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Destiny Awaits

The past we must understand and respect, but it is not to be worshiped. It is in the future that we shall find our greatness. ~Pierre Elliot Trudeau

If there was one thing she hated it was winter and winter hated her. Even after all these years she couldn't understand why the inhabitants of Reeah lived in this godforsaken part of the world. Granted, the snow melted in spring but that still didn't excuse the fact that winter made her miserable a quarter of the year.

She sniffed to keep her nose from running out in the chill winter wind and accidentally sucked up some snot into the back of her throat. Well, that was disgusting. She waited for some people that were floating about the castle to pass her before spitting the snot filled saliva out. She never understood those people who swallowed it.

A cold wind blew through the courtyard and the open hallways surrounding it, chilling her even through her fur lined cloak. Of course, a light snow falling would chill her. She really did hate winter, with all of the people being so cheery all the time and the shrieks of laughter piercing her ears. Give her the stillness of the desert with its brutal heat and cold nights any day. At least there it was dry. Here it was always wet, even in winter.

She continued on her way through the open air passages, grumbling under her breath and glaring at anyone that gave her an odd look. She couldn't stand people. Not as a whole and as an ignorant mass. Hell, she couldn't even stand most people on an individual basis. They were petty and trivial. They weren't worth her time.

She finally reached her destination: the main hall of the keep. Or was it a castle? It really didn't matter to her. It was another large building made of stone and they all looked the same. She brushed passed the guards without a second thought as she moved down the hall and to a side passage. It amazed her how it could be so much colder inside than it was outside.

Without any preamble, she opened the door and walked into the room. Inside was a dark haired young man with a pretty young lady. Both stood up as soon as she entered. She watched impassively as the smiles slipped from their faces.

"We need to talk," she told the boy.

"Now?"

"Yes. Now."

The young man politely, but hastily, excused himself, and followed her out of the room.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked. When she said nothing he set his jaw and demanded, "Diahnee, I order you to tell me."

Diahnee stopped abruptly and did an about face that would have put his general to shame. Her glare was fierce and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Do not think that you command me, princeling. I serve you so long as it serves my needs," she hissed.

He was visibly unnerved and took and involuntary step back. The fire died in her eyes and she turned back around. She couldn't believe that Zellthanos' ancestor was such a spineless fool. History said that this would-be ruler had been assassinated by someone and if she was the one to do it to ensure that Zellthanos would one day assume the throne then so be it.

She led the prince down the hall where she knew the assassination would take place. Seeing no one she realized that she would have to do the deed herself. It figured. And made sense. She turned abruptly so that the prince was nearly right in front of her when she turned. She took a step forward and thrust the dagger she had concealed up under his ribs, toward his heart.

The prince's eyes widened in surprise and then began to loose focus from the pain. He felt the dagger twist in his chest and he knew that it was too late for him. It was amazing. All he could about was who this woman was.

Diahnee withdrew her weapon and tucked it away once more. She watched in grim satisfaction as the prince fell away from her. At least she had ensured Zellthanos' claim to the throne years from now. She turned away from the dying prince and made her way out of the castle. Zellthanos will make a much better ruler, anyhow.

***

Tarrant fought bitterly against the on coming enemy. It was his duty as a Blade Dancer to protect, but the ones who he was supposed to protect were long gone. He was alone now. One man fighting against impossible odds. He was fighting for his life.

He was hit from the side. He didn’t even see him coming. Blood was running into his eyes, making it difficult to see. He lost his balance and toppled over. He raised his sword to defend himself. A last desperate bid to save his life. He wasn’t afraid to die but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to take one of these bastards with him.

His enemy stiffened strangely and then a tip of a blade burst through its chest. The blade was withdrawn and the man cast it aside. In its place stood a cloaked man with a blood soaked blade in his hand.

“Can you stand?”

It took Tarrant a moment to realize that the man was actually a woman. Cold, crystal blue eyes stared down at him and wisps of bronze colored hair were caught by the wind from underneath her hood to be toyed with. The hooded cloak itself was a dull white, almost the color of bone after having been exposed to the elements for so long. Along the edges of it was a pale blue that must have once been vibrant with faded gold embroidery running within its borders: a long dead language forgotten by all but the oldest. Tiny emerald jewels rimmed in gold hung from the hood and the sleeves, many of them missing. The sword she carried was a scimitar and he noticed that there was another one strapped to a sword belt about her waist, along with a crossbow. Her clothes were traditional of those living in the desert and at the very moment he couldn’t quite remember what the clothes were called.

