Fallen Star (32 page)

She fixed her gaze on the babies lying side
by side in front of her. Identical in every way, their luminous
eyes stared back with trust and adoration. Tears blinded her.

How would she live without them?

Stretching out her hands, she scanned the
babies meticulously, making sure she had left nothing unbound.
There must be no sign of their power, no hint to draw attention to
them.

“It is time, Your Majesty,” her lover, also
a Mystic, said, and gently squeezed her shoulder.

She nodded and tried to stand but her entire
body trembled.
Oh no!
Her power could not fail her now. She
had yet to Summon the Storm. The binding ritual had drained her far
more than she realized.

“Steady,” the Mystic said, helping her to
her feet.

Two couples stepped forward, their costumes
appropriate to the separate destinations awaiting them. E’Lanna
caught her bottom lip between her teeth, holding back the protests
raging within her. This was the only way.

The Mystic gently picked up her babies and
handed them to their guardians.

E’Lanna wrapped her arms around herself and
choked back a sob. She couldn’t let this destroy her. The safety of
her daughters must come first.

Quickly turning to the grassy clearing, she
summoned the metaphysical plane. Thunder shook the ground and
lightning branched out across the violet sky. She opened a
transport conduit and poured energy into the vortex. The grass
danced with sizzling vibrations and her robe whipped around her
body. Bracing her legs farther apart, she Summoned the Storm.

In a sudden, violent burst, six bolts of
lightning struck the ground simultaneously, creating a visible
circle of energy surrounding her. Reaching out through the vastness
of space and time, she searched, guiding the conduit until she
found the location she desired.

The Mystic stepped up beside her. His hand
was gentle at the small of her back. “I will hold the vortex,” he
offered.

He was allowing her time to say goodbye.

One of the guardians passed the first child
to her and E’Lanna drank in the sight of her delicate features,
memorized the softness of her skin and her scent. She pressed her
lips to the baby’s temple and implanted her image, ensuring her
daughter would remember her face.

“We will cherish her, Your Majesty, and
protect her with our lives,” the guardian assured as E’Lanna
returned the baby.

The tightness in her throat made it
impossible to speak so she nodded and motioned toward the vortex.
The couple stepped through as E’Lanna shook with anguish and
loss.

The Mystic wrapped his arms around her,
pressing himself against her back, supporting her, offering his
energy.

E’Lanna ignored the tears streaming down her
face. Her task was not yet complete. She must protect the other
twin. Gathering her power into a more manageable stream, she merged
with the Mystic, allowing him to augment her rapidly depleting
strength.

Focusing again on the transport conduit, she
accessed the power of the storm, channeling the energy into the
vortex and guiding it in a new direction, to a separate
destination.

“Quickly,” she urged, motioning the couple
forward. E’Lanna kissed the other baby, gently caressing her face.
With her lips pressed to her daughter’s temple, she implanted the
memory. Her heart gave a sickening lurch as she raised her head and
passed the child to one of the remaining guardians. “Go now. I am
losing control.”

They didn’t hesitate. Lightning punctuated
their departure and the conduit closed behind them.

E’Lanna collapsed into her lover’s arms,
releasing the shuddering sobs she could no longer contain. He held
her tightly, rocking gently and whispering against her hair.

Crushing the fabric of his robe in her
fists, E’Lanna looked up at him, her expression fierce. “You must
promise me, no matter what happens, you will protect them.”

“With my life,” he said emphatically.

“You must trust no one.
No one
. Do
you understand? I am torn asunder by my responsibilities, but you
can offer your allegiance to them alone.”

“I offer it freely.”

Burying her face against the warmth of his
throat, she clutched him tightly and abandoned herself to grief.
She must be strong. So many depended on her.

She would be strong again tomorrow—but for
now, she would mourn all this conflict had cost her.

Ontariese

Cycle 89 of the Great Conflict

“I’m not looking forward to this,” Tal
muttered as he joined his brother in the vestibule of the
Traditionalist Sect Council’s headquarters.

