Dara Joy - Matrix 04 (15 page)

"We have paid a Spoltam beggar to come through the
Tunnel to release you once we are gone." The Oberion grinned, showing a black maw of rotted teeth. "To show our good will to the Alliance."

Traed gave the leader a piercing look. "Mayhap, you should show your good will by releasing both of us now."

"I am afraid that is not possible. You see, we have plans for your robust, handsome friend. By the markings on his inner thigh, he is in his prime. He has a long life ahead of him. A long life of
service
to the Oberion empire."

Traed ignored the leader and turned to Brygar. "You allowed them to look at your inner thigh?"

Brygar shrugged. "It is obvious their males need something to aspire to."

The chains were yanked tighter. Brygar hissed. Like all Familiar, he hated the tether more than the pain.

He was soon to hate other things.

One of the guards grabbed Brygar by the hair, yanking his head back. He tried to force a thick fluid down the Familiar's throat. Brygar struggled in earnest now.

The huge Familiar almost succeeded in knocking over all six of the guards.

But the Oberion elixir need not be swallowed to be effective. A few droplets seeped into his skin. It was enough to weaken him.

Eventually they were able to wrestle him down and pour the rest of the drug down his throat.

The sight of it infuriated Traed, who had always detested injustice of any kind. He closed his eyes and tried to draw the power to him, but it was useless. The dampening fields were too strong.

Brygar tried to focus on Traed as his eyes clouded over from the drug. "Do not come looking for me, Charl!"

Traed paused and quirked his brow. "You still think to tell me what to do, Familiar?"

Brygar delivered a challenging grin.
{Ah, but I just did.)

Mayhap Brygar really did have two sets of
kani.

Traed smiled slightly as he realized that the drug they used was not the drug that had been given to Gian Ren. That one blocked a Familiar's special senses entirely.

Brygar was still able to send his thoughts.
And he was letting Traed know.

What was more, considering the amount they had given him, the huge Familiar was not as drugged as he should have been.

Brygar would be no easy adversary for these slavers.

There would come a time when he would stubbornly fight. Probably to the death.

Traed called out to him. "Try not to get yourself killed until I have found you."

{I had no idea you cared, Charl-who-is-no-Charl.}

Traed shrugged, "It is a simple matter. If you are to be killed, then I reserve the pleasure."

Brygar let out a bark of laughter then became more serious than Traed had ever seen him.

His lavender and aqua eyes met Traed's squarely. Sincerely.
{Do not take too long, friend.}

Traed nodded curtly. "You have my word on it."

Assured, Brygar grinned tauntingly up at his captors as he was dragged off. "What say you we play a game of
catch-and-kill
before the journey starts?"

The slaver on his right clubbed him on the head, knocking him out.

Traed grimaced. Best he find the brash Familiar quickly before the man irritated his captors into slaughtering him.

The Oberion leader spoke. "Consider him dead to all who knew him, Charl, for once we Oberions take him into our worlds, he will be lost forever. He will disappear. If you have a notion of liberating him, you would do well to forget it. He is our
property
from this day forward. We do not relinquish what we own."

Traed was not concerned with the Oberion's advice. "Actually, I am trying to decide which will come first.. ."

" And what is that?"

"Finding him or finding
you."

Traed had a great effect on the Oberion, for he shook with fear. "You would do better to remember that Charl are not openly welcomed in the Oberion Empire. We have no wish to upset such a renowned group, of course; yet, you must ask yourself what example a Charl might set, coming into our worlds, uninvited, to force his ways upon us."

"I will take my chances." Traed promised in a low murmur, close to the slaver's face.

The Oberion paled. "Th-there are those planets, non-Alliance members, who would not look kindly upon such actions. They may think twice about joining your Alliance. There could be repercussions. Sides could be chosen.... Who can say what would happen?"

Certainly not Traed. He stared mutely at the Oberion leader.

"And all over one loud-speaking Familiar. You may look upon this advice as a favor, knight. We Oberions look out for our friends the Charl by sparing them this potential, disastrous embarrassment."

In a flash, Traed became keenly focused on the Oberion's chatter, but not for the alarm it held
.

It was Yanijfs forewarning that overlapped the
Oberion's prattle.
Just a wizard's words-Ever simple. Ever insightful.
"Go after him now,"
his old master had said.
"Before he
causes a galaxian war. . ."

EIGHTEEN

As promised, a Spoltami beggar arrived to release Traed shortly after the slavers left, dragging an unconscious Brygar with them.

Traed made his way back to Aviara, his mind heavy with the events that had transpired.

It was no surprise that Soosha had not returned with him.

By his silence, Yaniff had hinted such might be the case.

Traed was becoming an expert on understanding Yaniff. The true reason he had been sent on this journey was very clear as well. It had never been for Soosha.

It had always been for Brygar.

"Go after him now,"
his old master had said.
"Before he causes a galaxian war. . . "

Yaniff had covertly charged him as Chin t'se leau to the huge Familiar. By Aviaran law, Traed was now bound to be the Familiar's watchman.

Once again, the old Sage had ensnared him in his magician's game and he was caught by his honor.

The wizard had delivered him by his own promise!

