Mystic Militia

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Talk to my father and determine if he’s still financing the Shadow Assassins or if he has broken all ties as he claims.”

  “He isn’t dangerous, is he?”

  “Not in the way you mean. He can be a ruthless son of a bitch when he’s cornered, but he won’t attack you for no reason. Besides, I’m coming with you. No one will harm you as long as you’re with me.”

  Tori smiled. He’d already proven the validity of that claim by throwing himself in front of a pulse pistol for her. “Give me ten minutes to take a quick shower and then we’ll go visit your father.”

  Chapter Eight

  It had been nearly two solar cycles since Lor visited his father and even then it had been by vidcom not in person. Fortress Joon was filled with bad memories, so Lor avoided the sprawling monstrosity. Life had begun for Lor when he was accepted into the Conservatory. He had built a future for himself separate from the House of Joon, so he saw no reason to reopen old wounds.

  Well, now he had a reason.

  If his father was still bankrolling the Shadow Assassins, Lor would personally see him prosecuted for his crimes. The elders might have kept their mouths shut and protected their benefactor, but there had to be someone among the liberated soldiers who could connect Lilt dar Joon with the Shadow Assassins.

  “When you called it Fortress Joon, I didn’t realize you meant it literally.”

  Tori’s hushed tone made Lor smile. His childhood home had this effect on everyone. Few of the ancient structures had survived the Great Conflict. Walking through Fortress Joon felt like stepping back in time. It was a huge castle compound, complete with crenelated walls and a dungeon. His father might refer to the area as a detention level, but windowless cages and torture implements clearly constituted a dungeon.

  He’d teleported with Tori to the forest outside the main gates. “The central keep is over a thousand cycles old. Obviously it’s been expanded and renovated extensively in the ensuing cycles, but the heads of House of Joon have always preferred the barbaric atmosphere.”

  The massive stone walls were more for intimidation than protection. With automated surveillance and force field barriers, his father’s security was state of the art. They were stopped at the gate, but one of the guards recognized Lor.

  “Is your father expecting you, sir?” The elder of the two guards asked.

  “I thought I’d surprise him.” The younger guard looked Tori over a little too thoroughly so Lor warned him back with a glare. “Com him if you must, but it will ruin the surprise.”

  The older guard hesitated then shook his head. “It’s procedure, sir. I’m sure you understand.”

  Can you flash us inside if your father refuses to see us? Tori accessed their telepathic link with effortless ease.

  The fortress is shielded, but he won’t turn us away. Curiosity was a powerful force and a spontaneous visit was too unusual to ignore.

  “Go ahead, sir.” The younger guard deactivated the energy barrier and waved them on through.

  “Sorry to spoil the surprise,” added the older.

  Asymmetrical wings flanked the original keep, which was perfectly square. All it needed was a drawbridge and iron portcullis. “Home sweet home,” he grumbled as they crossed the wide courtyard.

  A uniformed attendant escorted them into a surprisingly lavish foyer. Tori looked around in wonder. Her reaction was expected. The luxurious furnishings and modern décor contradicted the ancient exterior. “Father enjoys the contrast.”

  They were taken to a formal salon rather than one of the family chambers. Lor understood the subtle slur, but tried not to react.

  “It must take an army of workers just to keep this place clean.”

  Lor nodded, waiting for Tori to choose a seat. She sat on the claw-footed sofa, so he sat beside her. “The high cost of maintaining these museums is why so many are abandoned.”

  “But the House of Joon is obviously managing it.” Her expression was easy to read, even parts awe and mistrust.

  He sighed. Hadn’t the empathic link shown her that he didn’t care about wealth? “This is a reflection of my father, not me.”

  Lilt dar Joon swept into the room a short time later. Of medium height and lean build, he had wavy blond hair and bright turquoise eyes. The color was exclusive to the House of Joon. Lilt looked Lor over with one assessing sweep then turned his attention on Tori.

