Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda

by Will Greenway

  The elf set Bannor’s prize down with the rest and mumbled something that Bannor didn’t catch. The savant doled coins out of her pouch into the elf’s palm, took her plate and handed Bannor his.

  “So,” Wren said, grabbing a tart as they went back up the steps and taking a big bite. “Mmmm,” she rolled her eyes and chewed. “What brings you here?”

  “Well,” he ripped off a hunk of spongy soft bread and thumbed it into his mouth. The slightly salty taste of the warm moist bread was every bit as good as it smelled. He swallowed another delicious bite before speaking. “Well, I’m here looking for Daena.”

  “Do tell.” Wren finished the first of her four tarts with gratified moan. She licked her fingertips. “I’m looking for her too.”

  “Hmmm?” A thread of concern worked its way through his insides. “Can you tell me about it?”

  Wren shrugged. “I suppose. Remember that big man we met during the trial—Tal?” Bannor nodded, Tal wasn’t an easily fellow to forget, especially considering he worked for the eternals, some of the most powerful creatures in the universe. “Well,” Wren continued, “Tal paid me a visit this morning. Apparently, Daena has developed some new powers and has been using them rather freely recently.”

  Bannor popped another piece of bread into his mouth and chewed slowly. Together the two of them weaved through the crowd toward the ramp leading up to the next level. Suddenly, the bread didn’t taste as good as it had a moment ago. He swallowed. “Say—like teleporting.”

  Wren was lifting the next pastry to her mouth and stopped with a raised eyebrow. “Exactly like that… how did you…?”

  His voice dropped. “Same mission, different reasons.” He paused. “She’s not in trouble is she?”

  The savant chewed a piece of tart thoughtfully. “Urrm, not exactly, it’s more of a warning that she’s starting to irritate the eternals. Apparently, she’s further improved her stealth techniques and she’s deliberately making herself difficult to track.” She paused at the top of the ramp and turned to him. “You wouldn’t happen to know why she might be doing that?”

  Bannor rubbed the back of his prickling neck. “To keep me from spying on her.”

  Wren blinked and her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Never mind. There’s some surmise that Janai and Daena are running some campaign in the south—in Coormeer.”

  “Coormeer?” Wren echoed. “Why Coormeer? For that matter, why would anybody care?”

  He shook his head. “That’s what I said.”

  The blonde woman smiled. “Great savants think alike.”

  Bannor chuckled at her joke despite a little twist in his stomach. Both of them remained silent as they walked across the sparsely populated forum to the steps that led up to Terrace Illustra. He started to press into the incline and stopped.

  Wren paused and turned.

  “I don’t want this to be a confrontation,” he said.

  She raised a hand. “I’ll follow your lead. You know her better than anyone.”

  Except maybe Janai. That was what concerned him. The princess was a master of persuasion and seduction. She knew how to get into the affections of people—especially a barely-into-her-teens girl, with a potential that surpassed even that of a pantheon lord.

  He continued up the steps and stopped at the top. A few people stood around the terrace chatting. Messengers were couriering packets to the desk that served as the administration center for the business carried out here. He focused on the gallery where Janai usually conducted her business.

  Janai was of average height and might be missed amongst the elves on the way up, but Daena was impossible to miss. With that plume of red-auburn hair fluffed and primped the way Janai liked to see it, the young woman stood out like a beacon amidst the mostly pale haired Elves. Add to it the fact she was easily head and shoulders taller than even the males around her and she could be picked out of the densest crowd.

  Wren frowned and quickly climbed the ramp to the level above. She came back moments later. “Nobody has seen them on the Lord’s Terrace.”

  “The entry guards remember them coming in before noon,” Bannor said.

  “Well, they’re not here now,” Wren said. “I can sense when Daena is around, she has a powerful aura unless she’s masking it.”

  Bannor thought a moment. “Let’s go to the gallery, I have an idea.”

  Both of them walked to the spacious area of arranged chairs and low tables. Near the back was the tooled scalebark divan that the princess favored over the seats. She and Daena often shared the same broad couch.

