Ascension of the Whyte

by Karen Wrighton

breeze and flowing out behind him like death’s shadow. Two piercing black eyes looked out over the moonlit, mountainous panorama of Hydrargyrum. Then, he lifted his head to the sky, opened his jaws and let out a cry, a cry that liberated ten thousand years of pain. It was a cry that would strike fear into every inhabitant of the Afterlands.  It was the call of the Djinn.

   

   

  KITH AND KIN

   

  As they entered the refectory, the new ascendants were warmed by its welcoming atmosphere. A group of musicians dressed in Ferrum green tunics were playing beautifully hand carved fiddles and their lively Ferrish music mingled with the excited chatter of the young novices. Delicious aromas filled the room, vanilla, honey, maple, coconut, ginger and exotic spices merged into one magnificent, gastronomic assault on their senses. In the centre of the room were four large round stone tables around which were twelve chairs. Three of them were set for twelve people the other was set only for four.

  The table closest to the door was draped with the red and black colours of Hydrargyrum. Its plates, goblets and cutlery made of the finest Mercurian pewter. Above the centre of the table hung the black silk Hydrargyrum standard, at its centre was the emblem of Hydrargyrum. Twin rampant winged dragons faced each other, their tails entwined as they breathed out shivers of fire that merged together and formed into a flaming crown above their heads. Their motto, embroidered below, read; ‘Sanguine Et Igni Vicimus’, ‘With Fyre and Blood we Conquer’.

  On the left of this table was the Ferrum table. Draped in an emerald green cloth, it was laid with flawless Ferrum steel cutlery, together with wooden, native handcrafted platters and goblets. The emerald green Ferrum standard hung above, with a large rampant black bear at its centre, it’s claws and teeth bared as its tongue protruded like that of a lizard attempting to catch a fly. Beneath this, embroidered in black and gold was the Ferrum motto ‘Fortitudo Fide Honoris’, ‘Strength, Loyalty, Honour’.

  The Aurum table was similarly dressed but in the white and gold colours of Aurum. Crisp white linen was set with Aurum’s finest gold place settings. The Arum standard displayed the three fire hawks emblem and bore the motto ‘Ascensio Scientia Potestas’ ‘Ascension, Knowledge, Power.’ It fluttered lightly in the breeze that wafted in from the open door of the Atrium, as the ascendants entered the hall.

  The fourth table had evidently, been somewhat hurriedly dressed. Its indigo blue table cloth was set with rose embossed Rhodium silver cutlery and platters and hand cut ice crystal goblets, but the standard hanging above it was old and tattered. The indigo silk banner and the white five-pointed Rhodium rose at its centre, were faded and torn and its motto could barely be distinguished ‘Mollitiam Spiritus Virtus’ ‘Resilience, Spirit, and Valour’.

  The Magisters were seated at the far side of the refectory hall behind a crescent shaped table dressed in the colours of Aurum. Lord Dux, however, remained standing as he waited to address the novices, who were now being guided to their seats by their older peers.

  A tall Gold, a third-year novice, approached the four Whyte cell ascendants as they entered the hall. His dark blond hair was cut short, though a defiant, wavy lock fell rebelliously across one eye. He smiled warmly at the group, but his eyes did not deviate from Rose’s face as he spoke.

  “Good day to you,” he said with a polite bow of his head. “I am Arjan. I have been asked by Lord Dux to escort you to your table and to dine with you this evening if you have no objections?”

  The four of them shook their heads.

  “Good, that’s great! Then please, follow me.” Arjan offered Rose his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and he led her and the others through the crowd of chattering novices. As they passed the Aurum table Arjan grabbed a gold plate, a goblet and some cutlery to take over to the Whyte table.

  “Hey Arjan!” said a young gold girl with a wry glance.  “Don’t tell me you’re deserting us for a celebrity?” She eyed Rose jealously.

  Arjan winked at her.

  “Well, you know me Gilda; I always have to be the centre of attention, don’t I? Oh no, wait a minute, that’s you!” he said, laughing at her resulting scowl.

  She stuck out her tongue.

  Arjan led the Whytes to their table.

  “Please take a seat,” he said, pulling out a chair for Rose. “Lord Dux is about to begin.”

