The Kingdom of Gentenia
By: Evan Smith
© Copyright by Evan Smith 2010
All Rights Reserved
Prologue
I am not a prophet, though I am widely considered one. One would assume that with the gift of prophecy, one would gain insight into why things transpire the way they do. I digress, my gift allows me to see how the decisions of others will affect the world around us. Almost all of my predictions have come to fruition. My first such vision, however, has been the only to this date to remain unfulfilled. I have faith that it will come to realization, if given enough time. My name is Solomon, and I am Chief Advisor to the High King of Mesurat.
I am by no means the only gifted person in my midst. In fact, the nation to which I was born is filled with likewise empowered peoples. Of course, they do not share my gift, though there are those that do among them I'm sure. I live in a world divided, not by race, but by genetic birthrights. In the Kingdom of Mesurat, my people the Metians, walk freely in a near utopia. Outside our continent, however, things are much different for us. Though peace was found centuries ago, we have yet to heal enough to trust each other. The rest of our world is governed, not by multiple governments, but by one, singular government. The Thenean Republic comprises all who were once known as Ordinary Humans.
It is postulated that these Metians have always existed, yet their presence wasn’t fully realized until modern science began to define their amazing talents. It was discovered that the genetic markers that defined them as ‘special’ were specifically passed from generation to generation. Therefore, it would be impossible for two baseline humans to produce a Metian child.
For many years the Metian people were persecuted for their genetic differences. They were the target of hate crimes, and the most brutal of abuses. The various governments around the world watched on with ambivalence. Leaders gained power in the Metian community, and spoke out against the total lack of action on the part of the world nations to counter the outrageous crimes against the Metians.
War broke out, sides were taken, lines drawn, lives stolen. For ten years a war raged with enough intensity to tear the planet in two. When the smoke cleared, and treaties were signed, the world was so changed that it was merely a ghost of its former self. A great healing work began. In the midst of the war, while battle lines were being drawn The Metian generals ordered a quite literal shift of the battlefield. A massively powerful Metian with the ability to manipulate earth, they gathered the continents they ruled into one supercontinent. They named it Mesurat.
As the war raged the Humans went through many changes as well. They gathered in the face of the mounted threat, united finally against a common cause. Humans the world over found themselves in the midst of an impossible war. The enemy they fought had weapons that never ran out of ammunition, and that no amount of science or technological advancement could match. They advanced greatly in the face of insurmountable odds, until a group of scientists were ordered to investigate the Science of Magic.
After several months of study, with the aid of ancient texts written by brilliant historical scientists, they put into practice the Science of Magic. Immediately the government was reshaped. Human was no more, now all were Magus, each man, woman, and child arming themselves with their new science in defense of the Metian menace. When the dust settled, the world found itself reshaped, a shadow of its former self. Shaky peace negotiations occurred between the Metian and Magus peoples. Treaties were drawn and boundaries were defined. The Magus President established a Council of Mages, to aid him with the legislation of judgment in the massive country. Peace seemed to gather in the wake of the tumultuous times.
As time passes I only grow older, and though I am borne to times of peace, I am not ignorant to what my gifts tell me. Something much darker and far more sinister is brewing in these days to come, and I pray that my very first prophecy comes to fruition before it is too late.
Five Elements, when gathered will catalyze change
A world divided, they will rearrange
The return of the Titans, they will work to prevent
The ushers of Chaos will not circumvent
There will be no equal for the power of five
They will channel a power like none alive.
Chapter 1
Aeryn awoke suddenly, gasping deeply. He was breathless. This was the fifth night in a row that dreams plagued him. Dreams he could handle, however, this was the very first time he had ever seen any faces. His mother was always warning him about the expansive nature of his power, he promised himself to speak with her or Solomon in the morning about the dream.
He stepped out onto his deck, floating casually across its stone vastness. It was far too cold this morning for his feet to touch the ground, his vast bathrobe billowed around him in the buffeting winds. A menacing storm cloud danced above the countryside, blanketing the sky for miles in every direction. Aeryn knew he would find no more solace in sleep this morning, even closing his eyes threatened the return of those images. His closest friend, two men and a women he was sure he’d never seen before, and his self were surrounded by flames, kneeling before a menacing man.
Leaning out over the balcony he gazed directly 102 stories down the face of the vast stony castle. He pondered how long it would take him to glide down to the garden. His mothers garden always calmed him. Unfortunately, he knew that was non-optional for this lovely morning. He had no wish to bump into any of his father’s subjects. Anytime they saw him, they stopped, they stared, they took pictures. It was a horrid existence for a Prince to be trapped within the walls of his own castle.
As he stepped away from the balcony, his mind raced down to the garden at the speed of a thought. He counted the minds of the early morning shift workers, using their various abilities to tend the garden that would feed the entire Kingdom. He pondered the implications of suggesting to them that they take a thirty minute break. Ultimately, he decided against it, knowing that somehow his father would catch wind of it and he would have a Kingly speech to give his young Prince about responsibility to the subjects.
He sighed heavily, sitting in the center of his courtyard on his invisible cushion. Folding his legs like a pretzel, he stretched his mind outward. Usually this exercise was left for midday, but on sleepless nights he found himself extending his Telepathic self across the countryside. Pooling his power and Focusing his concentration, he found he could sense every cognitive being in the entire Kingdom. This was actually quite relaxing in its own way. It helped him to understand that everything, even animals and insects, worked in ultimate symphony.
And finally, the young Prince achieved a dreamless sleep, hovering on his balcony on the top of the world.
Chapter 2
Charles strolled down the hallway of his father’s mansion, carefully cloaked from sight in a drape of shadows. He hated the constant monitoring his father insisted was so necessary. His father, the President, insisted that he was far too reckless. Too reckless in life, too reckless with his Magic, too reckless. He rolled his eyes, furious with the man for his prudishness.
