Third Power

by Robert Childs

  “What?! Oh, it’s you two.”

  “Sorry, Lurin. We didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s all right, Scott. I must have dozed off. Do you know the hour?”

  “Don’t ask me; I’m lost without a trusty Timex on my wrist. I’m sure Kurella knows.”

  “It is nearly a half turn past midnight.”

  “See? She probably keeps better time than Big Ben.”

  “Big Ben?”

  “Yeah. Famous clock tower on my world; in a country called Eng…

  The young wizard stirred slightly as he roused into wakefulness. The great tiger by the bedside raised his head, stirred by the confused, jumbled thoughts coming from the young wizard. Steve opened his eyes ever so slightly and his pupils contracted in an attempt to focus on his surroundings. “Where—” he said, but then stopped as his voice croaked from lack of use. He forced his eyes to stay open and he swallowed several times to moisten his throat. That task done, he maneuvered himself onto his elbows—taking more effort than he liked—and assessed his situation. All of his clothes were gone—not a bad thing as he recalled his swim in the sewers—and sometime while he was unconscious someone had bathed him.

  “Hey! You’re awake!” Scott exulted as he stepped in from the outdoors with a bucket of steaming water. Turning his head, he shouted out the door, “Hey! You! Yeah, you. Find Haldorum and tell him the Third Power is awake.” Holding the bucket in his left hand, he closed the door, crossed the room and then took a seat in the chair beside Kayliss.

  “How long?” Steve managed to say, frowning at the sound of his voice.

  “What? Asleep?” Scott asked. “Nearly two days now.”

  Steve’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Steve. I mean, come on, whatever Sonya did, it wasn’t easy on either one of you.” Steve gave him a perplexed look. “You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

  Steve looked down as he recalled the events of two nights past. “I remember being in the palace. I remember the fight… and General Corbett was killed.” The young wizard’s eyes reflected sadness at that painful memory, and then they changed as he remembered his anger. “I remember Azinon…and then…”

  “That’s pretty much how Haldorum described things,” Scott said nodding. “Do you remember anything after that?”

  “Just bits and pieces. Look, spare me the reboot and tell me what happened.”

  “You were shot.”

  “What?! Where?”

  “Here.” Scott placed two fingers near his own heart. “But not before you really rocked Azinon’s world. Then one of the archers got you when you weren’t looking.”

  “But I’m not hurt,” Steve said touching the skin on his chest.

  Scott nodded. “Thanks to Sonya.” He looked down then and his brow furrowed. “There’s something else, Steve. Nobody understands it—least of all me—but…”

  Steve waited several heartbeats. “But what?” he finally asked. He sat up in the bed and gathered the covers about his waist. “Tell me.”

  Scott opened mouth to speak several times, clearly trying to find the right words, but failed each time. Finally, he sighed and opted for directness. “Haldorum is still trying to figure out how it’s possible,” he said, “but it seems Sonya is actually the Third Power of Mithal. Not you.”

  Steve frowned, his face etched with concern and confusion at the same time. “Are you yanking my chain here? Because, if so, I’m not in the mood.”

  “At first I didn’t know what to believe, Steve. But if you think about it, it does make some kind of sense. The prophecy doesn’t say anything about the Third Power being a man or a woman—besides, I know what I saw.” His eyes lit up with the amazement as he recalled the memory. “You didn’t see her, Steve! When she walked up she had this light all over her, and when she touched you, well…” He shrugged helplessly and gestured at Steve’s chest. “She flat out healed you, bro.”

  The front door burst open and banged loudly against the wall. Scott smiled as the blue-robed wizard swept in and practically sprinted across the room to come to a kneeling slide by Steve’s bedside.

  “Well, if he wasn’t awake before,” Scott quipped.

  Haldorum ignored him, asking instead of Steve, “Are you all right, my boy?”

  “Sure,” Steve shrugged. “I feel fine. A little tired, but I feel fine.”

  “No strange feelings of sickness then? Nightmares perhaps?”

  “No, just tired is all.”

