by Carol Buhler
My morbid thoughts flew out of my head the second Joldon appeared. Grinning like a small child on his birthday, he bounced down the one step and placed his hand on my withers. Together we knelt before his parents, both of us quivering with joy.
I repeated the same words as before. Joldon added his part: "I, Joldon, heir of the Joe family, and my mind-mate, Lillith, will work together for the rest of our lives for the happiness and prosperity of our don and reeth families." Again, I introduced my family, to include my two young grandchildren—brushed to within an inch of their lives and thoroughly threatened into solemn behavior—to the royal family. They, and the elected Lill family representatives, bowed and stated their pledge of support.
The ceremony seemed shorter this time, perhaps because I was confident of our meld and what our future would be. And during this particular after-party, I knew almost everyone present. Joldon and I accepted the well wishes of the crowd and I utterly enjoyed the rest of the day.
The next four years were a different story. Other melded reeth had warned me that the early twenties were the most emotionally chaotic of a young don's life and they hadn't exaggerated. My mind-mate suddenly developed mood swings. He often grew angry for no apparent reason, yet other times he was as sweet as he'd ever been. In the fall of his twenty-first year, he proudly accepted an award in recognition of his illusions, greater even than his famous grandfather had created. Days later, in a fit of unexplained fury, he smashed it into the stone wall of the back patio. After he stormed away, screaming at his mother and me to leave him alone, she carefully picked up the pieces and stored them for repair.
I never knew what to expect when I met Joldon in the mornings. I refrained from prying until he was out of the mansion, either striding briskly toward me or dragging his feet as he came. We'll get through it, I told myself. Others had.
On one memorable Speaker's Council Day, Lord Joedon ordered his son to attend the meeting. Joldon followed his father in the door with hunched shoulders and a dark scowl, blocking me out of his mind. Although I couldn't actually see him, I knew he slumped in his chair and stared at his feet during the session, refusing to even pretend interest. He'd treated me that way several times—it was his "I hate doing this" mode. When the meeting broke for lunch, Lord Joedon stalked out of the building suppressing a thundering rage so hard it leaked out like a visible aura. Joldon slouched resentfully after. Before they got halfway across the plaza, they were shouting at each other.
Joldon screamed at me to come get him, hurled himself onto my back, and demanded that I take him far away. I glanced briefly at Lord Joedon's furious face, then flew over the valley headed for a high, cold mountain lake. Hovering slightly above the water, I waited for Joldon to calm down and apologize. When he didn't, I shook hard and dumped him off.
He came up spluttering—the water wasn't deep enough for him to swim—with wide eyes accusing me of abandoning him. "You will not treat me like a slave!" I snapped into his mind before he could open his mouth. "And you will not play your bad humor out on me."
His mouth abruptly shut and he stared, his mind boiling with confusion. Finally, he dropped his head, and in a voice tempered with contrition, apologized.
He was shivering as he waded out of the lake and my own anger died. "Here," I said, dropping to my knees and folding my hind legs beneath me. "Curl up next to me in the sunshine. You'll dry quickly and get warm."
We lay together for a long while. I soon realized he'd fallen asleep and I allowed myself to doze off. When he stirred, I opened one eye to find him gazing dejectedly at me, slumped against my shoulder and looking like he'd lost his only friend. "I'm sorry, Lillith. I've been a real jerk lately, haven't I?"
"You're going through hormonal changes," I said calmly. "And I know your temper flares easily. But you must learn to control your reactions if you want to be an effective leader someday." I crunched my forehead in an effort to imitate his scowl. "Your father and mother don't deserve your tantrums, either."
He sighed. "You're right." Jumping to his feet, he stretched, then turned to face south. "Let's go home so I can make things up to Father."
Things didn't get instantly better, of course, but I knew he was trying, even if his father didn't seem to recognize his efforts. At least he applied himself to his studies again and comported himself with dignity at the council meetings.
