The Tigrens' Glory (2 page)

So speak the Nine. 

So is our task done. 

***

The Oraculum of the Arkandu

Oh Black Deceivers, you have come, on the day and hour foreseen and appointed.

We have seen our death, and accept with grim sadness our passing into the realm which lies beyond.

Before you do the evil deed you have come to carry out, know this;

You are allotted a span of time for your webs of evil to endure, and when that span is done, so are you.

Across the Wide Deep, the eggs of your destruction are already hatched.

In the fullness of time, you and all your broods shall be devoured.

In the Veil of Stars, nestled in the crook of the Great Hunter's Arm, lie the peoples of a Thousand Worlds, all woven from the same Fabric of Life, and thus connected one to the other in spite of the differences they perceive of themselves.

Beware, oh, Black Deceivers,

For when the shifters who emerge singly from eggs, and the shifters who emerge in threes covered with the blood of their mothers, discover that they are brothers, they will bind the Thousand Worlds with eternal bonds of blood.

Thus shall they destroy you.

Utterly.

And none shall mourn your passing.

Prologue

He felt as though he were floating in warm, soft black tar.  No effort was required on his part to stay afloat, but his body felt wrong, somehow.  He wasn’t in pain.  Nor was he hungry.  Or thirsty.  There was nothing familiar about the sensation, nothing he could relate it to, nothing to help him understand what it all meant. 

Confusion filled his mind.  Where was he?  What was he? 
Who
was he?  Panic rose, in itself more terrifying than all of his unanswered questions combined.  He was certain he’d never panicked before.  Not once in his entire existence.  But how could he know that when he remembered nothing?  His fear ratcheted up another notch.

“Try to relax, calm yourself,
” a voice said.  A low voice, gentle and soothing.  Female.  It brushed against the growing wave of panic, leaving calm in its wake. 

“
Who are you?
”

“I’m Glory,”
the voice replied. 
“What’s your name?”

“You don’t know?”
he asked.  How could she speak to his mind, yet not know him?  That made no sense.  But then, he should know her name, too.  Shouldn’t he?

“You may have told me in my dreams,”
she replied.  “
If so, I don’t remember.”

“Kyerion,”
he said, surprising himself.  He was sure he hadn’t known that until he’d said it.  Why hadn’t he known his own name?

“What are your brothers’ names?”
she asked. 

“Brothers?”
he asked.  More confusion. 

“Yes,”
she said. 
“I feel them just as I feel you, though not as strongly.”

As soon as she said that, he felt them too.  Kirk and Cade.  His brothers.  The other parts of his soul.  How could he have forgotten them?  He was eldest.  It was his responsibility to lead and guide them. 
“Kirkeon and Cadeon.”

She repeated the names in a soft murmur. 
“Thank you, Kyerion.”

“
Where are we?”
he asked
.

“You don’t know?”
  Was that sadness he heard?  Disappointment?

“No,”
he replied. 
“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,”
she replied. 
“I’m going to keep searching, Kyerion.  I’ll find you.”

“Please hurry,”
he said, not liking the note of pleading he heard in his own voice. 
“I don’t think we have much time left to us.”

“Why?  What’s happening?”
 

Guilt struck him at the sound of her fear. 
“I don’t know, Glory,”
he said. 
“I can’t remember anything.  I know only that our time is growing short.”
 

“I’m searching,”
Glory said. 
“I’m on my way to a world called Jasan where I think I’ll find some of your people.”

“That name isn’t familiar to me,”
he replied
.  “But then, I remember very little.”

“It is my hope that the Jasani will be able to help me find you, but if not, I’ll continue my search alone.  I won’t give up, Kyerion.  I promise.”

“
Then we shall await your coming,”
Kyerion replied, projecting a calm certainty he didn’t feel.  She brushed his mind again, a light stroke of hope and comfort, and then she was gone.  Kyerion held onto the memory of her mind’s touch against his own.  Her voice.  Her name. 
Glory
.  He would wait for her.
  They
would wait for her.
 

“Kirk?  Cade?  Answer me, my brothers,”
he said, reaching out on a familiar, but somehow forgotten, path.

“Kyerion?” 
The voice was weak, thin, but familiar
. 

“Kirk,”
he replied, relieved.
 “Where are you?”

“I’ve no idea,”
Kirk replied.
  “I cannot make myself wake up.  What’s happening?”

“I have no answers, Brother,”
Kyerion replied.
  “But you must hang on.  Glory searches for us.”

“Glory?”
Kirk asked. 
“Who is Glory?”

“She is our Arima,”
Kyerion said.
 “She has promised not to stop looking until she finds us.”

“I have no memory of an Arima,”
Kirk said doubtfully
.  “Are you certain?”

Kyerion wanted to say
yes
, but he couldn’t
.  “She spoke to my mind,”
he said.
  “What other explanation can there be?”

“She could be Druidess,”
Kirk suggested
.

“True,”
Kyerion admitted reluctantly.  He preferred to think she was their Arima, but he couldn’t deny Kirk’s logic. 
“Whoever she is, I gave her my word that we would await her coming.”

“Then we have no choice but to abide by your word, which is our word.”

“Where is Cade?”
Kyerion asked
.

“Nearby, but very weak,”
Kirk replied
.  “I fear he will soon slip away.”

“We will not lose him,”
Kyerion said, making it a command that he sent along the silent path to their youngest brother.
  “Hold on, Cade.  Glory will come for us.  She has promised.”

“I’ll help him,”
Kirk said, his voice fading from Kyerion’s mind.  He struggled to maintain the connection, but his strength was gone.  He allowed himself to relax, but he held tightly to the memory of Glory’s voice in his mind, refusing to let it slip away from him in the unending darkness.