He blinked up at her and nodded, realizing that she was waiting for an answer from him. He stood to his feet and retrieved his sword.

“What are you doing here? You should leave.”

Tarrant shook his head. “I can’t. I have to stay here to ensure that they succeed in their task.”

“They who?”

“Guenwhyvar and her friends. They are the only ones with the capability to stop the Void. For reasons unknown to us, it seems to have…become insane.”

“I know,” she said, looking toward the main doors. She looked back at Tarrant. “What is your name?”

“Tarrant,” he answered, suppressing an involuntary shudder when she looked at him. For a moment, thought he saw surprise register in her eyes. The moment had been so brief that he thought he had imagined it.

“Come then. The real battle is not here.”

His curiosity overcoming his wariness of any possible threat from the woman, Tarrant followed her inside the temple of Tymy. He tightened his jaw as he walked and applied pressure to an oozing wound on his right arm. He was bruised and battered and his body ached so much that he wasn’t sure where the real injuries were. He wiped away the blood that was running into his left eye and made a note to himself to check for a head injury later. The way the world was slightly askew while moving was not a good sign.

It seemed to be completely empty inside and impossibly quiet. The only sounds that reverberated off of the walls were their footfalls. It was deathly still and that unnerved him. He heard the beginnings of battle and shouting and they grew closer by every second. They stopped suddenly and Tarrant peered around the mysterious woman to see someone blocking their path.

“What goes on behind these doors is beyond our realm of control, Diahnee,” the blonde woman said. She stood with her hands down at her sides, wearing a short tunic and trousers. There were faint red highlights in her hair and she had pale green eyes. They burned with an intensity that matched the woman that stood opposite her.

“I know that, Solara, but you and I both know that we must ensure the correct people live and die,” Diahnee replied evenly. “And yes, before you ask, I am well aware of what happened last time.”

“Then you know why we can’t go in. Everything depends on this.”

“That is exactly why we must! Do you not remember the last time we stood by and did nothing?!” Diahnee hissed at the other woman.

“I remember quite well, thank you,” Solara replied stiffly.

“Why can’t we go in?” Tarrant interrupted.

Solara flicked her eyes over at him. “Who’s he?”

“Someone from outside,” Diahnee began.

“Tarrant Ovone,” the man replied. He didn’t really care that the question wasn’t directed a him. He was irritated at the fact that he was being referred to in the third person when he was right there.

Solara stiffened and glared at Diahnee. “You have interfered!”

Diahnee arched an eyebrow. “And? For all we know he could be that so called ‘wild card’ that we need.”

“How so?”

“Let me pass and we shall find out.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“I know he’s bleeding to death.”

Tarrant let out an irritated sigh. Enough was enough. “Please stop talking about me as if I’m not here. It’s quite disconcerting. As for my loss of blood, I will be fine. A little weak, but fine. I have enough strength to at least provide a distraction.”

Diahnee looked back at Solara. “I will not interfere directly but we should at least try what he suggests.”

Solara seemed to consider Tarrant for what seemed to be an eternity. Tarrant could see thoughts passing behind her eyes, calculating. “I understand,” was all she said and stood aside.

Tarrant stepped past Diahnee and Solara. He placed his hand upon the door and withdrew his sword. He took in a deep breath, preparing himself. He shoved the door open and let out a cry. All eyes were on him now. He threw his sword at the vast darkness that was controlling Lord Brimra.

Guenwhyvar took advantage of the distraction. She ran toward Brimra, scooping up a sword along the way. It was now or never. He just needed one final push and he would be banished forever within Wyndelyn’s spell. She ran the sword into his exposed side and saw Lucien do the same. With a final, mighty push, she rammed the sword further into Brimra, the pain causing him to loose concentration.

She stumbled back from Brimra as the spell began to take full control. A rushing wind began to build and a dark portal began to pull him in. She faintly heard the words “Damn you!” torn from his lips as the darkness swallowed him whole. The wind stopped suddenly and the silence rang louder than the noise.

Gasping was heard not far from her and she turned. Strite was feebly holding a hand to his chest to stem the flow of blood. She fell to her knees and scrambled over to his side. As gently as she could she cradled him in her arms.

