Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  Timon looked at his brother, shaking and feeling cold inside. There wasn't a lot he could do about it, but he was almost certain that it was actually warm enough around him. His temperature amulet would keep him that way, which meant that this was something coming from inside him.

  "Fine, I'll do it myself then." No one knew how, expect Tor, but he'd figure something out.

  "You'll probably die if you do. You're going to be a very good builder someday Tim. You already are, really. But you can't make changes to yourself and think that it's safe."

  "You did it. I know you're better than I am, but I can learn. Do you really think I can't?"

  His brother shook his head.

  "It isn't that. I just... don't want you to accidentally kill yourself."

  "Ah. Maybe you should have thought of that before you interfered with the most basic parts of my self? You violated me. You violated my trust in you, and now what you did is torturing me. If you won't help, then get out. I don't need you as a brother if you're going to do things like this against my will."

  Tor didn't move for a long time, as if he were ignoring what Timon had said.

  "I can't undo it. It will be for the best, in the long run. You'll see." Then he stood there. That was all, just looking at Tim expectantly. They were family after all, which meant that they had to forgive each other, at least in Tor's mind.

  "I see now. Get out. Never come back. Never talk to me again, or ask anything of me. You aren't my brother any longer. Go!" He nearly threw the box of space craft amulets back at him, but refrained from such behavior, if with a bit of effort. He did turn to Trice and took a deep breath.

  "You can go with him, if you want. I'll talk to the King again, and get him to set the marriage aside." It would be better for her anyway. Tor loved her, and she him. They could even be together. It made more sense than her staying there, didn't it?

  Tor tilted his head and shook it at the same time, then held it for a bit, when he realized that it hurt too much for that kind of thing still.

  "Tim... Don't you think you're over reacting a bit?"

  He stopped and thought about it, but after a bit fixed his brother with a look that would have pinned more self-aware people in place, unmoving. It even sort of worked on Tor.

  "No. No one has a right to change what other people are. That's so deeply true that even the most evil of people follow it. You can kill me, or leave me alone to fend for myself, but you aren't allowed to change what I am. Who I am. That's what you did, and what you're still doing. I deserve a chance to be myself, without you making me into a copy of you. A slave. I'm not going to be that and if I have to die to prevent it, then I will. Now leave. Understand this too, you brought this on yourself. This, whatever comes, is what you chose to happen."

  He didn't point at the door, but did get ready to tell him to get out of his house.

  Tor left on his own, leaving Trice standing there, tears in her eyes again.

  "Really, you don't have to stay. I'll be fine. Go to him. I'll take care of the rest of it. That, or just leave Noram. This is beyond what I can put up with anymore."

  "Timon, don't send me away. Please." A single line of wetness ran down her left cheek. "I... Just don't. I need to be here for now." She looked miserable, standing there, like it had all been too much for her for a long time and now she thought the world was finally coming to an end. It wasn't. That would have been too perfect to be true.

  No, it would keep on going, and keep getting worse, until there was no place left to go but up.

  "Don't worry. I'll fix it for you." He wasn't mad at her at all, but he was angry now, mainly at Tor. There was no stomping as he left and no slammed doors. Instead Timon just went out the front and put out his Fast Craft, the old one that Tor had made. It was his, actually. What Timon had made wasn't as fast, but it would do well enough. He could send the rest back to him now and be done with him.

  For the moment it was the fastest way to get into the King's Palace. It skipped the front gate entirely, for instance. Then he could talk to the man himself and get him to see that he needed to be out of the situation he was in. King Richard would understand, he hoped. If that didn't work, well, he could go and live in Vagus. Then he just wouldn't come back for a few hundred years and Trice could live her life however she wanted. It would be the same for her that way, right? As long as he wasn't there, she'd be free to do whatever she wanted, without him being in the way.

  It wasn't that Timon had never been upset before in his life. It had happened. He'd even gone into combat rage a couple of times, so he knew what that was like. This was very different. He wasn't mad, and didn't feel like hurting people, not at all. He just didn't want to be any more. That way no one would ever be harmed by him again. It was, he realized, that new whatever it was the Tor had put into his head. Guilt.

  It was worse than he'd thought it would be, and with each day it got stronger. It would have to be changed, somehow.

  He landed at the Palace no more than a minute later, most of that spent in a decent that was probably far too fast for the guards on duty. They didn't get the shield up in time to stop him, so he hopped out and started to walk in. The woman that ran up to him wasn't all that familiar, but she tried to talk to him, her voice rough and mean sounding.

  "Stop. You haven't been cleared."

  He did it, since fighting with her wouldn't help him at all at that moment.

  "Fine give me the amulet. Now. I'm in a hurry!" She'd started it, but from the look on her face she thought that she had a right to mistreat him. Timon disagreed.

  She did her job and gave him the Truth amulet, so he held it out, ready to hand it back.

  "I'm Timon Baker. Countier Lairdgren. I'm here to speak to the King and don't mean him or anyone here that I know of harm." It said nothing of loyalty, but he wasn't there for that anyway. The woman frowned then took the amulet back.

