Phoenix Gift

Chapter Seven

A crocus bloom hovered in view as the water’s surface rippled. Distorted, it remained as if suspended. Slowly, the vision failed, revealing the bottom of the gilded bowl. Absalom sat back, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, staring at the shelves on the opposite wall.

From its perch, the owl screeched, using its golden eyes to track the black rat. Lazily, the wizard tried to locate the rodent in the shadows but gave it up for an owl’s hobby. His mind returned to pondering what he had seen in the scrying bowl.

Heavy, violet robes wrapped around his withered frame. His hat lay on the bed like a discarded husk, leaving the top of his head exposed to the cool, damp room. Though his beard and hair were long and tangled, the top of his head was bald and spotted with age. A pair of spectacles precariously balanced on his long nose, aiding degenerating sight under bushy eyebrows. It seemed everything reminded him of his lost strength. Yet, his mind was as sharp as ever.

On the table, several celestial maps lay unfurled, weighted by astrolabes, compasses and nocturlabes. Absalom drummed the table with cold, gnarled fingers. The items on the table vibrated with his restlessness.

Five years ago, he watched Nuwa’s three suns align. It was the first Chakra in a thousand years, only the second of his long life. He was not surprised to learn her Royal Highness was born on that day. Nor was he surprised to learn that it was a difficult birth. What surprised him was that the Queen lived. Princess Alexis was not the first to be born during Chakra, but the Queen was the first mother to survive.

“And now she has passed,” Absalom sighed. His familiars stirred, though it was unclear whether he spoke to them or himself. “What is the meaning of that? And what of my recent visions?”

The wizard leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he pictured the images he had seen in the shimmering water. A raven flew in front of a full moon. Then a crystal sphere clutched in silver talons appeared, followed by pink flames consuming the world. The Phoenix emerged, fanning the flames with molten wings. As the flames swept over the land and sea, six unicorns circled the young Princess in a swirl of energy that rippled the water’s surface. As the other visions blurred, a crocus bloom materialized.

Why the crocus? What is the meaning? The wizard silently wondered.

The wizard rubbed his eyes as if to clear clutter from his mind. A book lifted from the shelves, floated to the table and opened. Absalom’s tired gaze skimmed the long entry concerning crocus, its uses and meanings. Crocus signified cheerfulness, mirth and youthful gladness. Included in marriage ceremonies, it was often scattered on the wedding bed in the West. It was the source of saffron, coveted in the South for perfumes and dyes. An herb, it was used in baking and healing arts.

But does any of that explain its presence in the vision? Absalom scratched his balding head. Does the Phoenix mean to raise my spirits in the face of such difficult times? Is marriage the answer?

Absalom waved away the book as he considered the possibilities. The Princess was too young for such a ceremony, but the King was another matter, though it seemed unlikely he would marry so soon after the Queen’s death or at all. It was a long-held covenant of Milagros that royalty should only marry for love.

Absalom sighed again. The Princess would grow into a woman and be of marrying age eventually. Yet, such events were undoubtedly far into the future and the wizard struggled to connect them to recent troubles. No answers came to solve his riddle.

Please, show me, great Phoenix.

He leaned forward to stare into the water, expecting more images to appear. The water remained still and all he saw was the bottom of the bowl. Absalom slumped in his chair. It seemed the Phoenix did not intend to give him more answers.

“Clues, only clues, no answers,” he rubbed his chilled hands together, remembering the surge of energy that had passed through him when the Princess touched his hand.

It was a familiar and pervasive energy. It healed and destroyed with the same inevitability, and it was a part of her Royal Highness. She would have to be educated, that was certain. When the hour struck, she alone would be able to act.

But she is still so young. Will she be strong enough? If she isn’t, will all of us fall?

Chirping sounds interrupted his thoughts. The wizard glanced up as the bat stirred. Dropping from the chandelier, it spread its wings and fluttered around the room. Chatters and clicks echoed through the small space as it circled until it located a grated vent. It slipped through and disappeared. Absalom watched the dark grate for several moments before recognizing the gentle rush of cool air coming through it. He sniffed, catching the familiar scents of night.

Without a word, he stood and grabbed his staff. Neither the wolf nor the cat stirred as he hobbled to the door and left the room. The wizard paused in the entryway to look at the amber Phoenix perched on top of the fountain. Ruby eyes stared back, and he felt they were not as blind as one supposed. There seemed to be a glint of intellect in the multifaceted stones.

His skin prickled. He was not alone. Absalom silently scanned the room, looking for the presence he sensed. Nothing identified itself as the source, but the feeling did not leave him. His senses, once strong in connection to the Unknown Divine, still strained beyond his mortal ones and would not leave him at ease.

“Greetings, unknown one. Are you friend or enemy?” the wizard tried to straighten his crooked stance. Perhaps he could intimidate the presence.

