Beneath the endless canopy of a cerulean sky and the glare of a white-hot sun, three young children played on a wide beach of pale-pink sand, giggling happily. Humanoid but reptilian, their pale-green scales shimmered gold in the fierce sunlight as they wrestled each other before running down to the sea, splashing and squealing in the warm water.
At the top of the beach sat a group of adults, basking in the tropical glare with their own scaly hides a myriad of different hues. Spread amongst them stood armed guards, their slitted eyes vigilant, clothed in plain, one-piece military suits of red and gold, both simple and functional.
At the center, a tall, elegant saurian female reclined on the sand, her skin golden-green like the children’s, and a twisted coronet of silver and pearls around her bare head, the only insignia of rank she wore. Lithe and muscular, she lay on a cloth of gold and green, observing the children with a slight smile on her thin lips. Raised ridges framed the turquoise eyes and a strong jaw-line with multicolored scales, sparkling like jewels in the tropical sun. Dressed only in a short tunic of iridescent blue that left her slender arms and legs bare, T’rill, Queen of Metraxi, relaxed amongst the somnolent members of her court and her alert guardians, content and at peace, a day away from the rigors of duty and responsibility.
A new arrival made his slow way through them toward the queen, a saurian male dressed all in black that covered his dark-green scales from his neck to the top of his long boots. The ridges around his fierce red eyes had gone gray with advancing age and his expression was correspondingly dour. His passage forced many of the indolent courtiers to stir themselves and move aside or be stepped upon. A fractious whispering followed in his wake at his disregard for their pleasure, with many a glare thrown at his back.
The disturbance drew the queen’s gaze and she glanced up as he bowed before her. “I did not expect you to join us today, R’hellek,” she greeted him sonorously, her deep and vibrant tones welcoming. “Has the sun finally tempted you from your duties?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied. “May I sit?”
“Of course.” She returned to watching her daughters as he lowered himself stiffly onto the sand. “I must bring them here more often,” T’rill mused. “They love it so. I keep them confined at court too much.”
“It is the safest place for them,” R’hellek disagreed.
She glanced at him, bewildered by his statement. “Surely you don’t believe they could be in any danger? I’m sure they are as safe here as anywhere.”
“Of course, Your Highness. I forget that you have not lived with the insecurities and paranoia of my generation. You have never known war.”
The queen shivered at such a hideous prospect, the image his words conjured casting a shadow over the brightness of the day. “I hope I never shall.” She stared thoughtfully at her Minister of War, noting how the years and trials of his life had left their marks on his face, taking the joy and color from it. “R’hellek, I know that we have never particularly seen eye to eye. As you say, we are of different generations and times. Your life was shaped by a terrible conflict, but we are at peace now, with many friends and allies. Perhaps it is time to leave the past behind and look to the future.”
He met her gaze. “Some of us do not have the luxury of such a forgiving nature,” he said. “We cannot forget. We recognize the uncertainty of life.”
T’rill sighed at his determination to cling to the bleakness of their planet’s tempestuous history. “I do not bear a grudge for the turmoil of my early years,” she said softly, her thoughts dark with the memory of her time spent in slavery. “But I can, at least, ensure that my children and theirs will not suffer the same fate.”
“One cannot make such promises when the future cannot be predicted. Even now, there may be unseen threats beyond our world, beyond our knowledge.”
“You sound like a harbinger of doom,” she rebuked, trying not to allow her own hopes for the future to be tainted by his morbid prophecies.
“I am merely a realist. War comes easier than peace and there are forces at work in this universe we cannot always understand. Agents of chaos and random wanderers who draw destruction in their wake. Friends who can so easily become enemies.”
“You make me afraid,” she whispered, chilled despite the heat of the sun.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” He rose. “I had no intention of spoiling your day of peace with such dismal wondering. I will leave now.”
“As you wish.” Disturbed by his gloomy words, T’rill hid her relief at his departure. Even in peace, R’hellek caused conflict amongst the court, and now within her own heart.
“I do have one request,” he added, as if in afterthought. “I have recently met a potential new ally. Perhaps a meeting could be arranged?”
“Can you vouch for this ally?”
“I can and will, Your Highness.”
“Then discuss it with J’dahzi. I’m sure something can be arranged in due course.”
“Thank you, Highness. It is always good to acquire new friends.”
“Even when they may become enemies?” she said, throwing his own words of warning back at him.
R’hellek smiled without humor. “It is just as true of old friends as new. Sometimes, even more so.”
He bowed and made his way back up the sloping sands of the beach, leaving T’rill to dwell on his words.
* * * *
Darkness still claimed the Adalucien sky when the soldiers came for them. Despite the ordeal facing them, Quin had fallen asleep huddled in her window seat. The crash of the door as it slammed open yanked her and Keir from slumber. Before either of them could stand, they were grabbed and dragged to their feet. The guards were in full armor, visors down as if they believed that the metal would somehow protect them from the magic of the Red Witch. Two more guards waited with crossbows aimed through the doorway as additional protection from any curse she might use. Serena was likewise roused and all three had their arms bound behind their backs. Then they were marched from the tower and out into the square before the palace.
