by Dara Joy
“I could not bear it if you allowed him to continue,” Agatha sniffed.
“Nor I.” He pulled the chair up to the edge of the bed, preparing for a long vigil.
His gaze went to the bedside table spotting the books there. Picking one, he faced it on its side, reading the title. Songs of Experience, he read, by William Blake. Lilac so loved to read.
Carefully, he opened the book of poems, remembering the many times she had comforted him by reading aloud. Maybe this time he could bring a small measure of comfort to her. He began to read haltingly,
“Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”
Rejar took a deep breath, his emotions on the verge of spilling over, then continued:
“When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?”
Rejar threw the book aside and, placing his head on the bed, wept.
He wept for Lilac; he wept for the fear that prevented her from truly having known him; he wept for his onesided love, and he wept for all that would never be.
After a time he felt Traed’s hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry for you both, brother.” This kind of pain Traed knew well.
{What kind of a world is this Ree Gen Cee Ing Land, Traed? I vow I cannot understand it. Horror and beauty…where a man can illuminate the soul with the gift of simple words yet an unknown illness can steal life away without warning.}
“I know not,” Traed said quietly. “Surely it is a poison.”
Rejar looked up at his brother, his sensitive face tear-streaked. “Poison?” he whispered. Agatha had said the same; this thing called disease was likened to a poison.
He blinked, a recollection forming in his mind.
“Traed! When we were on Ryka Twelve, on our way to Zarrain to see you, Lorgin was poisoned by a xathu beast.”
Traed had not heard this before. “Such a poison is deadly! How did he survive?”
“Yaniff had an idea. He believed that if I passed through Lorgin in the midst of my transformation—while I was still in my energy state—I might take the poison with me.”
Traed rubbed the back of his neck. “It was very risky; you could have been poisoned as well.”
“Not as long as I was able to disperse the poison from myself before I imbodied.”
“There was no danger to you?”
“No.” Rejar did not quite meet Traed’s eyes.
Nor did he tell his brother of Yaniff’s prophecy to him. The wizard had warned him against it. At the time Rejar had scoffed at his words, saying he would never be tempted to do such a thing again. How little he understood.
“You wish to try this with Lilac?”
“Yes.” He faced Lilac’s aunt. “Lady Agatha…Agatha. You are going to see something which might upset you; I hope you will find it in your heart to have understanding. What I am about to reveal to you, I do for Lilac’s sake.”
Then he began to metamorphose.
He started to glow from within. Streams of light flowed and arced around him. His form shimmered and started to melt into a gleaming phosphorescence.
“My word!” Agatha gasped.
“Blimey!” Jackie’s eyes bulged as he chomped down on the stem of his pipe.
Traed stood by, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Something Lorgin had said about Rejar’s superior ability to defend himself teased at his mind. Suddenly, Yaniff’s words came to him out of nowhere…His kind heart will get him into trouble…
Instantly, Traed realized this was where the real threat to Rejar was! Not Rotewick; it was never Rotewick. “Rejar, wait!”
It was too late.
The Familiar had already attained his energy state, a state no Familiar ever holds for more than a moment.
Traed watched transfixed as Rejar passed through the body of his wife, pausing that extra fraction of time to make sure he cleansed the “poison” from her. That extra fraction of time that would cost him dearly.
With his passing, Lilac was already breathing easier. She opened her eyes in time to see an amorphous frame of light hovering near the bed. She knew exactly what had occurred; she had felt him slide through her.
Traed observed the glowing configuration barely pulsing, getting weaker and weaker. It was obvious Rejar could not regain his corporeal form; he did know how to draw the energy to himself. Soon his strength would wither and his life would dissipate. He would die.
Unless…
There was only one way to help him.
Traed would have to break a solemn oath he made to himself. An oath never to unleash the awesome power contained within him.
All his life he had seen the destruction that followed in the wake of such terrible power. His own father, Theardar, had destroyed so many lives, including his own, because he could not control the raging force in him.
It was the same power which flowed through his son, hidden all these years only by his strength of will.
The glow was very faint now; his brother was hanging on to his last shred of life.
Rejar.
There was no choice. There never had been.
Closing his eyes, Traed stood away from the walls as he called forth the latent ability that flowed through his veins.
Small arcs of lightning started to flash around the tips of his fingers, traveling up his body. Soon he was engulfed by the arcs circling around him, growing in strength and number.
Once released, the power rose up in him greedily.
“My word!” Agatha croaked.
“I’ll be laying off the gin, I think.” Jackie gulped.
Outside, clouds began to converge over the house; the sky blackened and thunder sounded. A howling wind shook the house. Lightning traveled all around him now, from his fingers outward.
The keening wind reached a crescendo as the energy surge amplified over the room and him. Wind swirled about; it was an uncanny storm. The crystal chandelier bounced against the ceiling, delivering eerie chimes.
Lilac would never forget the way Nickolai’s brother appeared just then. His eyes were closed in concentration, his long hair, freed by the wild wind, swirled around him as he stood with clenched fists fighting to contain what he had unleashed.
