The Vanity of Hope

by G W Langdon

  “You’re a long way from being ready for Gi LaMon, and the sneaky ways of General Reuzk. Sarra could be inside, but there would be hooks.”

  “When will I be ready? I’m training with Ba’illi every day.”

  “When I say you are.”

  He tapped the lightPad and a rainbow arched over Tilas. “I had a dream the other night of bright lights… moving in waves as if in water.”

  The book fell from her hands. “Lights—what sort of lights?” she asked, picking up the book and placing it on the shelf.

  “What does it matter? They’re only bright lights inside my head.”

  A harsh firmness set upon her fair face as she advanced across the room in long strides that caused the long flaps on her coat to ride up her trousers.

  “Tell me exactly what you saw,” she said, pushing the lightPad aside and sitting down. “Describe the feeling when you saw the lights?”

  “Pleasant, comfortable… I guess.” He fumbled for a length of rope. What had come over her?

  Her hair darkened a shade and the sparkle left her kind eyes.

  “Stop staring at me that way… let me think.” Tom dragged the lightPad back and swiped through his ‘Nature’ gallery. “Something like this,” he said, showing her the bioluminescent starfish.

  “Anything else?”

  “Patterns—hieroglyphs pulsing over the surface.”

  She clutched her chest as if stabbed and put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. “Did any thoughts or questions come to you?” she asked, fumbling inside her shoulder bag. She pulled out a spiceRoll case with a purely black dragon design.

  “You’re not making much sense.”

  “I had expected it,” she said, fumbling to put the holder in her trembling fingers. “Only not this soon,” she said, lighting the Roll.

  “What was it? I’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?”

  “You saw Decay, or rather, it saw you,” she said, exhaling the smoke to one side.

  “But the colors and patterns were…”

  “Mesmerizing— beyond imagination?”

  “But Decay’s on Tilas and how do you even know it was Decay?”

  “I’ve seen it, too, and it will return.” She rested the holder across the case. “Do not let it in. I can help, but only if you are honest with me. It’s time we had a talk,” she said, calmer. “What happened when you were a child?”

  He rolled his shirt sleeves down and pressed the cuffs closed. “I don’t know what you mean.” He lit the candles as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a deepening shadow across the room.

  She reached across and laid her hand on his. “I was once a special child, as you were and still are in many ways. I sense you keep this part of yourself well covered, but to someone who can feel…”

  He wrapped the rope twice around his open hand to start a single lineman’s loop knot. “Frank was my hero. He was eight years older than me and we spent endless days playing all sorts of games in the woods, which is probably why I became a gamekeeper. He was only seventeen when he went with my father to fight at Redemore—the last battle in the War of the Roses, as it turned out. I wasn’t there when they left.”

  “You never had the chance to say a final goodbye. That’s the cruelest way for a love to end.”

  He pulled the knot apart and started a one-handed bowline. “Mother put two candles in the window as was our good luck custom that they’d return. Keep the light burning, that sort of thing. Six days later, on the day of the battle, a blustery wind came from the east and one of the candles blew out.” He finished the knot and set the rope aside. “I’ll never forget the way mother looked at me. We both knew what it meant.

  “Three days later, I was playing with my toy animals at one end of the cottage when Mother dropped a plate and it smashed on the floor. She burst into tears and began crying, heaving in deep sobs as I’d never heard before. She was a tough woman. Little sniffles when a relative or close friend died, but that day when she saw Father ride up, just him, she wailed as though her heart would break and ran outside. No second horse, no Frank… no body to bury.

  “Father wouldn’t talk about what happened at Redemore, but I found out when I was a teenager from someone who saw the cannonball hit Frank. It was no coincidence when the candle blew out. Maybe it was Frank’s spirit, or an angel.” He shook his head and swallowed to pass the lump in his throat.

  She squeezed his hand. “Memories can be cruel, but we can redeem the past, together.”

  “How does the knight live with those painful memories?”

