by Dara Joy
Jenise wondered what Gian was going to tell these people when she left. She shrugged. He had told her he would deal with it, and she was more than content to let him. Tonight was to be her gift to him. She knew Gian was not a man who would ask for much, but he had asked her for this.
The request alone had convinced her to do it for him. Karpon’s brother had never asked her mother for anything. Over the course of their tumultuous relationship, Jenise had developed an immense fondness for Guardian of the Mist. There was little, she realized, she would not do for him.
Except stay here as his wife.
A pang struck her chest.
No. Frensi women needed to be free… She could not allow herself to become a pawn of power again.
So she smiled at his subjects and took their best wishes and praise with the best of grace. And Jenise ached inside.
She ached for what she possessed yet could not have.
Gian glanced at her as she met his people. He engraved upon his memory her lovely face and delicate profile, whose subtleties he had mapped with the touch of his lips on more than one occasion. She was his, and yet…
He ached for what he had, yet did not possess.
A buzzing of voices started up near the tall windows. Like a wave, the voices gained in volume. A litany of sorrow. Gian’s features instantly sobered. The Sages had arrived.
Putting an arm around Jenise’s shoulders, he led her to the nearest window; a path opened before them between the Familiars. He gazed down at the center courtyard below, where the secret Tunnel of the Familiars lay, surrounded on all sides by the protection of the royal abode.
Jenise gasped. “I did not know there was another Tunnel!”
“None but the Familiars do,” Gian explained. “At least not until recently.”
“What do you mean?” She turned to him, bafflement marring her smooth features.
“Karpon somehow learned of it. His threat to my people is on many levels, Jenise.”
Jenise felt terrible. “But you—” she swallowed—“you never told me.”
“No.”
“Why, Gian? Did you not trust me?”
His finger stroked the downy softness of her cheek; his thumb grazed her lower lip. His green and gold gaze captured hers as his mouth touched hers lightly.
He had not wanted her to leave.
If she had known of the second Tunnel in the courtyard, she might have been able to—
A hurt expression crossed her features. “I would not have, Gian. Not without saying good-bye.”
“You almost did once before.” He spoke low.
“That was different.” She doubted she would have been able to do it then, either. But he did not need to know that. “You cannot keep something that does not want to be kept, Gian. You, a Familiar, should know this.”
“I do know it. You misunderstand. I was protecting you from Karpon. Since he knows of this Tunnel, he could easily overtake you along the connecting portal routes. Already I have sent out word to call all Familiars home. Some will not make it.”
Her eyes filled with tears. He had been protecting her once again. Protecting them all. “I had not thought of that.”
“No.”
She turned to the window. “What are they doing?” She pointed to a group of men below.
“They are from the House of Sages. They come here under my direction to seal the Tunnel.”
She was shocked. “They can do that?”
“Under extreme circumstances, yes. It is rarely done, though. There can be mystical repercussions.” Just what those repercussions were, he would not say.
They both watched the group of thirteen—ancient and powerful wizards all—as they formed a triangle before the portal.
Yaniff was alone at the front, his power being the greatest. Behind him stood Wolthanth and Gelfan. And behind them four other mystics. And six behind that, forming the Triangle of Sages. The formation was a highly specific placement designed to augment their individual powers into a unified flow.
There was no greater power in their universe than the Formation of Thirteen.
At least there hadn’t been until a short time ago.
The chamber became utterly silent as the Familiars sadly watched an avenue of their freedom being closed off to them forever.
Yaniff lifted his staff high, beginning the ritual by calling forth his power. It flowed around him, gathering strength, its bright, lightninglike arcs curling over his legs and arms and torso. Yaniff directed the current of his power up the staff to the faceted crystal at the end, where it glowed brightly. Tipping the staff in his hand, he released the guided current into the maw of the portal.
The clans’ obats began to play a mournful dirge as Wolthanth called forth his power in much the same manner. He tipped his staff and his arc joined Yaniff’s as it flowed into the Tunnel.
Jenise would never forget the awesome, sobering sight of the ritual or the sound of the dirge that played around them. She felt the spirit of the people, felt their sorrow and tears. They had been persecuted—and in some cases enslaved—simply for the beauty of their being. Now they would be forced to stay close to their home planet as well. How would they adjust to such restriction?
Gelfan joined the first two wizards, his power leaping into the combined beam. And so it went; one by one the mystics’ individual powers joined side by side, connecting forces to seal the opening.
{You have reminded me of what is important, Creamcat.}
“I have?” She looked at him, perplexed.
“Yes.” Gian suddenly turned away from the scene below. He faced the crowd. “A Familiar cannot be contained!” he called out, loud and clear.
The stricken crowd heard his words. The call began to ring through the hall as more and more joined in his chant, each avowing the same. “A Familiar cannot be contained! A Familiar cannot be contained!”
Gian motioned to the obat players. “I prefer to dance in joy than watch in sorrow!” He caught Jenise, pulling her to the center of the floor. “For our freedom is in here!” He pounded his chest with his fist. “In here!”
