“But she didn’t,” Sonya stated more than asked.
The daemon shook his head slowly. “No, she did not. In fact, quite the contrary; in the weeks to follow she feared for her sanity. Full of self doubt, afraid to talk to anyone, and afraid she was going mad, I was forced to reveal myself again to try and put things right. As it turned out, it was much easier than I had expected. Rather than shrink away from me in fear she was actually relieved.”
“After explaining as much as I could of what had happened, and why, she asked me to sit with her. We talked the rest of the night and well into the following morning. I visited her often after that—though always in secret—and I came to know her well. Our conversations covered things both great and small, and I found her to be exceptionally insightful and wise beyond her years. She was truly unlike any being I had ever known before, and soon we two found ourselves deeply in love. For a while, it seemed none in all the world could rival our happiness.”
“Over the course of the next year, however, events would unfold that plunged our perfect sanctuary into chaos. A year later, almost to the day of our first meeting, Azinon’s forces attacked. Greatly outnumbered, and possessing no wizard of their own to counter Azinon’s sorcery, the Emperor’s forces were quickly overrun, and the castle taken. Willing to stand and fight to the last, but unwilling to sacrifice his own daughter’s life, the Emperor assigned three men to spirit her away via a secret passage out of the palace. It was a desperate plan and he knew it, for there was nowhere in all of Mithal the Dark One would not eventually find her.”
The daemon spread his hands helplessly. “I loved her, and I could not allow her to come to harm. So even though my kind are forbidden to take it upon ourselves to interfere in the affairs of men…I interfered all the same.” He lowered his gaze. “But, you see, I truly had no choice. The Princess was with child.”
In a word: shock; the revelation leaving them all stunned silent, though each of them had one question etched plainly on their faces.
The daemon confirmed what they already suspected. “Yes,” he said, “pregnant with our child. Though not in the same manner as a mortal man and woman would conceive, our—“ he paused, searching for the right word—“soul sharing, you might call it, left her with a new life I sensed growing inside her like a tiny candle flame. Since I could not allow Azinon to lay hands upon either her or the child, I intercepted the Princess and her escort in the catacombs below the castle and stole her away.”
“That’s it!” Haldorum exclaimed. Everyone jumped at the old wizard’s sudden exclamation, Princess Vessla looking the most vexed at being startled so. At everyone’s puzzled stares, he said, “Think!” Turning back to the daemon, he stated without question, “The Imperial Princess was not pregnant with just any child, she was pregnant with your son.”
“She was,” the radiant being acknowledged.
“You see?” Haldorum asked turning back to the others in his excitement. Quoting the prophecy he quickly recited, “The Third Power will marry unto a royal house of Mithal, but only unto one possessed of magic.” Whirling around yet again to face the supernatural being at his back he asked, “The Imperial Princess, I take it she survived to give birth?”
Again, the daemon nodded. “She did.”
“And your son yet lives?”
“He does.”
Haldorum clapped his hands once and laughed. “Then that’s it! We find that boy and we fulfill the prophecy. Daemon, you said the Princess was pregnant at the time of the assault on Rajasthan. So that would make her son now…what? Seventeen?”
“Eighteen,” Steve said, amazement and realization hitting him both at once.
The room fell silent as he released Sonya’s hand and stepped away from both her and the old wizard, closing the distance between himself and the glowing entity before him. The Oracle named him halfling child. Suddenly he understood.
“Your son would be eighteen,” he said again.
The daemon’s silence was telling.
Haldorum watched the young man walk away and the excited smile on his face faded away like vapor as the last mysteries of the prophecy revealed themselves all at once to every person in the room. “Dear God,” he breathed.
A few feet away, Steve stopped and looked upon the daemonic being as though seeing him for the first time. Standing there, he could see their height was the same, as was the width of their shoulders, and, though Steve himself had not yet reached his full heft, it was easy to see they would soon both be equal in weight.
“There was nowhere on Mithal you could take her,” Steve said, “where she wouldn’t forever be looking over her shoulder, waiting for the day when she and her son would be found.” The daemon still did not reply. “But, for a being such as you, Mithal was not the only option. So instead you took her to Earth.”
This time the daemon nodded. “Where she gave birth to our son.” The being ducked his head slightly and looked Steve in the eyes. “Where she gave birth to you.”
At first Steve quietly met the daemon’s gaze unmoving, not sure what to say—not sure if he wanted to say anything at all. Then, as if feeling the words out, testing them, he said, “You’re my real father.” He looked down at his hands and white flames sprang up from his palms. “And this?”
“A consequence of your heritage,” the daemon replied. “Though our individual powers differ from one to the next, beings of daemonic origin have certain inherent abilities common to us all. One is the gift of tongues, to speak and understand any language; the other is—“
“Immortality,” Steve finished for him, remembering the plunge of Azinon’s sword through his heart, and the last passage of the prophecy: only he for whom death holds no sway. The flames extinguished as he closed his hands, and he then touched absently at the place where Azinon’s blade had pierced him. “Are you telling me I can never die?”
“No,” his father—his daemonic father—replied with a shake of his head. “This mortal shell will live and grow old, and at the end it will die as any other. But it is true between that time and now your life can never be wrested from you.”
