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Forest Magic

By: jtoughkat



A vast forest stood before him, not as dense as his home but forest nonetheless. The trees, mostly ash and pine with some oak and spruce, at forty feet, stunted compared to the Mushtran trees, which were at least a hundred and seventy. Being used to the forest and feeling oppressed by the vast nothingness he had traversed he was glad for the shade. He rested against the first tree, looking back at the rocky incline he had just climbed. After that were the undulating and shifting sands of the desert, where he had spent the last four and a half days wandering. It had been his own fault really, angry and hurt by his grandmother's unfair treatment he had not been paying attention to what he was doing. Instead of going up the rocks and to the forest, he had gone into the desert, not even sensing the presence of the forest. When he had finally thought to find a specific place to go he had walked for most of the day and it had been dusk already. Whilst his journey into the desert had been easy, enough he could not find the path he had taken and his sense of direction had led him up and down countless sand dunes that had looked the same, to his despair. Subsequently it had taken him three more days to reach the forest edge.

Unlike any other Mushtran Ferik needed growing things about him to thrive, the relentless sun brutally pounding into him had repeatedly reminded him. Unlike his brother Adner, he could not automatically regulate the heat about him or his body temperature. He had tried, his second day, but the energy for constantly maintaining the regulation, the sun and depressing landscape had sapped. As a forest guardian too much sun was debilitating and the desert sun had been merciless. He had not felt like eating as he had walked the desert but as the feel of the forest washed over him, he felt his appetite renewed. In his heart he asked Ariantha for food and was amazed at the different feel of her from when he had been in the forest, she seemed present; that she was alive was further pronounced, as was her pain. He ate slowly, keeping in contact with the world, something he had never been able to do, trying to understand what the pain was. Beneath the pain, he sensed deep sadness, a sense of profound and ancient loss he could not fathom and a certainty of wrongness he could not comprehend. Their world was bleeding, with a wound that had endured for ages and been deepened with each passing of the grains of time. He understood that as if the wound had been in him, unfelt until that moment. It tore him apart even as he had the strength to withstand and go on, had gone on for these ages. Yet, the end was almost there; soon the wound would be too deep to endure, too much to live with that so much would be lost. Much more than Ferik could imagine and had yet to know. It seemed, to his overwhelmed senses, that there was no hope of anything else. If there had been someone who could have known and done something. Yet he knew that he had to heal that pain that it was his responsibility to heal the pain, profound as it was. 

He got up and turned to go into the forest, letting the intense pain fade to the background where it was even as it let him be. It might be forest, and he was glad to be in it instead of the desert, but it had none of what he was accustomed to as the feel of the forest. The air, though cooler than the desert, was not much better. It was dry, with none of the quirin in it, the ground did not resound with it and the trees... Something was wrong with the trees, not all of them but most. Not the same wrongness as was in Ariantha but different even it was a part of it. 

He had been going further into the forest and looking back, he saw that the edge of the forest was much denser than inward so that he could not see outside it. He stopped to listen, trying to find out what about the forest was not right. The trees talked, but the language was off, he could not understand it. His language gave him the ability to understand all languages, and being a guardian, he understood the languages of all trees on any world, but he could not understand this. Their leaves moved in the still air as if a gust of strong wind assailed them, the wave rippling from one tree to another as if they were passing on a message that they repeated every few minutes. Ferik got the feeling that they were reporting his progress so he resumed walking, faster, wanting to see where the message was going. Even though the sense of wrongness still pervaded the air Ferik sensed it was no threat to him and the forest guardian in him wanted to ease the pain of the trees. In some way, he would be easing Ariantha and he thought he had to start somewhere.

He walked on, faster and faster the trees seeming to applaud him, something that had never happened to him before. 

Suddenly he stopped. He could have kicked himself; instead of walking, he could have simply willed the forest to move beneath him. He'd wasted a good half hour on what could have been an instant, the forest here was not like the Mushtran forest where to want to be somewhere was as good as being there, the only other consideration being how far you were willing to walk. Gathering about him the power of the forest he felt the quirin in it but it was weak, and the whole forest power had a dark benign force that underlay it. Painstakingly he excluded the dark power knowing it would hinder him but he felt it gather about him and become malignant, slowly he let go of what he had gathered and it went back to being benign.

The trees were now still, as if watching to see what he would do, a rustling ripple moved away from him every few moments, now muted. They seemed breathless with anticipation though of what Ferik could not guess, what did trees yearn for? 

He sat down on the leaf covered forest floor his fingers digging into the moist leaves underneath. There was a trace of the darkness in the dead leaves but an insignificant bit, more an expectance of new growth and the nourishment of decaying nature with the power that held. The ground beneath was all earth power, more than he'd ever touched in the quirin rich Mushtran forest and it was closer to the ground surface. With his fingertips on the ground it burned rapidly into him, as if he were an unexpected conduit and it was eager for him. He knew he only touched a small part of it, vast as it seemed, and he understood his brother Aegan's reluctance to utilize the force he was somehow a part. As a forest guardian, he could utilize it to a degree so he called upon it and made his request, instantly he saw the reddish-brown power rise, touch him briefly and reside. He had never had the need to call upon the earthpower so he was unprepared for what it felt like. Foresthym, or forest power, was a gentle, nurturing, life-giving force that sustained all but this was nothing close to being like that. It was fire and yet unlike, molten rock and still not, consuming even as it was comforting, unlimited even as the foresthym was but in a more blatant way. His body tingled, burned luxuriantly and with the speed of light, the trees whipped past him as he whisked by them. He felt neither wind nor his own motion, just a peaceful existence as if he was merely sitting in the sun on a pleasant day. Had it been natural, the speed would have crashed his bones in seconds but natural forces were alien to the Mushtrans so he was unaware of this despite knowing the concept.

As soon as it had begun, his journey was over, he now sat in a cobbled courtyard with tuffets of grass between the stones, and a short wall circled it a large arced gateway leading into it from the south and another out to the steps of a palace. Moss covered the wall and beyond it was a remnant of what had been a beautiful garden, full of exotic trees artfully interspaced with delicately shaped fountains and statuary. Though overgrown and weed-chocked, the garden was still pleasing, a breath of cool air wafted through its stone paved pathways to the sound of a trickling stream that meandered about. The fountains still poured out water though their ponds were leaf chocked and green with algae. Climbing vines claimed the statues of long gone heroes and mythical beings but the marble was still smooth.

