Third Power

by Robert Childs

  “But that is not what I want from you; you must believe that.” Her lips then seemed to fumble over her next few words in indecision, something Steve had seen her do but few times before, when she knew the situation was slipping beyond her control. “I have just been so worried of late and it is starting to wear on me. Please, won’t you stay?”

  Looking into those wide, green eyes Steve dropped his arms to his sides, allowing himself to be disarmed by her. From past experience he had come to recognize many of her facial expressions meant to soften his resolve, but somehow he doubted this particular look of hurt to be one of those so practiced.

  “All right,” he said at last. Moving back across the room, the young man hopped the half circle of pillows situated before the fireplace so as to stand before his princess. “What is it that has you so worried?”

  Without a word Vessla flung her arms about his neck in a fierce embrace. Confused, Steve hesitantly placed his own arms around her, not understanding this sudden display of emotion. He pulled away slightly, just enough to meet her eyes and ask, “Are you okay?”

  “Do you have feelings for me, Steven?” she asked.

  The question took him off guard. “Well, I…I haven’t…I mean, I don’t…” He sighed, exasperated with his own clumsiness. What the hell do I mean?

  He took another moment to gather his thoughts and said, “Of course I have feelings for you. Why?”

  “No, Steven, I mean real feelings. Do you have real feelings for me?” She held his gaze as surely as she held him in her arms, refusing to let him look away. “Do you love me?”

  Steve opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words to speak. He wanted to tell her yes, that he did love her, but found he could not. How could he find the heart to say such a thing when his heart was the very thing not involved?

  When he did not speak, Steve could see his loss for words needed no translation. Vessla dropped her gaze from his disappointed. “You do not,” she said, “else you could answer me.”

  She tried to pull away and Steve caught both of her arms at the elbows. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Princess, I do have feelings for you but…”

  “But you do not love me,” Vessla finished for him.

  He closed his eyes as he shook his head. “No, I don’t love you; but I do care about you—and I care about what happens to you.” Steve wished she would look him in the eyes rather than at the floor.

  “You care about what happens to everyone,” she said.

  “Is that so bad?”

  Vessla stepped away and turned to face the fireplace. “What you speak of is something you hold for every person of good merit. I do not want from you what is shared by countless thousands. I want those feelings you hold uniquely for me.” She turned back again. “Can you not find it within yourself to love me?”

  “Our situation is not that easy, Princess,” Steve said with a helpless shrug. “We’ve only been together for a few short weeks, and love is something that takes time. Besides,” he spread his hands, “I can’t honestly say I even know what love is—not really.”

  “Steven Walker, how can you say such things to me?” Princess Vessla demanded. “Look inside yourself and you will find that you do know! When you and I first met I sensed only petty affections. I thought these were a result of our being introduced, but since that time those affections have taken root within your heart and blossomed into love. And if those feelings are not for me then who is it you hold so dear? Who is it you love?”

  “Princess, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Steve said befuddled. “If I loved someone don’t you think that I, of all people, would know it?” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re never satisfied, are you? It’s not enough that you pressed your advantage to get me to agree to marry you, but now you want to argue about feelings I have for my friends? You’ve already won, Princess!” he declared exasperated. “Why worry about the competition when you’ve got all the players in your pocket?”

  “I’ve given up everything,” he fumed, “for you and everyone else on this planet! My home, my family, my dreams…everything!” Steve started to say more but then caught himself, realizing his anger for the first time. The silence stretched for many long heartbeats and then he raised his hands only to let them fall to his sides in resignation. “I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation,” he said finally.

  “Steven, wait!” Vessla called after him when he turned to go.

  He paused, though not entirely certain why.

  “Please do not hate me.”

  He sighed and shook his head at the notion. “I don’t,” he answered, knowing truthfully he never could, and then left.

  Princess Vessla watched him go, and had Steve turned around he would have seen it written clearly upon her face: somehow, she knew she had made a terrible mistake this night. “I love you!” she called after him.