  “He has no choice. Would forgetting make it easier? I could erase your memories of Sarra and you’d never again suffer a broken heart?”

  “No, never.”

  She let go of Tom’s hand. “When I was a child I believed in all sorts of fantastic things and had a caring father. However, as I grew older, my father turned into a cunning and cruel tyrant who’d gladly inflict suffering on the innocent for his own gain. I abandoned hope for a better tomorrow. However, I have come to believe again,” she said, looking at him with a glimmer in her eyes. “Maybe there is more to this world than there are stars in the sky.”

  He reached for his whittling knife from the set in the leather roll-up and sharpened the blade on the whetstone. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe. The decision has been made and we must face the inevitable.”

  “What decision? By whom?”

  “The creature Choen calls a Messenger of Light and the others call a Négus brought you to me.”

  “The Négus was two hundred light-years away at Orth.”

  “And so is Decay, yet it was inside your head, last night.” She brushed her hand over the leather roll-up. “Has nothing sunk in? Time and space are not relevant to beings with Potential. The Négus crossed eight hundred light-years of Space in an instant. The Federation with their technological might cannot travel beyond point nine-five. The Négus possesses this great power because it operates within the non-physical psychoSphere.”

  He shrugged and played with the robe’s long cuffs, unable to process her reasoning.

  “You’re the prophesized king that ends this ruin and restores peace to the world.”

  “How? The Federation couldn’t. King Jialin couldn’t. I can’t.”

  She drew a Tilasian stabbing dagger from the roll-up. “I see you have Prince Arulian’s sword. The knight would not have given you that lightly.” She expertly sharpened the tip of the blade on the whetstone. “Has he shown you his full collection from Tilas?”

  “Only the one cabinet so far. It was dark and I couldn’t see much, but from what I could see there must be a dozen cabinets and display cases.”

  She plunged the dagger into the table. “The Federation relies on external might, which is why they’ll never win. Decay sees things that are outside time, which is why it stays ahead of them.”

  “If the Federation cannot win…”

  “They do not have what counts inside.” She placed her hand on her pendant. “You are our only true hope.”

  “I’ve been told it’s vain to think such a hope is realistic.”

  “We are all here to help you become the greatest king.”

  “I can’t save myself, let alone the world.”

  “Maybe they’re the same thing. Your mindscape is the real battlefield. Conquer your inner demons and anything is possible.”

  “Defeat Decay, an undefeated conqueror of worlds?”

  “It has found you, but luckily for us, it doesn’t yet know your true purpose.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because nothing happened. It’s curious and opened a channel—for now. Decay is adept at sniffing out weaknesses and slipping in, one seduction at a time. Only by being fully aware of your vulnerabilities can you build a fortress to withstand its subtle ways. A true heart is your only defense against Decay. And never, ever try to communicate with it.” She held her mi
ddle fingers against her trembling lips. “Decay’s full powers are beyond any to resist and if you think you can reason with it, then you will be undone. It will call again and when it does, get out. Wake up to end the dream, no matter how much it mesmerizes your mind to relax and stay. Do you understand?”

  He froze as though seized by a cold spirit. Like the knight, she spoke with a certainty that exceeded anything she might’ve been told or surmised through a careful understanding of the past. The tone and precision of her words suggested a deep, first-hand knowledge of the subtleties of Decay. Why was she so concerned?

  “Yes… yes. I’ll keep a careful watch.” He placed a half-whittled Tyronal on the leather roll for later and dragged the lightPad between them. He’d been wise to keep the church vision secret from her. “I don’t understand, but I’ll keep learning.”

  “Learn, but knowledge alone cannot save you. There will come a time to act. But until then be on your guard lest you’re trapped. Keep a tight hold on the Potentials you’ve been gifted because they’ll try to take it away from you. They don’t want special beings anymore. Only plain old slaves to their whims.”

  “They? You mean the Federation?”

