~o0o~
In the gentle times before the war, C.K. was born into his family’s Magic farm, an inheritance he detested. Everything about Magic was an affront to his sensibilities. He thought that inhaling the raw gas from the plant’s fruit and Speaking an object into existence, or directing the forces of nature to act with a Word, to be both lazy and dimwitted. Instead, he held electrified Essence in the highest esteem. The Master Engineers who matched wits with the liquid power were, to him, hero geniuses as they designed ever more clever ways to force nature's power under human dominance.
Unfortunately, raw Magic and liquid Essence reacted explosively with each other. C.K. was forbidden on pain of severe punishment ever to bring a drop anywhere near the farm. In the rare moments he got ahead of his chores, C.K. Called technical manuscripts to his room and memorized schematics, impedance tables, transistors, diodes, and rise-time charts. Theories, however, were no substitute for hands-on, a dream seemingly forever out of reach.
C.K. daily walked endless rows of the only crop, where he applied twist clips to each stalk an inch below the cantaloupe size fruit to halt the maturation process in preparation for harvest. Each Magic fruit grew from a single stalk and budded a small air bladder as it grew. When immature, the fruit was the size of a grape, colored white with the barest tinge of pink.
The fresh Magic gas within remained weak at that point, barely strong enough to Call a simple glass of water or levitate an object a few yards. It was mainly useful for small tasks that were slightly less effort with Magic than without. Also, objects or effects Called with weak Magic faded after only a few minutes. The size of the fruit and the power of the Calling matured over time. The gas was harvested during growth phases of shades of pink, red, maroon, and burgundy that eventually grew to the size of basketballs. These older plants contained serious power and took decades to mature, only used for major works under the direct supervision of Wizards.
The Queen had given rare permission for one fruit to reach full maturity, honoring C.K.'s family farm with a process that began decades before his birth. Possibly missing that ripening would be C.K.'s only regret as he planned to leave the farm as soon as possible. He would be a legal adult at age twenty, which to a ten–year-old was a literal lifetime away. The deep black six-foot wide fruit could ripen any day or 50 years later. He, of course, was not allowed unaccompanied anywhere near the Black.
C.K. stood somewhere in the middle of miles of orderly rows,. finished with the day’s chores, looked around and sighed. He grasped a lemon-size Pink from his satchel, emptied his lungs, and released the twist grip enough to allow a small wisp into his lungs. He closed his eyes, pictured his bedroom in as much detail as possible, and firmly said, "Home!”
The air sparkled as he faded into transparency and vanished. The process reversed inside the smallest bedroom of the modest family home, a process as ordinary for him as brushing his teeth.
His parents could have afforded to Call a house of any style and made of any material imaginable, but exotics faded over time and needed frequent upkeep, so they built for ensuing generations from native stone. Of course, they used magic for the construction. It was a point of pride that they were staunch traditionalist, not were not impoverished mundanites.
~o0o~
C.K. enjoyed a rare late morning in honor of his fourteenth birthday. The family gathered to join him for his morning meal, but a sudden Appearance at the foot of the table interrupted them. They all recognized the local mayor, a frequent guest, but his usual self-important demeanor transformed into obvious obsequiousness as he announced, "The Grand Wizard Waerlogus!"
Even the most powerful wizard needs prior knowledge or line of sight to Appear, so Waerlogus had required a guide. The mayor risked a quick glance to discern whether anything further was required of him and took the complete lack of acknowledgment as permission to leave, which he did forthwith.
The Wizard Waerlogus exuded confidence. He was of average height with an unassuming build. His thick, wavy, brilliant red hair fell past his shoulders and blended seamlessly with an immense full beard as wide as his body and ended with a point just below his belt line. The beard was the same intense red as his hair but shot through with veins of metallic bright copper.
Set against a full-length kelly-green felt robe, his presence seemed as a three-dimensional model posted onto a dull, flat background. His cookie-brush mustache hid his face except for an overly large nose and deep-set no-nonsense, sapphire-green eyes. His left hand held a five-foot tall staff made from the living stem of a Magic plant, topped with a baseball size golden fruit. C.K. sat mesmerized by that fruit most of all, never having heard even a rumor of such a wonder.
Waerlogus spoke with a smooth, pleasant tenor, a restrained strength at rest.
"You, boy, take me to the Black fruit."
C.K.'s father had enough. Who was this stranger, Wizard or not, to burst in uninvited and begin issuing orders?
"This is my farm, and I am Master here!"
He was admittedly provincial and did not know the name of every Wizard in the five realms. He did, however, own the largest Magic farm in the land, which came with a certain amount of pride and authority of its own. He completely felt within his rights, and duty bound to take charge due to the stranger’s professed interest in the Black. He reached into his satchel and started to pull out a decanter of Red, but upgraded to a Burgundy and inhaled the powerful Magic.
"Immobilize!” he bellowed.
The air shimmered as the leading front of the Command, enhanced by the strength of the Burgundy and the emotional imperative behind it. As the wave of power reached Waerlogus, the Golden Globe at the top of his staff glowed briefly. The Command crashed against that shimmer, evaporated and left curled edges of Burgundy smoke that dissipated harmlessly into the air.
