Third Power

by Robert Childs

  “I took a minute to hang my clothes up,” she said.

  “I was wondering if you were coming at all,” Steve replied.

  She swam around behind him. “What, and miss my chance to do this?” Before Steve could react, she rose out of the water with a hand on either of his shoulders and dunked him.

  When he surfaced again, Scott was cheering, Kurella was clapping, and Sonya was a full length ahead, swimming furiously to delay inevitable retribution.

  “Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Steve vowed with a grin, already in pursuit.

  “And just what were you staring at when she rose up to dunk him?” Kurella asked sounding quite pert.

  “Me?” Scott shrugged innocently. “Nothing! Nope, not a thing—or things, as it were. I didn’t see a things.” A moment later Scott, too, was dunked.

  Barely containing her laughter, Sonya raced for the shore for all she was worth. As she drew near she reached down with a foot but did not find the lakebed, and the delay cost her precious time. With Steve right behind her, she swam several more feet and tried again, this time finding the sloping bank beneath her. She rose part way out of the water and trudged her way as quickly as she could. Given another second, she might have made it, but instead shrieked as Steve’s arm darted around her waist and pulled her back into deeper water, nearly submerging her in the process.

  Sonya was up again in an instant. With one hand she smoothed back her hair away from her eyes but Steve had vanished. A few moments passed and the waters grew still around her, the only sound that of her own motion through the water as she turned first left, then right. Still no one, until an eruption of water, and a great deal of splashing later, Sonya found herself cradled in Steve’s arms, her own arms protectively concealing her breasts.

  “Now aren’t we in a spot?” Steve teased. Though her bottom half remained concealed in the darkness of the water, a few steps toward the shore would solve that altogether.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she replied trying to keep a serious face.

  “After what you did?”

  Sonya’s countenance softened then, adopting a pleading look as one might who surrenders to the mercy of another. “But you wouldn’t do that while he’s watching, would you?” she asked with a glance over his shoulder.

  Steve turned his head toward the shore but saw no one. When he turned back Sonya met his lips fully with her own. In the shock of his surprise, she wriggled free of his hold without resistance. Their lips parted and by the time Steve realized the ruse Sonya was several feet away in the water, laughing and holding a hand out in his direction to ward him off.

  “That’s far enough,” she said still laughing, even though he hadn’t even yet moved.

  Steve wagged a finger at her slowly. “You cheat,” he said.

  “That is not cheating. Women have reserved the right to get their way with their feminine wiles for centuries. Now, I dunked you, you dunked me. Even?”

  Steve crossed his arms and rolled his eyes as though to think about it, and in so doing noticed two figures leaving the water fifty yards away in the moonlight.

  Seeing his slow smile she asked, “What is it?” She moved beside him again, careful to keep the water line above her breasts, and gazed in the direction he looked. Then she saw them too, Scott and Kurella, moving away from the water hand-in-hand toward the cover of the trees.

  Steve sighed, the sound of it carrying an unmistakable concern. “I hope he’s right about her,” he muttered. “He’s paid too big a price to be wrong.”

  “Are you sure?” she managed to ask.

  He shrugged. “It’s not my place to choose for him.”

  “I’m talking about you, Steve. You and Vessla.”

  He looked as though to answer immediately, but one look into those beautiful, brown eyes brought him up short and made him swallow the lie.

  Even without the words, Sonya saw it in his face. “If you’re not sure, Steve, then please don’t do it.”

  “I’ve never been sure,” he replied. “Not since the first day I agreed. But I had to or the alliance wouldn’t have happened—and you know it’s true. King Gorium would sooner see his kingdom destroyed than give in to his own damn pride.” He paused for a long time and then, “It won’t be too bad, I suppose. The princess is a very beautiful woman, and she seems to think I’ll grow to love her.” He shrugged. “She’s probably right.”

  “But you don’t think so,” Sonya finished for him. Steve didn’t answer at first, but then, slowly, he shook his head.