His own teachers praised him for his prodigious skill. He could weave spells that the most talented Magus couldn’t manage. His specialty, the manipulation of Fire, was unprecedented, thought to be impossible because of its raw, untamable power. He was unique in every way, and yet, somehow “reckless”. Charles had grown far beyond waiting for his father to understand him. He only now needed space, a commodity that his father refused to grant him.
At this very moment, his father positioned two Legion Magus outside his door. Avoiding the fact that he commissioned two soldiers for the task of monitoring one boy, he truly felt his son worthy of high-class imprisonment. He wasn’t sure whether his father was simply accidentally unaware to the finer aspects of his power, or purposely ignorant. With moments of concentration he could excite his molecules to the point of loosing their cohesion and becoming a pure wave of heat.
While President Simon’s Magus specialty was the ability to manipulate lightning (causing many in the Nation to refer to him as President Zeus), Charles was gifted with a mastery of one of the four Cardinal Elements of Magic, causing quite a taboo. Several years ago the Magus Council decreed that it would be impossible for a Magus to gain mastery over one of the cardinal elements (fire, earth, water, or air), as a Specialty, which is a Magic Talent that a Magus can channel or summon without the use of a spoken or unspoken spell.
That rule was instantly invalidated with two births. First Charles came, who showed a nascent Specialty for the manipulation of Fire. A year passed and a young Collin came along with a clear talent for the mastery of Water. The rule was broken, and the Magus world watched on in awe.
He hadn’t left the Mansion tonight, deciding to tour its length. Silently he pondered how his closest friend would respond to being awoken at this hour. He decided against it, choosing instead to give his guards a good shock. He Focused his energy, sensing the edges of his body heating at his will. Commanding himself across the compound, he gathered his body again about five feet from the awaiting Guards, appearing before them in a flash of light. His guards mouths hung slack as they watched him approach.
Saluting both of them in the most mocking manner he could manage, he swung into his room laughing to himself. He strolled down a marble hallway and into his den. He passed casually through the room and into his kitchen. He waved his hand, and a dazzling light gathered on the counter, leaving in its wake a clear glass. He opened his refrigerator, and removed a water bottle, emptying its contents into the awaiting glass.
The cool water cleared his mind. He needed to prepare himself for bed and the coming day. He and his sister were charged with preparing the way for the Ambassador from the Metian Kingdom. Though he had never met the man before, from Collin’s reports after meeting with him he seemed to be a genuinely kind soul. Unfortunately, that simply wasn’t enough to bring Charles to commit himself to an entire conversation with him. Though it was technically the responsibility of both his sister Grace and himself, he had yet to be in attendance at the greeting party for the ambassador.
As he settled into his couch, he cringed at the dramatic change the Ambassadors last visit had brought into his world. As usual, he had shirked his attendance. Instead, he made a bit of fun for himself around the town, something that would end up in the news in the coming weeks.
He arrived home late, fortunately for him far before his private escort days. He strolled deeper into his room, confident that he had achieved his goal as always. He was sure his father would throw some menial punishment his way and he would pretend to be “sincerely regretful” for a month or so. Then everything would go back to the way it was.
Three heavy knocks shook his door, startling him from his plotting. His brow furrowed, his father had never worked this fast before. Usually he took days to gather whatever punishment he had planned to teach his son a lesson. Charles considered this for a moment more, taking his time in answering his fathers call.
Thunder shook the building, a clear sign that Simon was reaching his limit. Once again he was pulled away from his thoughts and hastened his steps to the door. He turned the lock and opened the door, bringing him face to face with a man who many believed to look similar to Charles in far too many ways for his liking.
“Dad!” He smiled smugly. “To what do I owe the special honor of your company at this late hour?”
“No time for the usual banter, I’m afraid, Charles.” Simon breezed past his son into Charles room, stopping in the hallway and turning in place to face his son. The man, as always, was dressed in a suit that could have very well been pulled off of a mannequin. If said mannequin was featured at a funeral, as the President was quite pleased in wearing all black on most occasions. He smoothed back his wavy black hair, gathering his breath. “I’m afraid this is the last straw my son.”
“‘The last straw’? Dad, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Charles smiled, tilting his head and resting against the doorframe.
“As I said, no time for banter. I’m merely here to inform you that, should you shirk your duties to this country one more time, I will banish you. To specify, upon the next visit of the Ambassador Bryce, should you wish to fabricate some excuse for absence, you will no longer be welcome in this country. I will banish you to the borderlands where you may live with Julian if you so like. Are we clear?” The President did not wait for an answer, nodding quickly, and brushing past Charles once more.
Charles had never seen his dad so curt, so cold. His former visits could easily be described as ‘heated’ to say the very least. This was the very beginning of the fracture in their relationship. After that day, they barely even spoke. Choosing instead to communicate through Grace, who was becoming quite upset at being the messenger.
Regardless, it was clear. Charles would smile with Bryce, he would act witty and charming, and mask his detestation for the man’s entire species. It wasn’t that he thought of them as less (barring the times he would refer to them by the derogatory shortened standard “Meet”. His problem was truly ingrained deeper than he could express with words. It was a problem with much of his people. The years of strife between the two peoples had created a rapport of hate that ran deep on either side. He reminded himself that he would smile, he would play nice, and he would escort the Ambassador to the Peace Gathering, and then he would be free once again for nine more months until this whole mess started again.
Chapter 3
Bryce strode across the Palace grounds casually, as if fear wasn’t tensing each muscle in his body. He had faced the King before, of course, yet every time he felt the same incessant terror in the man’s presence. Silently he wondered if the Queen was responsible for this. It was true that the remarkable woman required physical contact to affect your mind, but he was no fool. Queen Lamia was most feared for her ability to spread a Mindworm, or mental virus, throughout a mass of people by touching one person.