  “Welcome to Fortress Joon.” Lilt’s charming smile didn’t reach his eyes. He finally looked at his son and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  Any pretense at civility would be immediately suspect. He disapproved of everything his father stood for and Lilt knew it. “As you’ve likely heard, I’m assisting the team of investigators cleaning up the Shadow Assassin mess.” The statement was bait. He was hoping to learn the accuracy of Lilt’s gossip network. Lilt generally found out about anything that concerned the House of Joon eventually.

  “I’d heard your investigation took you to Earth. I’m surprised to see you back on Ontariese.”

  Carefully suppressing his smile, Lor simply nodded. So word of the hunter exodus had spread beyond the City of Tears. Lor was glad his father broached the issue. Lor had no intention of volunteering any new information. “Your name keeps coming up. For some odd reason, everyone thinks you’re still pulling the strings.”

  “I was never ‘pulling the strings’. I was exonerated of all charges regarding that group of rabble.”

  “Exoneration and innocence are often two very different things.” Lor calmed himself with a deep breath. He hadn’t come here for a lengthy argument. He and his father were diametrically opposed, so there was no point in debate. “I’m not here to talk about the past. The Joint Council passed judgment on that debacle and I’m obligated to abide by their decision.”

  Lilt hadn’t bothered to sit. It was obvious he didn’t plan to indulge Lor for long. “Then why have you come? We both know you’re too sanctimonious to give a damn about me.”

  It was a common complaint, a tired argument. When wealth and power had failed to tempt Lor away from his life at the Conservatory, Lilt had used shame and guilt, attempting to exploit Lor’s honor and sense of duty.

  Ignoring the familiar barb, Lor said, “I was tired of suspicions and rumors. Look me in the eye and tell me that you are no longer involved with the Shadow Assassins.”

  Lilt walked up to Lor and glared into his eyes. “My involvement with the Shadow Assassins ended with the liberation of the Shadow Maze.”

  A chill dropped down Lor’s spine. Something was wrong. Lilt’s energy pulse felt awkward, stilted. Looking past his resentment, Lor finally saw the smudges shadowing his father’s eyes and the waxy pallor of his skin. “Are you all right?”

  “For one shocking moment, I allowed myself to believe you’d come to say goodbye.” Lilt snorted his derision then turned away. “I should have known better.”

  Lor shot to his feet and grabbed his father’s arm. It felt thin beneath his grasp. “Are you ill?”

  “I’m dying.” He laughed, the sound harsh and hollow. “All this will soon be yours.”

  “Have you seen a healer or only a physician? I know you have no love of Mystics, but we can often help when—”

  “There is no antidote for this poison and exposure is always fatal.” He laughed again. “The elders’ silence was a message. They allowed me to die with dignity, but I’m expected to take their secrets to my grave.”

  A confused sort of panic rushed through Lor. This man had been a frustration his entire life. He’d been neglectful and cruel, but deep in Lor’s heart he still loved his father. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Lilt waved away the question. “There is nothing anyone can do.” He paused in the door for one poignant look then shook his head. “It was nice to see you again.”

  Shaken and torn Lor stared after his father long after Lilt had gone.

  Tori moved up beside him and wrapped her arm around his waist. A simple hug had never been
more welcome “Are you okay?”

  “Was he…”

  “Everything he said was true. I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her around in front of him and buried his face in her hair. After years of resentment and anger, how could this impending loss hurt so badly? “Let’s get out of here.” He took Tori by the hand and rushed for the front door.

  Tori had to run to keep up with Lor’s agitated strides. She didn’t need their empathic link to understand what he was feeling. Still, she wished that she hadn’t asked him to close off the connection. She wanted to soothe him, comfort him, and she wasn’t sure how.

  He kept up the speed-walking pace until they were deep in the forest surrounding Fortress Joon. Then he pulled her back into his arms and pressed her tight against his chest. “He did this to himself. He’s only getting what he deserves.” His arms tightened until she could barely breathe. “So why do I feel…shattered?”