Reddish-gold leaves carpeted everything, even the impressive porch at the front of the palace. It was six storied, covered almost a hectare with multiple balconies styled to be individual in pattern and still managed to be a whole. Wide glass doors led from them and for the most part the walls were of glass so that many of the rooms had a view of the forest. The framework of sparse walls holding the glass together had vines, as did the pillars that the palace looked homey and almost rustic even with its daunting size. The house reflected the forest about it and the sun shone upon it as if embracing it.

Ferik noted that the trees were now unnaturally still, not a single leaf rustled even in the slight breeze he could feel. A breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. He looked about him; the courtyard had beautifully arrayed fragrant shrubs once shaped. Though overgrown like the other, the shrubs had none of the wildness. Just inside the north gate were two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognizing trees, he would have been at a loss to know them. They were twisted as if a childish and deformed hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. The branches cruelly and painfully contorted the stunted trees had bulbourous leprous contusions. They seemed to be the centre of the pain and agony underlying the forest as tree sap flowed from them as if from sores. He had no doubt that the trees were really in pain, as he focused on them, he felt their acute agony, a pulsing torment of wrongness that nauseated him. Reluctant, wavering he walked towards them noting that they had grown into one tree because of their proximity; he also noted the lovely, tall and graceful ash growing besides them as if to balance their ugliness. Reaching them, he hesitated, wanting to touch the ash but knowing he had to touch the oaks in order to understand. Breathing in deeply he laid his hand on the conjoined trees.

Instant darkness surrounded him, swirling dank and chocking darkness, the kind that was so insidious it overwhelmed the senses to fill all with confusion. Nothing could possibly live here, could possibly survive. His heart pounded furiously as fear, something he had never known, settled like a heavy mantle over him. He felt nothing, neither cold nor warmth, sight was impossible as was hearing, nor was he aware of his own body seeming to be a disembodied being. He tried to retreat but the almost viscous darkness sucked him back, the insubstantial being that was his awareness had no choice but to move forward. 

For what could have been a minute or a lifetime he walked, his natural mental state reasserted itself to drive away the unnatural fear. Though he was aware that he was moving there was no physical awareness of motion that he might as well have been standing. As the darkness about him lessened, somewhat, he saw that he was in a long corridor with black oozing scabrous walls, the floor filled with the slime he could still not feel. At the end of the corridor was a door made of the same material, as the walls and it had no discernible door handle. Again, he placed his hand to it. His hand sank in and this time he felt everything, more acutely than normal sensation. A chill raced to his heart, sharp and instant. He would have been killed had his nature not burned in his blood at the same moment. Again, he could not retreat so he stepped into the viscous door, like a hot rod hissing into surrounding water he thrust himself into the numbing cold. 

Behind the door was a conference room, a long rough table made of the same substance as the corridor but without the oozing held centre stage with a score chairs about it. Rough-hewn benches lined the walls, rich tapestry thrown upon them to alleviate their Spartan look. Five men and three women occupied it, richly dressed in silks and satins with much jewelry on the part of the women. One wore a silver wrought tiara sparkling with diamonds and interspaced emeralds. She had long pale hair that flowed behind her and was very short, at least compared to any Mushtran, the other two were taller and all wore beautiful flowing gowns.

Of the men, one wore a long unadorned black coat reaching to his ankles with buttons only down to his waist; the stiff collar heavily embroidered with shiny purple thread, a Daelen master. He looked exactly as Ferik had imagined one, studious, slightly ascetic with a dignified manner. A short powerfully built man whose dark brooding features would have named him a king in absence of a crown sat at the head of the table with one other man to his right. The crown on his head was obviously the mate to the heavy tiara the woman wore, where the other was silver the crown was gold with diamonds in all the places the other had emeralds and emeralds where the other had diamonds. Two others stood behind him, seeming at ease but with an alertness that proclaimed them warriors, an easy confidence that broadcasted skill, more than any boasting could. Their eyes upon him were steady and unwavering.

'We welcome you guardian of all forest'. The voice sounded in his head, nothing like the epiginosko the Mushtran used nor like talking to one's liage, a privilege his younger brothers had allowed him. He knew it was the voice of the king, though how was not apparent, maybe the royal authority or we had given it away. 'We have awaited you for two long years though we held no hope that you would come so soon, even the ones who cursed us did not anticipate it and most likely thought you did not exist.'

'Curse?' Ferik was shocked to hear his thoughts broadcasted for all to hear and he clamped down on all the others like, 'how could they possibly know he was a forest guardian?' He frowned as that thought too broadcasted. 

'The Zidjma cursed us since we would not give them access to our forest and the remnant of the old Mushtran magic, which has always eluded mastership. As to how we know about you, our ancestors have passed down to us that a guardian of all forest would come to wed a princess of our house and restore the glory of the forest. The Zidjma believing that it would take years or was just a myth cursed us into trees until you came, thinking that by then we would be too old for it to matter. Entering our forest brought the curse with the single exception that is you. My wife and I are the oaks that you touched and they allowed these to be here even as they are trees in other parts of our kingdom.'

Ferik thoughts were confused that none, even he, could understand them. How was he supposed to undo a curse? Yes, he knew about undoing curses but he had recently found that his abilities were harder to express outside of the quirin rich Mushtran forest. Surrounded as he was by the dark curse he was likely to fail and he was sure he would not be able to retreat to the real world. Moreover, what was that about his marrying a princess of the forest kingdom? He was no way near ready even to think about getting married let alone actually doing it. Besides which no Mushtran had ever married anyone whose destiny did not link with his or hers, no way. 

'How exactly am I supposed to lift this curse?' He asked cautiously burying his uncertainties about the princess deep in his subconscious.

'That is for you to figure out.' The man seated by the king said in a dry toned voice conveying that he did not think Ferik could do much. There was even some antagonism in his voice. 'If you should fail, I am afraid you will join us until we all die.' 

Ferik smiled softly at that, as a Mushtran he had power these people ignorantly termed magic, he was the foresthym, which would one day make him one of the most powerful being in the worlds when he grew into it. He was also the son of the Aynzareth, which meant all the forces of Ariantha would coagulate to free him should he fail.

'That would be unfortunate really, I would hate to watch you all die away' he said softly letting his amusement filter into his thought.

'What is that supposed to mean?' The man, who could only be an adviser, demanded with a scowl.

'As a forest guardian, his life is extended indefinitely.' The Daelen master explained his voice deliberately slow that he seemed to taste each word.

'My people are also naturally long lived' Ferik added by way of agreement.

The advisor scowled even more his flinty eyes boring into Ferik's eyes. 'What about our princess, what does that mean for her?' He demanded.

