“I am a sorcerer,” she said.
“No. You are an arcanine. And an elementalist as well. That means you are not from this time. You are from my era. So why are you still alive?”
Wings of wind appeared on the woman, and seventh grade mana burst around her.
Wizard calmly held out a hand to her. “Be still,” he said. “Killing you is not my aim… The ancient city. You have been there. My father’s sealing spell – I can smell it on you. I will leave you be. You only need to tell me where it is.”
“I cannot,” she said.
“Girl. Do not oppose. Your powers are anomalous, but I can still kill you very easily. Just tell me where the city is.”
“You know nothing of my powers,” the woman said. “But I, I know everything about yours,” she said. “The city… it has disappeared,” she answered.
Now impatient, Wizard roused his black mana. The woman clenched her teeth. Wizard’s magic was stifling. The grass around turned brown, and the acres of sunflowers dried up within moments.
“You must believe me. I am not lying!” she said. “I did find the city. But I cannot enter it. The seal is far too strong, even for arcanines to breach. And it has been fortified quite recently, to prevent even you from entering.”
“I will decide how strong the seal is. Show me the city,” Wizard said.
“I cannot. Oga has either moved or destroyed it. I am telling the truth.”
“The city is not destroyed,” Wizard said. “Oga even now is unable to use a third of his own power. This much mana isn’t required to keep Araseli suspended and supported. Take me to where you saw the city, and I will take it from there. If you co-operate, I might even allow you enter the city as well.”
“So he is still supporting the seal on Orenda,” the woman said.
“Orenda?”
“That is what they named the island where the city is,” the woman said.
“How do you know this? How did you find the city to begin with? Furthermore, how did you end up on Araseli?”
“It was really easy, actually,” she said.
***
Gathered in the Magmalian tower were 132. Azar, since he had sent Mike, Zen, Lex, Clover and Star off to train, had intermittently made visits to several of the major world leaders. Not all of them would entertain or even tolerate the message that he bore – the massage that an impending war against the ancient gods was coming. But some did. Simon, king of Muya, a continent with a population not far behind Notherland was among those present. Chron, Prime Minister of Kundo, who Azar had built a good rapport with, was also there.
Azar had gathered all of the leaders of Libson as well. Azar stood before the leaders of the world who decided to band together under his leadership. They were all seated around a massive table. Kyle and Viknor were at Azar’s sides. The noble king had quite a task, addressing these leaders, speaking to kings of countries a thousand times larger than his own. But in the crowd of leaders were faces that kept him composed.
“I am honoured,” Azar began his address.
Chapter 27: Goddess of Araseli
“Grandmother! Come look! Quick!” a frantic Chaz called out.
“What is it?” the woman called from outside, scurrying to the veranda. She saw Chaz stooping down in her special garden, inspecting the Purple Fire. The only detail she could make out from so far off was fresh soil on his hands. This must have been evidence of an uprootment. “Boy! Are you mad?!” her shaky voice rang out, and she moved as quickly as she could toward the garden.
A somewhat stifled laugher came from the man who lived next door. The houses were large and lavish. The community was a haven, and seemed almost untouched by Oga’s tyranny. Most of the residents there were retired old people who had more money than they needed.
Finally, the old woman reached out to the garden. “Haven’t I told you not to trouble this garden?” She was ready to hit him with her cane. “Enma and Josephene are coming here tomorrow! Tomorrow!
“I know! But Grandmother, look at the Purple Fire! You can’t let them see them like this,” the boy said, opening his hands wide in his usual over-expression.
The woman looked down at the Purple Fire, and her face immediately changed. They were virtually perfect, but somehow, she could see everything that was wrong with them. Chaz made her believe all of a sudden that the Purple Fire were not up to standard.
“They’re droopy, grandmother! What shall we do?!” This was a real dilemma, and the woman was suddenly in a state of panic.
“I think you’re right, boy,” she said softly.
After working in a hot city for all of her life teaching at a prestigious school for history scholars, she had moved here, and had quickly become consumed with making and keeping up her many lavish gardens. Josephene and Enma were only two her friends (whom she really considered to be fans) who would periodically come by and spend time with her. But the main event was always the garden sightseeing. Every single woman in the community had at least one garden, but the retired old women, and even a few of the men, who had much more time (and money) on their hands were certainly not in the same league as the younger women.
For Josphene and Enma to see her Purple Fire like this would be a serious disaster. Word would so quickly spread that the great ‘Purple Queen’ had lost her title. The Purple Fire was easily the most precious flower known to anyone at the time. It was lavishly beautiful. Its bright purple was shaped into jagged spikes that looked like fire when the flower was blooming in its prime. Its beauty wasn’t what made it the flower of choice though. The Purple Fire was the rarest of all the flowers, and hence the most expensive. Ridiculously expensive. And so having even one of these rare breed, let alone an entire garden of them, certainly made a statement.
There was only one person in the world happier than The Purple Queen when her garden was at its best, and it was a wealthy merchant about thirty miles away, in another community. He was the only florist to provide this flower. Not only that. These mysterious flowers that made every other florist severely inferior could go three weeks at best before dying, regardless of the care it was given. Many speculated that he sold poisoned flowers so that they would die. Others said he was using some form of sorcery. Whatever the case was, his business was booming, and his name and legacy was spreading far and wide.