The science behind it was quite astounding, through physical contact with one individual she could infect said person with a thought, idea, or impulse. The next time that person had any physical contact with another individual, the thought would be passed onward, and so forth. It was his long belief that these manipulations were the byproduct of his natural respect for the King. He had never asked Aeryn to investigate said potential manipulation, the thought simply never occurred to him.
The Elite soldiers parted as he passed through the white marble hallway. They had become familiar with his face by now, his election to Ambassador was now a year past. At the age of Twenty-One, he was the youngest of all Ambassadors in the history of the Mesurat Kingdom. His election to the position was the most controversial yet.
Many believed the young man to be too inexperienced for the job. He appreciated the Kings belief in him. He had consulted with his advisor Solomon, who just happened to be Bryce’s father, who advised him that peace would excel should his son be chosen. The Queen confirmed the legitimacy and non-bias of his words, also supportive of the decision, and it was done.
The massive doors of the Throne Room parted as he approached, and his gaze traveled up the marble staircase to the two seated figures. Three thrones were placed atop the massive dais, and yet only two of the thrones were occupied. Bryce approached the awaiting figure of his closest friend, falling into line beside him. Bryce nodded to his father in respect, standing beside the Kings Throne as he always was.
“Now shall commence all inquiries to his Royal Majesty of the Metian People, High King Amadeus of Mesurat.” A soldier commenced the gathering. Aeryn always chuckled at how the man said their namesake. He held the “E” in the word Metian for emphasis. Aeryn himself, along with every other member of their society simply pronounced it “Me-Shun”, as was originally intended.
“Father I approach this throne not as your son today, and not as the Prince, but as a citizen. I request that you allow me to accompany the Ambassador on his journey to the peace negotiations with the Magus.” He locked eyes with his father, and Bryce saw there was no fear in his eyes. “I sense that his travels will not be uneventful.”
“What have your senses told you, young Prince?” The Queen leaned forward in her throne inquisitively, her long hair dripping over her shoulders. “Be specific if you can at all.”
“I cannot.” The Prince’s eyes softened at his mother. “Dreams have plagued me that have grown cryptically clear as of late.” Aeryn sensed Bryce twitch at his side, wondering the cause, but not bothering to investigate.
The Queen stood from her throne, stepping down the marble staircase and striding gracefully toward her son. She extended her arm, inviting Aeryn to share his thoughts as only they could. He grasped her hand gently, and her eyes snapped shut. Aeryn Focused on his latest nightmare, returning it to his minds eye.
His mother’s grip tightened, as she strained against the strength of his mind. She chose this method for communication with him as it was the easiest for her. She could, of course, guard herself as no other against his mind, and yet, his mental commune with her always overwhelmed her.
Their connection stopped ended as their hands separated. She gazed into his eyes for a moment, understanding his struggle, and then returned to her throne.
“His concern is genuine, my love.” She spoke to her husband, grasping his hand and communicating the dream to him.
King Amadeus pondered a moment on what was being asked of him. He knew his son was vastly talented in ways none of them could communicate. Turning to his Advisor, he knew that his decision hinged, as always, upon the mans sage advice.
“Solomon,” Amadeus throaty voice hung in the air. “Can you foresee the Prince and Ambassador returning to us in good health?”
Aeryn closed his eyes, hoping no one saw him roll his eyes. He knew all too well how Solomon’s power worked. His vision was entirely subjective, astoundingly accurate for its nature. The slightest change in attitude or intent changed the entire outcome of his vision. The irony came from the sharp accuracy of Solomon’s vision. He had a remarkable record.
Solomon closed his eyes a moment, Focusing his power. Opening his eyes a moment later they shone milky blue. He became a man made of stone, frozen from movement. His brow furrowed after several tense minutes in silence. He closed his eyes once more and opened them, returning his mind to himself.
“The future is clouded with uncertainty,” He spoke carefully. “An unusual concentration of uncertainty prevents me from seeing whether they will return at all, or even when they will depart for that matter.”
The King sat back in his throne, raising a hand to his mouth.
“Father,” Aeryn stepped forward. “Solomon’s vision should be fuel for my cause. There is clearly something larger going on here, and I am in a unique position to defend Ambassador Bryce.”
“You must realize, Prince Aeryn, the target you represent outside of this country.” King Amadeus attempted to convey his concern to his son in the only way he could. “I worry that you do not understand the import of your life to our people.”
“I understand Father,” Aeryn calmed himself. “I only wonder what protection will accompany the Ambassador to the Thenean Republic.”
“I will commission extra Elite Soldiers if it pleases you, my son.” Amadeus shone in respect of his son’s fearlessness.
“With all due respect, your highnesses.” Bryce spoke for the first time. “I don’t believe that will be necessary. I am more than capable of protecting myself.”
“And yet more help would be unwise to refuse.” Aeryn turned on his friend, murder in his eyes.
“Only at your insistence.” Bryce chuckled, laughing at his friends unnecessary caution. Once again the Metian Prince got his way.
“Now that that matter is solved,” The King interjected. “I have the highest hopes that the young Prince may occupy himself with less troubling tasks that engage his considerable talents in a larger fashion.”
Aeryn bowed to his father, turning in unison with his best friend and exited the throne room. Followed closely by a regiment of Elite soldiers, they exited the Palace, navigating toward the city.
“I have to load up on resources before we set out.” Bryce explained. “I’ll meet you around the palace when I've finished.”
“I’ll just come with you.” Aeryn cringed at the thought, but he was undecided about whether his meeting with his father was success or failure. He chuckled at the fractals of thought he naturally ignored from those around him. Initially, they observed a bodybuilder in stride with a man of swimmers size and build. Next came the shock of seeing the Prince and the Ambassador walking the street. People stopped, stared, snapped pictures, and worst of all, pointed.