  "Very well, I can see if he has an appointment slot open... hey!"

  Timon walked into the building right past her, by reflex she tried to grab him, but his shield kicked on. She had one too, which was rare for the King's Palace Guard, since they weren't considered a military force. She slipped off of him as he kept walking. When she tried to force herself in front of him, he angled his body a bit and moved around her. Direct force would be stopped dead, and a glancing blow from a regular object would stop it in space, putting the force of its movement into the ground.

  Another shield just slid off, if you did it right. There were others that came then, but most of them rather wisely stood back, not trying to fight with him. He didn't engage but a few tried to hit him with weapons, or grab him, which didn't work all that well. Even when they used sophisticated shield fighting techniques. The problem there was that he wasn't fighting with them. Everything they'd practiced involved someone doing something other than just walking away.

  It did slow him down, but he found the throne room about seven minutes later. It was the same place where his grandmother Gray had died, so he had a pretty good recollection of where it was. The King was at the far end again, speaking to someone on the communications device that was attached to a low table near him. It was made of real wood, stained deep brown and polished to a level that made it seem like glass.

  It didn't take magic to figure out who he was talking too.

  "He's here. One moment..." The King waved to him, then at the Royal Guards who were trying to trip him as he moved. One of them, a younger man, tried to shoot the stone floor with a Force Lance. That broke the stone there, but only enough to leave cracks. They'd have to do better than that to stop him. The question was, why exactly were they trying so hard? He'd only come to talk, and even in a bad mood, he wouldn't take it out on the King. That would just be stupid. For one thing, it wasn't his fault. not really.

  There was a bustle of noise behind him and a familiar female voice spoke, her tone more relaxed than he was used to.

  "Go. It will be fine here. Timon isn't hurting anyone.
"

  Constance stood there, and smiled gently as she made motions with her hands for them to leave, or at least back away a bit. He didn't really care about that. If they wanted to listen in, they could just as well stand in the room as hide in the walls, as far as he was concerned.

  "Timon? We heard that you had a bit of a falling out with your brother? Would you like to talk about it?"

  "Not really. I came to get the King to let me out of this marriage. It's only fair to Trice. She loves Tor, which isn't news to anyone. I can't have her acting as a spy for him or anything. I think... that he and I aren't brothers anymore." There was a pause, and then he described why. That took a while, since it involved things like genetics and magical pattern manipulation, and while the King and Queen were intelligent people, they hadn't had the best educations in the realm of science really. More than what people commonly had, but not enough to truly understand what he was saying at first. Luckily for him, there didn't seem to be a big need for that. They were smart enough to understand that he was angry with Tor for changing him. That was enough, really.

  The Queen gestured for him to walk with her, the soft slippers she wore nearly silent on the polished stone floor. His black boots with their hard soles made a sound with each step he took however. The Royals stood back, looking ready to run, which made sense. They probably couldn't tell that he wasn't in a combat rage. Not with his shield on.

  The King listened and after a while Smythe of Westend came in and watched him closely, then got a chair and put it near him. Tim stopped talking, and the large military leader in all black waved to it.

  "I think this is going to be a rather long conversation. We may as well sit. So, the Wizard Tor finally did something that someone else takes exception with as well? Amazing. Well, it almost had to happen someday. Let me guess, he told you it was for both your own good and that of the people?" The look on his face was implacably calm, but firm at the same time.

  "Pretty much. He may even be right. I can admit that. But he was acting on a flawed premise. He thinks that not having guilt means that a person will be a monster. There are other ways to live, like using logic and reasoning to make decisions. He decided that he didn't think he could do it, therefore I must not be able to as well. I don't know if I can fix it, but I'm going to try. It might kill me. Even Tor said so. That could take a while, so for now, I've come to get the King to let me out of the marriage to Trice. It's just being silly at this point, to lock us into place."

  He had some decent arguments against it, but he didn't really get to use them, as Tor's voice came from the communications device. The words were wrong, meaning that it had to be the Count, not his brother at all.

  "Timon, can you hold there for about fifteen minutes? I'd like to talk with you about some things, if you're willing. It might not change your mind about anything, but I'd appreciate being heard first. For the time being I'd like you to stay married however. There are things you aren't aware of that alter that situation. I'm headed toward you right now."

  For the life of him he couldn't work out what he didn't know about things. There had to be vast amounts of information that might help him, since that was always true, but his mind felt slow and clumsy at the moment. Stupid almost.

  It wasn't really true, he didn't think, but the new emotions were clouding his normally crisp decision making process. Worse, they had been for some time. Normally he wouldn't have married Trice, would he? It barely made sense at all.

  Unless someone had put the suggestion in his thoughts? Say when they altered his ability to feel guilt? That could be paranoia, so he decided to wait and run it past the Count. The man may hate him, but he was old enough to have seen something similar to this before. Or at least have some kind of clue as to what might be needed. A cup of tea or some coffee to kick him out of this whatever it was. If only it turned out to be that easy.