  “And Decay. People like you are dangerous.” She snapped the case closed. “When did you last have a spiceRoll?” she asked, noticing Tom stare as she dropped the case into her shoulder carry bag.

  “Last night. I need one each evening to slow my mind from after the day on the portal or sometimes to relax my muscles if I’ve had an especially hard training session with Silak.”

  She nodded to herself as they reached the doorway. “I have an old friend who can help with that,” she said, turning away and leaving.

  He wrapped his hand around the dagger handle and yanked, and yanked again, then worked the knife back and forth until it let go. He turned the blade over in his hands then thrust the knife into the table as hard as he could. She was wrong about learning. How else could he understand his true place in the world? He wriggled the knife free on the first pull. Too much about her urgent manner didn’t add up. Time was running out, but for whom?

  Chapter 20

  Tom strolled with Queen Lillia in the castle gardens, delighted to be outside. The manicured hedges and colorful gardens were immediate, and the naked sun seemed kinder and its warmth gentler without the obscuring filter of thick Tylinite. Delicate, long-stemmed flowers waved in the warm breeze and blue butterflies, wider than a hand, fluttered between the blood-red flowers, while busy winged insects darted after a final meal.

  Adjusting to life the castle was long behind him now. The knight, the title Oltren preferred to be called by, had shown patience in teaching him the basics of sword fighting. The weekly classes were in stark contrast to the daily bouts against Silak, and rigorously on-time. There was never any question of levity that Silak might tolerate. Ba’illi’s tutorage continued unabated and he gave the impression that even if he stayed for a thousand days, which he certainly wasn’t, there was still be more to learn. Queen Lillia remained aloof in more ways than one in her high chamber. Oddly, whenever he casually mentioned to either the knight or Ba’illi her deadline that he was free to leave after one hundred days—next week, they never showed any sign of taking him seriously. Ba’illi quickly shifted talk to the next stage of learning and the knight—if he responded at all, stressed only the ‘weaknesses’ he needed to focus on. Did nobody in the castle believe a handshake deal was a deal?

  Queen Lillia’s floral dress, red-trimmed in the colors of the Royal House sat lightly on her bare, bronzed shoulders. Her shawl around the small of her back rode up her forearm as she pointed to a large Tilasian Kielo splashing over the shallows in the nearby stream.

  He swept his hair away from his eyes and lowered the brim of his hat to shade his eyes from the low sun.

  “As an adult,” she said, “the Keilo makes choices out at sea about which way to swim for food or flee from something greater. However, in the end, it must return to its birthplace to complete its circle of life.”

  He brushed an insect from the sleeve of his robe and heaved a sigh as the Kielo tirelessly beat upstream, driven by an unconscious instinct to its inevitable end. Fate versus freewill, again.

  “Similarly,” she continued, “you make thousands of choices throughout your life, but you cannot escape your destiny.”

  The Keilo vanished into a large pool in the stream. “It’s gone to the bottom to rest before pressing on to play its part in the survival of future generations. To have any chance of defeating Decay we must extend your natural lifespan.”

  “What about Sarra, if I become ‘unnatural?’ I’ll never abandon her.”

  “Your destiny is much more than Sarra.”

  He meditatively knocked the heel of his boot on the hard ground. “How long?”

  “A thousand years.”

  “Why so long?” he said, unable to believe her true intentions.

  “Tilas is two hundred light-years away. If the warships of Decay travel at point seven of light then it will take them…”

  “Two hundred and eighty-five years.”

  “Don’t interrupt. Ba’illi used to, but he’s learned otherwise.” She guided him on. “The Federation’s dataNet will warn us at light speed if Decay makes a move. The earliest Decay can get here is eighty years after we receive forewarning, so if we found out today that Decay’s war fleet was coming to Heyre, you’d be over one hundred years old before it arrived. You are no use to anyone dead.” She checked white-winged cranes circling high overhead. “You will be dead in seventy years unless your genes are enhanced—sooner if you’re struck down by an accident or disease. Think of the time you would have to resolve the riddle of where you belong in the world.”