The plaza was already crammed with people waiting quietly in the predawn darkness, a somber mass that the guards had to push a way through in order to pass. Quin could see nothing but staring, hostile faces on every side. A glimpse over her shoulder revealed that soldiers armed with crossbows lined the entire front wall of the palace. In the center of the square a large area had been fenced off and kept clear of spectators. A grim sight awaited them within its bounds. Three tall, metal spikes with chains stood ready to receive them, with an abundant amount of timber surrounding each, their gruesome purpose unmistakable. Beyond the clearing stood a hastily erected platform, set with a trio of thrones.
The guards pushed all three prisoners through the fence toward the spikes. They were shackled to the stakes with their arms above their heads, the metallic sound of the chains summoning a low murmur of anticipation from the waiting multitude.
Quin took the time to assess the situation, taking a careful inventory of the place and people surrounding them. A shiver ran through her, as much from the chilly air as trepidation. Aside from the huge crowd gathered around their enclosure, and the small army standing guard nearby and along the castle walls, even the viewing points on the surrounding buildings were packed with people anxious to see this rare spectacle. Guards on horseback flanked the platform of thrones and crossbows pointed at them from every direction. She strained to see Keir to her left and nodded when she caught his eye. On her right, Serena appeared pale and wide-eyed, but otherwise held herself steady.
“Are you ready?” she asked Keir, sensing his anxiety but pleased he remained calm.
“Yes,” he sent back, his thoughts firm and clear. Whatever his doubts, he kept them confined, and his trust in her was all the confidence she needed.
Quin took a deep breath, trying to calm her own inner panic. Light bloomed in the sky, highlighting the thrones and casting their shadows across the ground in the pale-gold dawn. The mournful sound of the Assembly bell echoed across the square in suitably doleful peals, and the murmuring intensified amongst the crowd. It was almost time.
A sudden grating sound preceded a trumpeted fanfare as the bronze gates of the palace opened and Rialto marched out. The commander was surrounded by his personal guard and accompanied by two women, one elderly and the other in her late teens or early twenties. The younger woman had her head bowed, her tear-streaked face revealing she had been crying hard not too long ago. As they passed in front of Quin, she saw the girl dart a quick, broken glance at Keir and felt his heart jump.
“Who is she?”
Keir’s thoughts came reluctantly, tinged with guilt. “My sister. Kisella.”
“What?” Quin stared at the woman. A tumult of emotions roiled through her stomach, adding to the quagmire already churning there. A sister? “You never said…”
“I did not know. Until yesterday.”
“Damn!” Quin clamped down on the jab of anger she felt. How many things had she not yet told Keir? She couldn’t expect him to tell her everything, but this was pretty damn important. She sighed. Regardless, it would also have to wait.
Sitting by Kisella’s side, the older woman looked as though she hadn’t slept all night, taking her granddaughter’s hand with a sad expression to stare bleakly at her son.
Rialto took center stage, raising his arms for silence from the grumbling crowd. “By our ancient law,” he cried, ensuring he would be heard by all as his voice echoed across the crowded square, “those proven guilty of witchcraft by the sworn statements of witnesses face swift execution without trial, for the safety of our citizens. Thus, the Red Witch has been condemned and her associates with her. Adalucien will finally be rid of a terrible curse!”
Thunderous applause and cheering greeted his speech, accompanied by calls for the burning to begin. Rialto appeared to savor his moment, raising a hand once more in a gesture for silence.
“The Matriarch has asked that the prisoners be allowed to speak. I will grant this request. Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
In the expectant quiet that followed his speech, Serena chose to speak first. “I will see you burn in Hell, Rialto!” she screamed, then sagged against her chains.
He gave a wolfish grin and seated himself comfortably on his throne before glancing at his son. Keir said nothing, his eyes still fixed on Kisella’s. The commander seemed displeased, snapping at the girl who turned defiant eyes on him before looking back at her brother.
Quin gazed up at Rialto, radiating a calm she did not feel as she took another deep breath. “Commander!” she cried, pulling herself up as straight as she could. “People of Adalucien. I give you this one chance to release us and let us depart in peace. If not, I will call up a creature from the depths of Hell to burn this city to the ground as you would burn us!”
The audience jeered and Rialto grinned. “Any act of witchcraft,” he told her, “and I will shoot you dead myself.” He waved a hand and torchbearers approached them with flaming brands held high.
“Keir?”
“I am ready.”
Quin twisted in her chains to watch, chafing the skin from her wrists. Despite Sky’s assurances on the workings of the shields, her stomach clenched in apprehension. Would the devices completely protect them from the flames?
A loud cheer went up as the pyres were lit–flaring as the fire greedily consumed the dry tinder and kindling. Quin shied back as the flames flickered against her legs. Even with the shield she could feel the searing heat. They scorched her skin beneath her clothing, left her stung. She writhed in her chains and her legs gave out. Her breath came in short gasps. Blood hammered in her ears.