  But Steve did not look back.

  The night covered the world like a blanket, enveloping every living creature in a shroud of darkness, broken only by the pale light of the moon in the sky above and the distant, flickering torches of the human encampment in the valley. And even such light did little to chase away the shadows of late evening, as only a sliver of the moon peered down on the world through the intermittent cloud cover rolling across the nighttime sky. Still, such serene surroundings made for restful sleep for those who could find such solace. Sonya was one lost in deep slumber; a much-needed sleep heralded by the weariness her responsibilities and power had thrust upon her. But with the rising of the sun her peaceful sleep abruptly ended as a hand came to rest firmly over her mouth.

  She came awake with a start and a stifled exclamation.

  “Shhh,” came the reply. Steve was leaning over her with a finger to his lips, and then he pointed across the room. He removed his hand and Sonya looked in the direction indicated, to the figure of the Jisetrian guard perched on the railing to her balcony. She could not see him clearly, but the rising sun cast his shadow against the spider silk curtains in stark contrast. When Sonya looked back again Steve motioned for her to get dressed.

  Soon the two of them were moving quietly down the corridor. Sonya followed Steve, apparently willing to wait and find out what the secrecy was all about. The young wizard led her down through the levels of the fortress, lower and lower, bypassing the most traveled areas and opting for the lesser frequented spaces and corridors.

  “Would you mind telling me where it is you’re taking me?” Sonya asked at last.

  Steve smiled at her cleverness, maintaining the secrecy as she did by switching from Mithalian to English, a language only three in all the land could understand without the aid of magic. In English, he replied, “If I tell you, do you promise not to chicken out on me?”

  “You’re going to the Oracle, aren’t you?” she accused.

  “I might be.”

  “Steve, you’re impossible! You’re going against orders.”

  “Surprised?”

  She huffed. “Hardly.”

  “Then why all the fuss if I’m only living up to expectations? Be a rebel and come with me.”

  “Steve, you—“

  He interrupted her with his sudden turn and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sonya, I understand your desire to be the best leader you can for these people, and I know you want to do what is best for them. So do I, which is why I’m doing this. So if you can honestly tell me you don’t secretly agree with what I’m doing you can walk away right now and I won’t blame you in the least for it.”

  Sonya looked him in the eyes and her countenance softened under the intensity of his conviction. Finally, she sighed saying, “I suppose somebody has to keep an eye on you.”

  Steve grinned and together they resumed their surreptitious exit at a quickened pace.

  Kayliss’s ears twitched at the sound of a rustle from behind the thick stand of bushes, drawing the attention of the others present as well.

  Jiv, n
estled comfortably between Kayliss’s broad shoulders, sat up as Steve came into view, followed then by Sonya, emerging from the tunnel hidden by the dense foliage.

  “Tis about time, lad,” the sprite declared. “Ah was beginnin’ ta wonder iffin ya met some trouble on the way.”

  “Indeed,” Eegrin said from atop one of three powerful steeds, “I was beginning to wonder myself.”

  Steve cast them a sour look as he and Sonya dusted themselves off. “Give me a break, guys, some of us can’t fly and—in case you hadn’t noticed—her room is quite a ways up there.”

  “Grow wings,” Eegrin said with a shrug, though he grinned as he said it.

  Sonya moved to one of the horses and stroked the muscular neck. “I see you boys came prepared. Full saddle bags.”

  “Not my first foray into the wilds,” Eegrin said wryly. “Although, admittedly, my first travelling solely upon the ground.”

  Steve moved to the furthest mount and leaped into the saddle, an impossible move by any without magic coursing through their blood. “Well, some of us don’t have the luxury of flight, my friend.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Sonya replied, placing her foot in the stirrup and then swinging her other leg over the saddle of the remaining horse between the two young men. In the time since discovering her magic-inspired ability, she had become increasingly adept at moving herself through free space. And truth be told, Steve envied her for it.

  Sonya turned her horse about. “We’d better get moving. Once the scouts see us leaving the valley they won’t be long in telling Haldorum. And you can bet he won’t like the news.”