Raldon, only a year younger than Joldon, was going through the same emotional turmoil, of course. Memmyon and I discussed their moods occasionally, but all we could really do was commiserate with each other and apply counsel when it seemed appropriate. Raldon, at least, wasn't constantly in conflict with his father as that don wasn’t a political leader and didn't expect his son to shine in the council. In fact, the Rae family was fully involved in finishing out their new home, a physical outlet for Raldon's energies that Joldon didn't have.
We arrived at Citadel one morning to find Raldon in his room, smoldering with resentment. “I have to get away from here!” he snarled the instant Joldon strolled in. “Father’s unreasonable!” Jumping up from his bed, he stalked to the door. “I’m going to spy on the humans. That will really torque him off when he finds out. Coming with me?”
It wasn’t a good idea but with Memmyon backing Raldon’s insane plan, there wasn’t much I could say. Joldon’s own boredom had fled in the face of such an outrageous adventure; for the first time in weeks, he was excitedly looking forward to something.
We flew the two hours to the closest human city, Pith, Memmyon and I employing our invisibility illusions. At one point we detoured to avoid an airplane. They wouldn’t see us, but their disturbance of the air always caused us stability problems. Raldon wanted us to fly low over the city so he could see the humans moving through the streets; Joldon wanted to know how they interacted with each other and if they really were as fierce as the stories said. The people we saw looked perfectly peaceful to me. Then, we passed over an area covered with evenly clipped grass surrounded by an open-topped building with seats along both sides. Two sets of men, in oddly colored clothing that clung to their arms and legs, were battling—not with any sort of weapon that I could see but they ran at each other, some knocking others down and shoving them out of the way. One man ran free of pursuit and when he crossed a marked line, he bounced an oddly shaped ball against the ground; the others dressed in colors matching his stopped their movement to yell and jump in triumph.
“What are they doing?” Joldon asked in my head.
“Looks sort of like a Rolo game...in a way,” Memmyon said to me and I passed along to Joldon. Neither of our boys dared speak out loud since we were hovering over the men on the field so closely that they would hear the voices. So Memm and I relayed their conversation back and forth.
I could hear Raldon’s mental voice and didn’t like the suppressed excitement in it. “It does look like Rolo...with more physical contact!”
Joldon was no better in his reaction. “Bet we could fool them into letting us play. Lillith, drop us down the street aways and we’ll put on illusions to look just like them.”
“That won’t work,” Memm cautioned. “They’re all wearing the same colors. I’ll bet they know each other too well for you to merge into the group. You’ll be spotted as outsiders no matter your illusions.”
“Chut!” Raldon swore. “Maybe we can find a different game. It is a big city.”
“Yeah! And we could play against each other so we can see who’s best.”
Not exactly willing, I followed Memmyon in a low circle over the city and we found another group playing what seemed the same game although these players didn’t wear what we’d decided were uniforms and they were in an open park rather than a building.
Joldon and Raldon were able to work their way into the game—no one questioned their presence—and we managed to start a tradition that neither Memmyon nor I could stop. In reality, we didn’t want to stop it; the physical exertion the two expended allayed much of their moodiness at home. At tim
es, I suspected that both fathers knew exactly what the boys were doing to work off their high spirits, but no one said anything about it to me.
With our almost weekly trips to Pith, I developed the belief that humans weren’t all that dangerous and often wondered if Lord Joedon had hidden himself among humans a time or two in his younger years. I never had the courage to ask him, or his mind-mate, but once in a while, usually after we’d just returned from an excursion to Pith, I’d notice the lord eyeing me with a subtle grin. At the same time, I’d read a sense of smugness in Finnyon.
Looking for different opportunities to practice their illusions, Joldon and Raldon learned about pubs and drinking beer—neither of which existed in Center—dances and theater—both of which were rowdier than those in Center—and a number of other human sporting activities—all of which they excelled at. But they always came back to play what turned out to be called “street football” as their favorite.