“Strite?” she whispered, fear creeping into her voice. She looked for Lucien and Wyndelyn and was relieved to find her brother helping their friend. She glanced toward the door where she had seen Tarrant burst through the doors and found his lifeless body on the floor. He must have had fought so hard to give them the advantage that they had so desperately needed. His final act as a Blade Dancer had been a noble one. She would have to make sure that Lucien mentioned it to the historians.

“Guen?”

The sound of her name brought her attention back to Strite. “I am here, Strite. Worry not.” Guenwhyvar tried to smile, but all it brought were tears to her eyes.

“You should leave.”

Guenwhyvar began to say something when she felt the building tremble. “What was that?”

“My spell,” Wyndelyn began. She walked over to Guenwhyvar and Strite with Lucien’s help. “It was open to the astral plane for so long that it started to take in parts of the temple. By the time that Brimra and the Void were completely banished structural damage was done.”

”We need to leave now before it is too late,” Lucien added.

“Strite…” Guenwhyvar let her sentence trail off.

“We will take him with us, but we must leave now.”

“No. Leave me.”

Everyone looked down at Strite, stunned.

“We cannot just leave you here! If we make it out there is still a chance that you will be healed! Please!” Lucien begged. “You must come with us!”

“Look at me, Lucien. There is no way I can make it out of here,” Strite said haltingly. As if to emphasize his point, the building shook ominously.

Guenwhyvar set her jaw and looked up at Lucien and Wyndelyn. “You two leave. Lucien, Wyn is your charge now. You must protect her. Do you understand?” When Lucien nodded, she took in a deep breath and let it out. “Good.” She reached up and unhooked the silver chain necklace about her neck and held it out to Lucien. “Take this with you. The stone on this chain is malachite. It will protect you on your journey. Now go.”

Lucien stared in confusion at his sister but took the necklace. Why would she give him her necklace? Not unless… “No! You cannot!” He tried to hand it back to her. “You and Strite are coming with us!” He shook off Wyndelyn’s pleading hand.

“Lucien, please understand,” Guenwhyvar pleaded. “I can’t leave him here.” She searched his face and added, “Remember what I told you: Wyn is your charge now. If you don’t leave with her now you will be failing in your duty as a Blade Dancer.”

Lucien stuffed the necklace into a pocket and nodded. He turned away from her without a word and grabbed Wyndelyn by the arm. How could she do this to him? “Come on,” he said thickly to Wyndelyn. He led her quickly from the room and out of the temple.

Guenwhyvar watched them leave. She closed her eyes once more. She prayed that Lucien would understand one day. He was still so young.

“Guen, you should leave,” Strite managed.

Guenwhyvar shook her head. “No, I am staying here with you. I will not leave you’re here to die alone.”

The temple shook once more and debris began to fall. Guenwhyvar looked up to take note and clutched Strite close to her. “Beyond where the sun sets, where the ocean meets the sky, on the very edge of Heaven itself, you and I will meet again,” she whispered to him.

Strite managed to give her a lopsided smile. “You and I will meet again,” he echoed.

***

“You were right. He was the wild card that we needed. After the gods alone know how many tries of fixing-“

“I know. For the time being, things seem to be on track.”

”But Lucien-“

“He will survive and he will attain greatness. I will make sure of that.”

Solara gave Diahnee a side-long glance. “If I didn’t know you so well, Dee, I would say that you are in love with him.”

“Nonsense. That would interfere with my work. Besides, I made a promise.”

Solara opened her mouth to reply. Before she could even get a word out Tarrant began to stir awake.

“This conversation will need to wait,” Diahnee murmured. She watches as Tarrant slowly came awake and sat up. She wasn’t entirely sure why she decided to save him. According to history he had died. His last act had been to save Wyndelyn from the Void’s attack, thus enabling Guenwhyvar and Lucien to drive their blades in it. Still, in the end, Guenwhyvar died, and so had Strite. It seemed as though those two were meant to die, but why?

“You have a question,” Tarrant observed.

Diahnee looked down at Tarrant. “What are you talking about?”

“I see it in your eyes.”

Diahnee turned away from him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why am I here? I thought I had died.” He glanced over at Solara as she retreated from the room, bowing to him respectfully as their eyes met.

“For all intents and purposes, you did. As for why you are here I brought you back.”

“Why, though?”

“I have uses for you,” Diahnee replied as she began to walk away.

Tarrant hastily stood from the bed that he was on and tried to follow her. Much to his surprise, his legs gave out beneath him. He grimaced in pain as he shifted about on the floor. He struggled back on to the bed and collapsed back onto it.