Somewhere behind him, Scott was shaking his head in amazement. “My friend,” he said, “is the Emperor of Mithal.” It seemed too incredible to believe. “The Emperor,” he said again, as if repeating the words would make them any less astounding.
King Gorium, however, had heard enough. Stepping forward he pointed his mace accusingly at Haldorum saying, “Do not think for one moment this changes anything. He is betrothed to my daughter, and he will marry her and no other!”
“Do not be a fool!” Haldorum shot back. “The prophecy is clearer on this matter than any other. ‘The Third will marry unto a royal house of Mithal, but only unto one possessed of magic’. You cannot just selectively fulfill the passages of the prophecy that suit you.”
“The boy entered that pact,” General Duva said, “because you were too obstinate to join the very cause that would save your neck. Now you have the audacity to say you know better than prophecy?”
King Gorium stubbornly folded his wings tightly against his back. “Spare me your meaningless—“
“Enough!” Steve shouted. The force behind that word was unnaturally loud, amplified unconsciously by his anger and the magic in his blood. He closed his eyes and forced himself to rein in the reactive force of his power before opening his eyes again saying and saying to them all, “How can you still argue like this? How can you in the face of all we have overcome? All we have accomplished?” He stared at each of them in turn, daring them to answer. Though King Gorium wanted to say more, even he sheepishly resigned himself to silence.
Steve walked over to where Princess Vessla stood and took both her hands in his own. “Vessla, I know you care for me. And I care for you too. But is just caring enough? Is that what you want to base your marriage on? You have grown up your whole life being told you will marry the Third Power of Mithal because the prophecy said so. And then, when we found out I wasn’
t the Third, your father still wanted you to marry me just because of the magic I wield, so his grandchildren would have it, and for nothing more. Don’t you think you deserve more than that?”
She looked at her father, who guiltily kept his eyes to the floor, before looking back again.
“I want you to know,” Steve continued, “you have a choice now. For the first time in your life, you truly have a choice. Vessla, you have only to say the word and I will keep my promise to marry you, if that is what you really want. But instead of listening to what everyone else wants you to do, ask yourself what it is that you want to do.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “Duncan once told me you used to play husband and wife with your dolls as a little girl.” At that Princess Vessla glanced away with an embarrassed little smile. “You fantasized about a strong and noble Jisetra, who would soar across the skies with you, lead your armies on great quests, love you and only you above all others.”
Softly, he continued, “You and I will never soar across the sky together, Vessla.” Steve chuckled bitterly, “And the only way I’ll ever lead your armies on a great quest is if they strap me in a harness and tote me along like luggage.” His eyes grew serious then and the bitter smile faded like waning sunlight. “Ask yourself, Princess. Am I who you really want? Am I what you envisioned so long ago?”
Princess Vessla looked first to her father, who raised his brows and canted his head toward Steve, and then she looked one at a time to the gathered people around them, their expressions expectant. Her eyes came to rest lastly on Sonya, who alone looked the most apprehensive. Finally, she looked again to the young man before her and she nodded.
“I do love you, Steve.”
Sonya’s gaze dropped in evident dismay.
Princess Vessla then squeezed Steve’s hands affectionately and shook her head. “But I am not in love with you.”
“What?” Sonya said lifting her eyes once more.
Holding his hands only a moment more, Vessla reached up and kissed Steve’s cheek before turning to her wide-eyed, stammering father to take him by the arm. “Come along, Father,” she said. “As your heir, it is time you and I had a long talk about the future, and the decisions we have yet to make.” To the Oracle she asked, “Would you, please?”
The dragon nodded slowly once. “It would be my pleasure, great lady.” In a flash they were both gone, and Steve knew they were both standing back in the Jisetrian capitol.
Scott was smiling, though just as wide-eyed with disbelief as King Gorium had been. To Steve he said, “I don’t believe it. You have no idea how much respect she just earned from me.”
“Actually,” Steve said smiling knowingly in return, “I think I do.”
His smile, however, faded as he turned back to the daemon. There was much yet to answer for. “There is still something I don’t understand,” he said, mild anger adding an edge to his voice. “You took her to Earth and then you abandoned us both. Why?”
The accusation visibly pained the daemon. “I did not abandon you, my son. I am a being of the Primal Order, a warrior of God upon the Material Planes. Just as you can sense the presence of another Power on this world, so would my unceasing presence have acted as a beacon to every demonic entity on Earth.” The daemon bowed his head and Steve knew it was at the memory of a decision, though made long ago, that still ached with the remembrance. “I gave her everything she would need to begin a new life…without me…before we said our last goodbye.”
Steve’s bitterness at the daemon’s decision to leave them lessened with the knowledge of the extreme sacrifice, and his expression softened. Though he could not see it in the being’s face, he could sense the pain caused by that fateful day. Eighteen years past and still time had done little to diminish it.
“I don’t mean to reopen old wounds,” he said gently, “and I believe you when you say you only left to protect us, but how then did you end up in the crystal?”