Trey chuckled. He sprawled in a chair, one
brawny leg hooked over its arm, swinging negligently. He always
appeared carefree and comfortable, but Tal knew better. Shrewd
intelligence lurked beneath his reckless façade and his intense
amber gaze missed nothing.

“If it were up to you, little brother, you’d
never leave the Conservatory,” Trey chided. “The TSC wants a quick
report and then you can zap yourself back to your safe little
fortress and practice your spells.”

Ignoring the semi-playful jibe, Tal folded
his arms across his chest and tightened his hair until it lay in a
neat, black coil down the center of his back. “We have nothing to
report, so why are they wasting our time?”

“Vee still can’t figure out where Joon
went?”

“We know when the portal opened and an
approximate destination but…” Tal’s words trailed off as an
argument broke out on the other side of the closed chamber door.
“The TSC sounds as productive as ever.”

“You’d better change your clothes. If you
stroll into the esteemed council chambers in the simple robes of a
Mystic, Prefect Aune will not be pleased.”

There were so many things that displeased
their father. Tal had long since abandoned his efforts to remember
them all. But he didn’t argue. He visualized a formal Ontarian
uniform and felt the shift ripple across the surface of his body.
Glancing down, he inspected the result. Crisp, pleated trousers and
a formfitting jacket. A row of bright gold buttons and a wide belt,
the only decorations distracting from the austere black fabric.

Trey stood and smacked him in the middle of
the back. “You look damn good in black.” He laughed. “Good thing
you don’t wear it more often.”

A similar black uniform offset Trey’s vivid
coloring. He had tucked his multicolored hair behind his ears, but
refused to bind the bright red, gold and orange strands at the nape
of his neck as was proper. Mischief danced in Trey’s amber gaze,
and Tal smiled despite the tension wrapped around him like a rope.
It was hard to remain somber around Trey.

The chamber doors flew open, demanding the
attention of both men. Tal could see into the room. He hated the
pomp and formality in which the TSC reveled, so as his brother
said, he generally stayed away.

A massive U-shaped table dominated the room.
Any person wishing to make a presentation to the TSC was forced to
stand in the middle, surrounded by the council’s haughty stares and
aloof expressions.

The man standing there now did not appear
cowed by their arrogance.
Vee
. Tal smiled. His mentor and
closest friend, Vee refused to bow to the dictates of any man,
society or government. His flowing dove-gray robes intentionally
flouted convention and proclaimed his standing as a Master-level
Mage, a designation Tal had only recently achieved.

Without turning from his face-off with the
TSC, Vee motioned them forward. Tal glanced at Trey, who was
grinning from ear to ear. No one stood near the doors so Vee must
have thrown them open with the power of his mind.

“I was not ready for their reports, Vee,”
Roe Aune thundered, rising out of his chair, his palms flat on the
table.

“You shall address me with proper respect if
you expect the same from me,
Roe
Aune,” Vee said in a cold,
clipped tone.

Tal watched his father struggle for
composure. Only those who knew him well understood the effort
needed to restrain his temper. His nostrils flared, his eyes
narrowed, his lips compressed until they were invisible, but he
managed to regain control and sit.

“Point taken,
Master
Vee. I was not
yet ready for Commander Aune and Master Aune to join our assembly,”
the prefect muttered.

“I have already explained all there is to
know. We have exhausted our discourse,” Vee dismissed impatiently.
“With each moment you spend berating our efforts, Dez dar Joon
slips farther away.”

“How can it be that with all of the
technology of our military and the combined power of the Mystics we
cannot find one man?”

“Enough!” Vee’s voice rattled the
intricately etched windows set at regular intervals within the
sculpted walls of the chamber. It was not the volume but the
intensity of his tone that vibrated the entire room. “I have
explained our plan. If you have no further
questions
, we
shall proceed.”

“Has the Symposium provided you with nothing
useful?” Prefect Aune asked.

“The Symposium is still searching the Wisdom
of the Ages for anything that might shed light on Joon’s
motivation. I expect another transmission as soon as I return to
the Conservatory.”