  Scott folded his arms across his chest where he sat. “I told you all that worrying was for nothing.” Haldorum flashed him a sour look, and Scott rolled his eyes.

  “So is it true?” Steve asked the wizard. “Sonya healed me?”

  Haldorum smiled showing teeth. “She did. She did, indeed! The complexity of the prophecy continues to astound me but, I must say, this whole turn of events has had the entire camp buzzing like a hornets nest for the past two days.” He stood and straightened his robe, then began pacing like a nervous youth. “It is really all a stroke of good fortune,” he said. “All this time we thought we had found the Power we were looking for, when in actuality fate brought us two!”

  “Look, I get why you’re excited,” Steve said trying to exude calm in the face of Haldorum’s growing exuberance. “After all, the Resistance now has three wizards on its side—but this goes against the prophecy.” He could not believe he was now in the position of defending the long dead seer he had disparaged so many times before.

  “The prophecy states the Third Power will come from another world, and she does qualify on that count,” Haldorum pointed out.

  “And the rest? The Third Power is also supposed to ‘marry unto a royal house possessed of magic’. Princess Vessla is the only one of royal blood with any magic at all, and I think I’ve been friends with Sonya long enough to know she doesn’t bat for the other team.”

  “Did I hear someone speak my name?”

  All heads turned just as the winged Jisetrian princess stepped through the open door dressed modestly in a blue, silk dress and carrying a bowl of warm water with towel and washcloth draped over one arm.

  Returning his attention to Steve, Haldorum cleared his throat uneasily and shrugged. “Yes, well, that is something I haven’t quite figured out yet. The prophecy is a translated text from a long dead language and, as such, has been known to be vague; men have been trying to decipher its exact meaning for hundreds of years.”

  “True enough,” Princess Vessla agreed. “My dear librarian, Duncan, has been at it for most of his life, and he still knows little more than do any of us here.”

  Steve placed a cautious hand on the covers about his waist as Princess Vessla stepped over Kayliss and took a seat on the bed. Without a word, she dropped the towel and washcloth in his lap with a winsome little smile. Steve averted his eyes and nervously asked of the wizard, “What about the plague? Can she cure it?”

  “That question brings us to yet another mystery,” Haldorum replied. “Whatever Sonya did to bring you back, she did it with the help of your crystal. As she described it, the pendant spoke to her.”

  Steve nodded, remembering the several occasions that strange voice had spoken to him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if the crystal was a key to the prophecy.

  “I’ve heard it too,” he admitted.

  Everyone in the room turned in surprise; that is, all save for Haldorum.

  “It doesn’t stay for very long,” he explained. “But when it comes the crystal glows as though I were making it happen – and don’t give me that look, Haldorum! It’s not like I was lying about it.”

  “Withholding information could be construed as the same thing.”

  “Oh, really?” Steve said with a raised brow. “Like the real reason we walked through the Granar to find the Resistance instead of just portalling in? You could have brought us directly here, but you stalled and took us through the forest until the patrol found us.”

&nb
sp; The older wizard’s expression softened, then turned apologetic. “I only—”

  “Withheld information,” Steve finished for him.

  Haldorum cracked a helpless smile. “It seems I am a hypocrite. I am sorry. I had only thought then to help the prophecy along by allowing you and the princess a little time to get to know one another.”

  Princess Vessla’s expression turned affectionate at that, and a mewling sound of grateful sympathy escaped her lips. “Why, you dear man, that is about the sweetest thing I have ever heard.” She patted Steve on the knee. “Listen to him, beloved, his heart is in the right place.”

  Steve smiled politely at this but his thoughts strayed elsewhere. If Haldorum was right about Sonya, if she truly was the Third Power, then everything that had happened thus far was wrong. She should have been commissioned by the Resistance, and she should have been the one to go with the party to Rajasthan to bring back the Emperor. Had it been done right, he thought despairingly, General Corbett might still be alive.

  Princess Vessla noted the concern on his face. “Are you all right, beloved?”