He was honor bound now to find and rescue Brygar, the Familiar. From what Yaniff hinted, there was much at stake.

But where did he start?

Before the Oberions left, Traed overheard the leader instruct one of his group, '. . .
Sell this one to Muklak Kargigion's tribe. That Oberion will know how to handle him. Kargigion will break him just enough to get top price for him.'

But Traed knew that Brygar was not a man to be easily broken. Not that Familiar. He would never give in.

And so, the leader of the Fifth Clan of Familiar undoubtedly would be put to the lash and worse.

Still, there was one thing the Oberion slaver did not count on when he had left Traed, still shackled, to await the Spoltam beggar. While he might have been bound physically; he could still roam.

The Sight was not always dampened by the fields around Tunnels.

In this instance, he had been able to "see" the group up until the time they entered the next Tunnel point.

So Traed had a starting point for his search and woe to Muklak Kargigion when he found him!

But first, he need return to Aviara to apprise the House of Sages of the situation. He would confront Yaniff; after which, he would go for Brygar.

For that was the way the tale was to be written.

By Aiyah.

Yaniff set a warm cup of mir on the table in front of Traed.

"It is a pitiful thing, a Familiar with no sense of direction." He sat across from the tall Aviaran.

"You might have mentioned that to me
before
I left on your venture." Traed lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the fragrant brew.

Yaniff's eyes, darker than the darkest night, twinkled with mirth. "And be accused of boring you?"

Traed gave the mystic his customary stony response.

Yet Yaniff's words rang in his head. It was a sad fact that people were often praised and condemned for their differences.

Often the
same
differences at that.

After due contemplation, he arched his brow.
Can truth, itself, be an unfolding paradox?

"You are an intriguing student, Traed."

"I am not your student."

"Ah." Yaniff glanced up to the rafters at Bojo's sudden squawk. "Yes, you are right; that is for another day." He poured them both a second cup of
mir.
"I take it Brygar has followed his usual path and now finds himself in danger?"

Traed nodded. "Grave danger."

The old sage clucked his tongue. "Truly a predicament." He sipped his drink and waited for Traed to speak.

"You expect me to find him, do you not?"

Yaniff shrugged. "Whatever you wish,
student-who-is-no-student."

Traed's jaw ticked. "Do not play your games with me. The man has been captured by slavers! He will suffer greatly. You would never leave such an abomination
alone."

Yaniff took another slow sip of his drink. "It has naught to do with me. I do not owe the man anything. . ." He glanced slyly up at Traed.
"Do you?"

Yes, he did.

He had promised Brygar he would rescue him. He was the Familiar's sworn protector!

As well Yaniff knew.

What was more, with this oath, he had taken on the mien of a Charl knight. Throughout time, Charl and Familiar shared a special bond. Wizards protected their Familiars and Familiars were their instruments.

But the bond went deeper.

The tie between them was mystical in nature, for both were enjoined by the power wielded so expertly by the Charl knights.

Yaniff stared at Traed knowingly.

Traed placed his palms flat on the table and leaned forward. "Do not gaze upon me like that."

"Like what?" Yaniff set his drink down and picked up an ancient book of spells that was lying on the table. He began to peruse the Grimmoire, absentmindedly.

"Will you answer my next question?"

"Yes."

"Could you have prevented this?"

The lines on Yaniff's face deepened. "No."

Traed's chair scrapped the wooden floor as he rose. "Why do I let this happen?"

There is nothing quite like the chafing sting of an old wizard's chuckle.

Traed's nostrils flared with annoyance. "Tell the Guild I go not for them. I go because I am bound by my oath."

"We both know it is because you have no heart, Traed."

The solemn Aviaran's cheekbones darkened to bronze. "Enough! Leave me be, wizard!" He stormed out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

Yaniff lifted his arm and Bojo flew from the rafters to perch on his shoulder. The old wizard softly stroked the downy feathers of his beloved winged companion.

"Never, Traed," he whispered aloud as Bojo cooed in ecstasy.
"Never."

NINETEEN

Daxan led Soosha to one of their favorite spots on top of the cliff behind their home.

When they reached the summit, he rested against the rock wall, drawing her back against him. Much as they had done from the first.

His strong arms encircled her waist as both watched the play of moonlight flickering across the Spoltam sea.

This was their favorite time of day. Night.

They could be themselves on this cliff, away from the watchful eyes of Aghni natives. Daxan's chin nudged along Soosha's shoulder in a tender caress.

With every moment that passed, with each word he spoke, with every kiss, every touch- Soosha loved him more and more.

Oh, how she loved him!

He was like the glittering sea before them. Exotically beautiful on the surface, intricate and fathomless beneath.

With each encounter, Daxan revealed more of himself to her. Although he had never done so in the past, he was not afraid to share himself fully. Deeply.

He gave her everything.

She responded with no less.

Soosha thought back to the day when she had made her choice to defy a king and seek adventure.

She had found her adventure.

The days on Spoltam were not easy. She had to remain confined within the walls of the estate, most often covered. Even though Daxan trusted his servants, Soosha had to remember to always cast her eyes down when speaking to them.