“Then go. Do whatever you must to capture
Dez dar Joon. We have enjoyed a lull, an intermission in the
hostilities, for nearly ten cycles. The House of Joon cannot be
allowed to escalate this war again.”

Vee’s only response was a stiff nod. He
turned abruptly, his robes flaring out behind him, and strode from
the council chambers. Tal and Trey fell in behind and the massive
doors slammed shut the moment they cleared the threshold.

“If that man were my sire, I would have
strangled him in his sleep. How have you endured the exasperation?”
Vee’s angry stride kept him half a step ahead of the other two
men.

“I came to the Conservatory when I was a
child,” Tal reminded him.

“Boarding school,” Trey put in, and they all
laughed.

Vee opened a transport conduit and took them
to the wide, covered gallery surrounding the Conservatory. Trey
stumbled as they exited the vortex but the two Mystics didn’t miss
a beat.

“You mentioned a plan,” Tal said.

Heaving a long, ragged breath, Vee
explained, “We shall Summon the Storm and follow Dez dar Joon in
Trey’s ship.”

Tal skittered to a halt and stared at Vee.
“Has a
ship
ever been transported through the vortex
before?”

“None of which I am aware,” Vee
admitted.

Trey laughed. “This is precious. Why don’t
you two just zap through the vortex and bring him back?”

“Since Dez dar Joon has begun emulating my
energy pattern, I am no longer able to detect him,” Vee confessed.
“Traditional scanners might be more effective, especially given
this planet’s primitive state.”

“Fine by me, but can you two do it?” Trey
asked.

“I shall guide the ship from within while
Tal stabilizes the vortex from without.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

Tal glared at his brother. This was no time
for Trey’s sarcasm.

“We’ll want a small ship, minimal crew.
Something undetectable to their technology.” Trey grinned again.
“When do we leave?”

“Make whatever preparations you find
necessary. We shall join you as soon as I have heard from the
Symposium.”

Trey nodded and Vee sent him back through
the vortex.

“He hates that, you know,” Tal said.

“Transporting?”

“Not so much utilizing the vortex as being
tossed through space like a leaf on the wind.”

Some of the tension eased from Vee’s
expression. “I shall offer my apologies when next we meet.”

“Has the Symposium made any progress?” Tal
changed the subject.

“I was in the midst of a link when your
father summoned
me
like a disobedient child.”

Tal managed not to laugh at the obvious
affront in Vee’s tone, but a smile tugged the corners of his mouth.
It was not often that anything could rile Vee. Prefect Aune had
certainly done so today.

They went to one of the meditation chambers.
When the Symposium sent him massive amounts of information in a
short period of time, it was necessary for Vee to cast himself into
a nearly catatonic trance.

Tal stood by silently as Vee arranged
himself comfortably upon the padded floor. “I should not be
long.”

With a shake of his head, Vee emerged a few
moments later. “We were unable to pinpoint his destination, but we
have successfully narrowed the search area to a manageable
field.”

Never one to mince words, Vee continued
without giving Tal the opportunity to question his decisions.

“I will infuse you with the needed languages
and background information before we begin. The Symposium has given
me the image of a woman. We believe she is involved, but we are not
sure how. The other Mystics will supplement the Storm. This has
never been attempted before.”

“I’m aware of that,” Tal said. He felt his
senses stir with an uncomfortable combination of excitement and
foreboding. He didn’t fear Dez dar Joon, but each time they chased
after him, Tal couldn’t help but feel Joon was in control.

Vee glanced at him, apparently sensing the
surge of emotions within him. Tal looked away. Vee knew all of the
reasons Tal pursued Dez dar Joon. Perhaps this time it would
finally end.

“As soon as Trey is ready,” Vee concluded,
“the adventure will begin.”

About the Author

Anything-but-Ordinary
is Cyndi's creed
and her writing reflects her dedication to the concept. She writes
in a variety of genres, but seems happiest in outer space. Her
books have been nominated for numerous awards, and
Taken by
Storm
was named Best Fantasy/Science Fiction Romance of the
year by
Romance Reviews Today
.