We, Memmyon and I, watching through the boys’ eyes from hiding places all over Pith, also learned that these two don, at least, were not only taller than any human we saw, but ran faster, jumped higher, and were stronger than the other participants, no matter what sport they were playing. Raldon and Joldon disguised their advantage, but developed a powerful rivalry between them. At home, they would wrestle each other with all their strength. During games with humans, however, they’d tone down their superior abilities unless they moved directly against each other.
Chapter 6
One day, we stumbled onto what the humans called a fair. Of course, Memmyon and I were well hidden in a grove of trees but we could see a wide range of activities going on across the long field covered with multi-colored tents. On a raised platform, a huge human, still a head shorter than Joldon but heavily muscled with a chest as broad as Lillyon’s, was challenging all comers to a wrestling match. Raldon stood up to him first and pinned the brute within minutes. To my surprise, the crowd booed at the fall of their champion to “such a skinny fellow,” they said.
Raldon hollered back that he’d take on any new challenger. Joldon stepped up wearing the illusion of a much huskier man and the two went at each other with all their pent-up energy and rivalry. At one point, Joldon had Raldon’s face pinned to the floor. He ran his hands up Raldon’s neck, to the wild cheering of the crowd, and yelled, “Yield.” Raldon went limp.
Memmyon jumped forward but there was nothing he or I could do without revealing our existence to the people staring silently. We knew the boy was alive—Joldon’s face still filled with horror. Fortunately he kept his wits about him and didn’t yell Raldon’s name. “Get up!” he shouted instead. To everyone’s shock, including mine, Raldon stood up, breathing hard but not laboring. He simply stood, gazing straight ahead as if in a trance. To my relief, his illusion held.
Joldon took his arm and shook it. “Wake up,” he said. Raldon didn’t respond. “What should I do?” he wailed silently to me. “It’s like he’s not really here.”
“Raldon got up when you told him to. Tell him to walk. See what he does.”
“Walk forward,” Joldon said loudly, his voice quivering slightly; he was both scared and feeling foolish. When Raldon walked forward, a gasp rippled through the watchers. Then, he stopped at the edge of the ring of people, his eyes blazing with fury while his face remained a blank mask.
“Tell him to step down and walk into the woods,” I told Joldon. “You stay and distract the crowd. Take on another fighter, or juggle, or something. Memm says Raldon’s fine physically. Don’t know what’s going on mentally.”
After giving Raldon the instruction, Joldon shouted for another challenger and allowed himself to be defeated by the original bruiser. The crowd crowed their glee and Joldon slipped away to join the three of us hidden in the woods.
“What’s the matter with him?” he whispered.
“Memm says his brain’s whirling with anxiety. He can’t control his muscles. It shocked him at first but he’s totally aware now. Whatever you tell him to do, he has to do it.”
“Really?” The sudden gleam in Joldon’s eye disturbed me.
“Just tell him to get on Memm’s back and let’s get out of here.”
Once we were away from Pith, we landed in a grove of trees near Center keeping well out of sight. As we experimented with Joldon giving Raldon instructions, Raldon mentally cursed steadily to Memm but followed every command. Joldon obviously didn’t control his mind, but did rule his actions. I stopped my mind-mate from ordering something diabolical.
Then, suddenly, Raldon was free of whatever it was. “What did you do to me?” he shrieked. I was barely in time to block his physical attack.
Joldon danced away, keeping me between himself and his furious friend. “I don’t know. I swear!”
I felt Memm sending calming waves toward his mind-mate. “Ask him what exactly he did just before this mind-control started,” the other reeth said to me as he herded Raldon away with a shoulder.
Joldon stopped and scowled. “I ran my hands up his neck and said ‘yield.’”
“Why did you do that exact movement?” I asked. “You already had him pinned with a knee in his back.”
“I don’t know. It just came to me to do it.” Glancing at a calmer Raldon, he suggested, “I could show you exactly.”
“Oh no you don’t! I don’t want to feel that again.”