  The underlying sense of urgency in her words betrayed her argument for him needing an extraordinarily more time. Why the rush? Was it her way to keep him on this side of the river? “Would I stay totally human… for Sarra’s sake?”

  “Biologically, you would remain the same, but be physically superior to how you are now. In time you’ll grow taller, stronger, and faster. Further out, you’ll notice increases to your eyesight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. Lastly, quicker reflexes, as your nervous system reaches its maximum capacity.”

  “Do I have a choice, or is that a silly question?” He stopped in front of a small, blood-red flower.

  She gave an encouraging, long smile. “We’re both trapped here by fates outside our control. All we can do is play our best hand.” She reached out with startling speed and halted his hand an inch from the flower. “Don’t touch that,” she warned. “Pylxias are poisonous.”

  He leaned over the half-dissolved bug in the flower cup. A butterfly landed on a nearby Pylxia and sipped the flower’s blood-red nectar. The butterfly remained unharmed because it served a useful purpose, but the toxic flower was sure death for anything of no personal use. The red pollen on the butterfly’s legs was a fatal warning not to test the flower’s tempting beauty. A bubble of gas popped to the surface from under the bug.

  She picked the flower and lifted it under her nose.

  “But you said Pylxias were poisonous.”

  “Their sweet fragrance reminds me of the gardens at the summer castle,” she said, sliding the stalk into her hair. She patted her shoulder bag. “I have the antidote—for you if there’s an accident.”

  He half-reached to a flower so dark blue it was almost black in the fading light. “Will this kill me?”

  “No,” she said with a smile. “It’s a Beraze.”

  He picked the flower and held it out. “For you.”

  She tilted her head and he carefully placed the Beraze under the Pylxia. His gaze wandered over her bare shoulders. “How do you not despair after all this time?”

  “I choose to remember only the good times. King Jialin lived a full life of compassion and love. Holding onto dark memories will poison you as surely as Pylxia.” She hesitated and her voice hardened. “But I will ne
ver forgive what happened.”

  “Then you understand I need to know if Sarra might be alive, over there,” he said, gesturing across the river. “Reuzk could extend her life as well.”

  “It’s true the Federation could do that, and much more, but Reuzk would demand a high price.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I am the only one who can keep you safe. Over there you would be a disposable asset doing his dirty work. Only I can train you to become great and fulfill your destiny.”

  “I have to believe there’s a way and she’s not gone forever.”

  “Many resist war until it’s too late because they are afraid to confront their greatest fear. They’re ill-prepared when forced to act and they fail. You must choose sides soon if it’s your wish to rid our worlds of war.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”

  “I can get you closer to the truth, but you have to trust my methods. Nobody wants to see the end of Decay more than me. If you resist then we lose everything.” A cool breeze puffed through the trees broken two hundred and forty years ago, in the last Gania storm. She stared towards the top of the Federation tower visible above the far horizon. “Only through cooperation do we stand a chance. We are doomed if we compete against each other.”

  He peered into the failing light. To live for a thousand years was a dream come true, but the longer he lived the greater he might desire immortality. Why get out of bed to learn new things when it could be done tomorrow or the day after that?

  An erupting water fountain jolted him awake. She steadied his arm and they laughed for a careless moment as the flock of noisy cranes flapped into the air. She tugged her headscarf tighter and lifted the shawl over her shoulders.

  “It’s time we returned to the castle,” she said. “It’ll be dark soon and it won’t be safe for you out here after sunset. Please consider my offer.”

  Would living outside normality make him less human? Would the delusion of grandeur take him further away from the simple life he craved? Sarra died, but could live again. Would she remain the same, or would Reuzk change her into a useful tool, as Queen Lillia sought from him? Time could become a ceaseless tormentor if he spent decades, and centuries searching for the answer to lasting peace, yet he was no value to anyone without enhancement. Contradictions loomed in every direction.