looked away.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “It predicts that there will be war, in which the Djinn will return to conquer the Afterlands and that you Rose, you will be the one who stops them.”
"And how am I supposed to do that?" Rose asked incredulously.
"With the incantatio," said Arjan.
Seeing the blank looks on all their faces he elaborated. "It’s an extremely powerful spell, a charm contained within four separate parts, each piece hidden within an object. The objects are usually widely scattered.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rose, “ why separate pieces?”
“It makes it more secure,” said Arjan, “ the spell is broken up to ensure that the full charm is revealed only, to the wizard for whom it is destined, its procurator.”
"Well, no problem then Rose,” said Ash “It’ll be a piece of cake, with us all being super hot and all."
His irony drew a raised eyebrow from Arjan. Rose, however, looked distraught.
"So we have to find all of these objects hiding pieces of the spell, or the Djinn will destroy the Afterlands?"
"No Rose, that's not quite how it works. It’s my understanding from what I have learned from my readings in Cognito that the incantatio finds its way to you. Before you ask, I have no idea how it does that.”
"But I know absolutely nothing about magic,” said Rose, “ and until today, as far as I am aware, I didn’t even exist! How can I possibly be the one to do all this?"
Arjan shrugged. "Eldwyn the Whyte foretold that it would be you Rose, so if we assume that prophecy is correct then you must be the one.” Said Arjan smiling sympathetically, “don’t worry, you will learn quickly and remember, no one is absolutely sure that the prophecy is sound. After all, only your ascension, the very first part of the prophecy is fulfilled, the rest has not come to pass and might not for many years, if at all."
“Who are these Djinn anyway?” asked Auriel “Should we really be as scared as everyone seems to be?”
Arjan looked uneasy. He glanced nervously towards the Magisters table and lowered his voice.
“I don’t know much of the Djinn, only what I’ve learned in Cognito.” He said “The Djinn inhabit Erebus, a land of sulphur, brimstone and fyre that lies deep beneath Hydrargyrum. Some say that they are born from fyre and that when they take human form they have fyre in their blood. Immortals like us, the Djinn are the only beings powerful enough to close the vapour cycles of ascendants and effectively end our existence as independent beings.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rose, “ I thought from what Lord Dux said that it was near impossible to kill an ascendant.”
“Well, they don’t actually kill us,” said Arjan. “They draw the vapours from our bodies and bind us to theirs within a crucible of fyre, absorbing us into their own form, capturing our magical energy and our essence within themselves. Our vapours become trapped within their bodies and we can no longer descend. They call it assimilation. Ten thousand years ago a Djinn called Phlegon led his army of Afreet on a mission to assimilate all of the Afterland ascendants. If it were not for Tollen the Whyte, who cast a binding on the entrance to Erebus to seal it for all time, then none of us would be here to discuss this now. Unfortunately, Tollen paid a terrible price for his valour and was assimilated as, in order to permanently seal the gate, he had to be on the other side of it.”
“So why,” said Lee frowning, “ if the Djinn have been imprisoned behind Tollen’s gate for thousands of years, are they still considered a threat?”
“You’re right,” said Arjan, “it does seem unlikely that they could escape after all of these years unless they had some very talented and influential assistance. Unfortunately though there is a secret sect called the Ophites. They are mainly Bloods and the vast majority of them are natives. However, the centurion guards have, from time to time, uncovered members from other casts as well as ascendant members, most notably of course, Lord Ka. Ophites believe that the Djinn are all powerful Gods and that they can ally with them to take control of the Afterlands. Legend has it that Lord Ka had brewed a potent charm that could subdue the Djinn and force them to do his bidding.”
“All powerful Gods!” scoffed Ash. “Yeah, they’re so all-powerful that they have been stuck behind a rock for thousands of years. Oh, I don’t know how I am going to sleep tonight... On the other hand” he said, chomping on another mouthful of food. “If they have been imprisoned for ten thousand years and they do get out, they’re going to be really, really, pissed!”
He shovelled in another forkful of the brightly coloured food, savouring it. His eyes closed. “Mmmm... Have you tasted this pink stuff it is absolutely the best thing that I can ever remember eating. What is it?”