  “What are we going to do here?” Wren asked.

  “See if we can make them ‘appear’,” Bannor answered. “I’ve learned that when you have a close affiliation with an object that you leave threads of your life force behind. For instance, I’ve found the link to a cherished sword or piece of jewelry can be rather strong. That spot,” he pointed to the divan. “Is Janai’s favorite.”

  “Okay, so what does that get us?”

  “You know that ‘watched’ feeling you sometimes get when somebody you can’t see is looking at you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, when I play with these residual threads, it’s like that feeling only a lot stronger. It makes you shaky, itchy, and uncomfortable. If you get that feeling, usually the person thinks it’s due to the area around them.”

  Wren grinned. “Sneaky. It’s worth a try. They might not come back immediately, but it sure would speed up the process.”

  Bannor relaxed and allowed his nola sight to take over. The world filled the twisting writhing bands of life, energy, and relation. The pulse of the Eternity throbbed behind his eyes, and the ebb and surge of time and space thrummed in his ears. A billion times a billion threads tingled on Bannor’s skin making him feel charged and alive. Yes, he had finally tamed the Garmtur to the point it was no longer his enemy. His magic still experienced unforeseen side-affects, but nowhere near the magnitudes they had been. This process hadn’t been one of learning, but time; time to heal, time to come to terms with what he was.

  The Garmtur Shak’Nola.

  He studied the worn but comfortable divan. Thousands upon thousands of cords of relation, force, and mass ran through its structure, but he was seeking a more subtle dynamic working amidst the different energies at work, those of decay, the counter pressures of nail and screw binding wood. As he concentrated, narrowing his sight just to the energies of Janai and Daena he felt his pulse quicken and a bead of sweat run down his forehead. With greater control, had come greater effort. The Garmtur seemed to have gotten less responsive over the tendays. He wasn’t certain why, but felt safer for it.

  Bannor reached out and took hold of the threads he knew that belonged to Janai and Daena. He drew a breath. Mentally, he imagined a chill wind strumming the strands of life-energy. With fingers of the Garmtur’s power he strummed their material ties like harp-strings. The eerie tones of their counter-response hummed in his under-hearing.

  As he continued to tease their residual essence, he began to feel a thrum of reaction—a distant sense of irritation and dread. This was exactly what he wanted. The second princess wanted to play games. She wasn’t the only one who could keep secrets.

  “Is it working?” Wren asked.

  “Getting there. Janai is starting to get agitated. Daena is a lot harder to scare.”

  “Kid’s damn near invulnerable and she knows it,” Wren murmured. “Can you tell where they are?”

  “Far away,” Bannor determined, feeling the threads and their length. “Not in the city for certain. I can feel Daena’s aura. It is different. It’s probably that new stealth technique that has the eternals annoyed.”

  “Bannor, did I ever say that you scare me?”

  He smiled, still concentrating on the threads under his control. “More than once. I scare me, sometimes.”

  At the other end of the threads he was manipulating, he felt the energy and agitation from both women r
ise. More frustration than fear it seemed to him. Moments passed. Bannor knew he would have to keep the pressure up for a while. If they were involved in some negotiation or court proceeding in Coormeer, it would take time to get clear.

  “Should I sit down?” Wren asked.

  “Probably a good idea,” he answered.

  Abruptly the threads stretched out across distance became dramatically shorter, ending somewhere close by. He let up on the pressure, unfocused, and tapped Wren on the shoulder.

  Wren glanced at him with a puzzled expression. “What?”

  From a spot where several tree limbs dangled down onto the terrace, two figures stepped out. The bigger of the two with her mane of red-auburn hair was easily recognizable as Daena. Her glowing green eyes were narrowed and she looked upset. The tall savant turned first-one was dressed in a long sapphire-colored gown and a large assortment of silver and platinum jewelry that accented her ever more robust body. Daena could alter her shape, and over the tendays had been getting increasingly more bold in the ways she enhanced her appearance.

