Dusky swirls of deep gold and burnt crimson streaked across the sky as the second sun dipped low and dove beneath the blue horizon. The air was cool and sweet, stained with the scent of freshly trampled grass. Where the Nyacene walked, the trees shuddered subtly. Where she moved, they sent leaves raining down from the sky and they were carried away by the soft breath of the evening wind.
“Spectacular sunset, isn’t it?” Indira flashed a fleeting smile at Apollo. They were making their way from the compound to a ruin by the south shore. Due to her instability, it was safer to cross the short distance on foot than in a transport.
To General Bassan she murmured, “Yori, was the entourage completely necessary?”
She inclined her head backwards. Besides Becks, Halily, Syriana, Tatya and her attendants, the entire regiment that had awakened the day before followed silently.
The general glanced back a the small crowd following them. “I wouldn’t have been able to keep them away if I tried.”
They reached the ruined building. The array was still intact. The foundation of the building where it had been installed had remained stable even after catastrophic results of the previous interstellar shift. Syriana followed Apollo and Indira to the terminal, a cylindrical tower that stood just above waist height. It was made of dark, smooth material and covered with strange glyphs.
She watched as Indira held out her arms to Apollo, the way he gingerly unwrapped her bandages. They were both so serene, in that moment--and smiling conspiratorially at each other, as they once did when they really had decades together laid out before them. That tenderness, it tore her heart to pieces all over again.
Indira faltered. “Syriana...”
“Are you ready?” Indira’s childhood friend took her hands in her own. She inspected the beautiful, monstrous machinery that had fused with her arms.
For a brief moment, it felt like old times standing there with their heads together--the infamous trio of Mikonos Academy. Syriana blinked away the painful wetness that seared her eyes and loosened her grip on the empress’ hands. They were not children anymore. She stared down at her own gnarled fingers as they pressed down on an indentation on the terminal. She’d grown old naturally, but Indira and Apollo hadn’t. The two of them had moved far beyond her reach such a long time ago.
“No, it’s you Syriana.” Indira declared softly. A loud screech filled the air as several large orbs flew upward, forming a vast circular pattern in the sky. “You’re the one we could never catch up with.” She gestured toward the small crowd. “Look at them! Look at the great thing you’ve done.”
Syriana opened her mouth to protest but it died on her lips as a small tremor ran through the ground. Indira’s fists were clench as she desperately tried to hold on to the energy building up inside. She stepped back and looked to Apollo. “Last chance. It’s time to move outside the barriers.”
He smiled, “I’m staying.”
Her heart sank even though she’d already known what choice he would make. She departed wordlessly.
Dorian hovered over the unfolding scene in the transport, contemplating his next move. He spotted Syriana walking away from the center of the ruin. There were more people than Dorian expected, a large throng of both men and women followed the procession of priestess to the the ruins of another building that jutted out into the ocean to the south. He vaguely remembered Tatya saying that one regiment of the Nyacene warriors had been awakened. His mother was flanked by two men in dark armor. Why? The fliers he’d seen earlier hovered high in the sky in a circular formation around that area. He slammed his fist on the controls. The terminal veered down to a rough landing. He scrambled out and ran ahead of the group.
Halily blocked his path. “Dorian--”
“Get out of my way!” He advanced on her, shaking with rage. These people--hypocrites, all of them-- had all come here gathered in a crowd just to watch his mother die. Halily shook her head at the other guardians moving to surround them. At a nod from Halily's partner, they fell back.
“Move!” he growled again. That wild and hateful thing rose up inside him again. The memory of what he’d just done to Torrin cut to the quick and deflated his fury. He lowered his voice. “I really don’t want to hurt anyone else but I will if I have to.”
“Anyone else? That outburst was directed at Torrin, was it?” Becks’ calculating gaze flicked from her partner to him. “And you left him there, knowing what kind of damage you might have have done?”
“Damage?” He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Becks’ gaze narrowed. “I can’t decide whether you’re that clueless or just cruel.” The guardian tapped Halily’s shoulder. “He’s their son. We’ll let him try, at the very least.”