“My trip will be uneventful, as always, Aeryn.” Bryce stated, some time later, after a distance of silence.
“Hmm,” Aeryn responded, deep in thought.
“What did you show your mother?” Bryce pried. “That dream.”
“You don’t want to know.” Aeryn responded, returning himself to his body.
“Show me.” He insisted.
Aeryn extended his mind wordlessly, finding his friends so easily in the ether of minds. He passed on the nightmarish dream to his friends consciousness, trying his hardest to shoulder it to the back of his mind immediately.
Bryce had grown remarkably comfortable with Aeryn’s affect on his mind. Where others would stumble, stop, or involuntarily close their eyes, Bryce handled in stride with only the slightest furrowing of his brow.
The silence returned a moment later, as the two men continued the street. They found themselves standing on a bridge. Bryce rested his hands on the rails, sighing heavily.
“I’ve had the same dream,” He turned to look at Aeryn. “Not quite the clarity that you had, but the same basic dream.”
“What? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Aeryn replied quickly. “I've had the same dream for the last week!” Aeryn turned, pacing the length of the bridge.
“How pathetic would that be?” Bryce answered calmly. “Like I cry to you about every bad dream I have. I don’t recall you telling me about yours.”
Aeryn shrugged. “What could you do about my cryptic nightmares? At least I could clarify or help you with yours.” They both dove into silence again. “What power do you have for your trip?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” He sighed, wondering not for the first time whose ability he would copy for his trip. His ability allowed him to copy the ability of any Metian that he could touch. The first such power he ‘copied’ was control over the earth from a Geokinetic relative of his. “So far I still have the Strength I borrowed from that soldier.”
“If you think it will defend you on the trip, then keep it.” Aeryn shifted a bit. “You’re getting comfortable with it.”
“When I copy a power I usually get the knowledge of how to use it.” He leaned over the railing, gazing into the deep waters below. “With this one it seems deeper, like it rings in my soul somehow. Like the strength. It’s hard to explain.”
“I understand.” Aeryn spoke honestly. “I can’t imagine myself with any other ability. It’s just me in every way. You may have found the same thing.”
“And either way, I have the ultimate eye in the sky.” Bryce shoved Aeryn a bit.
Aeryn didn’t reply immediately, his brow furrowed and he only looked troubled for a moment. “That’s what I've been meaning to talk to you about.”
“What?” Bryce turned his eye to his best friend.
“You know how Solomon said his vision was clouded?” He began, trying to articulate his senses always became a struggle for him. “I’m having the same static field if I push too far away from the Kingdom.”
“That’s never been a problem before, right?” Bryce asked. “I remember you connecting your fathers mind with the Magus Presidents mind once before for a conference.”
“I know. It shouldn’t be a problem. But it is.” Aeryn closed his eyes and tipped his head back as if to smell the air. He inhaled deeply, and Bryce felt the momentary wave of vertigo that he’d become so accustomed to suppressing as Aeryn’s mind expanded at the speed of thought.
“Its somewhere at about 300 miles out,” His nose wrinkled. “Its not a wall, much more like a general fog in the area that blocks sight. And the Thenean Republic is a bit more than 300 miles away.”
“It will be fine,” Bryce assured his friend, though internally he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. Solomon, his father, without the ability to see the probabilities of the future, and now his best friend without the ability to oversee his traveling. It was beginning to seem a bit coincidental.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Aeryn responded to his thoughts. His voice whispered like wind across Bryce’s mind. I can sense minds out there in the fog, so I’ll be able to watch where you are at the very least.
Troubling times, Bryce replied. All of this is probably unnecessary, Aeryn. Like every other time we’ve worried about my travels. I’ll go, and return in five days in perfect condition.
Aeryn would have liked to say he agreed. It would have settled him to truly believe that no danger loomed in the days ahead. And yet, to date, his intuition had not failed him. And his intuition was telling him to brace himself for desperate times.
Chapter 4
Collin was deep in thought, staring at a glass of water and causing it to perform acrobatic feats within its glassy prison. He was waiting for Charles to arrive, and his thoughts had drifted in the meantime. His friend had phoned ahead to say that he would be arriving shortly, which was exceptionally uncommon. Usually he just appeared in the Collin’s home in a wave of heat.
This led Collin to wondering just what would prompt such a formal visit. Unfortunately, this could only mean one of two things. First, his father, the President, was accompanying him. Or second, the President had limited Collin’s travels to the presence of soldiers. Either situation left him incredibly unsettled, though the former vastly outweighed the latter.
President Simon didn’t necessarily scare him, per say. Yet the mans very presence left him ill at ease to say the least. “President Zeus”, as some fondly called him, was not known for his even temperament. The man was just as likely to strike an offender with a bolt of lightning as he was to imprison them. And yet, in these times, quick thinking and unhesitant action was precisely what the people wanted and needed most.
It was no less than a complete shock when he received news that President Simon, at the express urging of his son, nominated him for the position of Ambassador to the Metian people. His own father, Matthias, was the Magus General of the Presidents Army. Matthias wondered constantly on whether or not this would draw undue attention to their family. Ignoring the fact that he and Charles were two oddities among their people, it was becoming quite clear that the First Family had a fond kinship with Matthias and Collin, and this troubled many.
Three short knocks echoed at his door, shocking him from this thought. The water collapsed in the glass and he rose from his seat. Charles’ irritated face greeted him behind his door, closely followed by two Magus Legion soldiers. The subtext was quite clear, Charles was grounded. As he took his first step into the room, he spun on his heel, bringing him face to face with the two soldiers.
“Listen gentlemen,” Charles smiled at them. “You’ve been great. Buckets of fun, both of you. But if you don’t give me a few moments of solitude with my friend here, I’m afraid I’ll have to incinerate you. I’ll have our dear Ambassador here wash your remains down the drain.”