Diahnee looked over her shoulder at him. “You should be more careful. You haven’t recovered fully. You should probably rest.” She turned away gain to leave.

“Wait! Before you leave answer me but one question.” Tarrant watched as Diahnee paused to listen. “What became of my friends?”

“They were successful in banishing the corrupted portion of the Void but at great cost. Strite and Guenwhyvar died. Lucien and Wyndelyn survived. You should be proud, Tarrant. Your last act as a Blade Dancer saved the world.”

Tarrant tried to reply, to say something, but thank you seemed meaningless. He sighed instead. What was the point? One of the greatest Blade Dancers was dead. On top of that Strite was dead as well. The victory over the Void seemed somehow shallow in comparison.

“Good night, Tarrant,” Diahnee said finally. She left the room quietly, leaving Tarrant alone with his thoughts.

Tarrant relaxed as soon as she left. She made him nervous. He didn’t care that she saved him. The face was: she was dangerous and that unnerved him.

The other girl, though, he sensed something in her akin to the dangerous woman. The feeling was different, however. Despite the feelings of reassurance that she gave off, she seemed to be surrounded by darkness.

He would have to wait until the morning to figure things out. It was too much to take in at the moment. He pulled the covers back over his body and tried to relax. He would have to be content with tomorrow.

***

Sagan wasn’t quite sure what to make of Tarrant. The boy was obviously bright and quick, but he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why Diahnee had brought him back.

He bumped into him much later, giving Tarrant time to adjust to his new surroundings, and was mildly surprised by the fact that he seemed so lost and confused. He let him be, however, and was on his way. When he saw him again, Tarrant appeared to be more at ease with everything.

Tarrant merely glanced at Sagan as he reached for the bread and cheese. He carried them over to one of the tables located in the kitchen and sat down. He began cutting the bread and cheese before finally eating them.

Sagan picked up two mugs and a decanter of wine and sat down opposite Tarrant. He poured a mug for Tarrant and pushed it over to him.

Tarrant looked up at Sagan. He stared at him for a moment, then pulled the mug over to his food.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Sagan began conversationally.

“I do.”

“Have they been answered?”

”No. I still have no idea why I am here, why she brought me here, or even where here is,” Tarrant replied. He munched on more cheese and bread as he spoke.

“She? You mean Diahnee?” Sagan leaned forward a little, placing his elbows on the table.

“The dangerous one. The one with blue eyes,” Tarrant explained.

Sagan nodded. “That would be Diahnee.”

“Why did she bring me here?”

Sagan shrugged. “She does what she wants. I’m sure she has her own reasons for bringing you here.”

“She told me that she had uses for me when I had asked,” said Tarrant glumly.

“At least she doesn’t want to kill you,” Sagan pointed out.

Tarrant gave Sagan a withering glare.

Sagan put his hand up in a placating manner. “Alright. A bad joke, but it is true.”

“I suppose that could be said for something.” Tarrant picked at his food, tearing the bread into crumbs. “I do have other questions and I hope you can answer them.”

“I shall try,” said Sagan with a smile on his face. “First, I should introduce myself. I am Sagan.” He held his hand out to the young man.

“Tarrant,” the man replied and shook Sagan’s hand.

“Tarrant,” Sagan echoed. “That name sounds familiar.”

Tarrant hesitated before replying, “I was Lady Adaemee’s Blade Dancer before she sent me to help Guenwhyvar and Lady Wyndelyn.”

A light of recognition went off and Sagan nodded. “Tarrant Ovone, correct?”

“Yes.”

Sagan leaned back slightly. “So, what questions do you have for me?”

Tarrant looked down at the table as he continued to shred pieces of bread. He had so many questions but he was unsure of where to start. He decided to begin with the most obvious.

“Where am I?” he asked, looking up finally.

“That is a very good question. We are on Laskanda in a secluded part of the galaxy. We have been given sanctuary here on the Chain Islands.”

“We are half way across the known galaxy?” said Tarrant in utter disbelief. “That would require the use of Heaven’s Gate. I wasn’t even aware that we could us it to get this far.”

“Yes,” Sagan agreed. “Heaven’s Gate. Not only can the gate reach here but also Everlynn.”

Tarrant let out an inaudible hiss. “The very planet where the first War of the Gods began? What about its sister planet Terra?”