  “They what?!”

  “Just after sunrise,” the soldier replied, stiffening in the face of the First Power’s sudden anger. “They were some distance off but there is no mistake; the Third and Fourth Powers, accompanied by the tiger and a Jisetrian, all headed with great speed for the mouth of the valley.”

  Ever since Steve’s healing by the true Third, Sonya, Humans and Jisetrians alike had taken to referring to the young man as the Fourth Power of Mithal, despite no mention by the prophecy of such a one.

  “General Duva,” Haldorum said whirling, “assemble a search party and bring me your best tracker to lead the way. Lieutenant Maxwell, send word to King Gorium, we will need a patrol in the air. Move!”

  Haze leaned close to his woodsman friend saying, “You do not think he is headed for—“

  “I am afraid so,” Lurin interrupted.

  Jiv held tightly with two fistfuls of thick fur as Kayliss bounded through the forest well ahead of the others, serving as both scout for possible trouble as well as to keep a distance between himself and the skittish horses. By midday, the Jisetrian fortress, jutting out of the ground at the end of the valley like a shark’s tooth, was a blue-gray mass in the distance. Even so, they did not stop but briefly to stretch their legs and relieve themselves before moving on, wary of pursuit and hurrying to get to the Blue Mountain.

  “Banshee wails an’ tiger tails!” Jiv cried triumphantly as the great cat’s muscles flexed and released in an elegant stride, carrying them with zephyrean speed. But no sooner did the sprite finish his trumpeting than Kayliss skidded to a halt, his nose testing the air.

  Jiv glanced about, both ahead and behind. “Trouble, eh? Well, whoever they be, they best beware less Steven an’ that young lass teach’em—woah!“

  Kayliss turned and raced back in the direction they had come as though death itself were at his heels.

  A few minutes later, Steve, Sonya, and Eegrin reined in their mounts as they spied the massive cat moving toward them like a white phantom through the trees. In a matter of seconds, Kayliss was with them, his eyes on the young wizard.

  “From where?” Steve asked after a moment. There was another pause and then, “How many?” When he got his answer, he sighed and cursed their bad luck.

  “Trouble?” Sonya asked.

  Steve nodded disappointed. “And lots of it.”

  Eegrin drew his sword as he scanned the trees ahead.

  Steve shook his head and held up a hand. “You might as well put that away. Unless it’s made of silver, it won’t do you any good.”

  Eegrin’s face blanched at the implication, for his sword possessed not a glimmer of silver to it. In his preparations for this expedition—short notice or not—he had not planned for running into werewolves so far from the swamps of the Granar.

  Steve called Kayliss to his side, despite his horse’s obvious trepidation, and waited. Under any other circumstances, he knew they should run. Though a pursuing werewolf could outpace a horse on most any ground but an open plain, Eegrin and Sonya, both capable of flight, would be both fast and unhindered by terrain obstacles in their escape. Eegrin could probably even carry Steve himself a significant distance while Kayliss outpaced the pursuing wolves on the ground.

  But something didn’t feel right to the young wizard; it just didn’t make sense. Why would the werewolves venture so far from the Granar and follow the Resistance into Jisetrian territory? Shallows Crag lay abandoned; Kurella was no longer among the Humans. So why come here? They can’t be looking for a fight, Steve reasoned. Even with every werewolf in the lupine kingdom in tow, a confrontation would only hand them defeat against a military force comprised of three Powers and a well-trained ground corps, coupled now with air superiority. No, a fight doesn’t make sense, Steve thought, but they had to be here for a reason.

  There was only one way to find the answer, so he waited in tense silence.

  They did not wait long. They appeared out of the cover of the trees and underbrush by the score, moving toward them both from the front and the sides. Eegrin’s hand inched closer to the sword he had sheathed, silver or no.

  “Easy,” Steve told him, drawing out the word. To Sonya he said, “If things turn ugly you know what to do.” At this she nodded.