Something flickered in the depth of Ferik's eyes and the man drew back startled, his eyes briefly registering fear before awe overwhelmed him. Mystery shadowed those green depths, more knowledge than he had ever dreamed to possess shone in them. Instantly he knew the young man was more than he had ever imagined, more even than a prince of all forest.

Inquiringly, the king looked from one to the other, waiting for the young man to enlighten them on what might befall his only child but the tall green-eyed stranger did not reply. The king did not doubt that the young man was more than he would ever understand and was awed. Something in the youth was more than just man; there was dignity in him that no one he knew had ever possessed, grace in his stance and movements even in the features that were far beyond noble. His eyes though gentle held such power that he shivered at the sight; if that much power was against him... he shuddered to think even as he had new hope.

'What now young man?' He asked.

'My lord, although I have been taught to combat evil and undo curses they are just abstract terms and I've never encountered any of them.' Ferik replied wanting to convey his uncertainty to them. 'Away from the quirin and surrounded by so much darkness I do not know what I could do.'

The Daelen master's eyes were nearly bulging with astonishment. 'Abstract! Evil?' He exclaimed in a chocked voice. 'What world do you come from?' He demanded.

Ferik looked at him with calm eyes registering the disbelief on his face, looking around he saw that all were equally astonished with the exception of the two stoic warriors the king and the queen who wore passive faces. 

'I am a Mushtran,' he stated calmly. 'Nothing perverse has ever touched our forest so to us evil is abstract.' 

A tense shocked silence followed his words. They all looked at each other apprehensively many unanswered and unspoken questions on their faces. Without moving, they seemed to band together away from him. The warriors were no longer at ease, their hands on their sword hilts.

Ferik was amused at their reaction, he raised a questioning brow but no one was willing to answer him. He waited, undaunted as the silence continued and the others grew more apprehensive. It was as if they waited for him to attack them or something and since he had no intention of doing that he waited.

'We were told your race was extinct;' one woman ventured at length her voice hoarse. She swallowed nervously before continuing, 'and rather barbaric.'

Ferik smiled broadly taking no offence. 'Your ancestors obviously told you that to hide their shame and horror.'

'Horror?' She asked with a raised eyebrow.

'Yes, the Mushtrans were a peaceful, uncomplicated race when king Yberic allowed your ancestors refuge. Within two decades, they began killing our animals when they had agreed not to. They also began plotting against the royal family, and in one foul move, they killed off all the Sinaitan and the Shaatim. They could not understand that the simple Mushtrans had an uncanny ability to learn and a bond with their world. There was war in which the Mushtrans would have wiped them out had they not realized our world suffered with each violent death. They would have irrevocably tainted Ariantha if they had wiped you off its face so they retreated. The Mushtran forest had always been the heart of our world and when they left they took the quirin with them to the chagrin of your wizards since that was the reason your race had sought our world. That is one of the reasons why they chose to let you believe we were less than you are, so none would question that we had been defeated, and to give that victory more substance.' 


Forest Magic Ch. 02



Samara sat on an ornate stool besides the bed where the prince of all forests lay, studying his features as if to imprint them permanently to her mind. She could scarcely believe he was here, that she was free again. Her heart filled with joy and an unbearable love as she traced the wide intelligent brow with its fine dark eyebrows. He had the longest eyelashes she had ever seen, a fine aquiline nose, strong jaw and sculptured full lips. 

As her gaze caressed their softness, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Silken pleasure, she imagined, his strength coming through but not overpowering her. He was masculine in a way she had never seen in a male, beautiful perfection that should have been effeminate but wasn't. She wanted to caress every inch of his face, to feel the softness of his skin, its deep-bronzed heat seeping into her body as she held him close to her. She needed to experience the bliss of his touch in ways no other had touched her.

She blushed slightly at that, averting her eyes from the temptation of his form but could not resist gazing back upon him. Her eyes settled on his super fine, baby soft raven hair wishing she had the courage to run her hands through it. It was an impulse she found hard to resist, an impulse that took all the discipline of her upbringing to resist.

In all her life she had never seen a Mushtran, nor had anyone in living memory done so and now here he was her intended. She should be scared by the prospect as Mushtrans were rumored to be savages. Though truthfully there was nothing remotely savage about him. He was elegant with perfect features that denoted culture, features that could only be a result of centuries of good breeding. If the rest of his race was anything like him it would explain why her race had driven theirs away. She could not imagine the men of her race tolerating such competition for their women.

An enchanting smile touched her lips as she wondered at her fate. Her face had always been considered enchanting but she had been cursed with a short stocky body that had always been in the males of their bloodline. The women were always short and dainty and she had been the one exception. The instant she had been transformed into her tree though she had found herself tall and slender, like all the legends depicted a princess.

To say she had been shocked would be an understatement, the long limbs had felt ungainly, the unexpected height had made her dizzy that she had actually fallen. Her two companions and their suitors who had been imprisoned with her had also been shocked wondering at a curse that could turn her into a graceful being. Once she had become used to her height a new worry had gripped her, whether she would still look as she did or be as stocky as she had been before. When she had looked into his eyes that fear had melted away.

She could still remember the shock on her parents' faces when they had first seen her. Her mother had cried something the queen of Quagari seldomly did and never in public, her father had seemed even more fierce, pride shinning in his eyes. As long as she lived Samara would always remember that moment.

"Darling you should be resting." Her mother said as she walked into the room.

As always the queen of Quagari looked the epitome of style, her posture perfect, back straight, arms held elegantly by her side without the awkwardness some had when they stood still. Not a hair was out of place her beauty captivating as it shone more from her serene eyes. Samara had always wished she had that poise, that beauty that went beyond mere looks but she had merely been Samara.

"I am not at all tired" she replied with a smile.

The queen frowned at the besotted look on her daughter's face. She recalled how uncomfortable the young man had been at the idea of marrying her daughter. Whilst she was grateful to the young man for freeing them she could not help be resentful he did not want her daughter. Samara was her only child, her pride, that anyone could dismiss her without much thought was galling. Logically she could understood it was not her daughter the young prince objected to just the situation but as a mother any slight to her child was not something she could fathom or tolerate.

Her daughter was exquisite having matured in the two years of her imprisonment gaining more height than any in her family ever had. Gone were the freckles that had graced the bridge of her nose and the chubbiness she had retained from her childhood. Now a princess sat before her, tall, composed with all the self-possession one would expect of her. Her skin was flawless, her comportment impeccable and her features striking. What man would refuse her hand? Especially when a crown came with it.

"Samara, we have not seen you for two years, we would all like to spend some time with you."