  As they moved toward the front of the terrace, Bannor confirmed the other person was Janai. The second princess of Malan wore a deep violet dress much like Daena’s, she too was heavily festooned with necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and armbands. Sarai’s older sister had put on weight since they had gotten back from Asgard, but was still a stone lighter than when he had first met her in the western mountains of Ivaneth.

  The fact that the women were dressed for a party and not court only put more questions in Bannor’s mind. What were they up to?

  Both women were grumbling to one another and so preoccupied that neither seemed to notice either he or Wren until they were almost to Janai’s private gallery.

  The princess froze, eye wide. “Bannor!” She looked to the blonde savant. “Wren!” She paused and Bannor sensed her composing herself. “When did you get here?”

  Wren folded her arms. “Oh, we’ve been here a while now.”

  “Hello, Bannor,” Daena said in smooth voice. She flipped her auburn hair over one shoulder. She made a slow smile. “Good to see you. What’s the occasion?”

  He could tell from the sound of their voices that his trick with their threads had really shaken both ladies up. “You’re the occasion, actually.”

  The young woman frowned. “Me? Why?”

  “Sorry, it’s not just you, it’s both of you. We can simply get to the heart of the matter with a question. Were you two just now playing around in Coormeer?”

  Janai’s lips pressed to a line and she rubbed the back of her neck. Her glowing amber eyes narrowed. “Bannor, Coormeer is three hundred leagues away. How—”

  He held up a hand. “And you two can teleport.”

  Daena let out a growl, rolled her eyes and stamped her foot. She pointed a finger at Bannor. “Damn it. It was him.”

  “Him what?” Janai asked, looking up Daena with a puzzled expression.

  “That feeling, that sensation,” she sputtered. “Whatever you want to call it. He was fooling with us somehow.”

  Bannor shrugged. “Guilty. I just wanted to see if you really were teleporting around.”

  Janai shrouded her eyes with a hand. She drew a breath and her whole body trembled. “Bannor,” she said in a low voice. “I want you to promise to never do that to me again.” She pressed her lips to a line. “What is this about? What if we were in Coormeer?”

  “Personally, I don’t care if you do take over Coormeer. Apparently, there are others who feel differently. The more important thing is the eternals. It seems Daena is getting them hacked off with her deliberately becoming untraceable. In trying to hide from me, you’ve gotten in trouble with them.”

  Daena folded her arms and stared at Bannor. Her voice dropped. “What makes you think I was trying to hide from you?”

  Bannor sighed. “Tell me you weren’t and I’ll leave you alone right now.”

  The young woman stared at him. Her stern expression softened. “It didn’t work, huh?”

  “It worked fine,” he answered. “You’ve always been able to hide from me. That doesn’t keep me from affecting you however.”

  “Obviously, distance isn’t a factor either,” Janai grumbled. “And I will remind you not to do that again. I thought my heart would stop!”

  “I apologize,” Bannor replied. “I was simply trying to get your attention.”

  The princess came forward and took hold of his wrist. She looked up at him, face serious, but not angry. “Well, Brother, you have it. So, tell me, how it is you know about Coormeer?”

  “I know nothing about Coormeer. I don’t want to know about it either. What you two do is your business. I simply wanted to deliver the message to where you were supposed to be.”

  Janai brought a finger to her lips. She swung from side to side, focusing on the blonde savant. “Wren, you are here because of the eternals.” She swung to Bannor and narrowed her eyes. “Bannor, somebody else sent you.”

  He waved a finger. “I’m not getting involved. I saw nothing. I heard nothing.”

  Janai’s brow furrowed, she pulled at the lobe of her slender pointed ear. “Sarai is sniffing around, isn’t she? Doesn’t she have enough to do with the wedding preparations?”

  “Janai,” he pulled her hand off his arm and patted it in his palm. He slid back a step. “This is me bowing out before I get in trouble. You’re right, I have a wedding to worry about.”

  “Wren,” Daena said. She pressed her lips to a line. “About this thing with the eternals…” Her tone thinned. “Did it seem—serious?”

  There was a rasping sound and a gust of air washed over them. “Serious as dragon-fire,” a deep voice rumbled behind them.