With a roar of thunder and a crackle of energy, every window in the room blew out.
The chandelier crashed to the floor.
“My word!” Agatha clutched the wall for support.
The Aviaran opened his green eyes, which were now shot with sparks of incandescent lightning. Across the room the faint glow of Rejar’s life force was all but dissipated.
Traed sent him a powerful burst of energy; it flowed from the center of his chest directly into the waning phosphorescence.
At first, nothing happened and Traed feared he was too late. But then, the glow grew a little brighter.
Rejar was fighting to live!
Traed was proud of the Familiar’s strength of will; another would not have lasted this long. He sent him another strong jolt. The glow grew brighter still.
Stay with it, brother, do not give up…
Traed drew yet more power from his seemingly unending reserves and began sending a steady flow of current directly into his brother’s being. The blood-tie connecting them aided his task.
A shape began to coalesce in the pulsing phosphorescence. His brother’s corporeal body was trying to form! Encouraged, he continued to send him his power.
Rejar metamorphosed out of the light.
He collapsed onto the floor, naked and barely alive.
Everyone was silent for a few seconds, obviously shocked by what they had witnessed.
Sadly comprehending the debilitated state he was in, Traed joylessly hoisted Rejar over his shoulder and lowered him onto the bed next to his wife. His broth
er would not last long.
Knowing none of this, Lilac bent over her husband, overcome by relief. Clutching his shoulders, she bowed her head against his chest. He did not even have the strength to embrace her.
Traed straightened, his sights meeting Jackie’s. The man gave him a frightened look and bolted out to the hallway and down the stairs.
“Jackie, stop!” Traed raced after him. He caught up with him in the downstairs foyer.
“I—I think it’s best I take me leave, sir.”
“Wait! You do not understand, Jackie—”
“I don’t want to understand!” Traed tried to interrupt but Jackie held up his hand. “Listen to me, sir. I’ve seen a lot in me day. I’ve seen things no man wants to see and I’ve seen things I shouldn’t ’ave. But I ne’er seen nothing like that! There are some things in this life it’s best not to be knowin’ about. Now I like yer fine, sir, but this is one o’ them times.”
“I see.”
Jackie nodded. He gestured up the stairs with his pipe. “Will ’is Princeship be all right?”
Traed exhaled heavily. “I do not think so.”
“I’m right sorry to be ’earing that.” He puffed on his unlit pipe pensively. “Is there nothing’ you could do, sir? I mean—what with what I saw in that room…”
Traed stared at the floor in silence.
“I see. Well, as I said, I must be gettin’ along now. It’s best I see no more o’ this. A man can’t speak about what he doesn’t know, now can he?”
“I understand. Can we give you anything to ease your way?”
Jackie rolled his hat in his hand. “Nah, ’is Princeship ’as been more than generous wit’ the likes o’ me. I’m set, I am.”
“Will you not stay to say goodbye to Rej—the Prince?”
“I best be goin’ now.” He started to leave, then stopped at the door, turning around. “Whatever the outcome, I’m sure a fine bloke such as yerself will do the right thing.”
He put his pipe in his mouth and closed the door behind him.
Traed heard footsteps approaching behind him in the hall.
“Is everything all right upstairs, sir?” Emmy asked worriedly. “There was a sudden terrible storm, but it’s blown over now.”
“Everything is fine, Emmy.”
“And Lilac, I mean, her Highn—”
“She is fully recovered.” His dull response did not register on Emmy. The longtime servant was just happy the little miss was all right.
When Traed walked into the room. Lilac was leaning over Rejar anxiously. She had covered him with a blanket.
“What’s happened, Traed? What’s wrong with him? He can’t seem to move. His mind seems clouded and his speech is all muddled.” Her anxious green eyes beseeched him for reassurance.
Traed wished he did not have to tell her what was to come. However, the task fell to him. “He is weak, Lilac. He passed his life energy through you, cleansing your spirit of the illness. He could not stand to see you suffer, could not bear to watch you perish.”
“But why is he so weak? He can barely breathe.”
“He has the ability but not the knowledge. Once, he saved his brother Lorgin’s life with this technique—I believe he must have had the help of a powerful mystic named Yaniff.” An expression of overwhelming sorrow came over him. “Yaniff tried to warn me; I did not understand what he meant.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” she whispered.
“The danger to my brother was himself.” Traed’s face saddened. “It was his kind heart which led him to disaster.”
Lilac stroked her hand gently down Nickolai’s face. “When will he feel better?”
“He is not going to get better, Lilac.” Traed said the words quietly.
Her head snapped up. “What?”
He could not meet her devastated look. “He is dying. He cannot maintain his life force.”
“Dying?” Lilac blinked back the unacceptable truth. Nickolai could not be dying! He had…he had…saved her life at the cost of his own.
Lilac choked back a sob. All this time her aunt had been right; she had said he was a man who would willingly give his life for those he placed under his protection. A man of substance, she had called him.