"Forgive me mother, I had not considered that." She stood and made her way to the door where her mother stopping for an instant to gaze back at the sleeping form lying so still. She did not want to leave but her mother was right, they had been separated for long and they all needed to reconnect. Enfolding her mother in her arms she closed her eyes to savour holding her mother again. Until that moment she had not realized how much she had missed such a small thing. "I missed you mother."

"I missed you too love. Come let us go scrounge up a meal."

* 

Her father looked just as he had the last time she had seen him, his dark hair unmarred by any silver, his face still unlined. The gravity in his eyes was more pronounced the only sign of the toil the last two years had taken on him. His grave face lightened and a smile split his face when he saw her. He held his arms out to her and as she had done as a child she raced into them. Tears flowed down her cheeks as her father's strong arms wrapped around her.

"My Angel." Her father whispered into her hair his voice full of emotion. "I missed you."

"I missed you too father." She whispered back.

He stepped back to look at her, his eyes sheened with tears that would never fall nor be remembered a smile full of pride gracing his face. King Hiram was a man of small physical structure but he had always loomed taller in Samara's eyes even as he surely did in the eyes of most of his subjects. At the moment even though she now stood taller than him he still seemed larger than life.

Samara felt overwhelmed, emotions she could not name flooding her that all she could do was smile and cry and laugh. The others looked on with happy smiles, content for the moment that all was well. The troubles of the days would reassert themselves another time, this moment was precious. This moment was unequaled joy. 

* * * * *

Waking up at first Ferik could not figure out where he was. The room he found himself in was spacious and luxuriously proportioned. Richly decorated with cream and gold velvets and silks which contrasted beautifully with the white and gold walls and grey tinted windows gave the impression of having the forest near enough to touch. Of the four walls, two were made entirely of glass; the third held a large sliding door leading to a large balcony and the fourth connected to the rest of the house. Covering the breadth of the palace it had a high ceiling painted with a forest canopy chock full of exotic birds.

Ferik still had no idea where he was, he had not been introduced to any of the people he had met though he recalled the Daelen master naming the royal house he was now a guest of. As he had then talked about him marrying their princess Ferik had forgotten most of what he had heard beyond that.

The princess! He did not want to think about her, let alone marriage. By Mushtran standards he was too young to even contemplate such a thing, although his mother had told his by the standards of the land people he was now a man. To marry a non-Mushtran besides who had obligations outside of Mushtra was unthinkable, obligations he was expected to fully shoulder. Living outside of Mushtra would be a protracted torture the thought of which made his blood run colder and his skin clammy.

Yet he could not ignore the surreal magic that had entranced him when he had first held the violet eyes of the ashen princess nor the explosion of power when their hands had touched. He remembered thinking himself in love, but what did he know about love? With the exception of his father's experience love developed gradually between people destined to be for Mustrans. It was rare that people not meant to be had fallen in love and the few that had defied tradition to be together had shamed themselves by ending up separated and marrying the ones meant for them in the first place. Much as it pained him he would have to ignore whatever it was that he felt for the princess and discourage any feelings on her part, it would not do to hurt her and loving him would end in pain for her.

As the foresthym his life would be extended far beyond that of an ordinary Mushtran and the princess would be aged in five decades, it was impossible. The question now remained, how would he tell his hosts he could not marry their daughter? The proud king would be insulted, they were offering him a throne, the fact that it was already his by reasons far beyond birth notwithstanding, they knew nothing about that. As soon as he was well enough he would leave, even if it meant going back to the desert.

Satisfied he settled himself more comfortably against the pillows and closed his eyes. Immediately the darkness that had haunted him since his collapsed drew him back into it. He had struggled long and hard to escape it but on waking up the memory of it had been lost, how that could be he did not understand.

His birth mother beckoned to him, begging him to rescue her. She had died giving birth to him, something that had never happened in Mushtra. Had it not been for the love of Adyka Fellnermate Ferik would have been destroyed by that fact. His father's second wife had taken him under wings and done everything to mitigate the stigma of his birth. Still even now the pain and misery of it battered at him. He ran towards her with guilt knowing at him as he tried in vain to reach her. He could not tell what assaulted her but her voice reached out to him, growing fainter until it was just an impression upon the dark wind that buffeted him.

On legs like lead, unable to breathe in the dark nauseating he struggled to find her only to hear a tantalizingly near voice that would disappear on the wind. Once he even saw her face, fragile and exquisite as her effigy had portrayed as he had seen it at the center of the shrine her grieving parents had built for her. He tried to run to her but his legs grew heavy, mired in quicksand in which he was sinking.

"I love you son," echoed about him "... hold you... once."

Tears filled his eyes as he struggled in vain, clutching at the stinking rot within the sand he yearned to be held by her, something she had never done as she had died a breath after he had left her body. He struggled even more as her voice reached inside his head full of so much love the words unintelligible, he bent his mind to hearing her and felt hers brush against his. As that love transfused his being he stopped struggling and accepting it, never had he felt such mother love, something so perfect and pure. The stinking rot banished, instead of the scratchy embrace of sand, love cocooned him.

A hand touched his forehead, cool and loving but in a different way, he frowned wondering who it could belong to, there was something familiar in the touch but he could not recall it. Curious he focused more on that touch even as he tenuously gripped his mother's mind.

"He is so hot master Galmishrak." A soft beautiful voice reached him and he wondered at the worry in it.

"He took in some of the spell's darkness in freeing us," a male voice replied on a sigh. "I do not know how else he could have done it but now he is in a dark thrall and I cannot help him, this is beyond my arts, he is going to have to free himself."

Dark thrall? Were they talking about him? He was not benighted; his mother had already rescued him as he was going to save her. Her voice echoed his thoughts driving away the other two; the hand was no longer on his brow, so that love became eclipsed by his mother's and he embraced her. She entwined her mind with his, claiming the son she had loved enough to die for, infusing him with love so that they would be together forever. Nothing mattered except her and her adoring, beguiling voice that bloated out all he had ever thought and cared. He adored her; the mother fate had taken away from him. She was the center of his being, the lodestone he would now and forever gravitate about.

A flash lightning fast dazzled his eyes, sluggishly he became aware that he was floating in nothing, grey light dreary like a misty morning surrounded him. A sword, he concluded as another flash shone to his right. A dark heaving tentacle about an inch thick writhed on a severed end and he stupidly wondered at it too numb to be horrified at its ghastly nature. He became a bit more lucid and saw that more tentacles reached out from the misty distance and into his head. The voice still beguiled him so he was incapable of more than simple thought. He thought the sword pretty as it repeatedly flashed about him and his eyes stupidly sought it trying to guess where it would next appear. Even as the tentacles no longer held him, he was still somewhat mindless. He noted absently, almost listlessly that the voice of his mother, which had been beautiful, now had an iron under tone that was rather unpleasant.

