More mage-lights illuminated the room. Huge maps of the world hung on one of the walls. Models of ships and Dragons were all over the place. A fancy canopy bed was in the far corner of the room. No one was inside.
Kifka spied a door behind the bed. He strolled over to it and opened it. In front of him lay a magnificent garden. Grapevines wound around the door. A tiled path led to somewhere in the garden. Kifka followed along it. He passed narcissuses, daisies, lilies, and snowdrops. He smiled at the snowdrops, but did not stop. He did stop, however, when he came across a rose bush. Kifka kneeled.
"You are so beautiful," he told the frail white flowers. "You are just like Sennymay." He sighed. Kifka extended his hand to touch the flower, but was pricked by a thorn. "You are just like Senny!" he exclaimed, placing the hurt finger in his mouth. "But," he suddenly grinned, "I know how to handle you!" He picked up the flower, skillfully avoiding the thorns, and brought it to his nose. Kifka inhaled. Wonderful sweet aroma filled his lungs. He exhaled with a pleasant smile. "You I shall keep," he told the rose. It flared up in black flames and was gone. Kifka had it now stored in his magic. There it would maintain its beauty forever.
The tiles continued on after the small rose garden. Kifka walked on. He passed a tiny pond sparkling happily in the afternoon sun. Then, oak trees surrounded him. A small cabin appeared in front of him. The Wizard walked towards it.
"It is I, Kifka. You in there?" he belted out.
"Shhh!" whispered a hush, pure voice. "You'll scare away the magnificent blue jays that come into my garden," it said.
"Sorry," Kifka lowered his voice. "Show yourself. I haven't seen you for three years!"
The bushes stirred. Golden hair rose above them. A young, blue-eyed man came out. He stood almost as tall as Kifka, with curly gold hair down to his shoulders. His figure was almost as perfect as Kifka's; he had wide shoulders, muscular arms, soft skin, and the most enchanting, clear blue eyes. Kifka's jaw dropped.
"You grew so much!" he exclaimed. "Last time I saw you, you were a little kid! Now you're a man, Darad!"
Darad grinned back. This was the Prince of Etrion, the Pure One, and the Heir to the Throne.
Darad and Kifka embraced and exchanged a few hardy pats on the back. The Prince showed Kifka into the cabin. An auburn squirrel ran by them and out into the garden.
"You're really in touch with nature," Kifka noted.
"You could say that," Darad answered unnecessarily. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Kifka to sit down. The Lord did. "So, how was Pherandil's school? You're back rather early," the Prince asked. "Weren't you supposed to stay for two more years?"
"I was…" Kifka nodded. "But then I met someone on one of my trips to gather herbs." He paused. "I met this beautiful Rogue--"
"Rogue?!" Darad interrupted. "Does Father know about this? This could undermine your whole inheritance!" He paused, looking at Kifka. "This is so unproper!"
"When have you ever known me to be proper?!" Kifka exclaimed, almost jumping out of his seat. "Look at yourself, brother," he continued in a slightly calmer voice. "You're the Heir. You're the Pure One. The 'New Hope'. You're the 'Rebirth'. I am your opposite," he finished. Then, after taking a deep sigh, he added: "I am the Death, the Bad Luck, whatever you name me. I've the Darke Power." He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. Then a grin crossed over his face. "Is it not true that Darke Power is truly more destructive than your Water spells?"
Darad pursed his lips in concentration. "Not true. I have White spells as well. I can cause damage and restore things."
"But if there is nothing to restore…" Kifka said. He let the lewd innuendo float for a while between them. Darad began to feel uneasy about this, so he changed the subject, yet not completely.
He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out an old archaic map. He unfolded it and laid it across the desk.
"What is this?" Kifka asked.
"This, Older Brother, is the map of the Ocean Palace!" Darad exclaimed. His eyes glowed with excitement. Kifka stared blankly at him. "This is where the Crystal of Water, Andromeda, is!" Darad elucidated with joy. "It holds the power of Water! With it, my power could finally reach its true potential!"
"I see…" Kifka nodded. I do not suppose there is such a thing as a crystal of Darkness, where my power could reach its true potential, Kifka thought to himself.
Darad leaned close to Kifka, staring right into his crimson eyes. "What I'm really wondering is who you used that Tetra Gamma spell on!"
"Tetra Gamma?" Kifka asked. His spell vocabulary was beginning to get rusty.
"Tetra Gamma - Origin: 120 A.E*. Used by primarily by Ogres to imprison young maidens to later marry the caster," Darad explained.
"Imprison?!" Kifka exclaimed, half-shocked. "I have never thought of it that way…" He sank down into the chair. Was Senny really imprisoned by this spell? Was she so miserable?
"Well, that's what it was used for," Darad sighed. "Used by Ogres before our Royal Line adopted the spell." They stared at each other for a while, Darad's face still three inches away from Kifka's. "So, whom did you cast it on?"
"Sennymay Belldandy…" Kifka sighed.
Darad staggered back somewhat. "The Sennymay Belldandy?" he exclaimed. "The Rogue that seems to have emptied the pockets of every Noble in Traders' Landing?"
"The same," Kifka answered with a somewhat proud smile.
"You've always had a talent for taming wild women," Darad commented.
"Yah…" Kifka answered, not letting the true irony of the situation show. It was in fact vise versa. Sennymay had tamed him, if anyone was to be tamed at all.
"She is rather pretty," Darad said after a pause. Kifka looked up. "Yet I still do prefer Dark Elves."
"Even if you didn't, she still belongs to me with that kind of spell!" Kifka snorted. They both laughed. It was a strange, tense laugh.