The two men blinked at him, shocked beyond response. Charles closed the door in their faces, rolling his eyes.
“Can you believe this?” Charles threw a large grey sheet of paper on Collins kitchen counter. He wove his hand, and words appeared across the paper. Across its top read Magus Today, in scrawling text.
“What's in the paper today?” Collin asked, turning the news article around. The feature article for today was an expose Focused on the “Prince of Parties – Entertaining or Dangerous?” Below it, Charles’ face in an embarrassing candid shot. “I thought your dad prevented articles like this from surfacing.”
“He used to,” Charles dropped into a chair. “He believes its an unnecessary hassle these days. They called me the Prince of Parties!”
Collin wove an arm over the paper and the words transformed. “It’s a three page article. They say you’re activities need to be restrained. They have a list of all the damage you have done when out and about.”
“You set fire to a few dozen menial objects and they’re ready to hang you in the town square.” Charles set his feet on the table and leaned backward in the chair, resting his hands behind his head.
Collin smiled, knowing he had been with Charles in every of the cited instances of vandalism in this newspaper. He was suspiciously ignored from every article. “Who knew people would have such a problem? We both know what this boils down to.”
“Not this again.” Charles rolled his eyes. “You and your conspiracy theories.”
“I’m positive it was decided years ago,” Collin replied solemnly. “When we defied their rule, they decided to find any way to outcast us. They will make us regret proving them wrong.”
“Oh Collin,” Charles brushed the enigmatic words away. “Don’t be so cryptic. We have nothing to fear from the Council of Mages.”
“They campaigned to make sure I didn’t become the Ambassador.” Collin threw his arms into the air. “I’d ask if your father had lightened up yet, but its quite clear that he hasn’t.” Collin chuckled.
Charles rolled his eyes. “Its ridiculous. He's acting as if I'm a child.”
“Childish behavior…” Collin giggled, scanning through the enchanted newspaper.
“Are you prepared for your conference?” Charles asked, eyes closed. He warmed the air slightly, feeling a chill coming on.
“I’ve prepared my notes, the discourse, the whole shebang.” His thoughts drifted as he spoke the words. He and his friend had many an argument over Charles’ deep seated racism toward the entire Metian people.
It was beyond clear that he viewed them as “less than”.
“Boring!” He sprung from his chair. “Lets go make some fun around town.”
“Sorry my friend,” Collin smiled. “Until the Peace Negotiations are complete, you may consider me invisible. No waves.”
“Hmm,” Charles frowned, knowing that Collin treaded wisely. “Well what can be done invisibly?”
“Lets go see Grace.” He suggested, tossing the Newspaper aside. “She always brightens your mood.”
Chapter 5
Some Time Ago…
An alarm rang at Pitor’s bedside, startling him from his calming dreams. He lay in his bed, forcing his eyes to remain shut. He had grown to dread his school days above all other days in his week. In his mind it was a place of eternal torment. Even the teachers couldn’t be turned to for maturity.
He pondered silently on just what facet of the horrid experience was the worst. The names, above all else hurt his very soul. They called him Shrub because he was short. They called him Odd because at the age of fourteen he had yet to manifest an ability, an oddity among his people. And those were only the names that didn’t include vulgar words.
Whenever he voiced his concerns about his latent abilities, or even fears that he would be the first Metian to not manifest an ability, his mother would soothe him. She would recite the tale of a great Metian in their history who feared he or she would never manifest their ability, who went on to do great things for their people.
His bedroom door cracked open slightly, and his mother tipped her head in. “Just making sure you’re up darling.” Her smile warmed his soul, she was truly the kindest woman in his world.
“I’ll be out in a second mom,” He slid from beneath his covers. Thirty minutes later he was washed and as ready as he ever would be for the school day ahead of him. The warmth of breakfast wafted over him and he inhaled deeply. If his mother made breakfast, that meant his father was out again.
“I made bacon, waffles, and eggs, my love.” She had a plate made for him. He smiled, kissing her on the cheek.
“Thanks mom.” He sat at the table after making his plate. He always tried to Focus on the warmth of his mornings. “Everything looks great.”
She buzzed around the kitchen, humming a tune to herself. Pitor watched her between bites of his delicious meal. Her long, wavy hair bounced as she cleaned dishes, bouncing from one surface to another. She always looked tired, far too tired for her own good. He blamed his father and his absentness, once again. He silently reminded himself to do some extra cleaning when he got home and encourage her to finally get some rest.
Clearing his plate, and washing it shortly after, he gathered his backpack. She met him at the door, hugging him tightly and kissing his forehead softly. He always left a bit early to allow himself a bit of grace time in case anything unexpected troubled him along his walk to school.
As he strolled casually down the sidewalk, watching as the school loomed in the distance, his mind once again drifted. This time it placed him in his classroom, several weeks ago. His teacher was rambling, and he was trying his hardest not to seem uninterested. If he appeared too unFocused the teacher would catch sight and pounce.
“Our Kingdom of Mesurat is unique not only in its inhabitants, boys and girls.” She spoke from her seat. “What else makes it unique?”
A boy rose his hand eagerly. “We don’t have any imports, and were completely self reliant.”
“That’s true Wendell.” She smiled. “But there’s something else. What really sets us apart?” This specification of her question seemed to stump the class. No one could provide the answer. She scanned her student’s faces, looking for a sign of recognition. Her eye twitched as she came to recognize an all too familiar and excruciatingly irritating face.
“Pitor!” She spoke at a volume just high enough to startle Pitor from his thoughts.
“M-M-M-Ma’am?” He stammered, calming himself.
“Can you answer my question?” She rose from her seat, eyes boring into him. “For that matter, can you repeat my question?”
“I…” He forced his mind out of panic mode. Calming his thoughts, the words came to him. “You asked what makes our country unique.”
“And your answer?” She smiled cruelly. Several girls giggled in the background.