Sagan shook his head as soon as Tarrant’s last question left his lips. “Terra has been…set aside. A-how do I explain this?-a curtain, so to speak, surrounds the planet now. It has been completely blocked off from the rest of the realm.”

“But why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Only the gods know why.”

“What is it that you do here?” Tarrant asked after a moment’s silence. “I hardly see anyone here. Including-Diahnee, was it? The woman who brought me here?”

“Yes, that is her name. As for your question, each of us here have our own job, which, in turn, supports everyone who lives here.”

“Such as paying for food, clothes, and other necessities.”

“Mm, yes.” Sagan had to admit: the boy caught on fast. “Any more questions?”

Tarrant shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

“If you have any more don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“I won’t.”

Sagan downed the rest of his drink and stood from his seat. “’Tis best to be prepared, Tarrant. In a moment, everything could change and anything could happen. Diahnee could come for you to do as she requests.”

Tarrant frowned at this cryptic message. What did that mean? He returned to eating his food as Sagan left him, pondering over Sagan’s parting words. Something very strange was going on here. There was still one thing that nagged at him that he hadn’t thought to ask before: what were Diahnee and her friend doing at the temple of Tymy? It had been thought to be completely empty save for the Void and its vessel Lord Brimra.

He wishes, for the first time, that he could speak with Lady Adaemee. She would surely know the right questions to ask. She had known about Lord Brimra’s capture by the Void and had known how to seal it away. She, of all people, would have known what was going on here. But, she was on L’main, and he was here on Laskanda. He would have to figure things out on his own.

***

“Adrian, have you ever heard of anyone named Tarrant Ovone?”

The prince of Cross Keep paused in his reading and looked up. He was mildly surprised at the question, especially since it was coming from Diahnee. He closed his book and set it aside on a nearby endtable.

“Well,” he began, looking about his library, “I know a little of him. I’m sure my library has a book of some sort with him in it.”

“What do you know of him?” Diahnee persisted.

“He was a Blade Dancer who protected Lady Adaemee. He was little known until she sent him to help Guenwhyvar Roan in defeating Lord Brimra at Tymy on the planet L’main. I’m sure he was well known in the Blade Dancer community, considering that his charge was one of the most powerful magi in the realm. I would imagine that he was quite talented as well.” Adrian stood up from his seat and walked over to a section of his library with many old, deteriorating tomes. He browsed amongst them, not bothering to see if Diahnee was behind him. “If you really want to know more about him I would suggest that you ask a Blade Dancer. If you can find one, that is.”

“Spare me, Adrian,” Diahnee said dryly. “I just need some information.”

Adrian nodded absently and gave her a dismissive gesture. He pulled out three tomes and turned slowly around, thumbing through the pages. He bookmarked all three of them then handed the books to Diahnee. “These should help. The knowledge is limited, but there. The only people who would possibly know anything about Tarrant are the ones who traveled with him, and they, I am afraid, are long dead.”

“Not quite, but I understand.” Diahnee turned away and began walking.

“Diahnee, what is this all about?” Adrian watched her for any sign that would reveal the answer for her visit.

“Research.”

“This isn’t just ‘research’ if you have come all the way to S’ran just to visit me.”

Diahnee hesitated. Could she trust him? Solara certainly did, and Adrian was known to guard all secrets gained closely. “I came across a man by that name. He may be important,” she said over her shoulder.

Adrian nodded. “I see.” He walked back over to his chair and sat back down. “Give my regards to Sagan when you see him again.” He picked up his book and opened it to a marked page.

“Do you want me to tell Solara anything?”

Adrian smiled. “Tell her I miss her, please.” He looked up to bid Diahnee a true farewell instead of dismissing her and found that she was already gone. He smiled to himself and shook his head. At least he wouldn’t have any more interruptions. He returned his attention back to his book and began to read again.

***

Diahnee copied down every bit of information she could find in Adrian’s books down on paper. Every snippet, every sentence, and every phrase. All of it was captured and put down on paper. Most of the references to Tarrant were vague. If he had been such a well known warrior, then why was there hardly any information on him?

It vaguely reminded her of Lucien. He is mentioned as being one of the four to defeat the Void, but after the battle he simply disappeared. They knew Wyndelyn died months after Lucien returned her to her ancestral home and everyone knew what happened to Strite and Guenwhyvar. Their bodies had even been recovered.

Still, two men end up missing according to history: Lucien and Tarrant. True, the stories say that Tarrant died and his body was never found, but she knew why. What she didn’t understand was how Tarrant was a mystery before the encounter with the Void and Lucien after the encounter.