Nothing answered.

“You will not show yourself to me nor will you answer me. I wonder who you will answer,” Absalom continued as he made a slow, searching circuit of the room. “Will you answer the King? Or the Princess?”

His voice echoed up to the dome and still received no answer.

“Perhaps, you answered to the Queen. Has her death attracted you here? What is your purpose? Whoever you may be, I sense no evil in you, but I wish to make certain you are not planning mischief. The people here are good, and they are living through a trying time. They have no need, nor do they deserve, trouble making.”

No acknowledgment came to him.

“It may be we wish the same thing, to bring balance to our world. The young Highness has a precious and rare gift. I feel it, and you must certainly know about it. Is it not true we may benefit most by working together? I will not tolerate interference in the Princess’s destiny. You will not be allowed to halt it. Her Fate is the Fate of us all. Will you not come out and speak with me?”

The wizard waited, but no answer came, and, for a moment, he thought his senses fooled him. Yet, his hair stood on end and his skin tingled. The presence remained unchanged and unmoved by his pleas.

“I thought not. Well, so it is known, I tried,” he hobbled toward the doors.

The night air chilled his body inside and out as he breathed in the gentle breeze outside the castle’s doors. Though heavy, the hem of his long robe fluttered in the wind, letting a draft encircle his bare feet. Goosebumps traveled up his body, but the presence he had felt in the entry hall did not follow. He was not surprised. Rocks pressed his leathery soles. Despite this, Absalom continued his march across the courtyard to the meadow beyond the castle gates.

There, the grass soothed worn feet as he stood, gazing across the expanse. The moonlit grass shifted like waves in the sway of a nightly breeze. Fireflies moved among the vegetation like light on water. Above, Moon Doves swooped with flashes of moonlight and sometimes one of the firefly lights went out. Though unseen, he knew the bat also hunted. It was an enchanting view, missing only the appearance of a unicorn to complete the ethereal landscape.

He had hoped for one. Unicorns were, perhaps, the most magical of creatures, connected to the world and the Divine in unimagined ways. If any creature was privy to the Phoenix and the Divine’s plans, certainly it would be a unicorn. If asked politely, one might even see fit to share its knowledge with him. At the very least, it could guide him to the correct path.

The wizard gazed toward the shadowed forest waiting across the sea of grass. There was no sign of the beasts sheltering there, magical or not. Silently, he wondered if he would find what he sought. Though dark, nothing in the forest would harm him or the innocent traveler.

The forest would certainly remember him, but that did not mean it would assist. For a moment, he considered returning to his study but thought better of it. Although time laid waste to his body, it had not touched his mind or heart. There, he still felt the spirit of adventure, confronting the unknown and uncertain future. With a sigh, he crossed the meadow and entered the forest.

Forest debris made for soft and silent passage. He did not know if the path ahead led to a unicorn or a troll. He hoped for a cave where he might find his answers. The six unicorns from his vision were tantalizing clues, and he knew where to find them if the island would clear him a path.

Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, offering rare glints of light upon his path. Dark shadows hedged his way, and a smile teased his lips. A thought occurred to him, was there any better illustration of my current state of mind than blindly groping through the forest?

He wandered the night trail, but it led to neither unicorn, troll nor cave. Instead, his path returned him to the castle, slightly out of breath and nursing a sore back. He leaned on his staff for several moments before conceding defeat. Resigned to the fact he would not find his goal that night, Absalom hobbled back to the castle, across the lonely courtyard and through the doors.

In the entryway, he paused to look at the fountain. He felt the presence again, unmoved. It watched him with something of a detached air, as if unsurprised by the results of his fruitless search. Anger pricked his mind for an instant but thought better of trying to incite it again. Its power was unknown and aggravating it could lead to troubling consequences. It would not answer him; of that he was certain.

Remaining silent, he turned away from the fountain. The wizard limped back to his chambers and returned to his vigilance in front of the scrying bowl. Answers came to those who were ready, and he waited for the six unicorns to answer the riddle before him. Sometime during his vigil, it occurred to him that six unicorns might be six chairs.

* * *

Perched on the fountain, just below the amber Phoenix, the watcher quietly twitched his spotted tail. He had no love or patience for wizards. It was true that the wizard could learn a great deal from him, but there was little the wizard could teach in return. Wizards were more childlike than any other mortal, so much the worse as they thought they understood the magic of Nuwa or the ways of the Phoenix. The Phoenix guarded its purpose. He knew better than to seek what couldn’t be found. Mortals, it seemed, did not know better.

The watcher had a task and to his task he would keep until further instruction. To what purpose the Phoenix intended for his path was uncertain, but there was no need for questions. Answers came at the Phoenix's choosing, never before and never more than was necessary.