The ancient wizard
prayed he would be enough; enough to give this one named Gifted the guidance
needed to contain and control such power.
For whether he could or
could not, that power was surely coming.
This Yaniff knew without
a doubt. The forewind had already spoken to him.
Rejar would be their
salvation.
Or their destruction.
The Matrix of Destiny
was weaving its story . . .
"It is true what he
says?" Lorgin nodded his head in his brother's direction.
Yaniff stared straight
into the dual-colored eyes of his youngest student as he spoke to Lorgin.
"It
is true."
"Hmmm." Lorgin
rubbed his chin. Yaniff just confirmed that he was either entering the fifth
mystical realm; or his own power was augmenting; or an entirely new power would
soon open to him.
"Any or all of
those things, Lorgin." The old wizard had read his mind.
Lorgin's eyes widened.
That
was a lot to consider. "When will this change occur?"
Yaniff shrugged.
"It will take its time. You will most likely be in the awakening process
for a while. It is the way of these things . . ." He glanced at the Familiar.
"For some."
Lorgin remembered that
Rejar's powers had not come about like that. When they had awakened, they had
come swiftly and with staggering force. But Rejar was different . . . Lorgin's
progress would in the historical Aviaran manner; his power would unveil and
ripen at an even measure.
There was something else
Yaniff needed to impart to the golden-haired knight. "This process grants
you a certain ability in and of itself."
Both
brothers seemed surprised.
"And what is
that?" Lorgin asked dryly, leery whenever Yaniff spoke of such things. He
had not forgotten his earlier suspicions that Yaniff had manipulated him into
bringing his-brother-of-the-line Traed back to Aviara. The old mage had set
Traed up to stand against his own father, Theardar. Mad though Theardar was, it
sat not well with Lorgin. Traed had suffered much from it. Then there was
Marilan . . . whose significance had been kept hidden from them all. His
father’s sister and Traed’s mother. Yet, in the end, his father was finally allowed
to claim his sister’s son to his own line and both Rejar and Lorgin had earned
a new brother.
Yaniff had admitted to
nothing, of course. He simply told Lorgin that Theardar had to be stopped. The
crafty wizard had been right about that. Lorgin had understood– and in time had
even come to forgive him.
But that did not mean he
liked or approved of such machinations. Even if he had much love for the
elderly mage.
Yaniff chuckled at him.
"I assure you Lorgin, it is nothing so clandestine. Your rise of power
will
augment the Transference you have
already shared
with Adeeann. This new ability will begin to flow to her
as well– once you allow it. Mayhap you will both benefit from it, eh?"
Rejar glanced at his
brother to see what he would say.
Lorgin thought it over
for a moment. "There might indeed be a benefit to that."
Yaniff rubbed his chin.
"If you think on it further, you might discover even deeper
benefits."
Lorgin's eyes widened. He
well understood Yaniff's implication. He wondered, however, what Adeeann's
reaction would be.
He smiled softly.
Rejar rolled his eyes
and laid back down, presumably to continue his snooze or his training;
apparently for him the line was rather muddied betwixt the two.
{She
will not be pleased with you, brother.}
The
Familiar warned.
"At first."
Lorgin decided.
"At first."
Yaniff concurred.
The flapping book
swooped over the rafters and finally landed.
Straight in Yaniff’s
soup pot.
Lorgin jumped up and slammed
the cover on it.
Like every day on
Aviara, life was beautiful.
But
today, for some reason, unseasonably
hot
.
Adeeann zira'al Lorgin,
nee Deana Jones of Earth, observed the lush beauty surrounding her and sighed.
Completely content.
She was an Earth woman
who lived in a giant tree in the Towering Forest of Aviara. It was nothing like
Boston
,
Massachusetts
.
Who’d a thunk?
She
smiled as she viewed her lovely home.
The main living quarters
were inside the trunk of a Towering Tree; yet she lived outside a good deal of
the time. The lush outdoor spaces were divided into several immense
levels of platformed gardens.
She
watched as delicate pastel flowers shimmied
in the light wind.
Crystal
chimes, hanging from
every branch, tinkled softly. Happy little creatures sat among the branches and
trilled sweet songs to the daylight.
Krozia
covered pathways led from
the main platform, intersecting above and below. A clear stream flowed from the
upper levels, forming streams and waterfalls throughout the wide-branched
levels.
Each
level had a pool beneath its waterfalls.
The water in all of them
was crystal clear.
One of the gardens
sported exotic fruits and vegetables, the tastes of which were extraordinary.
Sweet, crisp, crunchy variations– nothing like the
cardboard non-choices at her old local
Shop and Rob
.
And in the evenings, the
night-blooming flowers wafted their evocative scents through every room.
It was magick, of
course.
A perfectly beautiful
ecosystem that made no practical sense. But this was
not a systematic universe. This world and all the others here were based on
mysticism and magick. It made her life much more interesting.
Her daughter streaked
past her line of vision on
all fours.
How
do babies crawl so fast?
She briefly
wondered why no one ever
thought of crawling baby races. Like the wiener races. Or maybe a crawling baby
wiener rally . . .
Giggling as she sped by,
Melody wriggled a bit too close to the edge. Before Deana could get up, a small
branch with broad leaves swiftly swooped down and gently steered the child in a
different, safer direction.
She smiled softly. The
Tree watched over them all.