  Gouroth was strangely absent, but a lone figure stepped forward confidently from the rest; a large, black werewolf with silver-tipped ears. It was easily the biggest lupine the three had ever seen, standing a full head taller than the rest of his kind with a massive chest and arms half again as thick as his brethren.

  It spoke to them then, its voice a series of growls and guttural sounds, the language of the wolves, foreign to all but Steve as a result of his gift of tongues.

  “Greetings, Steven Walker,” the beast said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance once again.”

  Steve’s brow knit at the wolf’s apparent familiarity with him. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he replied in the same tongue, “for I do not know who you are.” Steve remained placid before the formidable wolf, waiting for its demeanor to turn imposing, or for the threats to begin, or for the intimidation to start, and already a little confused why it had not begun already.

  “You stand before the king, human!” another wolf growled menacingly.

  A slight smile curved Steve’s lips. Ah, he thought, there we go. That’s what I was waiting for. Until, that is, the black wolf silenced this other with a sharp gesture of one taloned hand.

  “Forgive my subject’s temper,” the larger replied to Steve calmly, almost good-humoredly, “as diplomacy is hardly a known strength among my kind.”

  This entire conversation thus far served no purpose other than to confuse the young wizard profoundly. Something was severely out of sorts.

  “I do not understand,” Steve said forthrightly. “The last I knew, Gouroth was king. I have seen the man and, other than sharing the big pointy teeth, you don’t resemble him.”

  The wolf laughed, and even that appeared as one of genuine good humor, absent malice. “Right you are! The king you knew before me died only a week ago.”

  Behind the black and to his right another wolf, this one of a lighter brown, turned its head away at the mention of the event. The black, apparently sensing this, looked almost apologetic.

  “He died by my hand,” the large black continued somberly, “though I didn’t w
ant it. But now I rule.”

  Steve nodded. “This is all very interesting but somehow I don’t think you came all this way from the Granar just to inform me of the change in hierarchy. So why don’t we just get down to the reason you’re holding us up?”

  The black wolf smiled toothily then, his humor seemingly returned. “You always did like to get right to the point, didn’t you, Steve?”

  The eyes of both the young wizard and Sonya grew wide in disbelief at those words; not for what they said, but for the fact they were spoken in clear English. But nothing the werewolf could have said would have prepared them for the shock of the change. The black stood perfectly still, yet his body came alive, rippling as though possessing a thousand tiny creatures beneath the skin. Ebony black fur disappeared back into the dark skin from which it had come, followed then by bones and muscle shrinking. The claws, long and razor sharp, withdrew and widened, flattening to become fingernails once more. A face took shape as the muzzle shortened, the cheekbones realigning and the teeth reforming; and then it were as though someone shined a light upon the being as the dark skin rapidly lightened until finally settling on a light peach.

  When the transformation was complete, Scott smoothed back his straight, blonde locks and smiled. “What?” he said. “No hug?”

  His guard down, Scott barely managed to leap clear as Steve unleashed a blinding flash of lightning that scorched the ground where Scott stood only a moment before.

  Chapter XXVIII

  “Those days of my childhood seem so far away,” he muttered in a low voice, “and yet how strange I sometimes think that I am able to remember so much. That night the devil’s wretched spawn seized me from my cradle was the night of my deliverance, my destiny unfolding with the gift of its blessing upon me.”

  “It is odd, I think, I would remember so little of that giving. One would think it to be the one thing I would recall most clearly. And yet when I reach into my mind there is only the memory of the pain. Such pain! Agony that bore into the very fiber of my being and threatened to devour my soul. Most men would have been driven to madness at a mere glance from my new master—but to be touched?” The dark-robed figure considered the thought and a sinister smile played across his lips. “A touch? A touch from him would surely send even the strongest of them hurtling into oblivion. As only a babe, I endured!” Azinon threw his arms wide and clenched his fists in a celebration of his strength. “Such was my heart a match for the evil of the second in command to the Prince of Darkness himself!”