She sighed and put her head in her hands. She was thinking too much again. All this information and she still had nothing. She was grasping at straws, as Adrian would say. Could she go back to him and ask for help? No. Definitely not. He’d get that look on his face and that damnable knowing smile on his face, then gloat that she had to come to him for help.

“You’re a beautiful, fucked up man, Adrian,” Diahnee said aloud. She lifted her head and laid her arms on the table before her. Who else could she go to? Sagan would certainly help, but he loved to talk. There was Krin, Solara’s mentor, but she came and went as she pleased. Tracking her would be more trouble that it was worth. Adaemee…well, she was well beyond her reach and Brimra was out o the question. He was stuck in limbo.

She sat up suddenly. Dracos? She frowned. No. If anyone loved to hear the sound of his own voice it was him. She was running out of options. She’d ask Solara if she knew anything, but most of her ancient knowledge dealt with Ryuji and creatures of darkness.

And what was she trying to get information on? Tarrant and Lucien? No. They were merely pieces to the puzzle. She looked down at her notes. She frowned. Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Tarrant and Lucien were only connected by the people they both knew, but what was Tarrant before hand and what became of Lucien afterward?

You’re grasping at straws, she heard that voice say, and she knew it was right. She put away all of her things and set them on one side of the table. This would have to wait for when she could actually think. She stood up, pushed her chair in, and walked out of the study.

The cool air in the hallway told her that night had fallen. With her luck she probably missed dinner. Making sure her face wrap was secure about the lower half of her face, she made her way to the kitchen. She remembered, oddly enough, that Tarrant wore one as well but he wore a hood cloak as well.

She dismissed him from her thoughts as she entered the kitchen, grabbed what food she wanted, and left. She’d just eat in her room tonight. She paused when she heard her name called. Who in their right mind-

“Diahnee!” It was Solara, she saw, and she looked panicked. “It’s your friend! I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“What do you mean?”

Solara shrugged. “I can’t explain it,” she began, running back in the direction she came from. “He was sleeping just fine and then I heard yelling and screaming,” she continued as soon as Diahnee joined her. “I went to check on him and he began attacking everything. Sagan’s in the room with him now.”

Diahnee nodded and they both sped down the hallway. They came to a sudden halt as soon as they neared the room. Heavy object slamming against the wall and wood splintering filled the air, punctuated by yells and incoherent screaming.

Tarrant was lashing out at anything that moved, which happened to be Sagan and the paid servants that were trying to calm him. His hair was wild and disheveled and the leather strap holding it back was coming undone. His face wrap was falling off and resting on his shoulders and he didn’t seem to care. He looked up as soon as he aw Diahnee and Solara in the doorway and leap at them. Diahnee moved to defend her self but Solara was quicker. One swift punch to the jaw stunned him enough for Solara to flatten her other hand and bring it down on the side of his neck. He staggered for a moment, as if he was dizzy, then keeled over onto his side, his eyes rolling up into his head.

“And you couldn’t have done that earlier?” Sagan huffed.

“I wasn’t given the opportunity before,” Solara replied matter-of-factly.

Diahnee slowly walked over to Tarrant’s comatose body. “What did you do to him?”

Solara came to stand beside her. “Pressure point. Well, somewhat. I blocked the flow of blood to once side of his brain as I hit the nerves.”

“Will he be alright?”

“He’ll be unconscious for a few moments more but he should be fine.”

Diahnee looked up at Sagan. “Why did he do this?”

“I don’t know. He told me that he was retiring for the evening a few hours before all of this happened,” Sagan explained.

Diahnee knelt down beside Tarrant, finally able to study him. His gray hair stood out the most as she tilted his head slightly. A delicately pointed ear that was slightly longer than an elf’s graced the side of his head. She looked at his face again: high cheekbones and deep set eyes set in a slender face. By no means was he effeminate but he was-

“Beautiful.”

Diahnee looked up at Solara. “What?”

“He’s beautiful,” she said, “now that I see him without that face wrap and hood. Is he-“

“Yes,” said Diahnee with a nod, “he’s fine, but nothing seems to give us an idea as to why he suddenly went berserk.”

Solara looked over the room with an appraising eye. “Judging by the destruction I would say that he knows how to handle himself in battle.”

“You mean, he was fighting against something?”

Solara shrugged. “Or inner demons.”

