The Tigrens' Glory (Soul-Linked Saga) (Volume 9)

by Laura Jo Phillips

  That was a startling and disturbing statement that sent an uncomfortable chill through the room. After a few silent moments, the Dracons bowed their heads, palm to heart, in silent sympathy for the Tigrens’ situation.

  The Tigren accepted the acknowledgement silently. “We spent most of the night trying to think of a way to free her,” Kyerion continued. “We could think of nothing.”

  “We will certainly think on it, Kyerion,” Garen said. “We will not give up until Glory is brought back to us, on that you have my word.”

  “We appreciate that, Highness,” Kyerion said. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It’s unfortunate that we have none of our Druid possessions.”

  “The power cup alone would be very useful,” Kirk agreed.

  “Power cup?” Lariah asked.

  “An ancient object used as an aid in some types of healing,” Cade explained. “It was carved of a rare stone imbued with beneficial properties.”

  “Excuse me,” she said, leaping to her feet. “Trey, would you please speed-travel me to our room?”

  “Of course, little love,” Trey agreed. He put his fork down and went to stand behind her. He placed one hand on her shoulder, stepped sideways, and they vanished.

  Garen shrugged at Kyerion’s questioning look, and they continued eating. When Trey and Lariah reappeared a few minutes later, Lariah held a heavily wrapped package in her hands. She set the package on the table and pushed it gently toward Kyerion.

  “The Bearen Consul’s Arima, Hope, is a Keeper,” she said. “She identifies powerful objects, and the people they are meant to belong to.” Everyone listened while Kyerion began to unwrap the package. “Just before we left Jasan, Hope brought this to me. She said I’d know when I came across those it was meant for. I didn’t understand what she meant until now.”

  Kyerion removed the last layer of paper covering the object and smiled. It was a large purple goblet, about eighteen inches high and ten inches wide, with a narrow stem and flared base. A tree with wide, leaf covered branches was carved into the bowl with amazing detail, down to the veins in the individual leaves. The trunk extended down the stem, and the roots spread out across the base.

  “It’s the Bizitzaren Kopa,” Kyerion said, handling the cup with awe and respect as he turned it over in his large hands. “We always called it the power cup, but its true name translates as the Cup of Life.”

  “This is the cup you spoke of?” Garen asked.

  “Yes,” Kirk replied, watching Kyerion examine it carefully for cracks or flaws. “It was already ancient when we were born. I’m surprised it’s survived all this time.”

  “Many artifacts of Ugaztun were preserved, but we never knew what any of them were for,” Trey said. “Hope Bearen has been a treasure to us in that regard.”

  “What’s it made of?” Garen asked.

  “Amethyst, carved from the largest flawless specimen ever found on Ugaztun,” Kyerion replied. “It seems almost too providential that, of all possible healing aids, this particular cup should be here in this time, in this place.”

  “Why do you say that?” Garen asked, watching Kyerion’s fingers stroke the silky smooth surface of the cup.

  “Different stones have different innate properties,” Kyerion explained, handing the cup to Kirk so he could examine it. “Amethyst is a healing stone, especially helpful for opening the spiritual and psychic centers of the mind. It’s also called the dream stone for that reason.”

  “Do you think that, with this cup, you’ll be able to help Glory?” Lariah asked.

  “With this cup we have a chance, Highness,” Kyerion said. “We simply need to figure out how best to use it.”

  “Would you mind a suggestion?” Lariah asked.

  “Not at all,” Kyerion said, suddenly remembering that this woman was more than their Princess. She was also Nahoa-Arima. “In fact, we would be most grateful for any suggestions or thoughts you may have, Highness.”

  “Using imaginary doors, or walls, to compartmentalize traumatic events within the mind is a common coping method,” Lariah said. “But those memories will seep out and effect the mind in various ways. The timing of this could be better, but eventually she’d have to deal with all of this anyway.”

  “We understand and agree, but you’ve no idea how horrific her memories are, Highness,” Cade said. “We saw only a small portion of one, and it was more than enough. She’s blocked them off for a reason.”