Oh, Powers…
Keir’s thoughts snatched at hers, lashed against her mind, mirroring her pain. She felt his fear, his torment, in terrible harmony with her own.
“Hold on!”
Agony swept over her as the fire rose to a peak, held back only by a blue shimmer in the air. An inferno raged around her. She screamed.
Time seemed to stretch out, every second torture. Quin sobbed as she forced each breath into her lungs. How much longer? How long would they burn?
The flames fell back. Deprived of anything fresh to burn, the fire dwindled down. The faintest breath of cooler air brushed her face and drew her back from her pain.
“Quin…” Keir’s voice came to her, shaken but clear. She pulled in a deep breath and pushed back onto her feet. The pyre was dying, a veil of gold and orange drifting downward. Her skin throbbed from the intensity of the heat and her wrists ached where she had hung in her chains. But they were alive.
Rialto leaped to his feet with a howl of anger and Quin had to shout at the top of her voice to be heard. “Your last chance, Commander! We are protected from your fire and your anger. Release us now and I will do you no harm. I swear it!”
Incandescent with fury, Rialto leaped from the platform, grabbed a crossbow from the nearest guard and advanced on her, aiming at her heart. She measured the distance and uncertainty filled her. He was getting too close. The shield would be useless… Quin prayed her telekinesis wouldn’t fail her as the commander drew nearer.
Time seemed to slow and the world faded to silence. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as her gaze locked onto the point of the crossbow. The sharp retort of the bolt being loosed made her breath catch, and the speeding projectile filled her vision with the promise of pain and death.
She reached inside herself for the blue sparks that were the dormant flickers of the alien power she carried with such resentment, buried and banked. Being almost burned alive had left her weak and shaking despite the shields, her body a mass of aches. The pulse of energy faded in her tenuous grasp and refused to be manipulated. Panic surged through her as the energy dimmed, ignoring her need. Elusive tendrils evaded her grasp. Death raced toward her.
She gasped, more of a sob than a desire for air, and suddenly Keir was in her mind, his strength filling her with radiant warmth. A jolt of blue fire rose and blazed through her, creating an invisible shield. A shower of bright sparks knocked the bolt aside, to bury itself in the wooden fencing behind.
Quin loosed a deep sigh of relief that Keir shared with her.
The commander stood open-mouthed with the useless weapon dangling from his grasp.
Quin glared and sent a message straight to Rialto’s mind in her annoyance. “So be it.”
With a powerful rush, she sent her thoughts far from the crowded square to her friends, calling for their help. In response, a loud crack of thunder sounded and the whole sky turned blood red. Cries of alarm and terror arose from the crowd. Panic ensued as people tried to run in different directions to escape the cascade of dark magic that seemed destined to fall upon them.
The red sky concentrated into a crimson mass, a raging maelstrom that spawned a creature of myth and magic. Sinuous as a snake with wide golden wings, black talons and eyes of flame, the creature surged over the heads of the masses, scattering them like a cat set loose amongst mice.
People screamed and tried to escape the square. Even the guards scattered as the dragon swooped low, terrifying the horses. It looped another circuit over the city and blasted the Merchants’ Quarter with white fire, causing an explosion that spread red-hot fragments of roof tiles as far as the city walls.
Rialto dropped to his knees and gazed upward at the hellish creature as it terrorized his city. At the sight of his dismay, Quin couldn’t quite suppress a warm glow of satisfaction that her dragon had worked so well. She directed a small jolt of telekinesis into her manacles and they snapped open. Her wrists were bleeding, but she ignored them as she ran to Keir and released him too.
“Still think it won’t work?” she yelled over the roar of her dragon and the screams of the crowds.
“We are not free yet!” he yelled back, grabbing her hand to pull her away.
Together they ran to Serena. The guards had abandoned any watch over their prisoner as they attempted to shoot down the monstrosity above. Kisella darted to them and placed a fleeting kiss on Keir’s cheek in farewell before the three escapees headed for the horses.
Keir pushed his mother to mount the nearest and Quin took possession of the chestnut mare she had led through the streets only the night before, calming the distraught animal.
“Let’s go,” she said to Keir, but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
“You go,” he told her. “There is something I must do first.”
“No. Keir, what…?” She reached for his hand but he slapped the flanks of the mare, sending the animal skittering sideways in panic. Quin clutched at the horse’s mane as it reared up, her other hand fighting the reins for control as Keir dashed back across the square and was lost in the swarming crowds.
* * * *
Rialto greeted his son with a blank stare as Keir approached through the chaos, as if his mind had emptied itself of all thought, all feeling. But as Keir faced him, some emotion seemed to stir itself from within the depths of Rialto’s soul, and their eyes met in mutual hatred. Rialto rose to meet him.
“Why?” Keir demanded. “What harm did I ever cause you?”
For a long moment, it seemed that Rialto would not speak, that Keir would never know the answer. The dragon’s eerie ululations echoed across the plaza, drowning the screams of the scattering populace, a tumult of noise that seemed abruptly irrelevant.