"Well, on to what I was going to tell you," Darad said. He pointed at the back wall. Kifka noticed a gargantuan map of the world hanging somewhat crookedly by several nails. Darad tapped the map, landing his slender finger on Isle of Woe. A small white diamond seemed to be levitated above an old Temple. "This here is the Temple of Light. The Crystal of Light is located in the heart of the temple, guarded by a golem. Only the Purest One may touch it…" Darad paused, as if waiting for a comment from Kifka. The Lord noticed the pause.
"You are pure, I suppose you may be able to hold it," he said.
Darad nodded. "This Crystal. I am going to obtain it and---"
Kifka coughed, interrupting the Prince. "That may be a tad tricky, Darad," he voiced lightly. "The thing is… Sennymay already has it."
Time froze. "Senny already has it." Darad could no move. "Senny already has it." This is it! I have found the One! I have found the Goddess of Light! The Pure! The Chosen! Final Haven herself!!!
Darad did not say anything to Kifka. He just turned away from the map and stared out the window. His eyes watered. He whirled around, turning his back to Kifka.
Kifka did not understand what had caused the look of horror and purest revelation on Darad's face. But as he saw little droplets of water plinking down onto the ground, he knew that the shock of this 'vision' had been too much for Darad to handle.
"Darad…" he said lightly. "I've come across a nest of young thrak on my way here. And I have brought one of them for you." Darad turned around, his eyes covered by thick curls of silky, gold hair. Kifka closed his first. Darad shrank back as Kifka's hand burst into black flames, then faded again, his skin unharmed. The Lord opened his first, and there, on the palm of his hand, sat a small, snow-coloured thrak. Her ever-so-light-blue fur was like the purest silk, rivaling even Darad's beautiful hair. Her eyes reflected the waves of Nemain's Sea, with every blink a new memory.
Darad took the thrak gently from Kifka's hands. "You I shall name 'Amunet'."
As Darad admired his new pet, Kifka scanned the map behind the Prince. His eyes stopped on a picture of a volcano with a big, black crystal floating over it. 'This must be the Dark Crystal that I've been looking for!' he thought to himself. He said nothing of this to Darad.
The evening neared and the Dinner began. The Dining Rooms were decorated with fancy silverware and silken curtains. Tall candelabrums lit the rooms.
The King sat at the head of the table; the Queen on his left and Darad on his right. Kifka was seated on the other end of the table as the honoured guest of the hour. Artemis sat on his left, next to Prince Darad. To Kifka's dismay, Drekore was seated at the table also. And right next to Kifka, too! Kifka clenched his white napkin.
While the King was having a conversation with Drekore about his Amunet, Kifka leaned over to Drekore and whispered into his ear: "How come you get to sit at this table?"
"I could ask you the same," Drekore whispered back. "I am Darad's cousin and Personal Guard," he told Kifka.
"A Holy Knight?" Kifka whispered back quietly.
"Yes."
"And we're related?"
Drekore stared back at him for a moment. "No, Darad and I are," he explained quietly.
Kifka snorted. The sound bounced off the crystal glasses and chandeliers and echoed through the Dining Room. The King glanced over at the Lord.
"I'm sorry," Kifka told the King. "Please continue." Leaned back to Drekore, "You moron! Where have you been for the last seventeen years? I'm Darad's older brother!"
Drekore's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, Sir," he apologized, "I did not know that." They smiled at each other and shook hands. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but each or them secretly with that they could duke it our right here, right now. They were still shaking hands, each one of them pressing harder, trying to squeeze the other's hand until it turned blue.
Artemis didn't care much for the King and Prince Darad's conversation, although she had to admit that Darad's voice reminded her of a quiet spring in a warm meadow. Yet the conversation that they were having bore her to death. She leaned over to Kifka and Drekore. She glanced at their hands that were now turning a shade of bright purple.
"If I didn't know any better," she said, "I'd say you were trying to arm-wrestle each other using your hands." She rubbed her chin softly, "…hand wrestle perhaps?"
Drekore and Kifka briefly glanced at each other. Immediately they were sitting on opposite sides of the table, their elbows on the table, their hands embraced. Artemis placed her hand on top of theirs.
"Ready…" she counted. "Set… Go!"
The King stopped his dull conversation with Darad and diverted his attention to the mini-battle that was going on at the other side of the table.
The Guard seemed to be winning, audibly straining, his muscles showing under his crested sleeves. Yet Kifka was not straining. Then he did. Drekore's arm came toppling over to the side of the table. It hit the table, with Artemis jumping up and throwing her arms into the air with a chime-like squeal.
"Kifka won!" Artemis announced happily.
"Best two out of three!" Drekore exclaimed. And the battle raged on again. And yet Kifka won once more.
A sudden shriek pierced the tense silence of the room. Drekore and Kifka quickly let of each other and directed their gazes outside. Another shriek followed the previous, coming from what appeared to be the kitchen. The two men ran to the doors, followed by Artemis and Darad.
Two servants ran by them, heading for the gate. Kifka ran to the kitchen door and stopped. Drekore reached for the handle to open the door, but quickly drew his hand back.
"That thing is bloody-hot!" he exclaimed, placing his red fingers in his mouth.
"Allow me," Kifka said. He took hold on the knob and turned. The door opened.
Black smoke wafted out. Dancing flames were everywhere. A terrified servant flung herself at Kifka. He caught her and asked her what had happened.
"The Alchemist… he… he…" she stuttered.
"He what?" Kifka asked.
"He mixed the wrong ingredients! I don't know how… but suddenly there was smoke and fire everywhere, Lord! Some of us are still trapped in there!"
Upon this, The Lord, the Prince, and the Guard flung themselves into the fire.
That day the three had saved many lives.
*120 A.E. - Similar to 120 AD. Stands for "After Eetrio".
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Etrion, "Four Gems", and its characters are Copyright © Sennymay 1997-1999.
