White Mage

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 17

  Encounter

  Bianca fell. Down, down, and down. She felt rigidly still, although she did not think she was strapped into the chair anymore. For a moment she thought she might be floating unconscious in the operational sphere. But her inner ear told her she was falling and she felt, faintly a breeze across her. First from one direction, then another as she tumbled.

  She tried to move, just like she moved the Ævatar; through an effort of Will. Maybe her Will was dislocated. Maybe it was just she wasn't anywhere physical. Maybe this perception was only her Soul. The rest of her body destroyed in some disaster with the Ævatar. Just her Soul left trapped in stasis.

  Next she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. One direction seemed ever so slightly brighter than the rest. It was the down direction. She counted her revolutions and after several more she was quite sure. There was a reddish glow in that direction. Had the demons counterattacked while she was in the Ævatar? Did isolating her Soul make her vulnerable and had they drawn her into hell?

  But then another sensation became apparent. She smelled something. Roses. Hadn't Lilly said something about that? Red light and rose scent? If not hell, some deity? Had they decided to strike as soon as the Ævatar was activated? She dredged her mind but could not think of a god whose symbol was the rose.

  The light got brighter and it looked to be a surface, rushing up at her. She had no sense of scale but instead felt it growing close, quickly. Reflexively she curled into the fetal position and, to her surprise, found she could move. And instant later she had impacted into something, It was soft, resilient, and overwhelmingly rose scented.

  Bianca bounced a few times, and thrashed around for a solid surface. But it all came away in her hands. After a moment of panic she righted herself, and found she was in a vast field of rose petals. She held them up, unbelieving, and watched as they sifted through her hands. Each one was perfect. Slightly white at the base, darkening quickly to red. But as she squinted she saw tiny little throbbing veins in them.

  “Sorry for that,” said a voice. “I'm given to dramatics.”

  Bianca looked up suddenly, and tried to assume a defensive combat position. But the surface was awkward and she was wearing nothing but her flimsy under tunic.

  Sitting cross legged nearby was a woman. An elf. An Elf. She wore casual boots, in red leather, folded down just above the ankle. Her dress was a fanciful tangle of straps and buckles, in more red leather, contrasting with her pale skin. Her hair was black and worn high in an elaborate style, held in place with roses. Her almond eyes were looking at Bianca with bright focused attention. She was leaning slightly forward, her chin resting on her fist, her elbow on her knee.

  All thought of combat fled Bianca. This was an Elf. A “big-E” Elf. One of perhaps 40. Or maybe 400. No one knew much of them. Other than that they were responsible for the creation of everything people knew. All they knew was it was some ten thousand year long 'experiment'. Eight thousand years of it had passed, and there remained two thousand more, but their hopes were not high that it would succeed. All but one had given up. Only one was ever known to anyone in modern times. And this was not him.

  “You are the Elf known as Rose?” asked Bianca, trying not to stutter. The notes of the last conversation with an Elf mentioned one by that name who had a growing interest in their affairs.

  The Elf smiled easily and nodded, waving her hand to indicate all around them. But Rose's eyes never left Bianca.

  Bianca took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. Interactions with Elves were incredibly rare. And, as they held the fate of the world in their hands, extremely important. What to ask? What was the most important question to get an answer to? Almost immediately she realized that it probably didn't matter. The Elf was going to say what the Elf was going to say.

  “Why are you here?” asked Bianca, to get her started.

  Rose seemed to think. “It's been a while since I took an interest in how things were going.” She tilted her head to one side. “Although once I did spend a lot of time at it. I was patron to the Kings and Queens of Londra. Before the first cataclysm.” Bianca's eyes widened. They were the people who discovered the New Magic. “Yet they aren't quite gone. Poor Princess Kimberly waits in her tower. I'd visit her. But she waits, and you do not.”

  A sudden thought came to Bianca. “Did you give them the New Magic? Those of Londra?”