  “Not in the way either of us deserves. There is someone I would have chosen, though,” he said. “I’ve seen her, I’ve touched her,”—he then shook his head at the futility of his own desire—“and I know I will never be with her.” His voice was a controlled, pent up strain of grief and profound disappointment.

  “Then tell her!” Sonya said insistent, touching his shoulder briefly with both hands. “Let her know the way you feel so at least you can say you did that much.”

  Steve looked away and laughed ruefully at the notion. “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. You know you can! And you know also that you’ll regret it all your life if you don’t.”

  “Sonya,” he said with a strained shake of his head, “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I just can’t!”

  “That’s not telling me why.”

  “Because—“ Steve bit back the words. He fought with himself, fighting over what his heart wanted and what was the right thing to do. “Just…because,” he finished finally. “She doesn’t belong to me.”

  “Then you’ve got to fight for her, Steve,” Sonya replied insistent. “Forget your promise to Vessla and do what is best for you.”

  He turned away, grinding his teeth against his turmoil. “Please, just let it go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t change the prophecy, damn it!” he said whirling back to face her. “Because the one I want is you!” The realization of his slip suddenly hit him like a physical blow. Unable to look at her anymore he turned away again, not knowing if what he was feeling now was shame, embarrassment, or both.

  “I am so, so, stupid,” he chastised himself aloud. “I can’t believe I said that,” he whispered.

  Sonya stared after him, unable to say a word.

  “Do you know how long I’ve been aware of this?” Steve asked without turning. “These feelings? Can you imagine what it is like for me to be jealous of your future husband—a man I haven’t even seen?”

  Sonya moved through the water and placed one hand upon his shoulder and the other on the arm of the same. “Steve, I’m so sorry. But what can we—”

  “Please, don’t,” he said gently pulling away from her. “Just…don’t. I’ll be all right, really.” He took another step away from her and then paused a moment, turning his head slightly as he spoke. “When Vessla confronted me with this I lied to her. I do love you, Sonya.” He wanted to say more but stopped himself, feeling he had already said too much. Without another word, he swam toward the adjacent shore with a strength born of disappointment and heartache.

  Sonya watched him go, her own sadness welling up inside her. “I love you, too,” she whispered after him, “but what can either of us do?”

  After a breakfast of dried meat, cheese, and bread, they were mounted and riding toward the Blue Mountain shortly after daybreak. Steve and Sonya spoke little, the tension between them heavy and palpable to the rest of their party. Something happened last night between the two—that much was obvious—but none of the remaining four dared venture to ask, not even the usually inquisitive sprite.

  The remainder of their journey continued as before with Jiv, Scott, Eegrin and Kurella endeavoring to maintain conversation, though strained as it was, and trying to pretend nothing at all was wrong. It wasn’t until just before sunset of the third day the party finally arrived at the base of the Blue Mountain. Steve, for one, actually breathed a little easier, than
kful to have something to focus his mind on, as brooding over their present problems was tiresome.

  “Ready or not,” he muttered to the mountain, “here we come.”

  Chapter XXIX

  The wildlife remained plentiful, yet there remained a sense of emptiness in the air that sent chills down the spine. It was difficult to name exactly, not being a sensation any of them had ever experienced before.

  “I would say our cover is thinning,” Eegrin remarked, noting how the slope of the ground continued to increase as they ascended while the number of trees grew sparser. Around them, exposed granite outcroppings jutted out of the ground with increasing frequency.

  “Twould be ah good idea fer us ta make camp ere an now,” Jiv offered. “Ah cun already see the moon, an the sun asn’t even completely set.

  Steve hated to admit it but he knew the sprite was correct. Halting this close, however, only made him all the more eager to find the Oracle and have his answers. But right is right, he thought. Common sense was not something to be discarded just because it was inconvenient.

  He shrugged, “Looks like the ayes have it.”

  They hobbled the horses, retrieved their blankets in the process, and prepared a meager meal of dried meat and cheese as the sun finished its descent behind the mountains to the west.