And he was.
A man who cared enough to sacrifice his own life, who was gentle and kind, noble and honest. A man who possessed not only physical beauty but also inner strength.
The truth hit her then.
His beauty was of his entire being. What else could he be but good? Regardless of where he came from or what special abilities he had! He was not something to be feared.…
He was something to be loved.
With her realization came understanding. What he must have gone through! Cast adrift in a completely foreign environment, the horror of discovering he was in a place where he would never be accepted, indeed, where he might be destroyed.
Everything had to be strange and alien to him.
She recalled when he had told her his “story” that he had mentioned something about entering the whirlpool in order to help his brother. How very like him, she acknowledged.
Oh, she had treated him so dreadfully! And still he had pursued her despite her blind resistance to him. A man of fortitude. Auntie had been right about everything. How could she have been so unaware?
A chill of foreboding raced down her spine. Her revelation came too late.
“No—no!” She grabbed her husband’s hand in her own, bringing it to her lips. She spoke his name for the first time, admitting who and what he was. And more.
“Rejar, Rejar, I love you. Don’t leave me!”
Rejar opened his eyes slowly. “How it pleases me to hear you speak my…I want you to know…” The hand she held weakly stroked her face.
“My heart,” he whispered, “I have had many women…so many women…but you are the only…the only one…” The blue and gold eyes suddenly glazed over. “Yaniff, you must…tell Traed…there is no weakness in love; tell him…”
He did not seem to know where he was.
“Rejar!” Lilac shook his shoulders, willing her husband to come back.
“Yaniff rails at me so…He wants me to join them.…I vow I am tired of it.…” His incoherent rambling faded out along with his consciousness.
Lilac fell on top of him, sobbing.
Traed clenched his fists. No weakness in love? How wrong his brother was. There was every weakness in love! If there were not, would he even consider doing what he was about to do?
A weighty feeling descended upon him. Could he let his brother-of-the-line die? He had taken care of him as a child, guided him, laughed with him, watched over him. He had given his oath and even if he had not—this was his brother. Whom he loved.
There was someone who could possibly save him.
Yaniff.
Traed would have to call forth his old Charl master. To do so, of course, would uncloak him to the Guild; for only the highest level mystics had the ability to send an arc through time, space, and dimension.
Rejar did not have many breaths left, he knew.
There was no choice; he would expose his power and sacrifice himself so his brother might live.
There would be no escape from the High Guild after this. They would demand him in the name of his family honor. He was bound by the blood tie oath of Chi’in t’se Leau. The wizard Yaniff had cunningly said to him, ‘Your life for his.’
Well, now he had it.
Chapter Nineteen
Traed closed his eyes and clenched his fists.
With a flash of lightning, he opened a small window in the Tunnels and sent his signature arc into another universe. The call, or arcing as it was known on Aviara, took with it his last hope for freedom from the curse of his heritage. It would instantly alert every high mystic in the realm to the presence of his power.
It seemed as though not a moment had passed from the time the signal was sent to when a portal opened and the ancient wizard of Aviara, Ya
niff, stepped through into Ree Gen Cee Ing Land.
“My word!” It was all Agatha could seem to utter. Her niece had tried to explain a little of what she knew about these strange occurrences while Traed had been downstairs with Jackie; however, this was too much to take in! None of her special books had ever mentioned this.
Yaniff did not spare time for greetings; instead he made his way directly to the bed where Rejar lay. He already knew the gravity of the situation.
“Can you help him?” Lilac beseeched the old man, her face tear-streaked. “You are the ancient mystic Rejar and Traed have been talking about?”
Yaniff smiled slightly. “Yes, although I think I am getting tired of everyone referring to me as ancient. Move aside quickly, child, and let me see what I can do. There is not much time.” Lilac scrambled out of his way.
Without hesitation the old wizard placed his palms flat on the Familiar’s chest and conjured up a significant spell:
“My gift of life once more I lend;
To renew your spirit twice again;
He called Rejar come whole for me!
And speak to all of your destiny.”
There were no flashing lights, no arcs of lightning, no cracks of thunder. In stillness and simplicity, the greatest wizard of Aviara brought life back to Rejar ta’al Krue with only the power of his words. Traed could not help but marvel at his mastery.
Rejar’s eyelids fluttered.
The Familiar opened his eyes and, seeing Yaniff above him, clasped the old man’s hand where it still rested upon his chest. A tear rolled out of the corner of his gold eye, so glad was he to see the old man.
“Oldefather,” he whispered affectionately.
“Rest for a moment, Rejar.” The wizard passed his hand over the Familiar’s face, and Rejar closed his eyes.
“Why does he call you that, Yaniff?” Traed had overheard Rejar’s remark.
Yaniff straightened and turned to face his adoptive son. “It is the weakness; he knows not what he says.”
“Or his Familiar senses tell him something.”
The two men stared at each other. Neither spoke.
It did not appear Traed’s arc had particularly surprised this old master. He knew, Traed realized. He had known all along.