"Ferik!" the new voice was command personified; he knew that voice though it had never held such absolute authority. It was the voice he had always listened to, a voice that had guided him all his life, the first he had ever been conscious of hearing and he had betrayed it. With a wrenching of his mind, strengthened by the new voice, he thrust aside the ache his mother's voice had become. 

Had it really been Valkira calling to him or something else? Had he really thought of her as his mother? He knew from what others said and Elgion's memories that she had been so selfish and self-centered unable to love another and begrudging her older son his father's love. She had hated being with child a second time and sought knowledge on how to undo it, an art the Mushtrans abhorred and had never aspired to know. How could he have believed she loved him? How could he betray the gentle, and yes, pure love from the mother who had raised him?

He raised stricken eyes to her face, as always had been the case when he was hurting it held all the understanding in the world. Her hand cupped his face and his head cleared even more as a pall of darkness poured out of him to hover above before she banished it. How many times had she banished his fears and nightmares? She drew him into her arms and he wept, as he had not done since he was six and the other children told him he had not been given an amita because he was a mother killer and any children he had would be the same.

Everyone had known Valkira had a shorter lifespan, destined to die after no more than a human lifespan and her parents had protected her from anything and everything until she was unbearably conceited. Her engagement to the crown prince Fellner of Zanoa had been drawn out which had suited him since he could not abide his intended, few could. They had been married in their early eighties, three decades after most of their age group and she proceeded to make his life and those of all in the palace miserable. Her fury when in four short years she had been with child when most went for decades had been astronomical. Safely delivered of the heir to Zanoa she had been in her element as all paid homage to her and her infant son for continuing the line of old. Aside from her generation, the house of Zanoa always had a single heir so she was content that she would not die in childbirth. Mushtran children of the same age were usually born within three years of each other so in little more than a year she was again with child. The palace of Zanoa had been unlivable for her vituperations; she poured venom against all but especially her husband. She pled vengeance against generations to come of house Zanoa little caring that she cursed her own descendants.

Barely three months after her death Fellner had met Adyka, a Daelen mistress running away from the death the Zidjma promised her. Her parents and year old brother dead she ran to the only place no one could go, the Mushtran forest. How she herself had entered it, she had no idea but something had drawn her much as something had drawn Fellner to the place where she lay exhausted and bleeding from a gash on her forehead. No one had protested their love except Valrika's parents who could not agree that fate had ill-used the prince of Zanoa until then.

Adyka was Fellner's equal, his true soul mate and amita, the quidvultdeus even revealed it. Even the fact that she would likely never have a child with the man she loved or that he was four times her age had daunted her. She had taken to his children and Elgion, two years old and much withdrawn from his mother's abuse had become more open though Valrika's parents never let him forget she was not his mother. Ferik growing up knowing only her had stubbornly insisted on calling her just that.

"I am so sorry mother." He now chocked out miserably

"It is not your fault, whatever that was preyed on your darkest memories and emotions. It also injected some other needs into you." She let go of him and looked into his eyes. "You should have called the earthpower to you instead of immersing yourself into that spell. It leeched into you and that is why you were so exhausted and all this happened."

"You know about the trees and the dark spell upon them?" he asked stunned.

"Ferik," she admonished gently. "This is your dreamscape and your memories are part of it" she sighed. "Whatever dark master assailed you most likely now knows what you are capable of."

"I will be defeated were we to meet again?" he asked apprehensively

"He will be able to guard against you and exploit your weakest areas. Your power grows with age and more study so before facing any more of the Zidjma or their curses practice more of your abilities. I have taught you much but it seems you need to apply the knowledge more. Do not forget the Terran first; it will serve you better as the quirin is non-existent in the land."

He nodded his head in acknowledgement relieved to be on familiar ground, figuratively at least, all about them was a grassy veldt of gently rolling hills that stretched into misty unknown. Unlike before, the mist was pure white and shone with translucent light that made all ethereal.

"I missed you." He said with a soft smile.

Her features softened as she looked at the son she could not love more had she given birth to him, pain and sadness filling her eyes. "Your father and I miss you so much too. A year is such a long time..." her voice trailed off betraying more than words could.

Ferik doubted his father missed him, more likely he was glad the son whose presence made him uncomfortable was gone. His father had never been at ease with him, Fellner made sure they were never alone, subtly, but Ferik was still aware of it and it hurt. Ferik would not admit it even to himself but it still hurt. He was also aware that many considered his birth mother's death a curse upon him despite the fact they were relieved by it. No doubt, his father was one of them. His mother went out of her way to reassure him of his father's regard but he found it hard to believe, nothing had happened to disabuse him of his notions. He did not doubt Fellner's love, his father had proved that many times, but he still was not comfortable with him.




Forest Magic Ch. 02



Adyka was aware of Ferik's conclusions but had not thought it her place to interfere with what she believed they had to work out between themselves. Now though with the uncertainty the Zidma had birthed in him, he needed to be reassured.

"Ferik," she began in a quietly toned voice all her children knew to listen to when she used it. "Your father wishes you had had a better start in life than you did. He feels guilty that he could not and cannot protect you from it effects. That he was freed from an unpleasant situation at your expense compounds that guilt and he is of the opinion that you are starting to resent him for that.

Ferik looked at her, disbelief warring with shock on his face and neither one gaining an upper hand. Adyka had never lied to him and yet... it was easier to believe his father avoided him because he believed Ferik was cursed than because of guilt. He had no reason to feel it. Why would he not be happy to be rid of a woman such as Valrika had been?

She smiled her soft smile then touched his cheek briefly "Do not worry; it will all be resolved in time. At present you have to wake up so as not to continue worrying the people around you."

He was reluctant to leave this calming place and his mother's gentle presence, which had never failed to soothe him when he was confused. There was no knowing when he would see her again or even talk to her. Her trilling laugh filled the veldt sounding the same as always but somehow it felt like he was hearing it for the first time. The mystery he had always glimpsed in her eyes, especially when she was occupied with her books, sounded in it and was evident in her knowing eyes. He marveled at the beauty that imbibed the power in her, making her far more than the gentle and nurturing queen-in-waiting of Zanoa.

"There are many states of being and worlds within worlds that are not ruled by your grandmother's degree, Aegan's timeless plane being one of them." she smiled. "When you need me again I will be there."

Everything about him started to dissolve as mist does at the rising of the sun. Colour swirled gently to nothing as if a memory already forgotten. An unseen wind blew through her making her ripple like a serene pond. With widening ripples she faded into the dream an impression of her indigo eyes remaining for a few instants. When they at last faded he found himself waking to himself, a parting thought from her echoing in him without need for words.