  “Lariah doesn’t know Glory’s memories, but she has her own traumatic experiences,” Garen said. “She knows of what she speaks on this matter.”

  Lariah smiled at Garen, then turned her attention back to the Tigren, trying to come up with a way to demonstrate what she wanted them to understand. Her eyes fell on her coffee cup, and she smiled.

  “You said earlier that this coffee was strong,” she said, picking up the coffee carafe and refilling her cup to the very brim. “Correct?”

  “Yes,” Kyerion said, frowning as he watched her.

  “This cup is now filled with it,” Lariah said. “Not another drop can be added without causing it to overflow. It can’t be picked up, jiggled or sloshed. It now needs to be handled very carefully, as though it were fragile. Even the table it sits upon can’t be moved. If the ship around us were to shift too suddenly, it would cause it to spill. Having filled this small cup to the very brim, I’ve created a situation that effects far more than the cup and its contents.” She waited for the Tigren to acknowledge her statement. After each of them nodded, she leaned back in her chair and spread her arms wide. “Now, imagine that this room is filled with water,” she said. “Take this cup, and empty it into the water.”

  Kyerion’s eyes widened. “The coffee still exists, but is diluted and weak.”

  “Exactly,” Lariah said. “You don’t need to extricate Glory from her memories and entice her back through the door. You need to destroy the door altogether.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “How are we to destroy something we can’t even touch?” Cade asked in the silence that fell after Princess Lariah’s shocking statement.

  “Good question,” Kyerion said. He gestured toward the power cup Cade was now holding. “I think that is going to help us, though.” He turned to Lariah. “We thank you, Princess Lariah, for your help. I think that you’ve given us the solution to our problem. Now we need only determine how to implement it.”

  “Just remember that there’s no rush,” Garen said. “With Glory safely in a healing tank, you have as much time as you need to think about this.”

  “That helps,” Kirk said. “By the way, we’ve compiled a list of weapons and clothing for your fabricator.”

  “I’ll take you there now, if you like,” Trey offered.

  “Thank you, Highness. Is there a place on board this ship where we can work off some energy?” Kyerion asked. “It might help clear our minds if we could release some physical tension.”

  “Of course,” Garen said with a shake of his head. “I apologize for not thinking of that before. I’ve no doubt that the need to shift is upon all three of you.”

  “It is,” Kyerion admitted. “Do you have a solution for us?”

  “Yes, we do,” Garen replied. He stood up, kissed Lariah on the top of her head, then walked around the table to where Kyerion stood. “We’ll take you to the Roar Room.”

  “Roar Room?” Cade asked as Val approached him.

  “Shifting Chamber,” Trey said, placing one hand on Kirk’s shoulder. Seconds later all six men stood in front of a door with a sign over it proclaiming it to be the Roar Room.

  “This is a room for shifting?” Kyerion asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” Garen said. “As I said, we should have shown this to you already.” He opened the door, relieved to find the room unoccupied. “It’s not as good as being outside, but it’s better than not shifting at all.”

  “You will hear no complaints from us,” Kyerion said, following Garen across a narrow roo
m to another door, and from there into an enormous room covered in white padding.

  “Would you mind if we watch for a moment?” Garen asked. “No tigrenca has been seen by our people in seven thousand years.”

  “So long as we can shift and run for a time, we don’t much care who watches,” Kyerion said, smiling happily as he looked around.

  “Have fun,” Trey said, grinning as he left the padded room with his brothers, closing the door to the ante room behind them. The Dracons lined up at the observation window and watched as the Tigren shifted into three tigrenca that arched their backs and stretched their claws before turning toward the viewing window.