  Farther away, another pair of eyes watched Steve’s party from the concealment of a stand of bushy saplings a hundred yards off. Those eyes, malicious and piercing, creased at the corners as a crooked smile nearly took in his ears across his scarred and weathered face. He watched them for a time, careful to check the wind on occasion to be sure it still favored him, before finally stalking away in the rapidly fading light to alert the others of his patrol.

  Steve couldn’t sleep. As such, he volunteered for the first watch since he was sure it would be a great while yet before sleep would take him. The turmoil of his own emotions riled him to no end, and was as equally fierce as any physical confrontation he could think of. It was all he could do not to pace obsessively as his friends slept.

  Kayliss alone watched him, sharing the young man’s inner struggle but unable to do anything about it. The big cat shifted uneasily and growled low, disturbing somewhat, but not awakening Sonya who lay curled against his furry warmth.

  Steve leaned against the tree with his fists clenched against the visions in his mind. There he saw himself kissing Princess Vessla, her lithe form pressed against him and his hands moving slowly down the sides of her body, and then suddenly Vessla was no longer there, replaced instead by Sonya, her skin soft and full lips sweet as honeydew as they met his own. The whites of his knuckles showed through as he forced himself to block it out. With his back against the tree, he slid down its length and he drew his knees close, letting his forehead rest upon them and his arms wrapped about his calves. Vessla was there again, then Sonya, then Vessla once more, the cycle repeating mercilessly in his mind. He raised his head and suddenly realized he was sweating.

  What is the matter with me? he thought, his anger welling. Why am I doing this to myself? He forced his thoughts away from both women, trying instead to focus on those memories of his endless fencing lessons, only to have soft rustle of fabric replace the clanging of steel, the feel of cold metal give way to the touch of smooth skin. Nothing it seemed could banish the thoughts of holding Sonya in his arms.

  A ripple of power rolled over the young man and the crystal glimmered about his neck. Steve quickly suppressed it. He had to do something—anything—soon or his emotions alone were going to overwhelm him. He needed a vent to channel his anger, a means to calm himself. He rose to his feet and buckled his sword to his belt. Kayliss started to rise but Steve stayed him with a thought and an upraised palm. Someone had to stay behind and protect the others while they slept. Besides, this was something he wanted to do on his own.

  If I need you, I’ll call, he thought to the great cat. Kayliss remained, but growled his discontent. Steve told himself not to, but he glanced in Sonya’s direction anyway—just once. He lingered only a moment, though; not wishing to wallow in his thoughts of what could have been.

  “I guess it isn’t called ‘harsh reality’ for nothing,” he muttered. At the prospect of the task before him, already those earlier disturbing thoughts were finding a new home in the back of his mind while thoughts of what lie ahead took their place. He turned and, with his left hand resting on the hilt of his blade, he jogged out of the camp.

  The base of the mountain climbed as a gradual slope, gently rising upward for the first mile before becoming noticeably steeper, to both his eyes as well as in the strain in his legs. It wasn’t too long after that he stopped to rest, seating himself on an outcropping of ubiquitous granite jutting out of the ground. Scrub brush was prominent now, and many of the trees held a permanent bend from years of blowing wind that presently remained thankfully absent. Looking around, he wondered if he was even moving in the right direction, knowing nothing more than somewhere on this mountain was supposedly a way to the Oracle. He couldn’t help but wonder sarcastically if half of the trial was simply finding the blasted thing. Resolved to hunt all night if he had to, Steve set off again with only the sounds of his breathing and the occasional scuff of his boot on a rock to accompany him.

  Perhaps it was only his imagination playing tricks on him in the dark, but he could swear the farther he went the more he felt someone was watching him, an omnipresent feeling emanating from the very mountain itself. He tried to ignore it, dismissing it as nerves, but the higher he climbed the more his innate magic sense buzzed about him like electricity on the air. This place held a sense of antiquity that went deeper than the stone.

  An hour later and several hundred feet into his trek the strange feeling prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Steve cautiously kept his hand near the hilt of his sword as he moved. Something was amiss, and he hated the sense of unknown. Then, there to his right, a glint in the shadows caught his attention and he turned to face it.

  There was a shuffle amid the backdrop of the brush. Steve drew his sword. “Who’s there?”