The Zidjma were coming for him, somehow they knew their spell had been partially undone even without their foray into his mind. If their curse was only to be broken by The forest mage, it would explain why they had gone to all that trouble of invading his dreams. Now having been stopped from taking over his mind they came to fight him secure in the knowledge he had no defenses against them. All his knowledge was in their hands, his current limitations theirs to exploit. His mother had not come out and said it but he knew she believed they could defeat him presently.

Everything in him rebelled at that, he was the Aynzareth and they had never been defeated, they miscalculated, they suffered but were never defeated. Resolve congealed in him, a string finer than thread and stronger than fate tightened all his knowledge into one clear path defined by all his heritage represented. Outrage radiated from him, almost tangible, at the thought of the darkness that had been allowed to blight his once magnificent land. Had it not been for his blood forsaking their guardianship the Zidjma would not have prospered. Had it not been for the children of Terra being allowed on Ariantha and their unchecked greed all this evil would not be. He was the Aynzareth, the native power of all worlds, though untried and unused to evil he was an immutable force by virtue of being. 

He opened his eyes and met those of the ashen hared princess, his heart slammed against his chest but whatever it was that made it so never registered in the green depths. Determination glittered in them embracing the power usually veiled by their gentle aspects.

Samara gave an involuntary gasp her eyes wide in confusion melded with a bit of fear and all her thoughts froze. A deer mesmerized by the shifting colours of a mammoth snake might have looked as she did, entrance despite some part knowing it was in danger. Within she had stagnated in the moment she had first held his then gentle eyes. Confronted as she now was with such enormous and unknown power dread poured through her. How was one supposed to contend with such power? The eyes released her and she felt relieved as much as she was aggrieved.

Ferik had not wanted to stay in the presence of these people for long, had intended to leave them as soon as he could but now the threat coming at them his conscience would not allow it. He turned to the tall dark-haired man he had marked as a Daelen seeing him through the eyes of the quirin. He was bathed in light, flickering like fireflies if it were possible to see them during the day. His hair shone as if afire with white flame and his eyes appeared as two beams of too bright light.

"The Zidjma are coming for us all," he informed the man. Were it not for the authority and conviction in his voice he might have been talking about the weather.

The thin faced man paled, his eyes darted about for a bit as if looking for an escape route before recalling who he was. That he was supposed to stand between the royal family and any dark forces. It was evident that his failure of before had impaired his confidence. A haunted look permanently lurked at the back of her eyes.

"You are a purple robe?" the question was more a statement and the man nodded clearly surprised. Ferik smiled. "I have a bit of knowledge of your arts. I am afraid I have not been a good student."

"You were taught our ways?"

"Yes, my grandmother believes in a rounded education so she makes sure we know something about most things." "I had not thought your people took the time to know anything about our ways. Which master did you have?"

Ferik did not know why he felt a need to hide the fact that his mother had been his teacher, that she was a Terran. "There are many ways to gather knowledge and my people excel at such."

"And those ways would be the same ways you know the Zidjma are coming?" the master questioned his eyes studying him.

"Yes." He stated. "We have to leave as soon as possible."

"Leave?" the princess asked in alarm.

Outwardly calm Ferik turned to her, noting the wary hurt pride holding her head high. "Yes leave, the Zidjma knew the moment you were freed and because of the way I chose to do so they know a bit more. As a result I am currently unable to deal with them."

"What do they know?" Dread etched the Daelen's voice that it seemed more of a squeak than the cultured authoritative voice it was.

"The coldness of their spell lingered in me." The man nodded his head. "As I lay unconscious they invaded my mind for all the knowledge I possess. Most of it will do them little good and I have forgotten most of what I knew of the Terran first. They will however be able to stand against me should we meet."

"It cannot be helped." He replied wearily. "I will have to go and tell the others to start packing."

Without looking at him the princess got up from besides the bed where she had been sitting to follow the master. Ferik did not try to stop or call her back. They both felt relieved even as despair hallowed within them. 



Forest Magic Ch. 03



The call was less than that, being no more than a yearning he was reluctant to send out even as he was sure they would heed it. All the horses that had been in Quagari had been appropriated by the Zidjma with what little wildlife and livestock there had been. Nothing but the overly large blood sucking insects that droned continuously in the dry heat, irritating and annoyingly quick that it was impossible to swart them, remained. They were supposed to live in humid climates yet they thrived in Quagari where nothing else, not even a stray rabbit, lived. The darkness that underlay the forest had chased away the scurrying under-brush creatures making the forest eerily silent if not for the occasional rustling of the trees.

Sluggishly flowing water seemed to be part of the silence failing to leave an impression upon him unless he made a point of listening. Ariantha had been a land networked with sparkling clear rivers, birthed by rainbow pierced springs that led to deep crystal clear pools and dams between low valleys and dells. Now all that was left were dried stream-beds that in places had been harrowed out into gullies and ravines, stagnant pools rancid and putrefied. The water was brackish and the source of much disease for those who had no way of purifying it. 

In his mind's eye, Ferik saw all this, the wide streak of forest that had become marshland in some places and even further in the other lands where hardly any trees existed. He cursed the fate that had brought him here even as the guilt of his bloodline resurfaced. They had not been adequate protectors.

Hoof beats sounded, many of them, his sensitive ears told him, more than they would need. The forest floor resonated with their thundering cadence and he in turn knew each of the herd, thirty-five of them. The stallion, larger and more magnificent than any other, proudly led them, his glorious mane flying in the wind of their passage. Leagues away, Ferik saw and followed their passage, swifter than the horses the in-landers were used to, only the earthpower-induced flight he had experienced was swifter. All were fawn coloured and silvery manned, long limbed and delicately formed as to be almost dainty, but the power in their sleek muscles was unmistakable, their land eating pace testified to it. There was a joy in their flight, freedom wild and untamed, and nature at its most magnificent.

They would be here in an hour or little more, a distance that would take a normal horse two and a half days at full gallop without rest. These were not ordinary horses though they resembled them; they were akin to the wind. Their name, Nakim meant of the wind.

"Ferik?" he turned to regard the serene eyes of the princess, he could see the effort it took her and he berated himself for his helplessness. He should have gone as far from them as possible. "Breakfast is ready." She stated evenly.

He wondered why they had sent her instead of one of her companions more suited to the task, he definitely did not want to see too much of her. Without a word he was up, walked up the front steps towards her as she stood besides the double glass doors. She did not release his eyes and he was reluctant to release hers even as his were indifferent. Only the forest knew how hard it was for him to keep them so, the maiden would never know.