  They were about fourteen feet high at the shoulder, just short of thirty feet long not counting their long, flexible tails, with significantly more muscle mass than the katrencas. Their canines were nearly a foot long, curving down below their chins, the black horns set behind their rounded ears the same length, though much thicker. Kyerion’s fur was striped black and metallic gold, the same color as his eyes. Kirk’s stripes were black and silver, and Cade’s black and copper. They were stunning to look upon, both fierce and beautiful. This first sight of tigrencas was one more memory in a growing list that the Dracons would never forget.

  Kyerion watched the Dracons watch them, scarcely able to imagine what it would feel like to be in their place, to have lost an entire clan of brothers for so long, then have them return. He shook his enormous head to push the thought away. This was the first time they’d shifted in seven thousand years, and he wanted to enjoy the moment.

  He opened his mouth and roared loud enough to cause the viewing window to tremble. The Dracons grinned, and he leapt nearly a hundred feet into the air in pure delight. He hit the padded floor running, reveling in the flex and stretch of muscle and tendon, allowing the simple joy of just being to take over his tigrenca’s body and mind.

  ****

  Several hours later, Kyerion pushed the tank room door open and stepped inside with Kirk and Cade behind him. They were all dressed in jeans, boots, and black V-necked t-shirts that exposed their torcs and armbands as required by ancient Clan law, all of which fit them perfectly. They’d enjoyed the feel of the modern clothing they’d borrowed from the Dracons enough to have some made for themselves, though they’d had their familiar battle leathers made as well.

  “I hear you got to run off some energy in the Roar Room this morning,” Doc said, watching while they gathered around Glory’s tank.

  “Yes, it was a great relief to us,” Kyerion said.

  “No ill effects?” Doc asked. “No weakness, dizziness, anything like that?”

  “No, none at all, Doc, thank you for asking,” Kyerion replied politely. “We feel much better than we expected after such a long period of time in those tanks. How is Glory doing?”

  “No change since yesterday,” Doc said. “Garen told me that she’s your Arima.”

  “Yes, that’s what we were told by one who would know,” Kyerion said.

  “Glory has no relatives here. Normally I’d discuss her care with the Dracons, but since you are her Rami, or meant to be anyway, you get the responsibility of helping me decide how to proceed with her care. If you want it.”

  “We do,” Kyerion said. “Thank you, Doc, for trusting us with this honor. We know how seriously you take the care of your patients.”

  Doc nodded, not surprised by their response. They might not recognize the name Jasan, but they were still Jasani in his mind, and he knew what to expect from them.

  “I have a question,” Kirk said.

  “Yes?” Doc asked.

  “Her injury is now healed. Why must she remain in this tank?”

  “Good question, and the reason I asked you here,” Doc said. “We can either leave Glory in the healing tank, or remove her from it. Here are the pros and cons.” Kyerion nodded, though the idea of getting her out of that tank had him instantly ready to choose that option.

  “While she’s in the tank her bodily functions are suspended, much like yours were in the hibernation tanks. She doesn’t need food or water, her muscles won’t deteriorate, her hair won’t even grow. Outside the tank, she’ll remain in a coma like state, but time will not be suspended. Her body will need to be fed, and her bodily functions cared for. The longer she remains in that state, the more her body will deteriorate.

  “In my opinion, it’s best that she remain in the tank until you’ve decided how to proceed with returning her to consciousness. Keep in mind that I’ll need at least one hour, and would prefer two to three hours, to remove her from the tank.”

  “Why so long?” Kirk asked. “We awoke as soon as we were out of the hibernation tanks, as did most of the other prisoners we released.”

  “This isn’t a hibernation tank, it’s a healing tank,” Doc said. “The two are not the same. A healing tank interacts with the body in many more ways and in a much more complex fashion than a hibernation tank. As I told you before, I could pull her out in an hour if it were absolutely necessary. But I’m not doing that unless I have to. It’s easier on the patient to gradually shut down the various systems she’s connected to that are currently maintaining her body.”

  “As much as we want her out of the tank, it seems clear that she is better off as she is until we decide how to go forward,” Kyerion said with a sigh.

  “I understand your need, and appreciate your patience,” Doc said. “Aside from the risk to Glory, there’s another matter to consider, too.”

