Forest Magic Ch. 03

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Realisations.
3.6k words
4.38
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2

Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/26/2022
Created 07/10/2013
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jtoughkat
jtoughkat
145 Followers

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.

jtoughkat
jtoughkat
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AnonymousAnonymousover 5 years ago

Really enjoy the world building, and the tension between the two characters. Even without any explicit sexual overtones, it manages to be incredibly sensual.

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