She turned back into the house, he followed, one of her male companions stood just inside the door, and the glare he gave Ferik was unmistakable. Ferik raised a questioning brow at him but the other stayed stoic, betraying none of the source of his enormity. As Ferik passed him he fell in behind as if to defend the princess from him. 

Their footsteps echoed sharply in the silence, marching arrhythmically to an unsung and discordant beat. Ferik could only hate himself for what he had to do knowing the reaction would be unpleasant. Although he wished to spare the princess any pain, his presence was already causing her a lot. He could not leave and he doubted his absence would be less painful, probably more. Was it possible to touch someone so deeply in little more than a score hours?

An all too familiar pain had eclipsed the joy of realization for Samara. Knowing that those about her pitied her, not her unfeminine stature for whatever spell the Zidjma had cast, it had transformed her short stocky frame into an exceptionally tall and stately built. Now she was as tall as her friend Nadira was and in the past two years, the beauty she had had matured so that she was beyond stunning. Still it seemed she could not escape the pity. Now the young man legend had reserved for her wanted nothing to do with her despite the throne she came with. Only she could have such unlovable traits that a crown did not tempt a suitor.

Nothing though would make her disgrace her status so with the serenity two years of imprisonment had earned her she led him to the second floor private dinning room. She wished master Galmishrak would stop trying to put her much in his presence; he would never care for her so there was not any point. She also wished the magical moment when they had met had not happened or at least not been witnessed, it hurt too much.

The breakfast scrounged in the mostly soiled food stores was meagre, to say the least. Comprising mostly of over dried tough husks that had once been fruits. The rest of their party had not started eating reluctant to consume such fare though they had not eaten anything in over two years there had been no need. Hunger now reasserted itself and even as they shunned it, it was all they had.

"Would you mind if I...made breakfast?" Ferik asked a hint of his former smile in his soft voice. 

"Please do." The king declared throwing back the husk of what had once been a pear into its platter with a resounding clang.

Everyone, with the exception of Samara looked expectantly at him, some dubious. He waved the unappetizing fair to a side table and whilst most marvelled at the small feat food appeared before them. None saw it appear but now uncommonly beautiful silverware graced the table, platters full of piping hot scones and breads, carafes with steaming brews some a thick dark brown, others a light amber and some a pale green. Milk, juices, butter, cheeses, an array of differently prepared eggs, bacon, ham, fresh fruits, soups and some they could not name, all freshly made.

"How...?" one of the queen's ladies asked.

Ferik smiled softly. "My people have no need to prepare food; Ariantha provides all we need for the asking."

"You do not cook?" she was incredulous. 

His smile broadened taking on an impish cast. "It is an alien art recently explained to us. Any one of us would burn water if we tried." He laughed softly.

"I had heard about that." Galmishrak mused. "We all thought it was a tale you had encouraged to discourage hunting."

Sadness replaced the laughter on his face and his eyes became earnest. "We do not kill anything." He stated. "The only time my people ever did being during the war and we mourn our mistake even now."

"So you leave good meat to rot if an animal dies?" the other young man asked.

"Die?" Ferik asked puzzled. "Only humans die in nature, the animals are eternal even as the trees are."

All was quiet, disbelief ranging in different colours on all their faces mixed with other emotions, scorn for the elder and alarm for the master. The older women were horrified even as the youth were confused.

"That is absurd, everything dies," one of the warriors protested. "And why would mere animals be so blessed and not humans?"

"When Ariantha was the only world in existence, the animal races were the only ones that lived here and hunted each other for centuries until they learned otherwise. Then the first man and woman became, born king and queen and in time, others came to be on this world. That is when the other worlds began to be spun and be peopled, by then the animals here had achieved long lives and in time they became immortal." He paused and looked keenly at him. "That is why your race should never have been allowed here. You kill what should not know death and in most cases for the pleasure of it." He shuddered at the thought

Chagrin flashed across his face as he saw the blood drained from most of his audience. This was not the time to speak of such things if any was. There was no point, fate had taken its hand in it and there was no turning it on its hinges now. 

"I am sorry." He bowed slightly to them all. "This is an unpleasant topic, unfit for mealtime."

The king waved away his apology. "It is as good as any. We have lived through a long drawn nightmare and are hardier because of it. If we are to battle against the Zidjma, we have to have hope that our people will not face the doom we inherited. There must be a way to prevent the destruction of our people." His fierce eyes met Ferik's with a determination he could not help but admire; the man was made of iron. 

He hesitated knowing the man believed if he married his daughter, their plight would be over yet he sensed he would not force anything upon him. Indeed, he could not; Ferik knew his bloodline would never be subject to another, just as he knew he could save Quagari by marrying its princess. Guilt lashed at him and he became angry with himself, he had no reason to be guilty.

"If the animals can learn to change so can you." The words seemed inadequate even to him.

"It is too late for that," master Galmishrak replied. "We hardly produce anything such that we have had a famine for four decades and plagues that our population's less than it was when our ancestors came here."

Guilt assailed him again, an inheritance of Zanoa's making, had his ancestor not abandoned the outworlders to their folly or left them only for a season these people would not have known such troubles. Had their bloody ignorance deserved such penance?

"The king and queen of Zanoa probably have an answer for you." He prevaricated.

Everyone had started eating so he reached for some toasted grains in buttermilk, not really hungry. The herd was now a half hour away and they had no time to dally at breakfast. 

"The descendants of Zanoa?" Ferik nodded "they are unlikely to help the descendants of people who took their rule."

He laughed knowing that his family was content with their forest kingdom and did not begrudge these people the land even had it not soured on them. He could well imagine the horror living outside of Mushtra would invoke in any of his family he was experiencing it. Besides which his family had always been the rulers of Ariantha even if they had never enlightened the so-called royals of the land.

"The heirs of Zanoa are indifferent to your claim of ruler-ship."

"Claim?" elder Teaune demanded, his face red.

"Only the ancient bloodline of Mushtra has the right to rule on Ariantha and only they can appoint any other rulers."

Teaune gathered himself to remonstrate with him but the king held up his hand and he swallowed whatever he had been about to say. Chewing his food slowly the monarch's dark eyes bored into Ferik's as if searching for answers to questions his mind had not yet formed. He understood the implications of what he had just heard and some of what the young man had not said. Galmishrak had taught him from an early age so he knew what some of his fellow monarchs did not. He had a duty though, even if it was futile.

"Tell me," he deliberately changed the subject. "How is it that the curse of the Zidjma changed my daughter?"