He leveled his eyes with hers, meeting her glare with complete ambivalence. He took another calming breath, and spoke, his voice even. “Utopia. Here in Mesurat we have a Utopia. Not even the Thenean Republic can boast a functioning Utopia.”
She huffed, turning and moving toward the board. He smiled to himself, triumphing in his small victory.
“He's still a freak,” Someone said from the rear of the class beneath their breath. He refused to turn to acknowledge the bully. He knew the voice either way. Most of the class shook with the din of laughter and even the defeated teacher allowed herself a quick chuckle, refusing instead of silencing the bullies.
Though it was true, Mesurat was a Utopia in many very large ways that allowed the country to function in perfect harmony. In many small ways, the country had its flaws. And where it counts, even a small flaw can lead to great catastrophe.
He remembered the conversation that day had led to with his mother.
“But mom,” He insisted. “What can I learn there that you can’t teach me here at home?”
“Our schools have a very important purpose Pitor.” She smiled at him and continued milling about the kitchen.
“I don’t see why.” He mumbled to himself. “I learn History, which you could teach me. I learn Math, which you could teach me. It’s the same way with all of my subjects. They don’t exactly have a class on ‘Ability Management’. There is no way they could even come up with specified courses of study for each ability. There are way too many.”
“Exactly,” She paused for a second. Her bright blue eyes brightening for a moment. “That’s exactly right. And that, my darling, is why we attend school. The schools teach us, not just basic education, but how to listen to ourselves. You see, our powers don’t come with an instruction manual. We get something much better. We get instincts.”
“Instincts?” He was skeptical.
“Oh yes.” She smiled. “What do your instincts do for you?”
“They tell me how to breathe and walk and to blink and stuff.” He replied. “But that stuff is all built in, its vital to life.”
“So is your power, and so is the knowledge of how to use it.” She continued. “You are made with the potential to fully master your power. But only if you listen to what your body has to tell you about it. If you do so, the small twinges you feel all around you will grow and you will know when there isn’t a part of yourself you don’t understand.”
He let the thought simmer, and another question bubbled to the surface. “How old were you when you found out you could talk to animal’s, mom?”
She turned to him, smiling softly. She knew where this question would lead. Surrendering she answered, “I was about ten.” She tried to busy herself once again.
He allowed the subject to drop, noting her discomfort with the comparison. But now, strolling down the sidewalk and watching the kids in the distance play atop its steps, he wondered just when he would finally gain his ability.
“Hey Shrub!” He heard an all too familiar voice call from behind him. He ignored the voice, as always, speeding his pace in the hopes that he would avoid him.
Several agonizing seconds later a pale meaty hand took hold of his shoulder and spun him in place. He came face-to-face with an equally pale face, pockmarked with bright red spots of acne. The boy had a mop of jet black hair, darkened artificially, and nails painted to match.
“Didn’t you… hear me… Shrub?” He panted like a dog. He must've run to catch up with Pitor. This pleased Pitor much more than he was willing to admit. “I…called for you… way back… there.”
“Yeah, I heard you Bradley.” Pitor spun on his heel, taking a step toward the school.
“Well that’s just not nice.” Pitor flinched as he heard Bradley snap his fingers. From the morning shadows crawled four dogs composed of the very darkness. Within a minute Pitor found himself surrounded by four snarling, snapping beasts of shadow. He cautiously turned to face Bradley once again, who smiled devilishly. “Apologize.”
Pitor clenched his teeth, his heart pumped furiously. By now he had taught himself to swallow his pride, calm himself, and give the abuser whatever they wanted. This was the way to survive. Something deep in the pit of his stomach would not allow him to stomach this. He felt the tips of his fingers tingle, and the entire world changed to his perceptions.
Bradley’s face slowly transformed from gloating to rapt confusion. His brow lowered into a furrow and he took a step backward. The dogs seemed to fade a moment, and then melted into a pool of shadow that gathered around Bradley’s ankles. Very deliberately it encased his entire body until he was writhing in a cocoon of darkness. He was powerless against the nightmare of being entombed within his own ability.
Pitor finally understood what had happened. He heard the sounds of approaching students and faculty members alike. He released his hold over his power and the shadows melted away once again. Bradley lay on the ground, shaking, and eyes pinned shut against whatever demons haunted him.
Three Weeks Later…
Aeryn received his summons only moments before. Though ‘received’ was a loose definition for how he had received the King’s summons. Technically, he’d been eavesdropping in the minds of the Elite soldiers that were commissioned to check on the missing Ambassador. Bryce was now seven days past his return date from the Peace conference. Several minds reported to Aeryn that he had never even arrived in the Thenean Republic in the first place.
He had happened upon the mind of a messenger, charged with the duty of communicating the Kings summons to the Prince, and immediately took off in flight. He landed outside the throne room, passing the messenger who was only just commissioned to deliver his message.
Aeryn breezed past the confused boy, and into the awaiting Throne Room. He scanned the thrones, finding everyone in place, his mother beside his father and Solomon standing statuesque behind his fathers chair as always. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the podium, fully prepared to fight his father diplomatically until he allowed him to search for his friend.
“Prince Aeryn,” The King caught his son’s eye. “If you would.” He motioned for Aeryn to sit at his own throne, rather than stand at the podium.
Aeryn obliged, officially confused as to his purpose here if not to speak in Bryce’s behalf. His father rarely called for him to sit in on his judgments.
“Bring forth the Accused.” King Amadeus’ deep voice boomed across the room.
Aeryn’s eyes followed as a small boy, no more than fifteen, was shuffled across the room. His eyes were glued to the floor and he seemed very scared. Several soldiers moved in a circle around him. Aeryn was intrigued, wondering just what could warrant the need of one soldier to subdue such a small boy, much less five.
“What are the charges?” Amadeus questioned.
