So the five of them set out for the Rim, Yaniff alone knowing that three of the four lives accompanying him were about to be forever altered.
It was a bleak, desolate place.
Lifeless. White rocks and white sand.
It was night here. The glow of four moons illuminated the white sand, causing the ground to appear a sea of glittering snow. In a strange mood, Deana thought that Hollywood could not have provided a more perfect location for this final showdown. It was eerie as hell.
The group had been silent, desultory during the trip to the tunnels. Now they walked along purposefully, not wasting time on conversation, each wanting to get it over with at last.
They crested a rise and there below them was a semicircular formation of thirteen clear crystal columns. Like an ancient Druid ceremonial ground, it stood as a testimonial to some forgotten, long-gone race of beings. Silent and waiting. In the middle of the arc of columns stood three large white boulders, almost sacrificial in nature.
Standing beside the three boulders was Theardar.
He wore the long dark robes of a high-level mystic. Ribbons of his salt-and-pepper hair streamed out behind him as a small round object rotated in the air several feet above his hands. The phasing stone.
When he turned to look at them, Deana noted at once that the cloudy gray eyes were quite mad.
Theardar did not seem particularly surprised to see them. On the contrary. He spoke to Yaniff as if he had always been there, not just recently arrived.
“Yaniff!” He gestured the wizard to him. “Come see this. It is quite extraordinary.” He peered at Lorgin. “And my good friend Krue has joined us this day.”
Deana raised her eyebrows. It was obvious that Theardar had mistaken Lorgin for his father, or else he had lost track of any time sequence. At any rate, he seemed a jovial enough old fellow, even in his madness. Perhaps Lorgin had misjudged the situation. Maybe they really had nothing to fear from him. Could Yaniff quietly talk him into giving up the stone?
She knew she was completely wrong in her assessment by a small gesture Lorgin made: he took her hand protectively in his own, stepping slightly in front of her. He sensed danger.
Theardar had noted the action, looking more closely at Lorgin. “So—not Krue after all, but the whelp.”
“What is this place?” Traed asked.
Theardar turned to Traed, noticing him for the first time. “Ah, what indeed.” His eyes narrowed of a sudden as he gazed upon his son. “Come here, Traed.”
Dutifully, Traed approached his father. “Yes, Father?”
“I want you to see something.”
Theardar raised his hands, and an arc of light went from them to the revolving stone above him. The ground around them trembled as if they were experiencing an aftershock to an earthquake. The air seemed to vibrate with electricity. Deana swore she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The stone started to pulse a white light. About fifteen feet in front of the three large boulders, the scenery shimmered. A rectangular band of light framed what appeared to be a…doorway.
Within the frame shapes began to coalesce. A walkway…trees…a large house—Lorgin’s family home! The door to the house opened and a pretty girl skipped outside, joy on her young face. She had very dark mahogany hair, almost black and her eyes shone a brilliant pastel green.
Deana sucked in her breath. It was a doorway in time!
Lorgin stiffened beside her, his grip on her hand tightening. Eyes narrowed, he confronted Yaniff, his tone deadly low. “Why does she come from my home, Yaniff?” Lorgin did not expect an answer, nor did he wait for one. He thrust Deana to Rejar’s protective arms, whipping out his lightblade.
Theardar did not seem particularly concerned. “Oh, did not Yaniff tell you?”
“Do not listen to him, Lorgin. He seeks to unfocus you.”
Theardar grinned evilly, removing any thoughts Deana had of him being a nice but misguided man. “Yes, well, perhaps I do. Pay it no mind then, son of Krue,” he taunted.
“What goes on here?” Lorgin demanded.
“Leave it!” Yaniff hissed.
Lorgin hesitated for a tension-fraught moment, then retracted his blade.
“Wise but disappointing, whelp. Now where was I before such a rude interruption?” Without warning, Theardar grabbed Traed roughly by the hair, causing the band which held it back to snap. The waist-long strands fell around the younger man’s face as he was hauled to a crouching position next to his father. “Look, Traed!”