“The night you were born,” the commander said, his voice almost lost in the snarling of the beast above, “should have been the proudest moment of my life. And then, I saw you.”
He uttered a harsh bark of sound, a laugh so full of bitterness and pain that Keir flinched.
“For twenty-five years,” Rialto continued, hate in his eyes, “I have carried the curse of your existence. I was the most powerful man in the city, and suddenly people were whispering behind my back, slandering my Family, our name and reputation blackened. They began avoiding us, shunning our company. No one would look me in the eye anymore. They were afraid the curse would fall on them.” He jabbed an accusing finger toward Keir. “My life ended the day yours began.”
“It was not my fault. I never asked to be born different.” Keir clenched his fists.
“Then you should have died!” Rialto yanked his sword free and swung with a roar.
Keir ducked and the blade skimmed over his head. In a frenzy, Rialto charged and he fell back, dodging each swoop of the weapon as the commander wielded it with terrifying speed.
Sudden clarity sharpened his perceptions and he realized that his father’s rage had driven him to strike wildly, no logic to his attack other than blind obsession. As Rialto’s last sweep sent the tip of his sword skittering across the cobbles, Keir kicked upward, his foot smacking the soldier hard in the side of the head. Rialto rocked and staggered back from the blow. He took another swing at Keir, who evaded it, before stabbing forward with the blade. Keir danced aside and came at his father again, landing two punches to the face he knew he would hate until his last breath.
Both men were breathing hard and fury seethed in Keir’s stomach, tempered by the sure knowledge that this time he was not the one who would be beaten. This time he faced Rialto on equal terms and the exhilaration of it sang in his blood.
In a moment of strange calm, Rialto lifted his sword as if in salute. Keir hesitated at the gesture, confused by it, then his father sprang at him, insanity lighting his gaze. The sword plunged toward him, aimed at his heart. Without conscious thought, Keir twisted and the blade slid past him. He threw himself into Rialto, the impact jarring every nerve. Furiously, he reached for the sword’s hilt, his nails gouging into the commander’s hands until he wrenched the weapon free. With a shout, he shoved Rialto aside and raised the weapon high.
Rialto lay panting at his feet, fear replacing the rage in his eyes as he gazed up. A conflict of desires paralyzed Keir. At that instant he wanted to strike the man down, kill him as he surely would have been killed. Even as the urge consumed him, something within him prevented it. Even now, at the height of his fury and loathing, the thought of taking a life repelled him too deeply. He lowered his weapon.
“Keir.” Quin materialized at his side, her horse’s reins wrapped around her hand as she grabbed his arm and tried to draw him away. “We need to go!”
He came woodenly, his steps jerky. He could not tear his eyes from those of his father, hypnotized by the depth of his abhorrence, a stream of dark energy that bound them irrevocably. Even in defeat, Rialto would not let go of his hatred. Had he truly earned that? Would that remain his inheritance too? The brief flush of triumph at his father’s defeat soured in that moment and left him sickened. He allowed Quin to guide him away, obeying her numbly as she placed reins in his hands and indicated that he mount with a shove.
A barrier seemed to fall between him and the chaos surrounding them, as if he now watched it from a distance. Beside him, Quin swung herself back onto the chestnut mare and kicked her into a canter as her dragon continued to threaten those unable to escape the square. In a flurry of hooves they rode from the plaza, dodging the frantic multitudes.
* * * *
Rialto knelt paralyzed for a moment, watching them ride away in stunned disbelief. Then he snarled, snatched up another crossbow and aimed wildly at the group. He fired, not caring who it hit and not seeing the dragon as it dived over him, turning his vision fiery crimson as it passed. Then they were gone, the dragon on their heels, leaving his city in shrieking disarray around him.
* * * *
They rode under the crimson glow of the dragon. Quin cantered ahead of him, her red hair flaring out like a banner, leading the way. As they reached the city gates, the dragon dissipated overhead and they picked up pace on the open road. Blood and anger pounded in his head like the hooves of his horse as they galloped from Adalucien. Injustice burned his gut.
He had done nothing to deserve his father’s wrath or condemnation, nor that of his own people. He had inherited his blue skin just as much as his father’s blue eyes and black hair. Since Kisella was also gifted, Rialto himself must be to blame. Rialto was the cause.
He shook himself. Would he let his father’s hatred continue to poison his life? To taint the future that might lie before him once he finally left Adalucien behind? Or could he follow Quin and Kisella in their quest to turn the Sentiac’s curse into a blessing?
He had a choice now. Whatever lay in his blood, he had seen both sides of it. Rulk and his father on one side. Quin and Kisella on the other. It was up to him.
The possibilities hammered through his brain, churned through his mind like the mud and leaves stirred up by his mount. What talents might he have aside from opening gateways? Would he be able to heal? To move things by thought alone? Kill?
He shivered at the last. Even with a weapon in his hand and the desire in his heart, he had been unable to do so. That was no assurance he never would.