  "Fine. I have to do something. Today, I think. I can't keep going this way. The whole world is... I know that isn't true, nothing is falling in on me. Nothing. My life is fine, but it feels horrible, and like I can't fix it. I need to get this crap out of my head. Make him take it out." Timon balled up his right fist and slammed it into the side of his head hard. It made him see stars, but didn't fix anything at all.

  Tim tried it a few more times, even knowing that it was nothing more than a useless gesture. It hurt, but that was only pain. He'd had so much that it barely registered any more now. It took work to keep his shield off for it too and on the last blow it kicked in. Then he dropped his hand and relaxed it. Hoping that something would make this better soon.

  There was something that caught his attention, the King had stopped moving and closed his eyes. Five minutes passed and nothing happened at all, but no one bothered the man either. If he were in a trance, it seemed an odd time for it. If sleeping... Then Timon envied him the skill. Things weren't exactly peaceful around him, were they?

  When his eyes opened it was done slowly, with total control.

  "I think I see part of your problem Timon. You feel guilt, for the first time in your life, and that particular emotion tinges most human interactions. You feel that you're trapping Trice into a marriage with you, not realizing that even now you're truly protecting her. I could point out that she didn't struggle to be out of it very hard, but that won't mean much to you at this point. I can't force Tor to return you to the way you were, since that isn't within my power. You no doubt realize that, which fills you with guilt as well, for leading me to that position? Knowing that I have to try and order him to do it, which might cause a rift between us? Then, finally, every small action that you've taken, each nod that you've ignored, feeling pressed for time, each slightly callous thing you've said, suddenly haunts you, leaving you filled with dread and embarrassment. Also things you aren't overly familiar with. Is that correct?" The man leaned forward, his arms resting on his slightly spread legs he was so hunched toward Timon.

  "There's a lot more than that, six layers or so. But yes, that's about the right line of things. I can't even track it all. It keeps getting worse too. Ever since last night. Ever since Tor came today. This isn't normal or good. He's driving me insane. He might have meant well, but..." He hit his head again. Hard enough that there would be bruising. "This. Isn't. Working." With each word he struck again, so hard that even the Queen seemed troubled by it.

  Which made him feel bad, for worrying her.

  King Richard looked at him, the crown on his head seeming heavy and like it was about to slip off.

  "Timon! Stop that this instant! You will not harm yourself. Your grandfather is coming and we will find a way to help you, I promise that. If need be I'll send for Tor and order him to repair this, even if it means losing him as a friend. For the moment you're required to focus and not let yourself get too out of hand. Will you do this for me? For all of us? I know that the Queen feels the same way." He glanced at her, and got a nod at least.

  Surprisingly she also spoke.

  "Yes. I know that things have at times been tense between us Timon, but we're family and I can't stand to see you harmed. Please, I beg of you, still yourself and hold on until Count Lairdgren comes to aid us?"

  That was nearly the wrong thing to say, from the very worst person that could utter the words.

  "Tense? You clearly hate me. You always have, since the first time we met. You've tried to embarrass me, undermine me, and tear me down when you thought I didn't know about it. I've put up with stares, glares, and hard words, that you didn't deliver to anyone else. Why is that? What did I ever do to you?"

  The Count spoke from the door, walking while he did so, his footfalls nearly silent the whole time.

  "You didn't do anything Timon. It's simply her way of defending herself from you, since you're so young."

  Lairdgren smiled as the Queen looked away, her jaw clenching hard.

  "Oh, are you going to say she loves me now? Like I'm some kind of younger version of Tor, or you?"

  "Not at all. No,
she feels a need to defend herself, because you're already too powerful, and she hasn't found a way to control you at all. In a very real sense, that's why we have to leave you married to Trice, so that Richard and Constance will feel they have some way to prevent you from taking over their kingdom."

  Timon nodded, getting that he didn't know enough at all.

  "Because that makes sense? I'm just some kid from Two Bends. Maybe in a hundred years or more I'll be a threat, but now?"

  The Green man walked over to him and put a gentle hand on the top of his head. It was strange, but at least he didn't pat it like he might a dog.

  There was a silence over the room, and finally he stopped and spoke in a low and very even tone.

  "Yes. You're very much a danger to them. As to what Tor did, if I have a good sense of things here, you're currently experiencing about half of what a regular person would, as far as feelings of guilt and shame. It really shouldn't get any stronger for you either. Not enough to really notice. That being the case, might I suggest you calm down a bit? We have some things to discuss, before you remove a large part of your mind, trying to change yourself back to what you were."

  Chapter thirteen

  "I can't take this. How do you people live like this?" Timon half growled the words, his eyes feeling gummy and red, even if he wasn't crying. Not even close, but there was a sinking inward of his body that he knew had to look small and weak. After noticing it he forced himself to sit up straight and to raise his chin, which at least seemed to make everyone else feel better.

  Not him, but that was Tor's fault, wasn't it?