  “Which is?”

  “Being told that she’s your Arima is one thing,” Doc said. “But I’ve seen what happens to a male-set when they actually scent their Arima for the first time. Each clan is different of course, but since you’ve avoided going into Glory’s cabin and scenting her possessions, I assume you aren’t ready to deal with the physical aspects of that.”

  “You’re correct,” Kyerion said. “We need our minds clear right now in order to focus on how best to help Glory. If our bodies are flooded with hormones it will become more difficult for us. That would not be in Glory’s best interest.”

  “Agreed,” Doc said. “Have you figured out how to bring her out of her coma yet?”

  “We know that we need to destroy the door she’s created in her mind,” Kyerion said. “We just haven’t figured out how to do it.”

  “Well, let me know when you’re ready so I can begin pulling her from the tank.”

  “We will, Doc,” Kyerion replied.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Kyerion, I was thinking it might be a good idea to invite the Katres and the Lobos over to discuss this problem with Glory and the door,” Lariah said at lunch a couple of days later.

  “You think they’ll be able to help?” Kyerion asked, willing to take whatever help they could get at this point. They’d spent days trying to come up with a solution to their problem and still had no answers. Their time hadn’t been wasted, however. When they weren’t busy soaking up as much information as they could on the vid-terminal, they’d explored every inch of the Ugaztun, learning everything they could about it from how it was built to how to navigate it. Being Druids, they learned at a rapid rate, but there was so much to learn that they’d barely scratched the surface. Unfortunately, none of their knowledge, new or old, helped with the problem of how to awaken Glory.

  “It can’t hurt,” Lariah said, bringing Kyerion back to the moment. “We worked together…,” Lariah trailed off, her eyes narrowing as her mouth turned down in a frown. “I’m so stupid,” she said. “It never occurred to me, to any of us, to tell you how Glory managed to free you.”

  “And it never occurred to us to ask,” Kyerion said slowly, a faint glimmer of hope rising within him. “I remember telling Glory that Spirit was needed, an impossibility, of course. Then she left for a time. When she returned she said something about others helping her. I thought she used some extreme form of Dream Walking. Will you share with us what was done?”

  “Of course,” Lariah said. “I
know you’ve been catching up on recent history with the vid-terminal. Did you read the transcript of the Gathering of the Nine? In particular the section referring to the Lehen Triad, what we call the Three?”

  “Yes, we did,” Kirk replied, frowning. “I can’t say we enjoyed the part that spoke of the Tigren and Owlfen murdering so many in blood rages, but we understand why that was believed to be the truth.”

  “Don’t worry, Kirk,” Garen said. “The truth has already been sent to Jasan. All will know what really happened in those dark days.”

  “Thank you, Highness, we appreciate that,” Kirk said, then he turned to Lariah. “I apologize for the interruption, Princess Lariah. Please continue.”

  “Summer Katre, Saige Lobo and myself are the Three,” Lariah said. “When the Nine spoke to the clans through us, they gave us the ability to gather Spirit, a power we now know was meant to be used specifically for saving the three of you. Glory had a mosaic that Hope Bearen gave her from the same store of items that held your power cup. On the day she freed you, Summer identified the mosaic as a power safe. The three of us filled it with Spirit and, when she was ready, Glory drew that power from the mosaic to make herself solid enough to open your tank and free you.”

  “Are you saying that three women were able to channel Spirit, and a fourth was able to wield it?” Kyerion asked, more shocked by this than by anything else he’d seen or heard since learning they’d been asleep for seven thousand years. “In our time, women did not wield magic.”

  “Nor do they now,” Garen said. “They are, however, quite good at tapping into power and channeling it to be used by their Rami. In this case, they channeled it into the mosaic, and Glory drew on it to make herself strong enough to do what had to be done. She didn’t actually wield it.” Garen shrugged. “Besides, the Three are…different. For the sake of the future of the Jasani, we do not question their powers, nor do we ignore their advice.”