“I think we should keep this quiet until we know more.” Memm’s calm attitude helped suppress both Raldon’s anger and Joldon’s aggravating gloat. “I’ll ask my great-uncle if he’s ever heard of such a thing.”
His great-uncle’s the official reeth recorder, I reminded myself. “Good idea. If this strange occurrence has ever happened before, he will know.”
Swearing the two boys to secrecy, we returned to Center.
A few days later, Memm brought us the word that what Joldon had done to Raldon was called “putting someone into stasis,” a rarely-manifested talent among don. When Joldon had touched both sides of Raldon’s head just behind his ears and simultaneously ordered “yield,” Raldon was forced into stasis. According to the old reeth recorder, stasis could last for a day, a week, or only an hour.
“Well,” Joldon said, again with that mischievous gleam in his eye. “That might come in handy.”
“You will be responsible with its use,” I said firmly. “Promise me.”
His disappointment was real but he knew he couldn’t misuse such a talent any more than he could abuse the human street football players with his strength and speed. My mind-mate was growing up.
**
Months later, Raldon claimed to need our help with an upcoming landscaping project of his mother’s. When we arrived, the family was gathered in the back yard surveying a complicated design of pegs and string they’d just finished. “The proposed rock garden,” Raldon’s mother explained. She and Raldon’s sister planned a flight down to the creek bottom to select the special stones she wanted us to transport while Raldon’s father and the two boys spaded the area within the string.
She and her mind-mate left, the sister riding behind her; Memmyon and I joined the father’s mind-mate on a large patch of tasty grass. It was a lovely day, perfect for working outdoors, with a comfortable breeze to cool the dons’ sweating backs. An hour or two had passed pleasantly when I noticed a faint rumbling coming from the west. When I raised my head to listen more closely, I noticed Raldon’s father had stopped spading and was also staring west, concerned.
“What’s that rumbling?” Raldon asked.
“I don’t know, but it has me worried,” his father said. All three had stopped digging and we three reeth had our heads in the air, tasting the wind.
“I smell rain,” Memmyon said. Dark clouds hung far to the west with what looked like streaks of a cloudburst; the sun still shone brightly above.
Raldon’s father walked quickly toward us. “I think we should fetch Mother back. Those clouds are ominous.”
“It’s raining west of
here, for sure,” his mind-mate responded. Together they dropped off the cliff nearby, headed for wherever the two femm were seeking the perfect rocks.
His brows pulled down into a worried crease, Joldon said, “The rumbling’s getting louder. I think we should see what it is.” He strode toward me, flung himself aboard, and we headed west. We hadn’t flown two miles before I saw a terrifying wall of water raging down the canyon, headed right for Raldon’s home.
Frantically, I sent the warning, to Memm, to any nearby reeth and their don-mates. Despite flying as hard as I could, we were too late. The first swell knocked Raldon’s sister off a rock into a whirlpool; her pregnant mother dove after her, leaving her mind-mate hovering anxiously above them with no way to help.
“No!” screamed Raldon’s father as he dropped off his own mind-mate and was instantly dashed head first into a boulder. His reeth-mate plummeted, already dead, into the swirling vortex. Raldon’s sister’s blonde head bobbed downstream as she struggled, then sank out of sight. The second reeth dropped. Raldon’s mother was gone.
In terror, Memm shot skyward forcing Raldon to cling to his mane. I followed closely; Joldon leapt from my back to hold Raldon on Memm’s back. No reason to lose him, too—no one could survive the crashing water in that narrow canyon. Yet, within twenty minutes, the water had subsided enough for frantic searchers to recover the smashed and broken bodies. We hid them from Raldon.
We took him to Joldon’s home where Lord Joedon and Lady Soreladon plied him with enough Lareina to force him to sleep. For days, he wavered between screaming terror and suffocating remorse. Joldon never left his side as his parents kept close watch over the boy’s health, forcing him to eat and drink. Memm and I bathed him constantly with our care and support. “You are not alone. I love you,” Memm would croon.