Chapter One

Gloriani
nee
Aniya,
tu
Bashir, Third Princess of Ramouri, sixth in line to the throne, and youngest child of King Bashir and Queen Aniya, may she forever rest in Heaven, gazed out the window of the air transport as it began its descent over Dracons’ Ranch.  The blue grass and lavender skies were alien to eyes accustomed to green and blue, but aside from that, it was a beautiful world whose inhabitants appeared to treasure nature even more than her own world did.  She was looking forward to stepping out onto the blue grass and breathing clean, fresh, unprocessed air after weeks of passenger liners and space transports.  Technology and progress had their places, but she preferred the peace and tranquility of wide open spaces when possible and, from what she could see, Dracons’ Ranch had plenty of those. 

She winced inwardly at the thought of the Dracons.  Though nothing in her eyes or expression revealed her thoughts or feelings, she felt guilty for using her royal title to persuade the Jasani Princes to meet with her.  She hadn’t lied.  She was exactly who she’d claimed.  And, since she hadn’t given them a reason for her request, it could not be said she’d lied about that, either.  But, she’d allowed the Dracons to make their own assumptions, which made her guilty of lying by omission.  Pusan-Lo would not be proud of her.  She wasn’t proud of herself.  At the same time, she couldn’t regret her actions.  Her desperation was growing by the day, as was the feeling that she was rapidly running out of time.  

Glory swallowed nervously when she felt the transport slow as it began its landing.  What if the Jasani couldn’t help her?  Or worse, refused to help her?  What if they didn’t believe her?  What if they thought her mind was damaged and banished her from their world?  One corner of Glory’s mouth kicked up. 
It wouldn’t be the first time
, she thought sardonically. 

Strangely, the thought helped to calm her nerves.  By the time the transport touched down she’d regained her cool composure both inside and out.  She reached for her bags and stood up, fully prepared to meet the Dracons, Royal Princes of Jasan.

***

Lariah Dracon flew in the general direction of the garrison airfield, taking her time as she played in the thermals, her leopard spotted wings spread wide.  Her sensitive dracon ears heard the transport long before she saw it.  By the time it completed its descent, landing on the thick blue grass of the airfield, she was climbing high into the sky above it.

“Feeling dramatic?”
Garen asked, speaking into her mind.

“From what I’ve read, the Ramouri are a very traditional and status conscious people,”
Lariah replied. 
“There’s no harm in making a striking first impression, especially since we’ve no clue as to the purpose of the Princess’s visit.”

“Agreed,
Sharali
,”
Garen said just as he, Trey, and Val suddenly appeared in the air around her in their dracon alter-forms. 

“Do you want us to roar flame?”
Trey asked.

“No,”
Lariah replied, rolling her enormous dracon eyes. 
“I think arriving in our dracon alter-forms is enough.”

“As do I,”
Val said
.  “Spitting flame at our guest might be seen as something less than friendly.”
 Lariah snickered as she climbed higher into the lavender sky, the huge male dracons in a triangular formation around the smaller female. 

“This should be enough,”
Garen said.  “
Turn
.”

On his command, they flipped around as one, their wings spread to slow them as they descended in an angled line toward the air field.  Lariah’s dracon vision allowed her to see every detail of their visitor as she stepped off the transport long before the Princess became aware of them. 

Princess Gloriani was very tall and slender, with golden brown skin and long black hair which hung down her back in an elaborate configuration of thick, glossy plaits woven with gold cord.  She wore a snug black vest with gold fastenings, loose black pants tucked into knee high leather boots with gold buckles along the sides, and black gloves.  Everything about her, from the way she moved, to the manner of her dress, to the short curved sword and row of throwing knives hanging from a belt slung low on her hips, told Lariah that their visiting princess was a warrior. 

“
Shall we roar to gain her attention?”
Trey asked.

“Please don’t,”
Lariah said with a mental wince. 
“Let’s flap our wings a bit to warn her of our presence so we don’t startle her too much.  That’ll be enough.”

“Agreed,”
Garen said, and the four of them made a show of flapping their enormous wings a couple of times as loudly as they could.  The Princess looked up at them with shimmering, metallic bronze eyes, her expression calm, her body relaxed, though Lariah noted that she placed one hand on the leather-wrapped hilt of her sword.

“If we force this woman to show fear, she will be shamed,”
Lariah said with sudden insight. 
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“No,
Sharali
,”
Garen argued, “
a small display of power was, and is, a good idea
. 
We shall be cautious, though I don’t think this is a woman who is easily frightened.”

“I wonder where her escorts and servants are.”
Val said
.  “She cannot be alone, can she?”

“Yes, I think she is,”
Garen said
. “See the travel bags at her feet?”

“She is allowed her weapons only because she is Ramourian royalty,”
Trey said. 
“Yet she comes to us as a lone traveler with two small bags that she carries herself?  I don’t like this.”

“This woman is no threat to us
,” Lariah said
.  “In fact, she’s very important.”

“What do you mean?”
Trey asked
.  “Important how?”

“I don’t know yet,”
Lariah replied. 
“We will soon find out, but please, be patient.”

“
Of course,”
Garen replied.  He trusted their Arima completely, and had great respect for her rapidly maturing talents as Nahoa-Arima, Soul of the Jasani, member of the Three, and Dracon Princess.  Still, he didn’t take his eyes off of Princess Gloriani’s sword hand for a moment. 

“Why don’t you perform the introductions?”
Garen suggested as a light breeze brought him a taste of the woman’s nervousness, though her expression remained steadfastly calm.

“Yes, that’s a good idea,”
Lariah agreed.