  They turned to see the broad form of Tal Falor dressed in black leather step from a slash torn in the air. The lines of his blocky face were set in a frown, brow furrowed, and dark eyes narrowed. In his fist was a pace long blade that shimmered and flashed; the shaladen blade Nova. Using his nola to look into the man’s threads told Bannor Tal was not someone to trifle with.

  “Hey, hey,” Wren put up a hand and stepped forward. “Tal, I just now gave her the message!”

  “Yeah?” Tal responded. “Darlin, ain’t my problem. She just didn’t get the benefit of a formal warning before I take her in. She knows she ain’t on the line. She knows the rules. You were both told.”

  Bannor saw Daena tensing and the glow brightening in her eyes. She was considering not going along. “Whoa!” he yelled, stepping between them and throwing up his hands. “I’m certain this is a simple misunderstanding.”

  “Friend,” Tal said in his rumbling bass. “You ain’t on my list. Don’t get on it by gettin in my way. Terrible shame, her being so damn pretty an all, I’d hate to have to take her down.” He pointed a finger and made a coming gesture. “Koass wants to see you—now. Believe me, you’d prefer the escort service.”

  “You make it sound like forcing me would be easy,” Daena said with a dangerous rasp in her voice.

  “Kid,” Tal said. “Easy or hard ain’t the issue here. If I can’t do it, Nethra will come in here and knock you cross-eyed. Between you and me, save yourself some pain. She hits a lot harder than I do.” He shook his head. “ ‘Sides, she has no gripes about whipping up on a lady. Me, I got issues with punching a girl as pretty as yerself. I just do what I’m told. Be a good girl and do the same.” He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “So, pick one: come along, or start running.”

  Wren went and put a hand on Protectorate warrior’s arm. “Tal, calm down, let’s not fight.”

  The man smiled. “Princess, I am calm. Ain’t no big deal, just a dispatch and detain. She don’t want to come, that’s fine. I really prefer not havin to whack a girl, but like I said—I have orders.” He raised his chin. “Come on, Daena, you don’t want me chasing you. You can do that stealth stuff and I’ll get the hounds, and it’ll get ugly.” He made a coming gesture. “Gimmie your arm and we can walk out of
here nice and gentle without bruises or anger. I’m sure Koass is just going to yell at you a while and let you go—probably.”

  “Probably?” Daena repeated.

  “Can I go with her?” Janai asked. “I’m partially to blame. I’m her sponsor.”

  “Yeah, I think it would be good if you went,” the warrior responded. “After all, you been the one encouraging her to do it.”

  Janai raised an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

  Tal rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember who my bosses are then ask me again.”

  The Arminwen’s voice was tiny. “Oh.”

  “I should go,” Bannor determined suddenly. “Janai is taking care of her, but I’m the responsible party.”

  “Izzat so?” Tal said. He shrugged. “You want to get yelled at too, fine with me. You going too, Wren?”

  The blonde savant bit her lip. “I better. To keep Bannor out of trouble.”

  Tal looked to Daena and held out his hand. His face was serious, but not hostile. “Please.”

  Daena swallowed and put her wrist in his hand.

  “That’s the way.” Tal raised the shaladen sword and slashed in front of him.

  The crackle of magic ripped through the air and Bannor felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. The sides of the gap peeled back with a rasp, revealing a giant circular chamber bounded by huge glowing gems. Cool dry air gusted in their faces bringing with it an ancient leathery scent.

  “After you,” Tal said, indicating the opening with his sword. “On to the fun.”

  Heart thumping, Bannor stepped toward the gate knowing it would be anything but fun.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  Called to Heel

  « ^ »

  A life lived without love is empty. So too is it lacking when there is no challenge, no enjoyment—no risk. We are never more ourselves than when we simply answer the call of our whims. Only fools refuse to acknowledge who they are and the warm rush that comes with those acts that just feel right. Even an eternity of years is too short if you can simply laugh at yourself. Pity the poor sods who take themselves so seriously that their faces shatter at the smallest slight. They live short and empty lives indeed.