The Purple Queen had more than enough money to restock her garden. But one thing she didn’t have was time. ‘The Purple Man’ couldn’t keep up with demand, so he would run out of supplies by as early as the third hour every day, and he would not restock until the following morning.
Chaz was already awake when his grandmother came busting into his room one full hour before even the sun was up.
“Boy, you have to get up. Now, come on,” she hurried him.
“What’s wrong, grandmother? Is it morning yet?” He rubbed his eyes, hiding his smirk under a confused face.
“You have to get going if you are going to make it to the Purple Man on time!”
“Grandma, I’m sleepy!”
She slapped him. “Come, come, come!” Finally, he got up and in a minute he was saddled on a horse out front. Strapped onto the horse was a huge square basin full of loam. “Go on now,” she saw him off. He already knew the way.
Just minutes after sunrise, Chaz was already at the famous flower shop. “Already?” he marvelled. As early as it was, there was a line formed. The Purple Man’s shop was not run like all the other flower shops. In front of a warehouse of seedlings, fertilizers and special soil was a massive garden of at least a hundred different species of flowers. People would tour the garden and then, after deciding what they needed, they would approach the Purple Man, who would be roaming around the garden, being friendly and advising and coercing customers, but also keeping an eye on those who looked like they would try something funny.
For those customers who wanted the Purple Fire, they would go through the garden and to the warehouse. At the front of the warehouse was a counter tha
t customers couldn’t even see past. Behind the counter was a curtain. For every flower that was in the massive garden, there was a theory for what was really behind that curtain, and for how the Purple Fire was made and stored.
The Purple Man would also keep an eye at the counter, where his daughter, Lyla, worked. A little before sunrise every morning, she would be positioned there at the counter. Though barely ten, her father gave her the most important job – selling the Purple Fire. When huge orders came in, like the one Chaz would make, she would call her father. But Lyla dealt with everything else – checking and collecting the money, and also retrieving and delivering the Purple Fire.
Because she knew how important her job was – and how special the Purple Fire was – she was quite motivated to work with her father every day. There was one thing that the Purple Man didn’t tell even her though – where the Purple Fire came from. She would just always wake up to a fresh supply each morning, and she had just about given up on solving that mystery.
Lyla’s face turned pink as she glimpsed Chaz in the distance, dismounting his horse. The boy grinned. Already, the journey was worth it. Behind the curtain was his grandmother’s reason for him being there, but behind the counter was his.
Distracted by Lyla, he forgot the container he had brought, and had to turn to get it.
“I’ll be back with you in just a moment,” the Purple Man said to a prospective customer, looking over at Chaz. Chaz was a regular buyer of the Purple Fire. And a big buyer too – so tending to him was a priority.
“H—Hello, Lyla,” the boy greeted her as he was finally at the front of the line. He set down the massive container.
“Mr. Chaz!” the Purple Man greeted, arriving promptly. The intrusion annoyed Lyla. “And how are we today?”
“Doing just fine,” the boy answered a bit nervously, trying to not look at Lyla.
“How many do you need this time around? The usual?”
“Yes sir.”
“Only a moment,” he said, and dashed behind the curtains.
“I hope he gets lost in there,” Lyla whispered to Chaz, and they chuckled.
“This Kizer guy, I think he might be a real threat,” one shady-looking man whispered to another. They were just behind Chaz in the line.
“Don’t be foolish, Kryp. I don’t even believe he’s real. They say he’s an arc--”
“Hey! Leave. Please leave. Please go. Go on!” Lyla’s father said frantically as he came out, hearing that name.
News had been going around about this mysterious man named Kizer and how he was going to revolt against Oga’s government. As soon as word of this rumour reached to the Ogal Council, the mere mention of the name had been made illegal. The Council did not in any way take the rumours seriously, but the mere idea of opposing Oga could not be tolerated. Wherever there was frequent talk of this unidentified Kizer person, there was serious trouble very soon after. Most people saw the whole matter as an urban legend with no truth to it. There were too many versions to the story anyway.
“Father, who is Kizer?” Lyla asked innocently.
“You shut your mouth, girl!” her father snapped, frightening her. He caught up with himself quickly and said, “Sorry child. But please. Don’t mention that name again. I don’t know – or care – if he is real. But the stories say he is building some sort of secret army to overthrow the government. Just forget about it. It’s nonsense.”
“The Council? Haha! No-one can possible defeat the Council!” Chaz said.
“Here are your flowers, boy. Please hurry back home.”
But since then, talk of this Kizer only became more rampant, and more and more details of his plan and of his secret army, and of his strange power took root all over the world. Some had been even claiming to have seen the man himself, or to have been recruited by him, but those truly aligned with Kizer were shrouded in secrecy. The hunt for illegal sorcerers tightened, and Oga’s rule became even tenser. Before long, finding this Kizer became a serious priority.
