Chapter Fifteen
Bryol turned to look at the stranger, who was still holding his piece of wood in a defiant stance. "Son, I mean you no harm; I just want to talk. Would you tell me your name? Mine is Bryol—I am an ambassador for my people."
The stranger looked at him in disbelief, "An ambassador? You people are crazy. Why are you chasing me?"
Bryol gave another long-suffering sigh, "Please, the wood—You must know it is useless against me. Your name?"
The stranger looked at the piece of wood in his hands as if he did not remember how it got there. He went to set it down while watching Bryol. Seeming to come to a decision, he just leaned it against his leg, never taking his eyes off Bryol. "You know our people are at peace with yours, right? I mean, we have not gone to war, and no one forgot to tell me, right?"
Bryol gave a snort. "No, we are at peace. Boy, are you going to tell me your name?"
The stranger bristled at being called boy, "I am no boy, mister. You, who stand there close to my age, dare call me ‘boy’?"
Bryol laughed, "Our people have more differences than you can imagine. I am almost 3000 years old—to me you are naught but a boy, and I am losing my patience with you."
The stranger looked shocked, and turned to look where he had seen the carriage disappear. Seeming to realize this took his attention off Bryol, he immediately jerked his attention back. "Why would your people attack me? Attacking people younger than you is... is... why?"
Bryol just looked at him. "They," pointing to the no-longer-visible carriage, "are mere children to us. And not even in your wildest imaginations can you claim they attacked you. From where I was standing, you looked to be attacking them. And they are mere children to us. Much like a young teenager in your race, possibly younger than a teen."
The stranger was now staring at Bryol in disbelief, "You lie."
Bryol raised his eyebrows, "No, I assure you, I do not. Now, your name?"
"Sarian, my name is Sarian."
"Ah Sarian, I have a great tale to tell you, a lot of background about our people, and I would say I owe you an apology for how my charges acted, but, well, they are rather young. I know in size, they look to be much the size you are, but in maturity, they fall very short. It will come with age, and for what you will have to deal with, for that I do offer my sincerest apologies."
"I have no desire to listen to what you have to say, and I have no need to deal with your ‘children’." Sarian snorted and turned away, only to find himself still facing Bryol, who had stepped from where he was to in front of Sarian.
Seeing this, Sarian jerked up the piece of wood and darted a glance behind him to where Bryol had been. The fear was almost a tangible thing.
"I will not hurt you Sarian, trust me, it would be more than my life is worth. Now—do you have somewhere we can go to talk?"
"Talk here."
Shrugging in resignation, Bryol began his story. He told how everyone in the race was connected as if to one large tapestry via soul threads. He explained that a Lyra was the name of the three people born the same day, linked forever together, destined to lead the people. He explained a little of the powers of the people, and especially the Lyra. Then, hesitantly, he began to explain the 4th person of the Lyra. This one was born a continent away, in a different race, on the same day as the Lyra. He continued his explanation of how the Lyra would one day go in search of the person, to complete their bond and their Lyra. He told him how the Lyra would know this person from all others, and would protect this person with everything in their power. Bryol could see awareness dawning in Sarian's eyes, but he continued before Sarian could interrupt, with the explanation of how the Lyra, once they found the person, would bind him or her to the Lyra, life and soul. He paused then to let Sarian speak, expecting the obvious question; Sarian did not disappoint.
"What do you mean, ‘bind life and soul’?"
Bryol gave the tiniest of smirks. "Just what I said. Your soul thread will be woven into our people, and your life, well, let’s just say you won't die young. We live for quite a long time."
Narrowed eyes stared back at him, "And I guess, from all this explanation, that those other three believe me to be the one they have been searching for all this time."
Bryol shrugged, "They say you are the one—they are the only ones who would know, and it has not been that long, they have been searching for only a few months."