The entire incident seemed beneath the notice of the wizard.
"Since you are the master here, you may await in the pavilion until the rulers of the Three Realms arrive at noon. Escort them to the Black when all parties have arrived.
"What pavilion?” C.K.'s mother thought, gasping when she glanced out the kitchen window at the ornate Royal Pavilion that had magically appeared in their front yard since she had last looked. Royal banners hung from thirty-foot pillars that surrounded a raised dais, which was shaded by opulent layers of iridescence peacock feathers that hung from above.
"And one more thing," Waerlogus stated in a warning dripping with menace despite the absence of overt overtones, "you are mistaken in your belief that this farm belongs to you. Neither this farm nor your wife, neither your children nor even your liberty. Each of these is the property and chattel of the Queen. She shall enter this realm before the day is done, and to entertain even a thought contrary to these facts is treason and could bring devastating consequences."
C.K. had always respected his father, a bigger than life figure and unquestioned patriarch of both his family and community. To see his lifelong hero so belittled and diminished, especially in the bastion of his own freehold, shriveled and hardened something inside him. Not only was respect for all authority lost, but anger and rage at his own loss of innocence began a rot of his soul that one day would devour the Three Realms.
Waerlogus placed a hand on C.K.'s shoulder and said, "To the Black!”
~o0o~
The seven-foot across Black fruit lay on the ground at the end of a bent stalk. Waerlogus bent down on one knee and placed an ear against the top end of the fruit. He appeared to engage in a whispered conversation. C.K., given no further instructions for the time remaining until noon, wasn't about to miss out on whatever was about to happen. A Black had not been brought to maturity in many generations, and C.K. was not quite sure what, exactly, that entailed. He quietly backed away to the edge of the small clearing where the rows of Browns began and sat cross-legged in the receding shade.
At high noon, Waerlogus stood up. Five brightly costumed young men Appeared along with C.K.'s father, ea
ch lightly resting a finger on his outstretched forearm. They looked around and Left, Returning one-by-one in order of precedence with their corresponding sovereigns.
The first attendant announced, "The Duke of Air!"
Each Wizard was unique in their Power and personality. The only way to distinguish them from an eccentric human, besides their attitude of assurance and unthinking superiority, was their ability to invoke magic without the need of the gas. The Duke of Air was tall and willowy, nearly seven feet but so slight he seemed to sway with the breeze.
The next attendant appeared with a resounding, "The Duke of Earth! “ The short, squat Wizard was almost a caricature opposite of the Duke of Air. He could comfortably stand beneath a 5-foot high branch, and was nearly thick as he was wide. His hairless head merged with a prominent brow that abruptly transformed into a massive proboscis (for 'nose' was much too modest a word to describe such a commanding appendix). His stance conveyed a stolidness that might outlast the distant marble cliffs.
The Duchess of Water presented as a young girl, perhaps just past puberty. Volumes of silky black locks cascaded nearly to her ankles and undulated in waves even when no breeze moved them. Flashes of athletic arms and legs appeared when sections of hair parted, never quite revealing whether a bodice lie beneath.
The Duchess of Will was somewhat matronly, at the peak of middle age, handsome rather than pretty. Her short-cropped hair was a shining gray, of a color that imparted wisdom and nobility rather than age or weakness. Her substantial bare arms crossed over a laced suede vest, in turn draped over well-used leather riding breaches. She studied each person in the gathering in turn, and even the other Wizards dropped their gaze before her.
The final Wizard to appear was the Duke of Fire, a figure so wizened and aged he seemed nearly translucent as he sat upon a throne made of contained flames. By tradition, such an ostentatious display while attending the Queen was prohibited but was overlooked in light of his infirmity and impending retirement. He had two attendants, both of whom knelt to support his forearms as he struggled to stand. All eyes turned towards him in respectful silence as he spoke in a tenuous whisper.
"My time here is over. This body has served me well, yet like all on this side, is subject to the effects of time. I would say I'll look forward to meeting you, my friends, on the other side, but there is no such thing as time there. We haven't really left, so if ever we have met, we can never un-meet. Fare you well."
With a final sigh, his body wavered and dissipated, the silence followed by a flaring of his throne, which also faded into nothingness. Throughout the proceedings, C.K. sat still, overwhelmed with wonder and beyond thought. His family taught him to use Magic as soon as he could talk. But to him, who knew no other life, it was just a mundane tool for common everyday use. What he now saw, though, was beyond exotic, and the surreality had barely begun.
After observing a respectful moment of silence in honor of the former Duke, Waerlogus extended his staff and placed his Gold finial on the jet-black fruit, and issued a Command, "Come!"
The staff began to glow, a process that spread to the fruit and bathed them all in a brilliant golden nimbus. Waerlogus took a step back as the glow began to pulsate. Several lumps formed beneath the skin of the fruit and pushed outward in simpatico timing with the light. After twenty beats, the rhythm slowed and the brightness dimmed while the frequency faltered. Waerlogus pointed his staff towards each Wizard in turn and nodded his head in orchestration.
Each Wizard spoke in turn, beginning with the Duke of Earth, "By the power of Earth, Come!"