Quin slowed her horse ahead. The open road had petered out to a muddy track that sucked at the horses’ hooves. The exultant grin she turned on him as he drew up eased some of the ache, some of the anger, and he found himself smiling back. She took such joy in life. He envied her that, and yet it gave him hope that the future could be as bright.
He turned to his mother and that fleeting moment of hope shattered and drove its broken fragments through Keir’s heart. Serena arrived slumped in the saddle, the dark shaft of a crossbow bolt protruding from her back.
“No. No!” He threw himself from his horse and ran to her, panic spearing through him. No, this could not have happened. This could not be true. “Gods, help me!”
He wrapped his arms around, holding her tight against himself as he pulled her from the saddle. Her limp weight dropped him to his knees. Her head fell onto his shoulder, her body cold.
Her voice came in a whisper, a dying sigh. “Keir...”
“No.” He felt her shudder. Pain squeezed all the air from his chest. “Please, no.”
Quin dropped to her knees in front of him and clutched his shoulder. “Keir.”
Together they laid Serena back, and he held her clear of the ground. All the color had drained from her face. Her breaths came in faint, shallow gasps as if it was too much effort to take more. She stared up at him, sweat beading her brow from the pain consuming her. Keir tried to reach for her mind, tried to draw the threads of energy that had come so easily to make the gateway, that had strengthened Quin, but nothing came. He did not have Kisella’s ability to restore life, and he felt his mother’s presence diminishing even as he groped for something that would work, something that would stop this. He could not even find the way to take her pain as Quin had done for him.
Despair clawed at his throat. “Quin, please…”
She sat opposite him, holding Serena’s hand. Her expression was grave. “I’ll try,” she promised, understanding his request even though he could not voice the words.
She closed her eyes, bent low over his mother and brushed her forehead, resting her hand there. After a moment, her body twitched and a deep frown etched her face. Serena gave a faint sigh, and the quaking in her body eased.
Quin drew back, her gaze meeting Keir’s. “That’s all I can do, Keir. It doesn’t work that well on a non-telepath. I’m so sorry.”
Tears blurred his eyes. “There must be more you can do. Please…”
Quin shook her head.
“Keir…” His mother struggled to speak, the life pulsing out of her body with each passing second, her skin clammy wherever it touched him.
“Please stay with me. Do not die. Not now, just as I have found you again.” He begged with every fiber of faith in his being. He would give anything, even his life, to save hers. All those lost years he needed to make up for. He needed more time.
Serena finally found the strength to utter the words she wanted so badly to say. “Go,” she whispered, her voice no more than a faint breeze of sound. “Be…safe…”
He shook his head. “Stay…”
A faint smile touched her lips. Her eyes flickered and closed, her head falling back as her last breath came as a sigh.
The world stopped. He drew in a breath, then another. An eerie hum filled his ears. No, you cannot die… He pulled her tight against himself, as if he could hold her to life, but her body came limp and lifeless. “No…”
Far away, someone was speaking. “I’m sorry, she’s gone.” The voice sounded tinny. The words made no sense.
This could not be. He laid his cheek against his mother’s, the chill of it seeping into his skin, into his consciousness. No!
Something built inside him. Something like a scream of rage and sorrow, and with it something stronger. A feeling of power, raw energy in silver strands and blue flame.
His breathing quickened as the pressure built. Pain stung his skin. He began to shake as the turbulence inside him rose to a peak, threatening to burst free, to flame outward. He could not hold this. Thunder crashed in his head.
“Keir?”
He lifted his head, fire boiling in his veins.
White-hot pain coursed through him in a blaze of fury and grief that consumed every fragment of his mind and soul. He could not put a name to the woman who knelt before him, could only see her as if from a distance, through a veil of mist. The world was silent, surreal, edged in blue flames that burned as fiercely as the fire that had sought to take his life only moments ago. It scoured his veins, seared his skin, demanding release.
Allowing it to rage through him, he raised a hand.
She will try to stop me, he thought, as his pulse beat in his head. I cannot permit that.
Fire poured into his hand, white flickers between his fingers. He gestured as if brushing off a stray hair. Power jolted from his palm and struck the woman hard in the chest. The blow lifted her into the air and across the clearing. Her body hit a tree with a resounding thump. In a tumble of loose limbs and red hair, she dropped to the ground and lay still.
Another woman stood by, eyes wide in shock, purple hair hanging across her face. She crouched as if braced for combat, fangs showing at the corners of her mouth in a warning snarl. As he lifted his hand again, blue–white fire twining around his wrist, she leaped out of range.
Disappointment filled him, but now at least his way was clear. He laid his mother’s body on her side away from the bolt, and got to his feet. He walked to the horses and gathered the reins of one, preparing to remount. His movements were slow, but full of terrible purpose. In his mind hovered an image–a man with blue eyes colder than death, his endless hatred now mirrored by his son’s. In his heart, the desire for revenge beat a sullen tempo that drove him onward and overrode all else.