Still, she would make the same choice today. Daxan was helping their people to survive and she was there equally by his side.

To be truthful, it was not all bad.

There were the wondrous sunsets of Spoltam; as well a constant supply of
Nightfall
to enjoy.

There were evenings like this one, where the beauty of the sky, the stars, and the sea forever etched into her senses; like the warm, arms holding safe.

Holding her with love.

And there was Daxan; her one, true match.

Yes, she had made the best choice.

Because when she was with him, everything was right.

TWENTY

Yaniff made his way through the woods to the House of Sages.

It was a pleasant journey.

A slight breeze was in the air, the sun was shining, and the joyful songs of sylvan creatures filled the forest.

With each jaunty step, he swung a distinctive token back and forth.

Arriving at the House of Sages, he sought out one of its members. He found his mark dozing by a fountain in the inner court.

Gently, he shook the old man awake.

"Urrrmm?" The wizard Ernak rubbed his eyelids. "Is it time for the evening meal, then?"

Yaniff smiled softly. "Not yet, old friend. I woke you because I have a gift for you."

The kindly mystic's eyes popped wide with delight; he was clearly charmed by the surprise.
"For me?"

Another wizard might have been more inquisitive about such a gift. Ernak was not a complex thinker; and, thus, had never mastered the art of exquisite wizardry.

He had, however, mastered the art of happiness.

No small feat,
Yaniff acknowledged to himself. On some days, Ernak was truly an inspiration.
Is it his simplicity that allows him to find happiness?
Or is he just a simple man?

No matter.

Rare was the wizard, indeed, who had peace of mind and a light heart.

Ernak examined his gift, gasping with joy. "A
Zot
basket! Why, I have always wanted one of these! They are very difficult to come by, you know;
Zots
hate to part with them. To what do I owe this wondrous pleasure, Yaniff?"

Yaniff clapped him on the back. "There are often days that trouble me, Ernak; yet, when I look at you, so at peace, it gives me hope that the perspective of the world can always change. It simply depends on the view. Thus, I wanted to thank you for being you, my friend. Just for being you."

Ernak gave him an endearing, bashful smile, clearly stunned by this unwarranted praise from the most revered mystic on Aviara. "I do not know what to say. . . "

""Pfft!" Yaniff waved his gratitude away. "The wise man knows when to be silent."

Ernak chuckled. "I confess I am often at a lack for words so I must be very wise indeed."

Yaniff glanced covertly around the courtyard, then lowered his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "I will share a secret with you, Ernak."

"What is it?" Ernak whispered back, leaning in towards

Yaniff with eyes expectantly wide.

"Sometimes it is better to remain silent than to say anything at all. You would be surprised how many are willing to interpret silence as weighty thinking."

"Really?"

"Yes, so you see there is no need to thank me. I will simply interpret your loss of words as the ponderous silence of gratitude befitting a wise Sage!" Yaniff grinned slyly at him.

Ernak stroked his chin. "I never thought of silence in such a way before. .."

"Fascinating, is it not?"

"Hmmm... yes. Yes, it is..."

"Perhaps when next the High Guild sits in chamber, you will see for yourself its remarkable power?"

Ernak took to the suggestion at once. He nodded enthusiastically. "Mayhap I will!"

Yaniff clapped him on the back as they left the courtyard together.

And so, when next the House of Sages convened, a mysterious stalemate occurred. . .

With six Sages against and six Sages approving, the deciding vote remained steadfastly silent.

Throughout the meeting, it was remarked that the gentle wizard Ernak was strangely aloof.

Affecting the pose of the deep thinker, his eyes stared fixedly at the far stone wall. It was as if he contemplated the very grains of mortar that held, not simply the wall, but the entire universe in place
¹
.

He would not speak.

Frustrating both sides.

Half of the wizards argued that the fate of the universe was at stake by not voting! The other half maintained that the continuum had nothing what-so-ever to do with the vote!

Regardless, the vote had to be postponed, so no action was taken. Thirteen ballets must be cast for a decision to be valid. It was Aviaran law.

Ernak's unprecedented silence baffled his peers.

All, that is, save one.

If a few Sages questioned the satisfied sparkle in that wizard's eye, none dared voice it. Moreover, if the subject of the proposed ruling just happened to be a student of that mystic
.
It might be coincidence.

Wizards were a very pragmatic lot. Especially old wizards.

And while there had been no decision; the day had not been completely wasted.

No, never wasted.

For there is always contemplation of the evening meal to soften the pitiless rigors of a mystic's life.

And to those who wonder if wizards waste time pondering such trivialities—

They pass along this assurance: "Assortment is, after all, our business."

Epilogue

The Silver Forest, Planet Ganakari

Deep in the Sylvan Woods, where trees are dense and leaves form a thick sheltering blanket, stands a simple cottage.

Inside the hut, a rickety bed has been moved as close to the flames of a midday fire as safety will allow. On that bed lies a huddled, nameless mass of
something
barely alive.

The day is not a cold one, yet even under the piles of ragged blankets that have been heaped upon the bed, what lies beneath shivers uncontrollably.

So far, nothing has risen from the ashes of the flames; whatever lies here sinks further into the cold desolation of its own destruction.