A boisterous clamor rose in the air as all cheered their flamboyant king’s response to the situation.
In that moment Jenise could see why he was so loved by his people.
The music changed. Now it was spirited, sensual, its beat contagious. Gian tossed back his hair in a proud stance. He encircled Jenise slowly, his slumberous gaze capturing her. Then he placed his palm firmly on her waist.
“What do I do?” Jenise whispered frantically, having no notion how to perform this Familiar dance and not wanting to disappoint them all at such an important moment.
{Encircle my waist with your right arm. Throw your left arm in the air like this.} He demonstrated. She followed his lead as he swung her about gradually.
He started slowly but soon went faster and faster, turning her round and round.
Jenise began laughing gaily. Gian smiled at her, the music infusing him with spirit.
He released her suddenly as his boot heels rapped on the floor, a series of intricate masculine steps pulsing to the beat. The onlookers began clapping to the rhythm of his staccato steps. Jenise watched, spellbound by his masculine grace of movement, his style, his beauty. He entranced her with his striking steps, making love to her with expressive movements that were at once highly sensual and commanding.
He leapt into the air and landed on one knee. With a sweep of his arm, the dance spoke of his claim to her and his joy in it.
He slid across the floor on his knees, coming to a stop exactly in front of her. He tossd his hair back and became the untamed male. Powerful hands clasped her waist. In an unorthodox manner, his face pressed lovingly into her stomach. Feeling passion’s beat, he swayed with her to the music in a sensual undulation she would never forget.
Without warning, he sprung into the air again, taking her with him as he whirled her about in his arms.
His wild spirit infected the crowd.
Soon others joined them; to dance; to celebrate. To be free.
Gian gathered her to him, tight in his embrace, still twirling with her. With his strength, he easily picked her up in his arms, kissing her hard and fast on the mouth before releasing her once more.
They both laughed.
The dance picked up speed. Jenise became breathless, unrestrained with the movements as the enchanting music flowed through her too.
She walked around him slowly, just as he had done to her, and spun him about. She moved up to him and back, swaying seductively with the music. She showed him a small portion of a Frensi woman’s talent for the dance.
Gian’s dual-colored eyes flashed with admiration and more.
{I will always find my freedom in you, Jenise.}
Jenise’s mouth parted in astonishment. Before she had a chance to consider his revealing words, he lifted her again high in the air and twirled around with her.
The celebration continued long into the night as the strange glow from the sealing of the Tunnel lit the room with odd flashes of light. The Familiar people danced with their king and queen.
To freedom of the spirit.
Traed walked through the night jungle.
The slithers and sounds of nocturnal creatures shadowed his steps. The dark tangle was full of deadly menace. He did not care. On the contrary, the silent Aviaran welcomed it.
He embraced the danger, the shadows.
Coarse vegetation surrounded him like a thick shield. He liked that too. To be hidden yet not hidden. Breathing deeply of the humid air, he could discern the scent of earth, vegetation, and elemental life.
A santark suddenly growled to his left.
He spun about on his boot heel, light blade already drawn. The immense beast stopped in its tracks, its lethal fangs bared. The two stared at each other.
The santark’s pink eyes reflected the Aviaran in their depths—a fierce warrior on the verge of battle.
Traed willed the wild beast to attack him.
The santark watched him, frozen in its place. For the span of three heartbeats, Traed did not take a breath. His entire being was alert, ready to fight. To battle for his survival. To feel alive.
The beast snarled a deadly warning.
Traed’s pale green eyes sparked with the light of challenge, a flash of satisfaction glowing there. In a puzzling move, the Aviaran lifted his chin arrogantly, standing straight before his adversary. Then he slowly lowered his blade, making himself a perfect target.
The beast crouched low, preparing to strike.
Traed actually smiled, his hand motioning to the creature to come and get him.
The santark hesitated. In the face of such odd behavior from prey, it was suddenly not sure what to do.
Traed’s eyes narrowed to slits of glinting jade. “Will you disappoint me as well?”
The santark arched its back.
Traed stared him down.
With a hissing cry, the santark leapt aside, quickly disappearing into the undergrowth.
Traed’s nostrils flared. Turning in disgust, he stormed back to the royal abode.
Hidden in the foliage, wizard’s eyes, that were darker than the darkest night, watched his passage. They held more than a hint of concern.
On the planet Zarrain, where Traed had lived for a time, there was a plant native to its desert. It was called a lutus. The lutus grew strong out of the harsh sands and adverse conditions of the terrain around it.
Much like Traed.
When the lutus was opened, it was revealed to be full and hollow at the same time.
Much like Traed.
Yaniff stroked the feathers of Bojo as he considered the possibilities.
Late that night, Yaniff met with Gian in his private study. Gian motioned the old wizard to sit as he poured him a cup of warmed mir. “Did you enjoy the celebration, my friend?”
Settling himself comfortably on the low cushion, Yaniff picked up the mir, sipping gratefully. “I am much too old for such wildness.”