Diahnee surveyed the damage, as if by looking at it would give her the reason why Tarrant had reacted so violently. She glanced down as she heard him begin to moan in pain.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You had a fit, apparently, and destroyed your room,” Sagan answered sourly.

Tarrant sat up slowly and looked about his room. He looked up at Sagan in embarrassment. “Forgive me. I shall clean this when I am able to.”

“Why did you do this?” Diahnee asked abruptly.

“I-I was dreaming.” Tarrant swallowed and closed his eyes. “I was in Tymy again, fighting those creatures. One of them passed right through me and I felt a horror I had never known before.”

“And you reacted,” Solara finished for him. “Rather violently.”

Tarrant nodded in agreement. “Yes. A memory I seem unable to forget.”

Solara watched Tarrant, studying him as he slowly put his face cover back over the lower part of his face. “I need to mediated,” she heard him say.

“I could take you to a place where you can mediate,” Solara offered. “It’s quiet and serene. There are people there who could help.”

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re not a bother. I want to help you.” Solara paused. “So, do you want me to take you there?”

Tarrant nodded hesitantly.

“Then I suggest you pack,” Solara told him. She turned to Diahnee. “I hope you don’t mind my stealing of him.”

Diahnee shook her head. “He’s no use to me if simple nightmares can startle him so easily into a violent, frightened mess,” she said coolly. “Take him.”

Tarrant flushed a deep red, a faint stain of crimson reaching above the cloth. Solara hissed something at Diahnee, seeing him flush.

Diahnee gave her a cold stare. Aside from the fact that what she had said was true, she really didn’t care. She was sure her expression said as much. She stood up and walked out of the room.

Solara and her damn humanity. It drove her up the wall sometimes. What did it matter if Tarrant had a traumatic experience or not? Hadn’t they all had gone through something like that? Thos who couldn’t adapt and overcome were weak and not worthy her time. If Solara could heal Tarrant, fine. If she couldn’t, then Tarrant would be dropped off on some planet similar to his own time to fend for himself. Weak people were not about to ruin what she was meant to do.

***

Tarrant sat behind Solara as she spoke to a balding man seated on the floor. He couldn’t understand a word that was said but guessed that they were talking about him. He watched them both as he tried to make sense of it all and finally the man looked at him. He felt the man’s eyes study him, as if weighing his worth, and then the man nodded.

Solara turned and smiled at Tarrant. “Kotetsu says that you can stay until you have overcome your obstacles.” She stood up as soon as Kotetsu did and Tarrant did the same. “I’m sorry, Tarrant, but I can’t stay here with you. Kotetsu and his wife Arcana will take car of all of your needs during your stay here.”

“How long will I be here?” asked Tarrant, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly.

Solara smiled once more. “As long as it’s needed. These things can’t be rushed.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Kotetsu or Arcana will notify me when you’re ready.”

”I have but one last question: what is it that Diahnee wants me for?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Solara answered honestly. “I know she seems a bit…uncaring and cold but I trust her. She’s…she’s…” Words failed her as she tried to explain Diahnee. She gave up and said, “She’s just different form the rest of us.”

“Different how?”

Solara shrugged. “It’s difficult to explain. You’ll see once you get to know her.”

Tarrant would have to be satisfied with that, and he nodded to show that he understood. As soon as Solara left he turned to face Kotetsu.

“Despite what people think I do understand and speak common,” Kotetsu announced in a heavily accented voice. He chuckled as he walked out of the room, beckoning for Tarrant to follow. He moved much faster than was expected and was surprisingly fit.

“Why tell me this?” Tarrant inquired. “Why reveal your secret to me?”

“Because I respect Solara and you are her friend, therefore, I respect you. Thus, I tell you my secret out of respect for you,” Kotetsu explained.

“I see. I thank you, Kotetsu.”

Kotetsu glanced at Tarrant and chuckled. “Are you always this formal?”

“Is that wrong?”

“No, but you are here to overcome things that have happened to you. To mediate. To find enlightenment. You should be relaxed and at ease.” Kotetsu slowed to a stop as he neared a door. “This will be your room. Clothes will be supplied to you.”

“Thank you.”

Kotetsu chuckled again. “Rest and change. I shall send someone to you when dinner is ready.”

Tarrant bowed to Kotetsu. “Thank you once again, Honorable Kotetsu.”

Kotetsu shook his head as he walked away. “Much too formal, that one,” he murmured. “Much too formal. We have much to work on.”

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