Arjan scooped up some of the wild rice and pink sauce off his platter, he pointed to it as it rested, steaming at the end of his fork.
“This,” he said, with some pride, “ is Guillywally Fyre-pot a traditional dish of the ascension feast. It has been enchanted so that it will taste different to everyone. It always tastes like the best thing you ever ate, because the charm ensures that it is a perfect match for whatever it is that you’re hungry for. All of the ascension feast dishes originate in one of the Afterlands. The fyre-pot is from Hydrargyrum. The cassava leaf soup is a native soup from the forests of Ferrum and this,” he nodded at the two scoops of silver white ice that had just been placed in his bowl. “This is Rhodium’s famous ginger and snow rose sorbet, and very shortly we will be toasting your arrival with Aurum’s honey flower mead.”
“I really, love this place,” said Ash, grinning broadly as he savoured his first mouthful of sorbet.
The general hubbub of the refectory seemed to quieten a little as the older novices began to look towards Lord Dux, in anticipation of the customary introductions and toast. Dux stood and the remainder of the room stilled.
“Novices, new, and old, please join with me in thanking the Refectorians for the outstanding feast that they have provided for us today.”
At once the novices began to stamp their feet, applaud and cheer loudly until Lord Dux put up a hand, and quietened them once more.
“It is time to introduce all of you new ascendants, to the people who will be shaping your futures over the next three years. Tomorrow you will begin your tutelage with the Magisters that you see before you.”
He turned and motioned to the three males and one female at his side. Each of them, like Dux, was shaven-headed, robed in gold, and wore a white and gold magisterial skull cap.
“Our classes will be somewhat larger this year,” he said, his eyes creasing with a smile as he looked pointedly at Rose’s table. “However, the majority of arrangements will remain the same. All novices will receive daily tuition, within their year groups, in all four potentia.” Dux motioned to the tall, stern looking man to his left “Lord De Lille, whom many of you know, is our Alchemy magister.”
De Lille’s acknowledgement was a mere blink of his eyes together with an almost unperceivable nod of the head. He was a stern looking man who wore a long golden moustache and pointed beard which bravely battled for dominance of his features with a pair of extremely substantial and very bushy eyebrows. Dux gestured to the young magister sitting at De Lille’s side.
“I would like to introduce you all to our new Morphology Magister, Lord Irwin.”
Lord Irwin stood. He was a well built, muscular and handsome young Gold, even with the small scar that rested above his left eye and dissected his eyebrow. A slight blush warmed his face as he smiled self-consciously and waved briefly at the novices.
Dux, turning to his right, offered a hand to the willowy and exquisitely beautiful woman sitting at his side. Taking his hand, with a regal smile and tilt of the head, she gracefully rose to her feet. She was almost as tall as Dux.
“May I introduce you to Lady Tesla,” said Dux,“ who I am delighted to say, has agreed to remain as our Cognito Magister for another year. I am rather hopefu
l that I will be able to persuade her to do so again next year?”
She nodded her head, taking her seat after a second, with a smile and a delicately raised eyebrow that implied that ‘maybe,’ she could indeed, be persuaded.
“Finally,” said Dux. “I am very proud, to introduce you new novices, to one of our longest serving Magisters. He is also, undoubtedly, the most talented Magica Magister that we have ever had at the Oratory; Lord Theordore Goldin.”
Lord Goldin was an elderly man, tall and thin framed. His deeply lined face exhibited a serene and kindly expression as he slowly placed his two palms together at his lips and bent his head forward in greeting.
Dux lifted the goblet of honey flower mead from his table and held it aloft for the traditional Ascension feast toast. The senior novices immediately mirrored him, raising their cups and standing. The new ascendants quickly followed their lead and the refectory rang with the combined cheery voices of novices, natives, and Magisters as they sang out the words of the Ascension toast.
“Here’s to the gold that warms our lands, and here’s to the mud that binds them. Here’s to the blood that joins our kin.... and here’s to the Whyte that minds them!
Here’s to Aurum’s fields of gold, and here’s to Ferrum’s farmers, here’s to Hydrargyrum’s mines untold.... and here’s to Rhodium’s charmers.... the
Ascension of the Whyte Page 7