  No reply.

  The young wizard shifted his weight slowly, nervously, from right to left, not liking at all how the odds seemed to be stacking up against him. He was alone, in unfamiliar territory, in the dark, facing the potential of multiple opponents. No, definitely not good.

  He backed away cautiously, scanning the trees and boulders in front of him, watching for any sign of attack…when the sharp point of a knife pressed not-so-gingerly against his lower back.

  Steve sighed, disappointed, and his shoulders slumped. “Shit.”

  “Your sword,” a baritone said simply.

  Judging from the direction, Steve gauged this a man even taller than himself, and barrel-chested by the sound of him. Obediently, he dropped his weapon and kicked it a few feet away. In front of him, where he had first heard the shuffle in the brush, two more men stepped out of the shadows and into the wan moonlight. One of them approached hefting a heavy crossbow on his right arm. Steve noted despairingly these men wore the red blood moon symbol above their hearts.

  “Do we kill this one,” the man behind asked, “or take him?”

  Kayliss listened to the sounds of night, a means to occupy himself while keeping a vigilant watch over the sleeping members of the camp, when a shift of the wind brought a scent to his nostrils other than pine and earth. He raised his head from his forepaws and tested the air again. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest, puffing his lips out slightly over his teeth with the expended breath.

  Steve’s heartbeat quickened as the power he called upon flooded his every living cell.

  The man holding the knife wrinkled his brow in question at the strange twinkling sound. “What is that?” he asked the other two.

  Before anyone could answer, the crystal flared and Steve moved with the deadly grace of a cat. He jumped into the air and kicked backward with both legs into the man’s chest, sending him flying. Steve tucked an
d somersaulted as he hit the ground, coming up before the remaining two men still on their feet. The redcrest with the crossbow pulled the trigger with a hasty bead on the young man’s chest but Steve’s hand was already extended. The bolt remained in place as though fused to the stock, then cracked and splintered a moment before the entire weapon folded in on itself. The soldier dropped the weapon with a start and an exclamation.

  Both men stared at the shattered remains on the ground and then looked to each other, their expressions revealing they both knew that somehow, somewhere along away, the tables had turned on them for the worse. Such suspicions were confirmed as they watched wide-eyed as the silver rapier floated up from the ground and settled into their young opponent’s waiting hand. Still, the third member of their party was back on his feet—however unsteadily—and that was enough to bolster the weaponless crossbowman.

  “Take him!” he said ardently, though it sounded more like bluster than courage to Steve. “He cannot get us all!”

  Steve quirked a brow at this. “Think so?” was all he said in reply.

  For the other two, that was enough. Without another word, the two men bolted for the cover of denser wood and the soldier who had spoken suddenly stood alone.

  “How’s your morale right about now?” Steve asked, but the remaining redcrest turned and bolted before the last word hit the air.

  Steve nearly followed, knowing he could not allow these men to report back, when something like breath brushed by his ear. The word came in the hushed voice of a whisper and he nearly missed it in his rush to be away. He paused and peered into the darkness all around but could not identify the source. The places to hide among the shadows, boulders, and trees were numerous and if it were an enemy he could literally be anywhere. Steve started forward cautiously with his blade held defensively. He eyed a boulder with suspicion large enough to hide several men. Pressing his back up against this, he carefully moved along its rough surface, then paused to listen a moment before determining he could hear nothing beyond the sound of his own breathing. Then a sudden thought unsettled him, if there were indeed several men hiding behind this rock their sudden silence was an indication they knew he was close. Steve began to slink back the way he had come, keeping his eyes forward in case one of them should jump out and attack. When he felt the distance was right to make a run for safer ground he turned—and then jumped back with a shout of fear and surprise until finally losing his balance altogether. He landed solidly on his backside but only winced at the pain, his gaze firmly locked on the ghostly figure of the dead Emperor standing before him. Everything about the man remained exactly as Steve remembered, except the militant uniform and cloak about his shoulders, once black and gold, were now a deathly pale white. And those eyes! At once wise and kind in life, now only dark, hollow sockets.