Sarian just stared at him. After a few moments, his attention seemed to drift away and he started muttering, "I am not going crazy, all that jabbering in my head that sounded almost like someone talking—you mean I am not going crazy?" Looking back up at Bryol, he lifted one eyebrow and asked, "The voices I keep almost hearing in my head, you said they can mind-talk, is that them trying to talk to me?"
Bryol uncertain how to answer the question, decided to lie, unsure how to tell him about the dragon that he would bond with, believing it would be a mistake this early on. Get him bonded and gone before telling him about the dragon, Bryol thought. "Yes, their mind links were probably attempting to reach you, so I would say yes."
Sarian's shoulders slumped in relief, "I am not going crazy. Your story is hard to believe, but for some reason it sounds right—it feels right. I will meet your charges, and, did you say they are like little boys?" Seeing Bryol nod, disappointment crossed Sarian's face, “And you say I have to put up with them constantly ‘til they mature?"
Bryol smirked, "For thousands of years, actually." Holding up his hand when it looked as though Sarian would speak, he said, "But you will share a bond closer than any family you have here."
At the mention of family, Sarian looked back in the direction he had been when they first met. "I have no family left. That man we left behind murdered my family. I had just caught up to him. I want—I need—to make sure he is dead before I leave. I assume I must leave and return to your country with you?"
"Not me," A giant smile graced Bryol's face, "You sail back with them."
"So will I have powers like I have seen you do after today?" Sarian questioned as they began the long walk to the inn.
"Like mine? No, not like mine, not like theirs, you will be unique among our people, with a different sort of power. Well, unique in that you will be the 3rd living Shadow Walker we have."
"You have others, like me? Born here and changed?"
"Yes, for every Lyra, there is a Shadow Walker. Do not ask me how your powers work—only a Shadow Walker can teach you. When can you be ready to leave?"
Sarian gave a start of surprise, and with a mournful look, he said, "My family is gone. I have nothing here, I can leave when you are ready—after I kill that demon who killed my family." The anger was evident in his voice.
"Good, we kill him and go. We will collect your Lyra, and go to your home for you to pack."
Before he could finish, Sarian angrily shouted, "I have no home—he burned it with my family inside!"
Bryol could only say, "I am sorry for your loss."
The two reached the unconscious body on the ground. Before Sarian could do anything, Bryol stopped him. "The powers you will have can give this man nightmares if you want to wait to dispense your judgment."
Sarian looked at him in disbelief, "You would really stand there and allow me to just kill an unconscious man?"
Bryol looked at him. "If you want him dead, I will kill him myself for you. You will one day rule our people with those idiots back at the inn. Shadows help our people. If dead you want this one, dead he shall be, but... learn to wield your powers, and you can return and make his life a living nightmare. Your choice."
Sarian stood thoughtful for a moment longer. Finally nodding, he said, "If I must live with the nightmare he caused, I will trust that I can one day return the favor." Nodding a few more times, he turned to Bryol. "I am ready to leave."
Chapter Sixteen
Two months later…
Black eyes narrowed in frustration, Sarian asked Hered, the Shadow Walker of the Lyra
Brycentia, "What do you mean I have to put up with them for the next 10,000 years? Have you actually met them? They are worse than children. If I have to put up with them, I may kill Darian and Kane." Pausing to think, he then added, "Possibly Patro, too. I can't do it, no sane person could."
Hered laughed, "In our race, they are children." Sobering quickly, Hered went on to explain, "They need you, just as the Lyra Brycentia needed me. Without a Shadow Walker to draw the darkness from their souls, they would eventually become bitter and the blackness would rot their souls. Think of the most evil ruler in the world, then multiply it by the power they will possess, and you could not, even then, imagine what horror they could inflict upon our people and the world."
Sarian shook his head, "I do not understand. I have not even figured out what a Lyra is yet everyone keeps saying I am part of one. This is beyond confusing."