Deana would never forget Traed’s expression in that moment.
It was his first sight of the woman who bore him, then died.
Marilan, his mother.
His fixated gaze held a mixture of wonder at seeing the mother he had never known, so young and alive, combined with horror at what his father was doing. In the glow of the portal, with his hair streaming around him, Traed looked, Deana thought, younger and infinitely more vulnerable.
“You cannot do this, Father!” Traed’s shaky voice was a broken whisper of sound.
“Fool!” Theardar hissed. “You never did have any sense! I have done it.”
Deana cringed at the thoughtlessly cruel words Theardar spat at his son. But Traed must have developed a thick hide over the years, for he turned to his father saying in a steely voice, “What do you hope to gain from this?”
“What do I hope to gain? Why, everything, boy. I intend to right the wrong that was done me all those years ago. I intend to bring my Marilan back to me by rewriting history.”
Traed did not understand what his father was implying. “What are you talking about?”
“I intend, my ever wayward son, to reverse time. When I do, I will stop Marilan from taking the oath of the Tan-shi. And everything will be as it should have been.”
Traed could not believe what he was hearing. “You are mad!”
Yaniff stepped next to Lorgin, speaking discreetly to him. “You must stop him, Lorgin. He will disrupt the very fabric of time and destroy us all.”
“Mad, am I? Look again upon your sweet mother’s face and tell me that I am mad. Look, Traed.” Grabbing Traed’s jaw in a crushing grip, he forced the younger man to gaze at the scene in front of him. Traed’s eyes filled with tears as Theardar continued.
“She wanted nothing to do with you, do you know that? She hated every day you grew in her body. Every day that you drained her life away.”
Traed shut his eyes, moaning. It was the sound of a mortally wounded animal.
Yaniff stepped forward. “He is confused, Traed. She wanted you more than life itself. Never forget—Marilan chose to have you. She once told me the only thing she regretted leaving was you.”
“You lie!” Theardar whirled at him, enraged. “Marilan loved me, do you hear?”
Yaniff tried to reason with him. “Do not do this thing, Theardar. I vow—no good can come of it. Come, give your Cearix to your son as an act of faith in him. End this bitterness now.”
“My Cearix?” Theardar seemed surprised for a moment. But only a moment. “Think you I would give my Cearix to a son such as this? A son who murdered his own mother? This is what I do with my Cearix!” Theardar grabbed the knife out of his waistband and flung it blade first into the ground where it swayed, hilt up in the night.
Rejar watched Traed with deep sorrow in his heart. Surely this brother of the line deserved to have a Lodarres stand for him. He now regretted the promise Yaniff had extracted from him.
“You wrong your son,” Yaniff confronted Theardar.
“And you dare not interfere, old one, for well you know that our combined powers in opposition will be catastrophic.” Theardar turned to Traed. “Tell me now, son, do you align yourself with my enemies?”
Traed’s answer was quiet. “I align myself with no one, as you know, Father.” Traed’s glittering eyes focused on his sire. “But these are not your enemies. You are your enemy.”
Theardar was taken aback. “You dare speak to me
thus? You who are of my blood? Your disrespect cannot go unanswered. You are no longer my son!”
Lorgin and Rejar sucked in their breath. For a father to disavow his son was unheard of. The man was not only mad, but cruel as well. He had taken Traed’s bloodline from him. A man without a bloodline was less than nothing. Theardar had just stripped Traed of everything he was and all he could hope to be.
Traed was stunned.
Yaniff pointed his staff at the man he had once called student. “You will not do this, Theardar. I will not allow it.” He placed his withered hand on Traed’s shoulder. “By Aviaran law, I claim this Traed to be Traed ta’al Yaniff, my son.” Traed looked at Yaniff, shocked. “Now he has a bloodline.”
And what a bloodline! The most revered on Aviara. Theardar faltered a minute, the enormity of what he had done sinking in. He had cast aside his only son.
“You cannot do this! The ancient law states there must be a blood tie.”
Yaniff would only say, “It is done.”