  “Hmm? Yes. I’m fine.” Even as he spoke, however, he realized yet another repercussion of their discovery of the true Third. If the old wizard was right, then the fulfillment of the prophecy did not hinge upon his marriage to the princess after all. He cared for Vessla, surely, but he did not love her, and Sonya’s emergence meant he was now free to do as he wished.

  Turning to Haldorum, he said, “Look, whatever has already happened doesn’t matter. We can’t change the past, so there’s no point in worrying about it now. You said Sonya needs the crystal’s help, so when do we try it?”

  Haldorum blinked. “Uh, as soon as you feel strong enough.”

  “Then I’m ready.”

  The old wizard nodded and then turned to leave.

  “Haldorum,” Steve called just as he reached the door. “The Emperor. I mean, he is all right, isn’t he?”

  Haldorum smiled kindly. “He is doing well, Steven.” Steve visibly relaxed but his lingering doubt remained. “Try not to dwell on the General’s death,” he said. “There was nothing you could do. He was a good friend of mine, and I know he died the way he would have wanted it: fighting for us all.”

  Steve wasn’t sure why but, for some reason, he did feel just a little bit better knowing that. “Thanks,” he said.

  The wizard nodded once more then departed, closing the door behind.

  “He really is a dear man,” Vessla said taking the washcloth from Steve’s lap. With her free hand she pulled the steaming bowl of water closer, and dipped the washcloth in. “Would you excuse us, Scott?” she asked without looking at him.

  “Oh. Sure.” Scott walked across the room to the door.

  Steve, who hadn’t really been paying attention, suddenly snatched at the covers as Vessla attempted to pull them down. “What are you doing?” he demanded in surprise.

  “Oh, come now, beloved,” she chided him. “It is not anything I have not seen before.”

  “Not mine, you haven’t,” he said drawing the covers up into a bundle about his waist.

  “I beg to differ,” she replied with a winsome tilt of her head, “it is yours I am speaking of. Or do you suppose you bathed yourself while you were recovering?”

  Steve blinked, now knowing what to say, and then flushed red from cheeks to toes.

  Sonya passed the time in her quarters in fearful apprehension. She fretted over the unfairness of it all—for indeed she never once envied her friend for his supernatural abilities, and certainly never wanted any of her own. But now things were different. Very, very different. And the prophecy had shocked them all with this unexpected turn.

  For crying out loud, how am I supposed to save the world? she thought, pacing with nervous energy. She knew nothing of magic and monsters except for what she had read in fairy tales. Now suddenly she had an entire world looking to her to be the Mother Teresa of all Mithal. And what if she failed? She quailed at the irrational thought that healing Steve was possibly just a onetime occurrence. The very idea frightened her—and yet appealed at the same time. After all, the prophecy had fooled them all once already. If she could not repeat the feat then it would mean Steve really was to be their savior—or perhaps that otherworldly voice had just used her, and the real Third was still out there somewhere.

  “Why did this have to happen to me?” Sonya asked aloud. She wanted nothing more than to think about something—anything—else. At least block out all thoughts of magic and monsters and prophecies; but the approaching time of her trial made this impossible, and made her nervous all the more.

  Still, though, she wondered. Aside from Steve’s great strength, she had not seen firsthand the incredible things he could do. She had heard, certainly; and, despite the anxiety of her task, she could not help but wonder what other abilities she might have yet to discover within herself. Sonya shook her head and chopped her hand vertically through the air once to physically center her focus. Regardless of what else she might be capable of, the Third was first and foremost a healer, and in light of what happened she owed it to them all to try.

  There came a knock on the tent pole outside and Sonya turned about apprehensive. “Come in,” she said.

  Haldorum pushed aside the flap and stepped inside with his staff held like a walking stick in his right hand. “Are you ready, my dear?” he asked.

  Sonya was wringing her hands, her nervousness suddenly increased tenfold. “Yes. Yes, I think so.”

  The old wizard canted his head. “Are you sure? To say you looked a little tense would be a dramatic understatement, I think.”

  “Butterflies, I guess,” she offered with a weak smile.

  Haldorum nodded. “Very well, then. We should go now; the sun is nearly down and everyone is waiting.”