Hered looked a bit taken aback as he replied, "A Lyra is what you would call a king maybe, a ruling class, hmmm, how to explain a Lyra…. four people born as one. Born to rule, born to carry the Deyarian race tapestry of souls upon their soul. They protect and weave the soul threads of the Deyarian race. Deyarian would translate most loosely as the woven ones. As the Shadow Walker of your Lyra, you are like a king of our people. You just happen to have three other kings to rule with you. Always four but not always male, always one Fire Walker, two Ice Walkers and one Shadow Walker that is as you. Born of the Lyriant race a Shadow Walker is woven into our race by soul and by blood. As for the darkness, every death, no matter the cause, is felt by the ones in our race most closely woven to that person. It leaves an emptiness in the soul to lose a thread you are attached to, and no one is more closely attached to anyone than the Lyra of their age. Everyone in our race has a soul thread that is woven to others, a child to his mother, the mother to her mate. An average person is woven to every family member they have, along with everyone born the same day they are born, along with a few others born the days before and after. But a Lyra, well, they are woven to everyone born the day they are born, and for the next four thousand years, every child born is woven into the tapestry of our people by their Lyra. And the Lyra—once woven to someone—those soul threads reach out for everyone that person is woven to, eventually causing the Lyra to weave backwards into souls born long before them. By the time your Lyra is three thousand years old, their soul threads will reach Deyarians who have lived nine thousand years. And they will feel every single death. What we do, why we are so necessary to the survival of not only our Lyra, but our very race, is to draw that emptiness, that blackness away. Our power is unique and not well understood by our people."
Sarian incredulously asked, "So we are to be filled with this darkness, this bitterness you mention? If I am one fourth of a Lyra won’t I feel these deaths you speak of, will I, too, weave my soul to others?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Hered smirked, "Yes, but for us it is not bitterness—it is power. Once you are bonded, your soul thread will weave to others automatically, it is nothing you do, it just is." With a small wince, he continued, “Be glad you are only twenty-five.”
Bitterness evident in his voice, Sarian snarled, "I do not want power at the expense of others."
Somber once again, Hered told him, "If you did, you would never have been chosen by your Lyra. When your Lyra came looking for you, they looked at your heart, or more specifically, Darian looked. We have a phrase taught to every Fire Walker, and they use this phrase to find their Shadow Walker. To find a Shadow look for gold, encased in purple it will hold, the one to finish, the one to form, from this one are Shadows born. In you they found a pure heart, incorruptible by anything or anyone. Everyone, no matter how good, has a bit of taint upon their soul. But a Shadow Walker, with a golden soul, can never be turned, will never feel the taint that others will feel. You can be hurt, you can be angry, you can feel emotions, but they will never taint your soul. You are—well we Shadow Walkers are—quite literally the only people in the entire race who can never be corrupted, can never go rogue against the race. And it is the magic of your power that will draw off the taint that sears a soul when it suffers loss after loss when our people die. Those shadows you draw away from your Lyra will become so great that one day you will be able to shape them into the physical world. Your power will allow you to draw shadows to you, to become one with shadows. Your shadows will be your weapon to keep our people safe, to protect your Lyra and all whom you will grow to love. You will never be able to harm another, so learn to shape your power well. You can cause great fear with your shadows—learn to wield that fear as your greatest weapon. One day, the losses of the people will reach a point where your shadow can form a sword—although it will be pretty worthless, except as a fear tactic. You cannot kill—you may want to, you may try to, but something inherently stops us from physically harming another—ah—except in defense of your Lyra and your life. Understand that in that instance, the pureness of souls such as ours demands we protect those we hold most dear. Never been in that situation myself, I was just given that info in much the same manner you just were."
Sarian began to pace, "This is the strangest race, voices in my head demanding I return—to where, I have no idea. I thought it was the boys, but it does not sound like them. Soul threads, tapestry, watchers, and Fire Walkers, this race is completely mad." Hearing a snort of laughter, he jerked back to the present, and as he whirled around, he glared at Hered.