Theardar seemed surprised and so did Lorgin. Yaniff had all but admitted a blood tie to Traed. Rejar stared at the old mystic for an answer that he alone knew the question to.
Theardar shrugged. “It will be for naught, for when I overlap time, all will change.” He sneered at Traed disgustedly. “My new son will be worthy of my name.”
Traed instantly stiffened, erecting a barrier against his father’s malice. Deana reached out to him, intending to offer him a gesture of comfort, but Lorgin held her back, shaking his head.
“Leave him his pride, Adeeann,” he murmured in her ear.
Yaniff motioned to Bojo, who lifted off his shoulders to land on top of one of the crystal columns. Squaring his deceptively frail shoulders, he said, “You know I cannot allow this, Theardar.”
“You cannot allow this? You? Come, Yaniff, do not make me laugh. How oft in in the past have you played your little games to suit your own purposes?” Theardar stared pointedly at Lorgin.
Only Yaniff knew what the other man was implying. “Well you know our role. Well you also know you breach mystic law by discussing this in front of others.”
Theardar scratched his chin, ignoring Yaniff’s admonition. “Tell me, Yaniff, how do you propose to stop me? Surely this”—he spread a disdainful arm out to encompass the group—“is not your arsenal? A Familiar, a woman, a fourth-level warrior, and my useless…son. I admit, the warrior might prove some amusement, but all in all, you disappoint me.”
“Am I too obvious for you? A pity. I try so hard not to disappoint.”
“You are a fool, Yaniff. An old fool.”
“Have you looked closely at the woman, Theardar? No? Perhaps you should, as she wears the Shimalee.”
Lorgin sucked in his breath, horrified that Yaniff was purposely placing Adeeann in Theardar’s focus. “Yaniff! What are you doing?”
Yaniff ignored Lorgin’s outburst. “Look close, Theardar. She is a diviner. What think you now? Still disappointed?”
Theardar whipped around, catching Deana in the grip of his fiery stare. “The Shimalee!”
Yaniff turned calmly to Deana. “Sing the stone from him, Adeeann. Use the Shimalee. You can do it.”
“No!” Theardar screamed. He raised his arms, bringing the stone back to him, into his immediate possession. The image of Marilan disappeared. Then he turned his wrath on Deana. “Remove the Shimalee, or die with it around your neck.”
Deana turned white, totally immobilized by the dire threat.
In the next instant Lorgin stepped forward, removing his lightsaber. “You must go through me first. You did say I would provide you with some amusement, did you not?”
“Your lightshield will not save you, whelp.” Four bolts of ragged power came at Lorgin like lightning daggers.
Valiantly he parried them off, using his blade to break the energy flow.
Theardar narrowed his icy eyes. “You are amusing. But even amusements have their limit.” He sent a rapid succession of fiery bolts at Lorgin, who dispersed them in an astonishing show of swordsmanship.
“Interesting. But I want that necklace.” He ignored Lorgin, going directly toward Deana.
Lorgin threw a field of fire Deana’s way, encompassing her in a protective perimeter of flames. “As I said, you must go through me.”
Theardar stopped, almost amazed at the young man’s audacity. “I am trying to decide if you are inordinately courageous or unbelievably stupid. I think I will opt for stupid.”
A cage of force surrounded Lorgin.
Bands of power arced around him, encasing him. Lorgin tried to break free, using not just his power, but physical strength as well. His muscles bulged as he pushed against the field, using his bare hands against the sizzling bars of light.
“He may break free of you, Theardar,” Yaniff calmly said, as if watching a man battle for his life were a mundane thing.
“Impossible.” But at that moment Lorgin did break through a barrier. “He is strong. But…not strong enough.” Two snakes of lightning shot out of Theardar’s hands to curl around Lorgin’s wrists, stretching his arms out to his sides as if he were chained and hanging from an invisible wall.
The protective field of fire around Deana flicked and died as Lorgin used all his strength to fight against the manacles holding him.
“Sing to the stones, Adeeann,” Yaniff called out.