  Sonya took a step toward the door and then stopped. “Oh, Haldorum! What am I supposed to do?” she blurted suddenly. “What if I can’t do it again? I don’t even know how I did it the first time.” She turned and seated herself heavily upon her bed. Resting her elbows on her thighs, she let her head fall into her hands.

  “There there, my dear,” the old wizard said as he seated himself beside her. “I know it is difficult, but try not to worry so. If you are truly the Third then you will do what you must, when you must.”

  She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “And if I’m not?”

  “Then life here will go on as it always has.”

  “That isn’t very reassuring.”

  The old wizard smiled warmly, but even that small gesture seemed to fill some of the void Sonya had felt creep up inside of her. “You will be fine,” he assured her.

  Sonya now knew why Steve valued this aged man’s company above all else. Beneath his sly twinkling eyes was a wisdom and warmth that went beyond telling.

  With a deep breath, Sonya gathered her resolve and stood, shaking out her hands as though that act could slough off her trepidation with it. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Maxwell Don stood with his back to the hushed silence of tens of thousands. Though not a single word broke that quiet, the presence of so many was almost a palpable thing and their apprehension hung like bitter incense in the air. To reach this farthest end of Shallows Crag, where be found the only access to the subterranean caves, where those plagued were sent to live their last days in isolation, it had to have taken those on foot the better part of two hours to walk. A hundred yards away the rocky, uneven cliffs of the Crag stood like dark, looming giants above a gaping cavernous mouth in the cliff face that served as the door to the home of the dying, but mostly the dead. Fifty yards from the entrance stood four archers, each with a quiver brimming with arrows and orders to shoot immediately any that ventured out in their madness.

  Everyone lived in fear of the plague. Every evening Maxwell Don routinely checked himself for signs of the black sickness. So far, he was among the lucky. As of yet his number had not been drawn, though the lieutenant kne
w he was still alive only by the divine grace of God. Everyone on Mithal lived with the knowledge that at any moment their fate could change. In his own mind, Maxwell believed firmly it was far better to die in combat and, tensing his jaw, he vowed it would be no other way.

  Twenty feet away to his right the proud form of his Imperial Majesty stood resolutely in the face of the setting sun. The wear of eighteen years imprisonment had thinned his frame but, otherwise, the once supreme ruler of Mithal looked the same as ever he had, dressed once more in the colors of the empire, black and gold. The dark flowing cape about his shoulders, and sharp intensity of his eyes brought to mind the image of a hawk hiding within the man; commanding, sharp-eyed and fierce. Nearly two decades in a cell had not broken him, as Azinon had hoped, but rather made him stronger. Maxwell Don looked on in awe of the man. The lieutenant’s eyes then danced briefly to the young wizard, Steve, standing by His Majesty’s side, and in that brief moment he thought how strangely similar the two of them seemed, standing there side-by-side, both gazing ahead at the peaks with such intensity as to seem looking beyond. One could only guess what they were thinking.

  Or perhaps you are trying to understand the inexplicable, he thought reproachfully of himself. Better to stick to the things you know best.

  A low, excited murmur spread through the thousands like an expanding wave as the air before his Imperial Majesty shimmered and then split with dazzling blue brilliance. A moment later Sonya and Haldorum stepped from the portal. The silence that followed stilled the breeze and—if possible—dwarfed the quiet of before, seeming so complete as to swallow even the rustle of the grass underfoot. Finally, but not before a deep breath to steel her nerves, Sonya stepped beside her friend and slipped her hand into Steve’s own—a gesture that knitted the brow of Princess Vessla from where she stood behind and to the left of the couple.

  Kayliss lay in the grass with his head up attentively beside the standing forms of Lurin, Haze and Kamarine. The great cat chuffed once at the play of mixed emotions emanating from Steve, and a low, throaty growl rumbled past his lips.

  “I guess you found one,” Steve said to Haldorum. His tone was somber, apparently focused on the test ahead, but his mind was all too aware of the soft, warm hand holding his own for reassurance.