Ellendr?a, Midsummer

  I woke with a jerk, breathing heavily, trickles of sweat running down my chest. A quick glance out the windows told me that it was still many hours before dawn, but I knew from experience that I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight. I lurched out of bed and stumbled into the washroom, poured some water into a basin, and splashed it on my face and upper body. This had the effect of ensuring that I was awake, although it didn’t do much for my confusion. I washed up a little more thoroughly, searched around to find the tunic that I’d tossed aside last night, and sat on the bed, waiting for the effects of the dream, or more truthfully, nightmare to wear off.

  This dream has been recurrent since I was a child. It has always been exactly the same. At the beginning of the dream, I’m climbing up a narrow, twisting path, through a forest of odd looking trees, carrying someone in my arms. It’s one of those dreams where I know that I’m myself, but at the same time, I’m different. For one thing, I’m stronger—the person I’m carrying is an adult, a tall, muscular one at that. And I’m a Guardian—I can feel the weight of the Star heavy on my chest as I’m panting up the hill. My name—sometimes it eludes me in the dream, but tonight it was clear and sharp in my mind—is Killar?n of House Seab?n. The person I’m carrying is Danaldrí of House F?alen, ?dr?lad of my an?ncára, Turien, also of House F?alen. All three of us are Guardians, working together on a mission. Even though the dream always starts in the middle of the story, it brings with it memories of how the adventure began.

  We’d been sent by the Elder Council to determine the whereabouts and activities of a person named Dr?foch, a genetic engineer involved in some of the worst of the Genomic Enhancement atrocities. Originally, he’d been exiled from Ellendr?a, the Elders believing that this was sufficient punishment. However, further information about Dr?foch had surfaced, suggesting that not only had he used genetic engineering to modify his own genome to the point where he might have the most powerful psi talents ever seen on Ellendr?a, but also that he’d been working on techniques for employing these abilities without the use of a ferr?l. It was believed that the Ellendorí were once masters of these techniques, but they had long been lost to the Ellendrí. This knowledge, in combination with Dr?foch’s known opportunistic, self-serving, and potentially malicious behavior, led the Elders to fear that Dr?foch might still be very dangerous, even in exile.

  The three of us had been nearly a year trying to find where Dr?foch had disappeared—the trail was old by the time we started looking, and he had taken some effort to hide his whereabouts. Finally, having found no traces of Dr?foch on any of the colonies in the First and Second Arcs, we turned our attention to the few colonized planets of the Third Arc. The planet we were on when the dream starts is called Erystarí, a pleasant place with lots of forests and mountains, and a fair bit of tectonic activity. Volcanic cones are common. In fact, it’s a trail up the side of an old, extinct volcano that I’m climbing at the beginning of the dream.

  The inhabitants of Erystarí are primitive, barely at an Iron Age level. Like all of us, they are descendants of the Ellendorí, but they no longer remember where they came from or who they are. They have legends that refer to the “Star People”, powerful beings that come from the heavens, but no longer realize that they themselves are “Star People”. It isn’t our place to disrupt their beliefs and try to re-establish contact with this “lost” colony, so we moved amongst them disguised as traveling traders from a distant region, hoping that this guise would excuse our slight accents and lack of local knowledge. Their language, strangely enough, is a very pure form of what we believe is Ellendorí, and not too different from the Ellendrí that we speak. This was immensely helpful.

  When we’d arrived on Erystarí, we found that one village was particularly agitated by the arrival of what they referred to as the “Death-Bringers”—foreign invaders of their lands who had killed a number of their village members without provocation, or so they claimed. Since this was just the type of lead we were looking for, it justified further investigation. Some discrete aerial surveillance located a small compound, not far from the troubled village, with some very recent looking architecture and several spaceships. If not Dr?foch, at least this must be a group from one of the First Arc worlds. And if it was Dr?foch, he must have regrouped with a few other exiled Ellendrí.

  We were naive and foolish, not really expecting trouble. The three of us were still young in the service of the Guardians, having barely seen five years of duty. We had decided to split up and observe the compound from three different perspectives, in the hopes of quickly determining the nature of the situation. We thought we’d been clandestine, stealthy and unseen—in fact the observers had been observed.

  Our first sign of trouble was a mental scream of agony from Danaldrí. Stalked by a hidden watcher, he’d been hit by a laser. Although in intense pain, he’d managed to bring his assailant down, but wasn’t sure he could make it unassisted back to our ship. I reached out to Turien, who assured me that he was still well hidden and not in any danger, then went to help Danaldrí, as I was much closer to him than Turien was.

  The vegetation was thick and tropical, with lots of ferns in the undergrowth and a heavy canopy consisting of trees of varying heights—good cover if you needed to move without being seen. Forewarned by what had happened to Danaldrí, I was extremely cautious, sliding softly through the massive greenery, trying to move as silently as possible and keeping my thoughts guarded lest they give my position away. I heard a faint crackling noise and froze, ready to use my Star if necessary. The ferns parted a few feet away, and I relaxed slightly as I saw Danaldrí slip quietly out. I whistled a low trill, the call of a bird that lives on Ellendr?a. Danaldrí turned quickly towards me. He didn’t look very good—pale, and I could see he wasn’t too steady. At least he was still on his feet, clearly heading back to our ship. In a couple of steps, I was beside him. He was more than happy to see me, gladly leaning against me when I put a hand around his waist to steady him.