Halily objected immediately. “We can’t just--”
Becks merely raised a brow. “That was an order, Second Lieutenant.”
Halily nodded stiffly. She stepped aside to let Dorian pass but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Dorian frowned, thrown by the fact that even Halily was taking orders from Becks. Who the hell was she, really?
He hesitated, torn. “What you said just now, I--”
“We’ll see to him.” Becks declared. “You should do what you came here to do.”
He nodded gratefully and took off running again. He bolted past Syriana and one of the two men who were accompanying Indira. Everything became a roar. He barely heard Syriana’s urgent shout from behind him. His mother was just ahead. He skidded to a stop, suddenly besieged my a memory of his mother and that man by her side. Just like then, their backs had been turned and they had seemed so incredibly far away. Just like then, they both turned to look at him. The man’s face registered surprise. Just like that time, his mother’s smile was infinitely sad.
 |
 |
He’d overhead his parent’s planning to go to some faraway place without him. Not wanting to be left behind, he’d stowed away on their ship. He’d been found out just as everything became too loud, cold and scary to bear. His father carried him to their quarters, plastered to his warmth like a clam. His chest rumbled with laughter but he arms tightened around Dorian momentarily before he peeled him away and set him down on a chair.
“The secondary maintenance shaft was a pretty clever choice for a hiding spot, if I may say so myself.” he whispered, tilting Dorian’s chin upward with the tip of his finger. When the doors slid open behind them he cleared his throat and made a decent effort at sounding stern. “Do what your mother says, Dorian.” He grinned again and winked as Indira entered. “She knows things.”
He heard Ti’rel calling for their father. Moments later, his mother was tracing a circle around the amulet that she always wore on a chain around her neck. It glowed--like her arms and fingertips, swirling bands of green and golden stardust. He pouted when it died down and the disc went cold.
“You see,” She removed the chain and hung it around his neck. “Even if you might not realize it, a part of me will be with you. Always.”
Tears still bubbling forth, he shot her a mutinous frown.
“I’ll tell you another secret,” she offered, casting a sly glance at the doorway.
He paused middle-sniffle. “Secret?”
She closed his tiny fist over the amulet, within hers. “There will come a day when the three of us will meet again. When that time comes--I promise--you will remember everything.”
Dorian blinked. “Everything?”
“Everything.” She smiled pressing her cheek to his and her voice had cracked just a bit. “Now, say the words Dorian. Say them properly this time.”
At the end of the day, he was carried off their ship in his eldest brother’s arms, barely awake enough to even reciprocate their last goodbyes.
There was a low hum that seemed to come from deep inside the earth. The wind went wild. Apollo shouted frantically at Dorian but he couldn’t hear. He started running towards them again. His father moved so suddenly and quickly, Dorian blinked. When his eyes opened, he was before him, the dark haired warrior with the tell-tale gray eyes of the Avanus. He struck. A featherlight touch from the hilt of his ornate dagger produced an incredible force that stopped Dorian in his tracks.
His mind couldn’t process what happened next. The shock to his system was so severe, it stunted his perception of the flow of time. By the time Dorian heard his mother scream, by the time he saw the blinding light, it had already happened. He’d already been brought to the ground. When he managed to open his eyes again, he saw her body hit the water. He saw her plummet from the air--in that order!
This fearsome warrior hefted Dorian up by the collar with pitifully little effort. He forced Dorian into a sitting position. He was silhouetted by kaleidoscopic light show in the the sky, he loomed over the prince like a great predator. His expression was grim.
“Dorian. You still haven’t learned to do as you’re told.”
Paralyzed, Dorian watched as his father ran towards the water. He saw him dive in. He tasted blood and then there was only darkness.
Apollo swam out to where Indira’s body floated. He gathered her close. A lump rose in his throat at the way her body trembled against him. His vision blurred with wet just as the stars above blurred in the chaotic sky. His tears dripped down on her face. She’d planned it this way all along, had known that their son would eventually find his way here. She’d known exactly what it would take to make him leave her side.
When her eyes opened he accused gently, “Two steps ahead of me again, weren’t you? You don’t play fair Indira. “
“Two? Oh, it was so many more than that.” She coughed, spitting up blood but managed a watery smile. “Did the array function correctly?”
