plush stools in the same rich style. Cushions oval, round, square and rectangular of all sizes littered artfully about the room in varying shades of blue. The carpet was thick and deep blue with colourful throw rugs thrown here and there. To his right was an archway he knew would lead to the dining room and two o'clock and ten o'clock to the fireplace were two doors that in his rooms led to his bedroom and study. A pang of homesickness gripped him and his heart ached. He had not had time to miss his home but now seeing a replica of his private world the reality of his situation dawned on him. He would not be setting foot in his rooms or seeing any Mushtran for a whole year. How was he to bear it?

The occupants of the room watched him in stunned amazement, shocked that anyone could penetrate their beautiful prison. Unaware of it Ferik glowed with an intense green nimbus sheathed in fiery reddish-brown that buffeted the five occupants, three females and two males all still young.

His eyes met those of the young woman sitting demurely on the backless couch and he understood. This was the princess of Quagari and when her kingdom was cursed, the quirin had saved her from it but being insignificant here it had only managed to shroud her in this ash. In part, it explained the surroundings, why they had to be a replica of his rooms he could not imagine. Her violet eyes captivated him, touching something in him that he had not known existed nor could he think through what it was. He felt he had always known her even as he was sure he had never met her, in her gaze, he saw the same confused certainty. Any and all paths he could have taken in life so far would have led him to this point at this time, had his grandmother somehow known? What was the significance of this particular moment that he could feel the aligning of forces he was too engrossed to understand? He sensed that time had waited for this moment even as Ariantha had. He was the Aynzareth but had never really considered it seriously until then when he knew the balance of so much was held in him.

She rose with poise, her movements synchronic as she slowly walked to him, mesmerizing him. She was breathtaking, exquisite, tall and willowy, with the most enticing curves he had ever seen. Ashen curls rippled down to her waist with tiny ones framing her pale loveliness. He had never seen anyone with hair like hers and only one other with skin as pale. His body tightened at her beauty, heat suffused him as each sense became alert. With every breath, he tasted her skin, her scent wrapping around his brain. Time stood, they became the only ones in the worlds and he took the hand she held to him. Power submersed him, everything about dissolved and once again he was in the courtyard, this time though he lay unconscious with his head cradled in the princess' lap.