Gian gave him a disbelieving look. “Mmm-hmm.” Yaniff smiled into his cup. “Never mind that. It seems your festival went very well. Despite the sealing of the Tunnel.”
Gian rubbed his jaw. “Yes, it did.”
“Jenise has much to come to terms with—in her mind.”
“I know. But I have the confidence she will.”
“Ah, Familiar arrogance! How I miss it sometimes.” The wizard grinned.
Gian snorted. “Now Yaniff, you have your own Familiar from what I hear. One who can give you all the arrogance you need to liven up your dull life.”
Yaniff snickered into his cup. “He is not quite as arrogant as you were at his age, Gian. But then, few are.”
“Mmm. Give him time.”
Yaniff chuckled. Gian shook a finger at him. Wizards and their Familiars. Always a special bond.
“Tell me, Yaniff, what transpires with Rejar?”
Yaniff paused in his drink. “What makes you think something has transpired?”
“Traed. He was completely stunned tonight during the celebration. He stopped as if he were thunderstruck. I noticed that his Cearix—or should I say your Cearix—was glowing. Now what was that about?”
“Rejar has come into his power.” He placed his empty cup on the table. Gian refilled it. “It released earlier today for the first time.”
“I see.” Gian watched the ancient mystic with narrowed eyes. “And what was so miraculous about it? Is it not a normal occurrence for a Charl? A rite of passage?”
“Yes, it is.” Yaniff returned his look. “This was somewhat different.”
Gian exhaled slowly. “Then you were right all those years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Both men were silent in their own thoughts.
“I need you to do me a favor, Yaniff.”
“What is it, Gian?”
“I would like you to open a signature arc, an image arc, onto Ganakari.” As a high-level mystic, Yaniff had the ability to send a message, via an arc, through time and space and dimension.
Yaniff raised his eyebrows. “To what purpose?”
“I wish to pay Karpon a little visit…shall we say, once removed?”
Yaniff smiled wickedly. “Say when, my friend.” He downed the last of his drink.
“You are not taxed from the sealing of the Tunnel?”
Yaniff scoffed at the ridiculous question.
Gian grinned. “Then now, I think.”
The wizard inclined his head. A bolt of power was directed at the wall from his fingertip. It sizzled and snapped. Soon a tiny opening appeared, no bigger than a small stone. “Speak,” Yaniff said. “He will see your image.”
Gian crossed his arms insolently over his chest and propped his booted feet up on the table. He was going to enjoy this.
Karpon sat down in his favorite seat before the fire.
He was of a mind to go over his plans for his assault on the Familiars. A highly trained clandestine force would make the first attack on the morrow. This force had instructions to find and take as many Familiars as they could, using the special drug to render them malleable. Since the Familiars had a yen for adventure, many of them constantly traveled. In fact, Karpon had heard they couldn’t bear not having their “adventures.”
The beauty of the plan was that by the time the Familiars realized that a great many of their number were missing, it would be far too late. Such abductions were difficult if not impossible to trace.
The captives were already spoken for on the market.
Karpon had received a tidy sum for them, sight unseen; his coffers were bulging. He hadn’t believed the price a prime male specimen brought on the illegal trade market! It was more than his greedy imagination had foreseen.
Suddenly a shimmer filled his vision. An image appeared before him. It was a man. His arms were crossed over his chest, his boots propped on a tabletop. He looked vaguely familiar…
Familiar!
“What sorcery is this?” he sneered.
“You will not easily get another Familiar within your power, barbarian.”
Karpon jeered at the image.
“The Tunnel on M’yan has been sealed forever—there is no entrance for you.”
Karpon paled. The numerous stones he had already collected on account had come from some very dangerous beings. They would not take kindly the news that he could not deliver.
“Jenise is mine. She is with me here and here she will remain—forever out of your reach.”
Karpon hissed at that piece of news. “Who are you?”
“In case you are wondering who I am,” the image seemed to answer him, “I am Guardian of the Mist. King of all Familiars. Is it not unfortunate that you did not know who I was when you had me chained to the wall like a beast? Just think what you could have done with that information…no telling how much you could have gotten for me in trade.”
The image flickered and died out.
Karpon’s fist crashed onto the arm of the chair. He had had the king of the Familiars in his power? And he had lost him! All because of Jenise. Now the Familiar had her.
A roar of outrage bellowed from him.
It was not over.
Not nearly over.
Jenise was fast asleep by the time Gian entered their bedchamber. It was almost dawn. Disrobing, he slipped under the silken coverlet, taking her in his arms. He had found a way to thwart Karpon without harming the Ganakari people. Exactly as his tajan had asked of him.
His retribution was only beginning, though. Karpon would answer in the future for what had been done to him in that cell; he would pay for what had been done to Dariq.
A strong tremor shook him. Then another.
His time was approaching. He would not be able to put it off much longer.
It complicated his task with her; if he had his choice, the timing would be much different. There was no way of knowing how a non-Familiar woman would react to what was ahead.
The luxury of choice, however, was not his. He would speak to Jenise on the morrow.