He is the cause.
He turned his horse, urged it on.
He must pay.
A voice shouted, “Taler, stop him!”
A sudden weight struck him hard in the back and his horse squealed, its back legs buckling. Strong arms wrapped themselves around his body, pinning him. He summoned up another handful of fire, but a sharp pain tore into the side of his neck. He cried out as the power drained away, leaving him hollow. Lethargy flung heavy chains around his limbs and dragged him backward. Dragged him down. Fighting it, he tried to rouse his rage but darkness slunk through his veins. No! He would not surrender, would not give into this. The blue-eyed man waited. He had to go back.
Keir tried to lift his arms. Tried to stand, intent on struggle. The darkness won.
* * * *
Alone in her bedroom, secure in curved walls of pale-orange marble and soft, colorful furnishings, T’rill gazed thoughtfully at her reflection. The circle of mirror was set in the wall’s face, edged with large pearls that gleamed softly. A single shelf beneath was littered with a profusion of colored pots and bottles, pieces of jewelry glittering in the light. In her hands she held a small device encased in glass–a gift from a friend.
She stared down at it, playing with it as she struggled to reach a decision. R’hellek’s words on the beach had continued to plague her in many ways, not least by reminding her of how many years it had been since she last saw the woman who’d brought her to her throne. The forthcoming celebration of that day seemed an adequate excuse to summon her to the palace, though the device had been left for emergencies only.
T’rill fretted that her wish for Quin’s presence was purely selfish, driven by R’hellek’s worrying suggestion of hidden threats to her family. If there was anyone she could trust, who she could be certain of without question, it was Quin. She knew the desire to see her again overrode all logic, couldn’t help but be aware that her behavior was inappropriate for a powerful monarch–more the whim of the child she had been when they first met. Irresolute, she pressed the glass plaque against her scaled forehead, the coolness of it soothing the start of a mild headache that seemed to have been drawn by her ponderings. The chiming call of her door signal snatched her from her tortured musings, a temporary reprieve from indecision.
“Enter,” she commanded, laying the device aside.
A dark-blue saurian male entered, dressed in elaborate robes of black and gold, as befitted a member of her inner court. He bowed to her, but with a smile on his face. “Your Highness.”
“J’dahzi.” She smiled back. “I’m glad you’re here. You can help me decide.”
“Have you no handmaidens to choose your dress today?” he teased, pretending to look around in mock surprise.
T’rill laughed. “Not clothing,” she said. “I thought of asking Quin to come to us.”
“Why would you think of her now?” he asked, blinking rapidly in a sign of consternation. “It’s been many years since her last visit.”
“Exactly. I miss her.”
“R’hellek has been asking many questions about her lately,” he said, trepidation marring the smoothness of his face. “Where her home is. When last she came. Who she travels with. He is showing far too much interest in a woman he has always made clear he dislikes.”
“Interesting,” she mused. “It was a conversation with him regarding friends and allies that reminded me of her.”
“Did he mention her then?”
“No. Not by name. He seemed to be trying to frighten me.”
“Your Highness, I would not presume to speak ill of our Minister of War, but it is always wise to doubt his motives.”
“As I do,” she agreed. “This era of peace is as alien to him as a fish swimming in sand. He still sees enemies in the shadows. He makes me afraid.”
“There is nothing for you to fear.” He laid a fatherly hand on her arm.
“I fear for my children, J’dahzi. I would give anything for the promise of their safety.” T’rill could not keep a sudden overwhelming feeling of insecurity from her voice, adding an uncertain quiver to it. Would that underlying fear ever leave her?
“Is this the reason you would have her come here? A sacrificial piece should there be trouble?”
“No, J’dahzi,” she returned sharply, her tone adamant. “An ally in times of danger, as she has been before. I know I can trust her.”
“You have asked for my help in your decision, Highness. Do not bring her here. Leave her safe wherever she is, away from R’hellek’s curiosity and scheming. Rely on your people, those who love and honor you, to protect you. Do not endanger her for the sake of your fears.”
T’rill looked up at him, startled by his harsh pronouncement. “You believe the threat is against her, not me?”
“I think it is possible.”
“Then surely, we should send her a warning.”
“Warning Quin of danger is an open invitation for her to come here seeking it.”
She glanced at the device on her table, glittering with temptation. “I will think on your advice, J’dahzi,” she said quietly, hiding her inner turmoil.
Brows furrowed, the courtier bowed and excused himself. As the door closed behind him, T’rill made her decision and raised the glass block with both hands. One swift blow against the table sent sharp fragments scattering across the surface. The device began to glow.
* * * *
Quin sat before Surei like a disobedient child, head bowed and hair tangled. The Senior Medical Officer held her fingers steepled under her chin. “He used telekinesis against you?”
Quin nodded slowly.
“And Taler had to bite him to stop him?”
Quin gave another cursory nod, staring at her feet.
“And he’s opened a gateway.”
This time, Quin did not even trouble to move her head at the medic’s succinct statement of fact, sunk in her own dark thoughts.