She couldn’t do this. Didn’t believe she could do this. But for the sake of these people, she had to try. Lifting her hands to touch the stones around her neck, she closed her eyes.
She would never know if she could have done it.
At that moment, she heard Lorgin’s groan of pain. Afraid for him, she opened her eyes, seeing an arc of lightning sear around him. Her attention was broken, and Theardar captured her like a viper does its prey. She could not look away from his crazed eyes no matter how hard she tried.
“Give me the necklace.”
Yaniff spoke quickly to Rejar. “Try to break his hold!”
Rejar immediately approached Theardar from his left, seeking to bewilder him. If he could but shift Theardar’s focus for one moment, his brother might break free and overpower him.
Theardar did not even glance his way. “Call your Familiar back, Yaniff, or he will be sorry.”
{Perhaps we will be sorry together.}
Rejar’s flip reply cost him dearly. He instantly fell to his knees, clutching his head, his acute senses flooded by powerful sensations. All of them agonizing.
“Rejar!”
Traed ran to him, unable to help the younger man with the pain he was in. Pain. It was what his father knew best how to inflict. Traed’s thoughts turned bitter within him; wherever Theardar went, pain and destruction followed. His brother of the line, Rejar, lay on the ground writhing in agony; another brother fought for his life and his love. A beautiful love that Theardar would sooner see destroyed…
It must end! It must.
“Father, stop this!” Traed pleaded with him from the bottom of his heart.
Theardar completely ignored his son’s impassioned entreaty.
“Wait, Theardar,” Yaniff called out. “The necklace cannot be removed by anyone but her. I have seen to it. If you attempt it, you both die. Give this up now.”
Theardar stopped and turned to stare down at the old mystic. “Now, that is really annoying of you, old one.” He shrugged fatalistically. “A pity for her, for if she cannot sing to the stones, then they pose no threat to me.”
Lorgin realized at once what was about to occur. He thrashed against the power bonds. “Break his hold on me, Yaniff!”
His shout echoed in the night.
“I cannot, Lorgin. The resultant forces would tear you apart.”
“I care not!”
But Yaniff would not sacrifice one to save another. Theardar was going to kill her. Adeeann! And his child…
He struggled frantically against the invisible ropes, yelling, “Release me, Yaniff! Do you hear? Release me!??
?
She was going to die.
Deana looked to Lorgin, seeing the helpless expression of agony on his face. Their eyes met and held.
Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion to her.
Theardar throwing back his hands in preparation to deliver the killer bolt he intended to aim at her—
Traed’s strong arm suddenly coming up, a look of final resolve crossing his face as he pushed her behind him to shield her with his body—
Lorgin’s raw yell of “Tr-a-e-d!” carrying every drop of anguish and despair contained within him. And sure knowledge that a spiritual brother was about to die for protecting his wife—
The bolt arcing toward them—
And then suddenly Theardar’s eyes clearing for a moment, seeing the bolt he had released hurling in a deadly arc toward his son.
His son.
He was about to kill his own son!
“Traed?” Theardar rasped, his eyes focused in horror. Without hesitation, he called the bolt back onto himself.
Such power once released could not be controlled.
Theardar was killed instantly.
Traed sank to his knees, consumed by emotions he had no name for. His father was dead. Vaporized. And in that last moment before he had called the bolt back to himself, Traed had seen love in his father’s eyes. Love for him.
Had his very existence killed both his parents?
Traed bowed his head, his hair falling forward to obscure his face. “Destroyed by love, Father,” he whispered.
He felt Yaniff’s hand on his shoulder. “No, Traed. Theardar destroyed love, then was destroyed by it. It is natural law.”
Yaniff bent over and pulled Theardar’s Cearix from the ground where he had cast it. “I believe the Theardar I once knew would have wanted you to have this, Traed.”
Traed shook his head. “You keep it, Yaniff. I cannot consider having it now.”
“Very well. But a son needs a heritage; here—I give you mine. Should you decide someday to carry Theardar’s, I will understand.”