A soldier stepped forward, clearing his throat. “He used his power against another boy. He turned the boys power against himself and broke the boys mind in the process.” He indicated an overweight boy at the back of the throne room. His face was void, and drool trickled down his chin. His mother and father stood behind him, their faces masks of hatred aimed like arrows at Pitor.
“Is this his ability?” Amadeus leaned forward. “Does he break minds? Or does he turn another's power against them?”
“Unclear, sir.” The soldier replied. “He hasn’t been tested yet. He’s only just manifested.”
Amadeus had no more questions, and the Queen took his cue. “Has he any family present?” A small woman found her way to the podium beside her son. She appeared to be quivering, sending her crazed hair into a shaking frenzy. “What say you, in defense of your son?”
“He is a good boy.” She spoke softly, her eyes unwilling to meet the Queens. “If any harm came to that boy it was not his will. It was the first time he manifested his power. He must've been pushed to a point beyond himself. I was told that the boy was a school bully.”
“This is your defense?” Lamia snapped. “You say that he had it coming?”
“N-N-No my Queen…” She shook more violently. “I only meant to say… the boy is no innocent.”
“Can we verify that the boy, this Bradley is truly mentally broken? I must know precisely what caused this before I can decide anything.” Amadeus cut the woman off, in a way saving her from Lamia’s further fury. “Also, I would have you determine his ability, if you can.” He turned to Aeryn, who closed his eyes and turned his head. When the Prince opened his eyes once more they shone with icy silver light.
“She was right, he was a monster. He tormented the boy, Pitor, because he was smaller and weaker than him. On this specific occasion, he had him cornered with is power. Canines made of shadow.” Aeryn turned his sight on Pitor who flinched as he entered his mind. “Pitor was fully prepared to ignore the taunts as usual, but his power manifested. His instincts took charge and he struck out at the boy.” He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and returning his mind to himself. “His power is quite fascinating. He can calculate and alter probabilities to cause harm to others. But that is only part of the ability in truth. He can benefit others with the power as well, he only needs training.”
“I believe I understand. From what I gather, the boy Pitor, is no danger within himself. He intended no harm to the boy, and yet was provoked to his defense. His body defended itself in a way that it never had before. However, I believe he is dangerous enough that public education is clearly out of the question. He will be tutored here at the palace, for a day under the governing of my wife. She will aid him with his obvious guilt over the situation and then pass him on for more in depth education as to the nature of his ability to the most gifted Telepath I know.” He turned in his throne, facing Aeryn whose eyes were wide with shock. “And hopefully this will take the young Prince’s mind off of his wayward friend. Do you foresee that this course of action will end in success, my friend?”
His advisor, Solomon, closed his eyes as he often did when interpreting the future. Aeryn found his widened eyes glued to the advisor. He’d watch Solomon thousands of times before when using his power, and never before had he ever witnessed the man flinch. Solomon took a moment to regain himself, and attempted to mask the grimace appearing on his lips.
“Yes, my lord. I can see the Young Man’s astounding success.” When he opened his eyes, he made direct eye contact with Aeryn. He remained locked in eyesight with the Prince until finally, he dipped his head.
Chapter 6
The heat was blistering. Collin was sure it was some reflection of Charles’ mood at the moment. Collin was beginning to worry, the Ambassador was now days late. The Magus law dictated that The Ambassador, the Welcoming Party (Charles and Grace), and the Magus Council all be present each day until sundown. This was the cause of their current predicament. Bryce had never been late before, even in the slightest degree. He was always either early or spot on time.
In truth, Charles was fuming. He had been blackmailed into waiting in the sun all week for this Metian to arrive, and still he had yet to show. To add to that, his sister was absent. They had visited her earlier in the week, Collin was right, it did always improve his mood. Unfortunately, they found his young sister in ill health. The girl was bed ridden, which prompted Charles’ standard panic.
He called for the resident Healer to come immediately, and Collin excused himself in light of the familial moment. Charles paced the room nervously as the Healer performed her examination of Grace.
“Give her some time for rest,” The healer explained, packing away her various tonics and healing stones. “Liquids, and rest will heal her. She needn’t expend any Magic to get better.”
The woman left shortly after, leaving Collin alone with his sister. He spent the next two days nursing her back to health. She finally insisted that he go and enjoy himself before the negotiations. He took the message, he was hovering a bit too close. He gave her a day of rest, and the next day she called to say she felt back to one hundred percent, and that she would see him at the negotiations. She was present every day excluding the present one.
Now he sat in the midst of fifty old men that he cared nothing for, and his closest friend. He had no idea where his sister was, and he was sure that he was going to fry these men if he had to sit with them for one more hour. He rose from his chair, turning to Collin and ignoring the glances from the elders around him.
“I’m going to look for Grace, be back soon.” He glided between the rows of seated men and found his way back across the sprawling of the Presidential Mansion. He heard the quick drum of footsteps catching up to him, and turned, expecting to see a pursuing soldier.
“Yeah right,” Collin hit him in the arm. “Like you’re leaving me out there with all those stuffy men that want me dead.”
Charles rolled his eyes, once again thinking back to the campaign he’d shared so greatly in to have his best friend elected as Ambassador. It was quite unique, just how earnestly the Magus Council worked to see that Collin not fill the position. It seemed to be the only thing that completely united them.
The two men strolled down the lavish hallways, turning at the final bend before Grace’s rooms. Both Charles and Collin were frozen in place at the sight they found. Graces door hung on one hinge, ajar, and scorched in its center as if from a burn.
Charles felt himself sprinting toward the demolished room, scarcely noting Collin at his side. He entered the room and found it a grotesque reflection of the door. Doors to every room hung wide open and splinters, glass, and miscellaneous shrapnel coated the floor.