Rumours of this bastard arcanine and his sinister plans had thrown the world into a state of emergency. Ogal soldiers were now ubiquitous, and even in remote villages where people once lived a calm, quiet life, there was now the constant trot of horses, the constant stench of trouble. The largest cities saw more frequent appearances of the Ogal Council, where public executions had become commonplace to constantly remind the people of who was in control.
Oga’s tyranny had now become unbearable. Witch and Wizard understood what their father was doing, but their siblings saw this rule of terror as madness. Oga figured that if he applied enough pressure to the world, he would hasten the emergence of this Kizer.
“I need this Kizer to feel like he needs to make his move right now,” Oga explained to the council. He began to see Kizer as real threat when he finally realized that the seal on the Mananka city had been tampered with. Of course, he never told even his children about the city. Who could possibly be strong enough to have entered the city? As remote as it was, who could even have found it? He would suspect his own children, but he could sense none of the seal’s energy on them.
“This looming invisible army he is amassing, we cannot allow it to fester.”
“Father, the whole world together could not challenge even one of us,” Kha-Deva said. “Why are you worried about this army that has no real evidence of existing in the first place?”
“Because people are beginning to see that army, and that Kizer, as a way to finally remove us.”
“Then why don’t you let up on the world and make them like us even more? I think you’re trying too hard to make them fear us,” she said.
“Because fear is the only thing they can understand,” Oga said. “Without fear, chaos would be invited into the world. And this Kizer, he is chipping away at the people’s fear. We need to force him to make his attack right now, so we can crush him before he becomes any more of a nuisance.”
“Father,” Wizard said. “The rumours say that his magic is as strong as even ours. Where could he have attained such power?”
Oga’s eyes narrowed. “Those are just rumours, Wizard,” Oga said. But he saw that Wizard was not content with that answer.
A year passed, and tension only rose in the darkening world. Chaz’s visit to the Purple Man’s shop become less frequent, and so did everyone else’s. Once there was a strong enough rumour that someone had any knowledge of or had made contact with Kizer, an investigation would immediately be launched. No evidence of anything was ever found, but people were executed in the streets nevertheless. Kizer had been using untraceable ways to spread information of an impending war that he would soon raise against Oga, but no-one could capture Kizer or any of his followers.
Even though no-one could admit it openly, millions of people had already decided that if a war were to really be waged, they would not only cheer for Kizer, but fight with him – if they saw that he stood any chance probably. If Kizer and his ‘army of sages’ were really as strong as the stories were telling, then Oga could really have been in for a challenge.
Business had by now declined drastically for the Purple Man. But he had a plan. He woke Lyla in the middle of the night. “Lyla… Lyla…” He shook her until her eyes opened.
“Father? What time is it?”
“I’ve been thinking, Lyla,” he said. “What if we started to sell the Purple Fire at half the price, but try to sell double the amount?”
Lyla was still not yet fully awake.
“Come, Lyla. I will show you where the Purple Fire lives.”
These words kicked the sleep out of her body instantly. Her eyes lit up.
“Let’s go!” her father said. And they quickly mounted the two black horses out front.
“Where are we going, father?” Lyla asked excitedly.
“To a forbidden place,” he said.
And so they rode for hours, stopping for rest a few times. They rode until the last house was at least an hour behind them. The horses struggle
d up a steep hill.
“Stop here,” Lyla’s father said, and they dismounted. They had reached a coast. Lyla grabbed on to her father tightly, shaking. Being made of a singular mass of land, dark and ominous stories surrounded the great unknown ocean, and even the edges of the land.
“Father, what are we doing here?” she asked. “I want to go home.”
“You’re not a baby, Lyla. Not anymore. From now on, I will need help with the Purple Fire. Only you can I show its secret.”
She nodded firmly, pushing aside her fears.
“The world fears the edges of the land because what lies beyond them is unknown,” the Purple Man said. “It’s difficult to see from here, but twenty miles from here is a tiny piece of land.”
“No… Hinge Island?” the girl asked. The coasts and the seas were riddled with superstitions that kept everyone away from them, but nothing was as dark and mysterious as the only island to have existed, Hinge Island. A massive earthquake had ripped off a piece of the mainland long ago, creating Hinge Island. Since then, stories of island rapidly evolved. To make matters worse, Oga had moved everyone who had lived close to the coasts, and had declared Hinge Island a forbidden place. Many speculated that the island was the birthplace of magic. Some said it was the birthplace of evil. Others were sure that Oga and his children practiced their sorcery there.
But the Purple Man knew one thing about that island for sure – it was the only place in the word where the Purple Fire thrived.
Word of the Purple Fire’s drastic price cut spread fast, and customers poured in, but after only a few months, when the excitement dried up, business went near dead again. People had just become too afraid and too conservative to be taking frequent road trips just to buy flowers.
Things became so bad that The Purple Queen gave up her title. The Purple Man soon after went out of business completely. Things had become daunting and difficult for the world, but in all of this, Lyla and Chaz were anything but gloomy. Chaz would spend less and less time at home, and more and more time meeting up with Lyla secretly, who should have been at a school her father paid a heavy sum of money to enrol her in.
The Ancients Page 36