The ground beneath the fruit began roiling and tolling with a tympani of Basso reverberations, encircling the fruit without disturbing it.
"By the power of Air, come!"
A swirling wind formed above the fruit, gained speed and strength, and pulled local debris and clouds into a raging tornado. The base hovered only a foot above the fruit, yet everything remained calm outside its immediate sphere of influence.
"By the power of Water, Come!"
Storm clouds formed above the tornado, black and oppressive. They let loose a deluge of rain, which disappeared into the tornado. Standing in for the former Duke of Fire, Waerlogus stretched his free hand towards the fruit, palm up.
"By the power of Fire, Come!"
A tongue of flame appeared in his hand and leaped towards the fruit, where it burst into a conflagration of gold Fire and interwove with the tornado and the rain. Finally, Waerlogus nodded to the remaining wizard.
She hesitated a moment, closed her eyes in concentration, then simply said, "By the power of Will, Come!"
The noise, the lights and the motion all reached a crescendo. Then, with a massive whoosh, the tempest collapsed onto the fruit. The ensuing silence was aggressively deafening. A shadowy fissure, impossibly darker than the color-negative fruit, extruded a pale, feminine arm from inside. Waerlogus proffered an assisting hand, and the most stunning woman C.K. had ever imagined emerged and rose to her feet. She wore nudity with style and grace. Her near-ivory skin glowed with an internal source, set off by flame-red hair and violet eyes that formed the perfect combination of sensuality and approachability.
Waerlogus nodded to the manifest paragon of beauty and announced, "May I introduce, the newly appointed Duchess of Fire."
The Duchess extended a shapely arm in a sweep towards the still intact fruit.
"And may I present, her Majesty the Queen!"
The skin of the fruit widened around the fissure and deflated. In its place stood a statuesque goddess complete with a polar-bear-white helmet of hair and form-fitting platinum armor. Where the Duchess of Fire was stunning, the Queen was heartbreaking perfection. Any single feature could be found on many a beautiful woman, but the totality was beyond human. She was inarguably the most beautiful woman ever to grace the world. C.K., along with every person whose gaze fell upon her, fell instantly in love.
The Wizards and their attendants dropped to one knee in respect, except for Waerlogus, who dipped his chin and received a mirrored nod in return. Noticed by no one, but caught in the moment, C.K. fell on his face in full grovel.
The Queen curled her fingers and gestured for her subjects to rise, then issued her first proclamation.
"Sister dear, remember our talk of modesty?"
The Duchess of Fire, after a quizzical look, peered down and responded with a pure-toned giggle. She spoke a Word, and small flames danced around her body and formed a skin-tight jerkin and loincloth of cold fire. This only increased the perception of sensuality while technically covered any vulgar bits.
The Queen turned to Waerlogus, gently grasped the back of his head, and leaned in, touching foreheads in a gesture of intimacy, respect, and friendship.
"Thank you, old friend; you are as talented a midwife as you are an artist."
"Well, the Queen must keep up appearances with a proper entrance."
"So, you've been in and out of the Realm since the beginning, where do you suggest I start my chores? It always takes me a while to adjust to living in sequential time."
"Perhaps a royal residence? And your court, of course. The peers have readied a tribute of staff for your review. They are awaiting your pleasure on top of yonder bluffs, where I humbly suggest placing your reigning seat if it so pleases."
"You know your suggestions carry the weight of my command. Would you mind Bringing my attendants?"
"Unfortunately I have a time-sensitive event to oversee. I will, however, appoint an attendant for your sister before I leave. Given her recent elevation to Duchess, she can Bring Jesse and Peter through without me.
"So be it! All right everyone, let's go."
The Queen shimmered and disappeared. Her court followed, as always, in order of precedence. The Duchess of Fire stayed and looked towards Waerlogus as if lost. He smiled, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke in friendly tones.
"Since you have inherited the title, dear Duchess, you’ll require an attendant familiar with
this place and time. I think I know just the person. Come here, boy!"
At first, C.K. hoped they overlooked him, but two pairs of Wizards’ eyes drilled into him as his body answered the command of its own accord. He stood before them as if rooted and trembled slightly, but tried not to show his fear.
The Duchess asked, "What is your name, and how old are you? I find it so hard to tell with your people.”
He managed to reply with a minimum of stuttering, "I'm 14… I mean they call me C.K. I'm 14 years old, ma'am."
"How would you like to be my attendant vassal? Think carefully before answering. Sacred vows have a life of their own."
"I need to get permission from my father, and the mayor, and I don't know who all."
"Child, or I should say, young man, I may be the youngest of the peers, but in the Three Realms, there are few who exceed my authority. As my attendant, you shall answer only to me, and our Queen, of course. The choice is truly yours."
C.K. was stunned, but his practical side, trained in Essence engineering, calculated the unlimited opportunities available along this path. But then, he thought, would he be forsaking his first love by serving the high mysteries of Magic? A seed of his future willfulness germinated in the rich soil of possibilities and allowed him the fortitude to negotiate.
"I am of honored and humbled, and please excuse my ignorance, but would I need to drop my studies of Essence?"