“Quin!”
At the sound of her name she finally looked up, tired and sullen.
Tilting her head, her amber eyes deeply troubled, Surei leaned toward her to emphasize her point, with her fingers spread on the polished surface of the desk. “He cannot stay here. He’s proved himself too dangerous.”
“He hasn’t done anything I can’t do, Surei.”
“But you don’t do it. That’s the point. You aren’t mentally unstable and half out of your mind with grief. You have had centuries to learn to control your talent. Hades, Quin, he used it against you! Doesn’t that frighten you?”
“Of course it does! But it’s my fault he’s learned how to do it. And his mother had just been killed, Surei. It wasn’t as if there was no reason.”
“And how many more excuses will you make for him when someone else gets injured? You have the ability to defend yourself, and you were still hurt!”
Quin stared at the floor again, unable to argue Surei’s condemnation. In her mind, she relived the moment he had cast her aside with nothing more than a flick of his hand and a fragment of telekinesis, wielding unimaginable power without a thought. She shuddered in barely suppressed horror at the ease with which he had rendered her helpless.
“He cannot stay here!”
Unable to contain her distress any more, Quin leaped to her feet and stormed out of the office. She marched to his bedside, where Keir lay sedated and restrained at Surei’s instruction. Locked in an artificial sleep, he appeared more innocent than ever, but she could sense the underlying potential for destruction even now.
Without thinking, her hand strayed to his hair, brushing a stray curl from his face. The only time she could touch him, freely, was when he was unconscious. Of everyone here she was probably the closest to him, yet he still could not tolerate much contact.
Taler stood alongside, monitoring him and ensuring his continuing sleep. She gave Quin a sympathetic look and shrugged wordlessly. Quin copied the gesture and stared down at him, more angry and upset with herself than anyone else. Despised on his home-world and now unwelcome here, what more could she do for him? Surei’s conclusions were warranted. Though it hurt to do so, in her heart she agreed with the medic.
Keir’s behavior had frightened her, no matter the justification, and now all of them were at risk. His intention might not have been to hurt her–she’d simply been in his way–but he’d used his talent wildly and without restraint, even though his rage had only been focused on returning to the city and killing his father. She had seen that insane rage before, had learned the hard way not to excuse it.
What troubled her most was Keir’s instant mastery of his dreadful powers, without the controls Quin had learned to impose on herself, making him as dangerous as a Sentiac itself. All his life they must have remained dormant within him, until her interference. She had failed him.
She felt a presence beside her. Surei had followed her out. “Quin.”
“I know,” she snapped, then regretted it. “I just don’t know what to do! If I take him somewhere else, he may find his way back. If there are people there, I put him or them at risk. All the options are bad ones. I can’t abandon him.”
“Is there some way of preventing him from using these abilities?”
“I don’t think I could do that, and it would only add to the stress he’s already under.” She hesitated as a thought occurred to her. “I could take him away for a while, though. Maybe he just needs some time to adapt.”
“Quin, do you think perhaps you are allowing yourself to become too involved with him?”
“What do you mean? It’s my fault he’s here. Surely that makes him my responsibility?”
The medic touched her arm gingerly, trying to lighten the import of her words. “Do you think that perhaps, because you share a mental link and the Sentiac DNA that binds you together, you are too close?”
Quin jerked back as if Surei had struck her, her skin burning at the implication. “You think I’ve fallen for him?” she snapped hotly. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?”
“A compassionate one,” the medic assured her, clearly not wishing to offend her further.
Quin forced herself to calm. Surei had made an illogical assumption about her concern for Keir.
Besides, it’s not as if he’s interested in me. He can’t even stand me touching him.
“I promise you, that isn’t the reason.” She placed a hand on Keir’s arm. “I feel responsible for him, that’s all.”
Surei was silent for a long moment. “So you’re going to take him away.” She sighed. “And what will you do in the meantime, if I wake him up?”
“I swear on my life, Surei, I will watch him every second of every day until we leave.”
The medic sighed. “I shouldn’t listen to you. I should go with my medical opinion and keep him under. He’s far too dangerous.”
Quin said nothing, waiting anxiously.
With obvious regret, Surei deactivated the feeds and removed the collar and restraints, with Taler’s eager assistance. “He’s all yours,” she told Quin, without looking at her. “Now take him away from here and prove me wrong. And if you can’t, don’t bring him back.”
* * * *
The public audience chamber of T’rill’s palace was surprisingly small, sufficient for the limited entourage of her armed guard, senior courtiers, personal attendants and no more. The pale, curved walls and random organic pillars were reminiscent of a seashell’s inner chambers, the smooth surfaces marbled in orange and white. In places, strange shapes and patterns were embedded in the walls, spirals and concentric circles scattered haphazardly.
On a throne of the same marble-like material, embellished with gold and inset with small colored gems and pearls, sat T’rill, back straight and dressed in glorious robes of iridescent blue-green. Her long, taloned hands rested lightly on the arms of her chair, her face set in a regal mask. On her head she wore a small silver crown and around her neck a chain of seashells made from precious metal. To either side of her stood her handmaidens, clothed in long tunics of matching colors and similarly adorned with silver jewelry.