“It would seem so. The interstellar shift will still take at least a day’s rotation to complete.”
Her eyes swooped shut. “I wish I could be there to see it.” He eyes flew open again suddenly. “Dorian?”
Apollo shook his head. “He’s fine. He took a hit from my dagger, that’s all. You bore the brunt of the equalizer so that it had no chance of reaching us, didn’t you?”
“The difference wasn’t significant enough to change whether I live or die. Do you remember?” Indira asked. “When we were children, I told you that I had loved you before. Even if you don’t believe, I have all these memories of so many lifetimes with you...”
“I remember.”
The trembling worsened. Her teeth chattered when she tried to speak again. “Have you seen her? My successor. She’s so young!” Indira frowned. “I don’t remember being that young.”
“Indira...”
“Listen to me Apollo,” Her eyes grew bright and earnest again. “She’s different. Something is strange about how she found her way here. I wasn’t even able predict her arrival here at all. Watch her. Watch the way she moves. Your life might depend on it.”
“I hear you.”
The inner barrier hadn’t yet gone down. Entombed within this eerie silence, it felt as if they were the only two people left on this small planet. He felt her palm on his face. Her hand was so small and weightless, it was as if she was already fading away.
“Any regrets, Apollo?”
“Just the one.”
Her gaze rolled to him sharply. “Haah?”
He feigned a long-suffering sigh. “You see, I have this awful wife. She never lets me have what I want.”
She sucked in a painful breath on a ragged laugh. Her face crumpled on a sob. “I’ll find you again. I promise I’ll...”
“I love you.” His lips touched hers. “Then, now and...”
“In the next life?”
“Always, Indira. Always.” Though, he imagined she might have been more amused by his usual complaint. "Indira, could you please not dictate how I declare my undying love?'"
Her eyes had gone completely black, her body deathly cold. They were already out of time. Her blind eyes turned to the sky.
“Time,” she murmured, voice full of wonder. “Time is such a strange animal...”
In the next instant, she was gone from him. Apollo clung to her lifeless body. For a few moments, he simply could not imagine letting go. When he finally let her body float away from him, it became suffused with that bright, green and golden light. He watched, stunned as she became the light itself; the way it burned ever so brightly before sinking beneath the churning waves and vanishing.
Torrin’s eyes drifted open. He was lying on his back, head cushioned by one of their discarded blankets. He tried to move when he realized he wasn’t alone. He started at the sight of a huge head with at least six buggy eyes hovering over him. The octoped drew back abruptly, apparently as surprised as he was. It sat back on what he supposed were its haunches and continued scrutinizing him with intensity. He tried to sit up. His head swam, pain blurring his vision.
“Don’t,” said Kheera Amavel. “Becks said you mustn’t. They’re sending someone to get you.”
His head inclined toward the hirsute alien.
“That’s Moth,” she explained. “It’s a syvot but different from other syvots. I mean, Moth won’t try to eat you or anything,” she finished awkwardly.
He waited a few heartbeats before he dared open his eyes again. His gaze arced over to where she and her heroon friend sat in shared misery.
“Is it over?” he swallowed hard. Hell, it even hurt to talk.
“Maybe it’s just begun.” Fresh tears dripped from her eyes. “I don’t really understand how these things work yet.” She wiped at her eyes, sniffling. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so--”
“Believe me,” he mused wryly. “You’re not the only one who feels like crying, right now.”
She stared down at him intently. Her bright eyes were filled with a wealth of knowing a child should not possess.
“You see it now, don’t you?” She asked suddenly. “The path laid out before you.”
A brief smile flashed across Torrin’s face. She was a sharp one, this young daughter of Y’chen. He gazed upward. A myriad of brightly colored lights still speared madly across the sky. He raised his hand up and stared at the fading marks on his wrist. There was an ache, heavy like a boulder wedged in his chest. He wondered it if would ever lighten, that chaotic mass of guilt and hurt.
“He left me,” he murmured to no one in particular. “Without so much as a backward glance.”