  “He’s your father. It would be strange if this didn’t upset you.” She eased back and looked up at him, searching for just the right words. “Despite everything he’s done, in your heart of hearts, you still hoped he’d come around. Death is final. It extinguishes any hope of redemption. That’s why this hurts so badly.”

  He didn’t say anything, nor did he warn her when he flashed them back to Mystic Valley. She gasped and held on tightly as the ground dissolved beneath her feet. The dizzying rush only lasted a moment and then they were in the front yard of her bungalow.

  “I need to speak with Tal and there are others who must be notified. I won’t be gone long.” And he flashed out of site.

  Even understanding his upset, she couldn’t help feeling abandoned. It also stung that he’d turned to Tal for comfort rather than allowing her to share his grief. Her pity party only lasted a moment and then she squared her shoulders and reasserted her spirit. It was natural for Lor to seek out his mentor during this emotional crisis. Lor had known Tal since he was a child. Their bond was deep and natural. And she was perfectly capable of entertaining herself for an hour or two.

  The bungalow was cool and comfortable, but she was too restless to tolerate any enclosed space. Her stomach growled noisily. Unfortunately someone had retrieved the snack trays. At least they’d left the beverages. She filled a class with blish then headed outside.

  Perched on top of a grassy hill like an Ontarian Parthenon, The Conservatory was visible in the distance. The night moon was just peeking over the horizon and the day moon had yet to descend. It was later than she’d realized. No wonder she was hungry.

  A flash drew her attention to the side and her pulse leapt, but Odintar appeared rather than Lor.

  “Are you alone?” he sounded surprised. “I was looking for Lor.”

  “He had some bad news and went to inform others of what he’d learned.”

  “He left you unprotected?” Now he sounded pissed.

  “Am I in danger? I was under the impression that the bad guys are on Earth.” She tried to lighten his mood, but tension fisted her stomach. Was there a valid reason for his concern?

  “You’re within the Mystic shield, so you’re relatively safe. Even so, I’ll stay with you until he returns.”

  He was fully dressed now in some sort of uniform. It was black edged in gold and set off his savage good looks to perfection. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but I welcome the company.”

  He inclined his head and moved closer.

  Lor trusted this man. She didn’t need to feel threatened by his intimidating presence. He was here to protect her, not…devour her? “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got wine, blish and something that looks like beer.”

  “It is probably Bilarrian ale and I would love some.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She motioned toward the chairs arranged beneath a nearby tree. “Have a seat.” Sharing a drink in the front yard with one of Lor’s friends was natural. She was being neighborly. So why couldn’t she relax? She filled the last glass with ale and headed back outside.

  Odintar had moved over to the tree, but he remained standing as his gaze swept the surrounding area. He was taking this protector gig very seriously.

  “Sorry. It’s not cold.”

  “Bilarrian ale is always served at room temperature.”

  She made a face. “Then I’ll stick with blish. I’m not a beer fan to begin with, but warm beer is just gross.” He quickly took a drink to hide his smile, but she spotted the telltale amusement gleaming in his ink-black eyes. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re just adorable. I love listening to humans speak. Your language is so colorful.”

  “And I’m amazed how many Ontarians know English. Why is that anyway?” Feeling more at ease, she moved to one of the four chairs surrounding a tiny round table. She pulled out the chair and angled it toward her guest before she sat.

  “Our technology allows any language in our considerable database to be infused into our minds. It takes some adjustment to comprehend which words mean what, but it’s considerably faster than conventional study.”

  “No doubt. Can other subjects be learned that way?”

  “There are information infusions available in every field of study. Still, nothing replaces practical experience and interactive learning.” He remained near the tree trunk, eyes ever watchful.

  “Has Director dar Aune chosen the rest of the crew?” It was the most likely reason for this visit.

  Odintar nodded. “And we’re all wondering if Lor has made his final selection.”