The members of her inner court stood talking quietly in small groups, the guards arranged in a full circle around the edge of the chamber. A musical sound, like wind chimes caught in a sudden, strong breeze, caused a fleeting disruption amongst the courtiers as they took their places in two formal parallel lines the length of the room, from throne to door. The circular, silvered door to the chamber, with its elaborate, embossed decoration, opened slowly. A trilled fanfare sounded as a small procession entered, R’hellek leading the way.
He marched stiffly through the lines of courtiers, followed by a single alien figure and accompanied by an honor guard as protocol dictated. They approached the queen and a strange silence fell amongst her people as the Emissary passed them by. T’rill noted it instantly. Was that due merely to his anomalous appearance? Surely not. The Metraxians had allies of varying species, although perhaps none so mysterious. Although humanoid, his basic body-form not unlike the Metraxians, he was cloaked in gray cloth shielding his exact outline, a silver mask obscuring the features of his face. He moved with an odd gliding motion as if he had no weight. Such strangeness made her wonder if the Emissary was even flesh and blood beneath his clothing.
As he came closer, T’rill felt herself tensing. The figure emanated coldness like a shrouding arctic fog. R’hellek bowed and stepped aside, allowing the Emissary to come closer and kneel respectfully at her feet. T’rill controlled her desperate urge to recoil from the hooded figure and the disconcerting aura he radiated.
Instead, she leaned forward to receive him. “Welcome,” she said, her deep, dulcet tones as warm as she could make them. “You may stand.”
He did so, the implacable silver mask tilted toward her, the eyes nothing more than black holes within. “Your Highness,” he said, the hushed tones muffled and lifeless. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“R’hellek has vouched for you. I understand you seek an alliance with us.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I believe it would be mutually beneficial.”
T’rill sat back in her throne, regarding him thoughtfully. “What do you wish to trade?”
“I offer my protection. In return for one piece of information.”
“Metraxi does not require further protection. We are quite capable of defending ourselves.” She sat back and tapped her talons on the arm rests of her throne, considering her words. “Your offer could be interpreted as a threat.”
“That was not my intention. Consider it an addition to your own powerful defenses.”
“And what would your protection involve?”
“Allies are always useful, are they not? We also have some skill with defensive technology, shielding and the construction of mechanized defenders.”
Such treaties were not uncommon, and in general the simple announcement of any alliance could often settle disputes elsewhere. Who would risk antagonizing a single galactic neighbor, only to find entire systems united against you?
“And the information you require?”
The Emissary took a small step forward, intruding on her personal space in a way she found disturbing. “I believe we have a mutual…friend.”
T’rill didn’t miss the fractional pause before the last word, as if the Emissary had been uncertain of his choice of phrase. “Who?”
“Tarquin Secker.”
A profound sense of dread swamped her at the mention of the name. Quin had warned her once that someone or something may well come seeking her under the guise of friendship, possibly even under the threat of aggression. She instantly regretted her impulsive use of the call device. J’dahzi had been quite right to advise against it. Glancing at the courtier in question, she caught his discreet nod of recognition and a gesture of warning. A fleeting buzz of irritation stung her. She may have made a mistake by inviting Quin to Metraxi, but she was wise enough to counter it with common sense now without J’dahzi’s silent admonishment. “Quin has not been here for many years. She is well known for her wandering.”
For the first time, there was a sliver of emotion in the voice, a semblance of truth and deep-seated longing. “I know her well enough for that. We traveled together for a time, but were forced to go our separate ways. I have missed her.”
Coldness soaked into her from the Emissary and crept into her body, into her thoughts, coiling around her. She closed her eyes as a deep chasm opened within her, sharp with pain. Longing. His longing, vast and eternal. A need that went far beyond her own simple wish to see an old friend. The agony and fury of his loss when she’d left him.
And yet, in the midst of his pain, there was warmth. Desire. A need greater than any. It soothed away her fears and suspicions. “You…loved her?”
For a moment, the heat of that one emotion rose above the others. “Yes. And now I need her.”
She shivered and tried to shake herself free. Free? Did he bespell her?
Quin had warned her; someone would come seeking her and that T’rill should be wary…
Even as the thought rose, it broke and wafted away, borne on the tide of his desperate need.
“But what danger could I be?” his voice hummed, his tones synchronized to the beat of her heart. “I’m alone. Surely you could ask her?”
“Yes, I could ask her.” The thought seemed twisted, unnatural, but she couldn’t fault her logic. Quin would be on Metraxi in a few days.
With her mind made up, the chill eased away from her, loosening its hold, and she sighed under the touch of the last vagrant strands of longing. “Perhaps a meeting can be arranged,” she offered. “Would you be prepared to wait, to allow me to act as intermediary?”
He bowed, a stately gesture. “I will wait in the hope of your success.”