Ferik did not look at the princess sitting across from him even as he wanted to; he kept his eyes on those of her father. "She was not under their spell. The remnant of the quirin saved her so as to counter the effects of your oaks and for some other reasons I cannot fathom." It occurred to him then that as the quirin was part of Mushtran destiny she might have been saved, and changed -however she had been- to be part of his destiny. He dismissed that; he could not be destined to leave Mushtra. 

The hoof beats were just a mile away from the palace now and he smiled. "Our mounts are here." He told them.

"Mounts?" one of the young females asked, "there are no horses here."

His smile broadened becoming mysterious as well as mischievous then he stood up.

"Come and see.' The invitation might have been an order though obviously not meant as one. The girl followed him to the open doors out to the balcony.

She gasped which brought the others to see. Pale against the dark leaves they could be seen streaking across the forest floor where partings in the trees allowed. No horses could aspire to such speed. They wove through the trees as easily as water would without reducing their gait. Silver manes flew in the wind like froth from a storm tossed sea even as they were untameable.

The sound of their onrush vibrated through the palace, a steady fluid echo of many hoofs communing with their would-be riders, if any of those who watched could bring themselves to be that. How such death defying speed was to be endured, none could grasp. It was neck breaking and wild, a testimony to their freedom, a freedom that had known no master. Yet the Mushtran had called them.

A breathless stillness gripped him in its thrall, excitement radiated in every pore becoming nearly luminous. He shone with it, an unearthly light only sensed, peace and zest for life that embraced all that surrounded, timelessness that bathed away all cares with springtime freshness. Humanity seemed not to touch him even as he was overwhelmingly human. Part of him was akin to the breathtaking oneness of the coming herd as much as he was alien to it that those with him wondered anew if he was really human. None dared ask though, even each other.

"You will excuse me, will you not?" the question was rhetoric, a concession to politeness, as even the king would not aspire to deny him anything.

"Of course" he replied politely.

"Is it wise to involve ourselves with him?" Teaune asked with a dark face. He glared at Ferik's back as he left the room.

"I am afraid he is our only hope for survival," Galmishrak sighed when the king remained silent. "For the present and future."

The elder scowled even more, not pleased with the answer. For all the young man radiated power, he had a childlike innocence that did not resonate with his age. They needed a strong man to be their future queen's consort and innocence did not fit, especially as this queen's consort was to be a king in his own right. To have him not only disdain their princess but also shun their crown was an insult that smote hard. "We will find another way" he grated through clenched teeth.

"Do you think we have not tried?" the master demanded hotly. "For over two centuries we have done all we could to save our people. Pooled our knowledge like the masters before us never did. Each of us knows more than our predecessors but it is in vain. The Zidjma prosper for our failure and Ariantha becomes more hostile and the only ones the spirit of this world is likely to listen to are the Mushtrans." His shoulders drooped and his eyes lost focus as he looked over the forest.

It was somewhat eerie. The birdsong was gone as were the sound of horses as people galloped back and forth to the palace through the forest. Noblemen boisterous as they hunted or left for a party to one of the neighbouring estates. There were no more partridges, ortolan or rabbits in the under-brush. An ominous chill pervaded the air even as the summer sun shone upon them. They all felt it at some subliminal level, a new-found fear of their home. It was the death of something precious once unrealized. The serenity and beauty that only a forest could provide in some way shattered without hope that it could ever be reclaimed. The beautiful flowers that had been the signature of Quagari were gone; the flowerbeds that once ringed the palace now spotted over dry sticks that were unlikely ever to bloom. 

To the east of the palace had been a veldt of wild flowers, left untouched in all the centuries the Quagarians had lived in the forest. Whether green in spring and summer or dry in autumn and winter the veldt had always had flowers, lavender, dandelions, lilies, winter-drops, fragrant herbs and all. Now the curse had tainted that loveliness, the simplistic beauty preserved for so long shattered with an icy touch. For the veldt looked frozen, the once rippling hip length grass black and still in the wind, black leafed weeds inter-spaced it as did pock marked flowers that looked poisonous. It was heartbreaking and knowing they had to leave those they had known and loved in uncertain peril made it even more so.

"If it comes to be that we perish, we shall do so with courage and honour." King Hiram stated, reminding them all of the words of house Quagari, 'courage and honor'. "Let us go and finish our meal, we have a long way to go."

As the others filled back into the dinning room Samara stayed to watch Ferik with the herd that was somehow not horses even as they looked as such. Untag who seemed to think she needed protection from Ferik stayed, as did Oghani more interested in watching Ferik and his herd.

Each of the herd touched foreheads with him in greeting. He stood still but his body radiated energy, the look on his face made her ache; still she wished to be part of the scene before her. Every motion of the herd was beautiful, poetic, testifying to studied intelligence. Ethereal power deeply rooted in nature, they exuded rightful pride, an assurance of their place and security in their environment. It was evident that they had never learned to fear anything.

When the head stallion had touched foreheads with Ferik, he stood besides him and the others ringed them. As one, they extended their left foreleg and one after the other they bowed, heads almost touching the extended leg. A heartbeat after the other they bowed and rose up, that they formed a rippling wave. It was the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen, they held their breath, sure they were the first of their kind ever to witness the display. They knew the horses could not be owned and yet they longed to own one, still the privilege of riding one was incredible.

After watching the oneness of the herd and the Mushtran for a while, the princess joined the others, her expression thoughtful. Something about the young man was unfathomable. It brought an ache to her, like that aspect of him was something she should have but was missing, the one thing she had yearned for all her life. For the past two years, she had almost forgotten it was there but now that emptiness prevailed. At some level in that loneliness, she had known she would meet Ferik, even as he did not treat her as she wished she could not regret meeting him. The thought of their never having met chilled her heart; somehow, even with his indifference her life would never have been full if they had never met. Courage and honour, she would need her fair share of that in the coming months

Not long after he came back, more relaxed and distracted and they all collected what they had packed to go with. It was not much as even their clothes were ruined or taken by the Zidjma, the tents moth eaten even the few pots left were rusty and full of holes. 

Ferik stood back with the herd as the others took a last look at their home. As he watched their wistful absorption of the place they loved he felt an intense wave of homesickness, these people would be coming back to their home soon but he was denied his own for a year. The pain that had never left him intensified cutting the air out of his lungs. How could the queen break his heart like this? There was no other place for him in the world and even if it were his destiny to be the ruler of this land, it would not be for so many decades. Why did he have to be here now? He sighed, only time would tell what would be and he could not change that, only a fool would temper with time even if he had the ability to see the back, front and sideways of it.



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.