Hered could not contain his laughter as he asked, "Voices, huh? Perhaps no one told you of the dragons?"
At Sarian's look of disbelief, Hered's laughter seemed to increase. "What dragons? This race has dragons? Impossible, dragons are myths told to children. I thought those three were just making things up. They kept talking about wanting to see dragons but, but…"
"Ah, my young friend. You still have much more to learn of our world and our race. When you bond with your Lyra at the watchtower this next noon, you will bond not just to your Lyra, but to the dragon that has claimed you as his bonded. Every Lyra has a dragon—a bond for life and more precious than any gem. He hatched the day you were birthed, and he has been waiting for you to return—a bit impatient lately, and a bit moody. His name is Irirnan, and he waits for you. They all wait for not just you but for your entire Lyra. I think my dragon is almost as impatient to see the ones her offspring will bond to as the young dragons are to bond to your Lyra. They have been waiting these twenty-five years and then some for your Lyra. Ah… they are just children also. I would pity you, if I had not had to go through the same thing as you when I was your age. Understanding will come with time, but acceptance, I need that today. I need you to understand, I have stood where you stand; I have had this conversation with a Shadow Walker before me, and if I had the choice all over again, I would destroy the world to be bonded into this race."
Raising his eyebrows, Sarian remarked, "Destroy the world? You said we could do no harm. I don't think I am the one they want. There was this man—I was going to kill him before I came over here. I still want him dead for murdering my family. You said a pure heart. That does not sound pure."
Shrugging his shoulders, Hered merely said, "Figure of speech. As for the man, you left him alive. You had the chance to kill him; you had the chance for four others to kill him, yet he lives. Each member of your Lyra would have killed him for you; my Elite, Bryol, would have killed him at a word from you. I stand by my comment. Until you try to take a life that is not trying to take yours, you will have to trust me. Trust us—to our race, you are the most important person alive right now, and you will be for thousands of years." Turning, he began to walk out of the room. Turning back, he winked and said, "Perhaps you should keep that bit to yourself, for at least a thousand years or so. Fire Walkers do not take kindly to being second-best to a Lyriant turned Deyarian. One thousand years from now, they will not even remember you started out anywhere but here. Now come, we have many things to do to prepare for the ceremony tomorrow, and I can answer questions as we go."<
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Chapter Seventeen
Two thousand nine-hundred seventy four years later
"Enough! I have heard enough!" Darian shouted. Sure, it may be a little undignified for a leader to shout, he thought, but be-damns if a person can even hear themselves think in this racket. As the ranking fire-walker on the planet, it was his responsibility to find a way to save their race. Well actually, he thought, it is the entire Lyra's responsibility, and I am only one-quarter of that. Sometimes he really hated his job. Usually he had a rather careless way about everything, but lately things were really bringing him down. If it was not for his two benyans, Patro and Kane, and his shadow-walker, Sarian, he would have gone insane long ago. Wait, no—if not for them, he would have died. Although if no one could come up with a solution to get off this planet, it looked like they would all die. That would probably suck.
"I need solutions, people, not fighting. If you do not have a solution, then get out."
As the room slowly cleared out, Darian looked to his two benyans and his shadow-walker. " How long did the scientists estimate we had left?"
"Ten years, max," replied Kane. At that, his benyan shrugged his shoulders. "Same answer as last month, and the month before, and…"
Patro interrupted, "You know, Darian, you really should talk to the sorcerers again. I know we have talked to the dragons and the watchers, but we should definitely talk to the sorcerers. Even Irirnan agrees that something may come of it."
The look of disgust that crossed Darian's face could not be mistaken for anything but what it was. "Legends and myths will not get us off this planet. I need real answers not some hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo the sorcerers seem so fond of spewing out." Darian paused, "Wait, did you say Irirnan said we should talk to the sorcerers? Has he seen something in one of his visions?" Turning to Sarian, he asked, "Why would your dragon want me to talk to the sorcerers?"
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