The daemon raised his head. “It was the only way I could keep watch over you, Steven. I knew one day your daemon half would emerge, and come that day you would need me to help you understand what you are—and to control it, for inside you is a darkness deep down that is just as capable of wielding your power.” Steve’s ire rose swiftly at the remark, and he made as if to protest but the daemon said, “It first seized you when Amy betrayed you, and then again when Azinon threatened Sonya. Had Haldorum not been able to intercede both times it might still hold you even now.”
Steve’s protest died on his lips. Truth be told, whatever dark presence he harbored inside had on many occasions attempted to surface—and twice he was ashamed to admit, when his rage had overwhelmed him, it had succeeded.
Resigned to the truth he sighed, “So what you are saying is that there is evil inside me.”
“There is,” the daemon agreed, “but that does not make you evil. It only makes you human.” Steve’s brow knit in confusion and the daemon explained, “There is not a soul born to the Material Planes that does not possess both good and evil within it. If it were not so then God’s gift of free will would be no gift at all, and Humans, Jisetra, Werewolves, and all other sentient beings would be little better than mindless golems. Truly, how could you choose for yourself between right and wrong if you were not tempted by both sides?”
At that, they all raised their brows as they considered the daemon’s words, and Steve said, “You know, you’d make a pretty good lawyer back on Earth.”
The daemon smiled but raised both his hands as if to fend off such a notion. “When God is your judge, attorneys are of little use.”
“Um, objection,” Scott chimed up. With all eyes on him, he ducked his head and shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, just a joke.”
Shaking his head at his friend’s humor, but smiling all the same, Steve asked, “And Mr. Jacobs?”
“A vessel,” the daemon answered simply. “A body whose soul had recently departed, but continued to survive in an intensive care unit only through the science of machines. I took control and used it to keep watch over you until the time of its natural death. Unfortunately, shortly after that body’s passing I sensed your powers were beginning to surface, so rather than search for another vessel I instead had the crystal, which housed my essence, willed into your possession.”
“But you didn’t show yourself until now.”
“I could not,” the daemon shrugged. “My imprisonment, though self-imposed as it was, required another being of the Primal Order to bring me back out.” At that, he gestured to the Oracle, who only smiled and tilted his head at the acknowledgement.
Steve looked the great golden dragon in the eyes. “You?”
“Indeed,” the Oracle rumbled.
A moment of quiet and then, “Wow,” Scott breathed, a sentiment silently shared by every other soul in the room. To Kurella he asked, “You ever have one of those days when you feel just a little bit smaller than you did the day before?”
Deep below the catacombs of the cathedral, they found Azinon’s altar. In addition, the remnants of his last sacrifice remained, a corpse so badly mutilated several of the guards left the chamber in a rush to find someplace private to purge their morning meal.
It took no coaxing at all to find volunteers willing to pulverize the unholy relic into rubble.
Dressed regally in boots, black trousers, black cape, and a white silk shirt belted at the waist, Steve sat on the smooth, carved stone of the banister surrounding the spacious balcony just off his bedchambers, his legs hanging precariously over the side. Nearly a month had passed since Azinon’s death and the recapture of the city by the Resistance, and still the citizenry celebrated in the streets every night after sundown. After eighteen years of living under the tyranny of a mad sorcerer, though, he could certainly understand their jubilation—though he marveled anyone was in any shape at all after the sun came up to see to the rebuilding.
Even over the dull roar of the celebrating city below him, Steve heard the sound of the door to his bed
chambers open, followed by familiar footfalls.
“Paging his royal Majesty,” she said. “Sorry, paging his Imperial Majesty. Has anyone seen our great and glorious—“
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied without turning, waving from his seat on the stone banister. “He’s on the balcony, your marvelousness.”
Sonya appeared by his right shoulder, her hands resting on the banister. She looked down and whistled. “This is quite a view you’ve got up here.”
“It’s not bad,” Steve agreed approvingly.
Sonya hopped up to seat herself on the stone rail and swung her legs out over the side. “Probably not the safest seat in the house, though,” she remarked.
“Are you kidding? What do we care? You can fly and I’m immortal.”
“That’s true,” she conceded, “but immortal or not, I bet it would still hurt like heck.”
Steve raised his brow and smiled wryly at the thought. “Good point.” Swinging his legs back over the side, he was content instead to stand firmly on his balcony, his left hand resting on the surrounding stone banister and Sonya joined him likewise. “So what’s new and improved?” he asked.
“I’ve been busy, I can tell you that,” she replied with a deep breath. “Haldorum has had me popping all over your empire, wiping out the plague wherever we can find it—which is just about everywhere. And I must say, you’ve got quite the piece of real estate, Steve.”
“Pangea.”
“Pan who?”
Steve laughed. “Pangea. Remember Geology class? Plate tectonics and all that? On Earth, before the continents separated, they formed one gigantic super-continent scientists called Pangea. Apparently, that super-continent is mostly still intact here.”
“Okay, so I was sleeping in class that day. Point being, it’s big.” Changing the subject she said, “Haldorum told me he brought your parents back here for a while to visit. I mean, your mom and Bill, not…” She looked perplexed. “You know, I never did find out his name.”
Third Power Page 69