  Rose laughed. “Oh, no!” She seemed quite amused. “They worked that out themselves. It was bound to happen. It always does.” She continued more quietly. “And they almost destroyed themselves. They always do. We haven't found a way to make it otherwise.”

  “And we. Will we destroy ourselves too?” asked Bianca.

  “Probably,” said Rose. “Or possibly.” She scratched her cheek. “Things have gone quite awry. Well off plan.”

  “Are you here to put us back on plan?” asked Bianca.

  “Good gracious no!” said Rose, putting her hands into her lap in alarm, and sitting up strait. “By the plan you won't destroy yourselves for another two thousand years. Note: that's completely destroy yourselves, not almost destroy yourselves.” She winked at her. “By all logic, since the plan is the most optimal one we have worked out, any deviation means you destroy yourselves sooner.” She waved her finger at Bianca. “To put you back on plan would tell us nothing. To let you continue... If you do wipe yourselves out, it validates what we know. If you do not... it could be quite insightful.”

  Bianca blinked and felt cold inside. What she said chilled her to her bone.

  Rose threw back her head and laughed, breaking eye contact for the first time. When she finished she looked slyly at Bianca. “Your people pride themselves in their passionless detachment. By so casually discussing the fate of your world have I bested you in this?”

  “My tribe are miserable peasants who live and die a hard life on the ice,” Bianca said, her blood rising.

  “It was not always so,” said Rose, still smiling. “When Finlandia joined the table of Londra they amazed all at tourney. As passionless as the Norslanders were passionate. Yet once both swore allegiance to the ideals of the crown, they each outdid the other in their nobility. The last two to join, and accounted the most noble of all.”

  Bianca had no idea that her tribe was so old. The Norslanders she did know of. They were the people of Winter's father. “It is a coincidence then that the gods of both people are dead and their tribes have withered to nothing?” she challenged her.

  “Oh?” said Rose. “As I said, I have not kept up with current affairs.” She focused back on Bianca. “You are quite unlike the heirs of Londra I taught. They, I came to know, over time, as an aggregate. It is only as an aggregation a people may be understood and their fate calculated. You are an individual. That is much harder to... compute.”

  “I'm sorry to be difficult,” said Bianca, with annoyance.

  “I have answered your first question,” said Rose. Bianca looked puzzled. “I am here to determine if you are calculable. If so, then the fate of this deviant path can be determined. If not,” she shrugged, “we have to wait and see.”

  Bianca's annoyance vanished. “Am I that significant?”

  “I cannot say until I can answer my question,” said Rose, putting her hands up in the air. “Many things certainly do pivot upon you. But, then, there are many pivot points. Without a plan it all gets lost in the weeds.” She looked off into the distance.

  Bianca sense she was about to leave. She started to get alarmed. She needed answers. “The Book of Creation,” she said suddenly. “How do we read it? What is the key to understanding?”

  “That old thing?” said Rose, amused. “It is a child's drawings. It won't lead you anywhere.”

  “It lead to the Ævatars,” said Bianca. “And that lead here.”

  Rose raised an eyebrow. “The question is: would you have been lead here anyway, by a different means if not that one?” She tapped Bianca on her ch
est and she felt the impact on her whole body. “That little lock box on your soul. That's far more important.”

  Bianca was completely confused. “What? Why?”

  Rose opened her mouth, and then shut it. “Swan would kill me if I told you.”

  Balling her hand into a fist Bianca started to object.

  “Oh, whatever,” said Rose. “I'll deal with him later.” She fixed Bianca with her eyes. “How else are you going to re-introduce all of those souls into living bodies? Those you have? The stockpile in The Black Hole.”`

  Bianca looked exasperated. “But, the gods are on the verge of wiping us out! Without the power of the Ævatar, without a plentiful source of mana... we'll never be in a position to resurrect anyone!”

  “Maybe Swan is right,” said Rose, contemplatively. “Damn but this is hard to predict. I really will have to start paying closer attention.”

  “Wait!” shouted Bianca, but Rose had already left.