  “We’ve been busy.” She managed to suppress her guilty smile, but her blush gave her away.

  “No doubt.” He stared at her for a long moment, dark eyes suddenly hungry. “If you have not yet declared a social alliance with Lor, you should do so before we depart. Having an unclaimed female on a ship with six men would be a very bad idea.”

  “What is a social alliance?”

  “Ask Lor to explain it to you.”

  As if summoned by their conversation, Lor flashed into the small yard. He started toward the bungalow then spun around. “How long has he been here?”

  “Hello to you too.” Odintar didn’t seem offended by Lor’s rudeness.

  “We learned the reason for the elders’ silence regarding my father,” Lor blurted. “They poisoned him. He’s dying.”

  “I’m sorry.” Odintar sounded sincere. “Death is never easy. Family members are the worst, except for maybe life mates.”

  “At least we understand it now.” Lor sighed, clearly still struggling with his shock. “Did Trey send you?”

  “He did. Kris, Dekker and Sid will be the military half of the crew. Have you decided on the final Mystic?”

  “I was hoping Blayne cet Malaque would be willing to go, but I haven’t spoken with him yet.”

  “You’ve been busy.” Odintar winked at Tori then drained his ale. “Blayne’s a good man. I’ve worked with him before.”

  “Is the Sentinel still on schedule?”

  “Afraid not.” Odintar paused and then smiled. “She docked a short time ago. Director dar Aune said she’ll be restocked and ready for departure late tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to get back to Earth. I need an outlet for my frustration.”

  “Understandable. If Blayne turns you down, let me know. He swore he’d never go back to Earth after our last mission, but he owes me one.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Odintar smiled at Tori and added, “Sleep well.” Then he flashed out of sight.

  Lor didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go inside, yet he didn’t join her at the table. “So we’ll head back tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes.” He moved to about the same place Odintar had been standing and leaned his back against the tree trunk. It must be a guy thing, the need to keep something solid at their backs.

  She waited for him to say something else, but he just stood there in brooding silence.

  Wow. Thi
s would be a long night if he kept this up.

  “Before we become any closer, there are some things you need to know.”

  She’d learned everything she needed to know when he opened the empathic link. She was in love with Lor dar Joon, even if she was too much of a coward to say the words. “Are you an intergalactic fugitive?”

  Her attempt at humor fell flat. He didn’t even roll his eyes. “The Great Conflict began as a clan war between the House of Aune and the House of Joon. Well, it was also a clash of ideals, but that’s not what’s important to this conversation. Several of my ancestors played pivotal roles in the events.”

  She hated his formality and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her. They had gained such ground. She would not let it all slip away. “My grandmother was from Mississippi, so it’s likely I have ancestors who fought on the wrong side of the Civil War. Does that make you love me any less?”

  His gaze snapped to hers and the rotation slowed until she was staring into endless pools of liquid turquois. “Did your ancestors start the Civil War?” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “By pivotal role I mean one of my ancestors unleashed the biological weapon that brought the Ontarian race to the brink of extinction. A more accurate parallel would be if I were a Jew and you were a direct descendent of Adolph Hitler.”

  Now she understood the guilt and rage that were woven through his inner self. Her need to ease his pain was unbearable. She stood and approached him slowly, fearing he’d turn away. “You are not to blame for your father’s crimes much less those of your ancestors.”

  “Many Ontarians don’t see it that way.” The bitter edge had left his voice; now he just sounded tired. “Those who don’t fear the House of Joon despise us.”

  “So change your name.” She framed his face with her hands and stared into his eyes. “Free yourself from the past. You are not your father or your forefathers. You are an honorable man.”

  He drew her hands downward, but allowed her to place them on his shoulders. “I’m not worried about me. I’ve lived with it my entire life.” He glanced away and emotion thickened his voice again. “If you and I form any sort of alliance, you will become the target of ridicule. I can’t allow that.”