Collin’s mind spun. As they moved deeper into the room he could only recall how spotless he’d always recalled Grace keeping her rooms. She made both Collin and Charles appear to be slobs in the comparison. Yet, seeing her room in this condition was truly shocking.
“I’ll check her room.” Charles said, his voice strained with emotion.
Collin nodded, and the men split into two directions. Charles felt true fear well up within him as he gathered himself and entered her room. Grace had trained with the same Magical combat master that he and Collin had. To say the least, his sister was formidable. He recounted the times she bested him in battle. Yet now, seeing her room scorched with marks of battle, and finding no evidence of her physical body here.
He scanned the floor, looking for any evidence, any small sign she left that she was still alive. His breath caught in his throat. “She’s alive!” He called, exhaling heavily. He closed his eyes as he crouched and lifted the small broach. “She left my mother’s broach here.” Charles cradled the small necklace against his heart, preparing himself for what was next.
Collin exhaled a sigh of relief. From the appearance of the room, the question of her continued life was seemingly slim. “It looks like they set a bomb off in here…” He whispered to himself. He shook the thought away, preparing himself for the spell.
Thinking back, he couldn’t quite remember when he’d eaten. A silly detail, yes, and yet something that stuck with him from Elementary Magic School. He could still hear Mrs. Dawson’s voice inquiring the class.
“Now, why is eating important?” She strolled across the front of the classroom, posing the question and gazing across the small sea of faces to see who would answer her question.
A hand rose into the air, and she smiled. “Yes Perry.”
“Because we can’t do big Magic without it?” He asked in question form, unsure of his answer.
“That’s precisely correct. And does anyone know why we can’t perform “Major Magic” without food in our system?” She doubted anyone knew the answer, and therefore she pushed onward. “Think about it this way kids. Some of your parents have cars, right?”
A small wave of giggles rumbled through the class. An inside joke between them. Automobiles had been rendered obsolete several decades ago by the invention of the Scoot. A Magus Inventor designed a metal alloy that could emit its own gravity on those in contact with it. In tandem with installed guidance systems, the Scoot could propel an individual off the ground at a minimum of two feet from the ground. The Scoot was mass produced, designed in every shape, and size possible. Among the youth, it became incredibly popular to ride the Disk Scoot, very similar to surf or skate boards of old.
“Well… maybe not all of your parents have cars, but I’m sure at least one of them is a classic automobile enthusiast.” She tried not to smile. She wove her arm through the air, and several words etched themselves into the blank white wall. “The first rule of Magic Use tells us that to use Magic, we must ensure that we fuel our bodies. Its just like your parents cars. You must put fuel into them in order to make them run, right? Our Magic depends on the use of our bodies ability to convert food into energy. And therefore, we have our ability to control Magic.”
The lesson had never left him, as it was one of the fundamentals of Magic. He’d seen many an overachiever attempt a spell and send themselves into bodily shock from the strain. He have even witnessed a young girl, starved, attempt the most minor of spells. Within moments she was convulsing on the ground, foaming at the mouth. Though much of Magical Use was kept secret through Indissoluble Oaths, spells that protected the secrets of Magic from seeping out to all, some of its Limits were quite widely known.
Finally it came to him, he had enjoyed the lovely Presidential Cook’s private menu since his “Peace Negotiations” were set to begin. The Cook was insistent on lavish meals, and Collin was in no way one to turn down a delicious meal. Each serving seemed more enticing than the last.
With that knowledge he concentrated and whispered several words to himself. Once again, he was thankful for the random insistences of his closest friend. He recalled that once the boys had reached a Post-Secondary Magus University Charles had insisted that they study Investigative Magic, with no real use or purpose. They had taken the class regardless, partially because it seemed quite fun, and partially to fill the boredom.
He spread his arms and a fog seemed to emanate from him. It hung in the air for a moment until it gathered , spaces growing into fog figures. He watched as the men made of fog strode through the room, and the lanky girl made of fog batting their strikes away with the wand she was always so fond of.
She deflected an explosion from one of the thugs, who Collin could now see were masked. The explosion led to the fractured and shattered remains of her couch. He watched as the four beastly men fought the girl until she finally wore down. They caught her with a petrifaction spell, and she dropped to the ground, her muscles frozen.
The men gathered around her, one of them seemed to Focus, and the scene fuzzed out as they vanished. He blinked, releasing the energy. The fog vanished, and he was once again alone. He subdued his emotions, turning and finding Charles in the entryway.
Both men had no words. There were no words necessary. Charles nodded, his eyes darting about the room, and through the broken window to the rest of the Mansion. It was quite likely that this was the last time he would ever see it.
Chapter 7
Aeryn stood amidst a great foggy field, he gazed about inquiringly, squinting his eyes here and there when his interest was piqued. A small boy approached him through parting curtains of fog. He observed the Prince at work, his very skin seemed alight from within with sliver light.
Pitor remained silent, afraid to disturb the Prince during his work. He glanced around the foggy field. Storm clouds hung menacingly overhead, and lightning crawled through them far too regularly for Pitor’s liking. He was struggling to remember precisely how he’d gotten here. Even as he stood, blanketed in fog, he wasn’t entirely sure he was anywhere physical.
The last he remembered, he had been ushered into the Prince’s studying quarters. After short introductions, the Prince dismissed the Guards, after assuring them that he could more than compensate for Pitor’s emotional instabilities. The men had clearly learned not to argue with the Prince, because they each filed from the room shortly afterward.
And so Pitor was left with the Prince. He had heard stories about the famous Prince Aeryn. He was sure most of his school had heard about his sentence. Ironically, many of them would be quite jealous of the thought that he got to spend so much time in the Prince’s presence. In his personal opinion, the man terrified him.
“Sit, please.” Aeryn gestured toward a chair, seated before a table. After sitting, he glared at Pitor for a few moments, and began. “Your time with my mother, did it seem productive?”
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