At first she had been
concerned, living with her baby at such heights. Lorgin’s father, Krue, still
railed at his son about the possible danger. Of course, Father Krue had an
ulterior motive: he wanted them to live with the rest of the family at the
Lodarres ancestral home. Then he could spoil
his
only
nearchild
whenever he wished. Deana soon
realized, however,
that her fears were unfounded.
This incredible,
sentient Tree– that had initially accepted her husband– extended its shelter to
his entire family as well.
The fan-like leaves
above her head shifted, allowing more of the cooling breeze to reach her. How
she had come to love this forest! This ancient Tree.
And it apparently loved
her as well, for it took excellent care of her. And her family. Always
protecting and comforting them. Wasn’t that the meaning of
home
? A
shelter that provided love and protection.
It almost treated them
as if they were its children.
And,
perhaps, in some sense, they were.
It was a peaceful,
carefree day. Which meant that trouble was soon to be afoot. If someone didn’t
start something soon, she would.
A little bit of mischief
was called for from time to time.
She sat up straighter.
Perhaps she needed to spice up the pot now?
Her gaze strayed over to
her husband on the next platform below. He was sitting by one of the pools,
attempting to carve a block of wood into a toy
xathu
for their little
girl. Why a baby would ever need an ugly, poison-slobbering monster as a toy
was beyond her. But then she had given up trying to figure out the male Aviaran
psyche long
ago. The men on this planet
were something
else
.
Lorgin suddenly muttered
a few choice Aviaran epithets.
Deana rolled her eyes.
Her husband was a fourth level Charl warrior, impossibly proficient at killing
with a light saber, but unable to wield it to shape a plaything out of a block
of wood to save his life. Lorgin obviously preferred slaying xathu to carving them.
His long golden hair
slid forward as he attempted another cut.
The blade slipped again,
lopping off a chunk of the beast’s ugly mug.
Deana
snickered as a few more curses carried to
her. The only thing that could possibly save her
husband at this juncture was his brother-of-the-line, Traed, a master of the
blade and an expert carver. The man had already created several beautiful toys
for Melody that she seemed to adore. It was very sweet of him, really; but she
would never tell the fearsome warrior
that
.
Another flow of
invectives colored the wind. And this batch was
quite
creative. Deana
almost blushed as she tried to picture one of the more descriptive curses. Yep,
the big galoot needed help fast.
Unfortunately, Lorgin’s
salvation was unlikely to happen since that taciturn brother was more surly
than usual due to his not being able to locate the Familiar Brygar who had been
taken by Oberion slavers. The green-eyed Aviaran warrior had made two trips in
search of him and both had ended up fruitless.
Like most Aviaran males,
Traed did not entertain failure as a possibility.
In all likelihood,
Lorgin’s new ‘middle brother’
had already
departed to start the search again.
Consequently, Deana was quite
surprised when she heard the platform lift and none other than Traed ta’al Krue
stepped off as if she conjured him up!
Happy to see him, she
ran to greet him. Even though they were high up in the boughs of a great
Towering Tree, Traed's aloof demeanor always indicated that he was allowing
himself to descend into the reality around him.
But he didn't fool
Deana.
She knew there was a
different man well hidden beneath the cool, indifferent exterior he chose to
present to the world. His was a quiet, serious nature.
Since
he had rejoined Krue's family, having been
acknowledged by Krue– a kind of bloodline
adoption, as she understood it– there had been a tiny, yet subtle shift in him.
One could say he was
almost pleasant at
times to be around.
She scratched the tip of
her nose. Was it growing?
Well
. . . at least he didn't freeze everyone to stone
with the icy glare of
his green eyes as he had when they had first met up with him in Zarrain long
before Melody was born. Since then she had learned that
Traed actually had a very subtle sense of humor that she rather liked.
Like most Aviaran males,
he was courageous to a fault.
And like most Aviaran
males, stubborn to a fault.
Deana recognized, however,
that he was very different from Krue’s other two sons. This brother was a rebel
amongst knights.
But he was true and
valiant.
Deana utterly adored
him.
She observed him as he
glanced around taking in every detail of the picturesque surroundings. Tall and
starkly handsome, his dark hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail that
nearly reached his waist. His clear green eyes–the exact color of peridot–
flashed at her approach. He nodded curtly at her.
Deana beamed at him.
“Traed! How nice to see you! I thought you would have left by now.”
His sculptured lips
firmed slightly at the reminder that Brygar was still out there somewhere, held
captive and enslaved by Oberion traders. That whole situation did not sit well
with him. “I leave in a few days’ time, Adeeann. I received a message from
Yaniff to meet him here.”
“Yaniff? He isn’t here,
but you are always welcome to visit. Come and see Lorgin.” She put her hand up
to her mouth and whispered sotto voce, “He needs your help desperately. But
never,
ever
say I said that.”
A line furrowed Traed’s
forehead as he gazed down at her. Probably deciding once and for all if she was
insane.
Then Lorgin’s language
du jour peppered the area.
Traed’s brow arched and
he glanced over to the platform below. It didn’t take him long to assess the
situation. His lips curved slightly. “Ah, I see. Perhaps it is best I join him
lest he present Melody with a spear. That would not be wise for a babe of her
years.” He actually said this seriously.
Deana snapped her
fingers, grinning. “Got it in one.”
He gave her one of his
famous ‘looks’ before he walked down the platform. Traed’s patented look
was open to interpretation. The same stoic expression served to deliver a
multiple of meanings
from ‘
I am mildly
amused
’ to ‘
I will kill you swiftly and
painfully
’. It
was up to the receiving end to figure it out.