  Rose glanced around the bustling room. She was becoming increasingly aware of the stares and comments she was drawing from the other novices. It made her uncomfortable. Ignoring Arjan’s offer of a seat, she walked around the table and took a chair that faced away from the centre of the room where she would be able to avoid their gazes.  Arjan seemed briefly disappointed. Quickly recovering his composure, he offered Auriel the seat and then sat down in between Rose and Lee while Ash plonked himself in the chair to Rose’s left.

  “I feel such a freak,” she said, her voice low.

  “Just think of it this way,” Ash said, with a grin. “No one is ever going to have to ask who you are.”

  “Well, there is that I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “On the other hand, I’ll never have any privacy and I will never be able to get away with anything.”

  The music stopped abruptly as Dux cleared his throat. This also appeared to act as a signal for the novices to quieten.

  “Novices of the Afterlands,” Dux’s voice, although soft, filled the room. “I bid you welcome to this; the twenty thousandth Ascension Feast. As most of you will know, this was always to be a special celebration. However, as most of you will also now be aware, today holds an even greater significance.”

  All eyes followed his gaze to fall on Rose, who squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

  “For over a thousand years, there have been no Whyte ascendants on this day, but today, we have been blessed by the ascendance of Rose the Whyte.” Dux’s eyes met hers reassuringly. “I am sure that the magnitude of this occurrence is not lost, on the majority of you. For this reason, I would like to reassure you that if Rose’s ascension does signal the fulfilment of Lord Eldwyn’s Prophecy and we still do not know for sure that it does. Then we are more than prepared to deal with the consequences.  So please, make Rose and her extraordinary Whyte cell, as welcome as you have always made each other and.... enjoy your feast.”

  Dux opened his arms wide and brought his hands together with a loud clap. The music and chatter immediately restarted and a procession of native Gold servants carrying trays full of food, hurried into the refectory.

  Auriel looked up as a young girl placed a steaming bowl of green, sweet smelling soup before her.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling politely.

  “You’re welcome, my Lady,” said the young Gold, who did not take her eyes off Rose for a second as she completed serving the table.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this level of attention,” said Rose turning to Arjan.

  “It will get easier, they’ll get used to you,” said Arjan as he watched the young serving girl, who was still gazing hopelessly at Rose, walk straight into a marble pillar. Letting out a loud cry, she dropped her tray to the floor with a terrific clatter. “If not,” he said with a grin “there are going to be an awful lot of squashed noses.”

  “What are these rings for?” asked Ash, holding his magnificent bear claw ring out towards Arjan. “I am kind of hoping it does what Lord Dux’s did and we’ll get to do all sorts of magical stuff.”

  Arjan laughed. “Yeah, sort of, it depends on your potentia.  Lord Dux is a senior Mage, a Wizard. So he can use powerful magic. You will be able to do some magic, but you’re a Metamorph so your ring will channel your potens to morph.”

  “Now you mention it,” said Ash, “what exactly is a Metamorph?”

  “A Metamorph is an ascendant with the potentia to change their form into another’s, to understand the thoughts and languages of other creatures, to communicate with them. You are likely to be very gifted in it; Muds always make the b
est Metamorphs.”

  With a look of sudden revelation, he looked around the table at each of them.

  “Come to think of it,” he said excitedly “this Whyte cell of yours is going to be one doozy of a cell.”

  “Why would you think that?” said Lee raising his eyebrows sceptically. “I don’t see why we should be any better than the other cells.”

  “It didn’t strike me until just now,” said Arjan, “ but each of the casts is naturally strongest at one of the potentia. Muds always make the best Metamorphs. Golds the best Memorix. The Bloods are by far the best Alchemists and the Whytes, well all of the most powerful wizards have been Whytes; extraordinary magical power is in their blood. So, as a cell you are going to be one formidable group.”

  “So do we get to win trophies and stuff?” asked Ash eagerly.

  Arjan gave him a subdued smile. “No, I just meant that if Eldwyn the Whyte’s prophecy is to be believed then you could do with all the edge you can get.”

  Rose placed her hand gently on his arm. “Why is that Arjan? What does his prophecy say is actually going to happen?”

  Arjan sensed her concern and put his hand over hers reassuringly.

   “You heard Lord Dux Rose, it’s not absolutely clear…”

  “Arjan” she pressed him, “what does it predict?”

  Arjan did not answer, she shook his arm and he looked up into her beautiful, probing, violet eyes.  Flushing slightly, he