  Danaldrí, Turien, and I go back a long ways. We grew up together, being more or less the same age. When Danaldrí decided to become a Guardian, it seemed natural that Turien and I should follow. While Danaldrí isn’t an?ncára to either of us, he’s been a lifelong friend and companion, our avángri. The three of us have been working together ever since we joined the Guardians. Seeing him now, I was gravely worried. I could see the laser burn on his tunic and hear his labored breathing, so I knew he was seriously wounded. Turien was the Healer amongst us. There was little I could do for Danaldrí. If I could get him back to the ship, Turien would be able to help him. Turien knew what I had observed—our link was deep and strong, and thoughts passed quickly between us. Already he was returning to the ship.

  Danaldrí and I were able to make it back without being seen; however, by the time we got to our ship, I knew we had more problems to deal with. There was a group of armed sentries, quite likely Ellendrí, blocking Turien’s route. He’d been unable to get past them. Although he didn’t think he’d been seen yet, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to meet us there. Danaldrí was quickly weakening. I didn’t think he was going to last much longer without help. We had a small portable stasis unit in the ship—I thought about placing Danaldrí in stasis until Turien could make his way back. Unfortunately, the ship was too visible—we’d be an easy target as we waited for Turien. I could use the ship’s electromagnetic shields to protect us for a time, but this group was armed with lasers. Persistent laser fire would eventually exhaust the ship’s energy stores. Then we’d be trapped. Danaldrí sat exhaustedly outside the ship, while I went in and quickly put the stasis unit into a pack. I needed to find some hidden spot where Danaldrí would be safe until the three of us could rejoin.

  And this is where the dream starts. Not far from the ship is one of the many volcanic cones that are scattered like pimples across this planet’s surface. It’s an old cone, covered with lush forest, and there are game trails winding up its sides. I’m hoping there will be some old lava tubes or cave formations—someplace out of the way and hidden. Danaldrí has collapsed, and I’m carrying him in my arms. He’s heavy, but my family lineage contains Gw?rdrí blood, so I’m taller and broader than most Ellendrí. I’ve had to face a bit of discrimination from some of the more purist-minded of our people; however, today I’m thankful that I have the strength to carry Danaldrí. The trail is narrow and faint, and often I force my way through thick vegetation. I worry about being followed, but don’t sense anyone on our trail yet.

  Glimpses of a red rocky bluff are revealed through breaks in the vegetation. I take a fork in the trail that leads me closer to them. As I get nearer, I can see that the cliff is pockmarked with caves, some big, some small. Is it good luck, or a touch of turas? I don’t know, but I am relieved. I find a larger, easy to reach cave at the base of the rock wall—it’s conveniently screened by masses of ferns. Shouldering my way in, I lay Danaldrí on the cave floor. Fortunately, it seems unoccupied. In an attempt to keep Danaldrí warm, I place a thermal blanket underneath him to protect him from the cold stone, and cover him with another one. Emptying my pack, I fold it up and place it under his head as a pillow. Then I quickly get to work setting up the stasis unit. Scrambling up the cliff to a smaller, open cave, I unfold and discretely place the panel that powers the unit by collecting solar energy. Hopefully, it will remain unnoticed. Carefully unrolling the thin power line from the panel, I disguise it as much as I can amongst the rock and moss as I climb down. Then I’m back with Danaldrí. He’s still conscious, although barely, and knows what I’m doing.

  “Find Turien,” his voice is weak, just a whisper. He has pulled his Star free from his tunic, grasping it in his right hand. Using the energy generated by the durr?ls of his Star, I know he will try to hold on as long as he can.

  “I will,” I smile reassuringly at him. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll hardly know I’ve gone.” I touch the panel on top of the small grey box that is the main control for the stasis unit. Four small cubes, placed in a rectangle around Danaldrí’s body, start glowing. A translucent, silvery bubble forms around them, completely encompassing Danaldrí. This bubble forms a micro-universe in which certain laws of physics operate differently than in our local brane—specifically, time passes much more slowly within the stasis unit’s gravitational field. Danaldrí doesn’t have much time left, but the stasis field can keep him alive for many years, making each of his seconds last for hours or even days. In the meanwhile, I will reach Turien.

  It may have been foresight that led me to the cave, and it may be foresight now that is making my heart clamp with terror. Whatever it is, I am running from the cave, back down the twisting jungle path, afraid that something terrible will happen. I’m no longer concerned about being seen. I need to get to Turien fast. When his mind send tells me that he is surrounded, that the compound’s guards are closing in on him, and that he fears he will have to fight, I’m still too far away. I know when he starts to use his Star—my body resonates with the power he is channeling. The first time his defensive shield is nearly blasted away, the force of it shakes me. But he’s fast, back on his feet, shielding for the next strike. His opponent is hurling massive amounts of raw energy at him, trying to burn through the shield that Turien is creating using the ferr?ls and durr?ls of his Star. I sense strike after strike, Turien staggering under the impact of the energy against his shield. He’s weakening—I know he can’t hold against this onslaught much longer. I’m nearly there. “Hold on, just a little longer,” I tell him with my mind.

  I feel the blast that takes Turien down. Pain searing through my nerves, I stumble and fall. I must keep going! Getting back on my feet, I stagger a little farther, breaking out of the trees and into a small clearing. This is the place that Turien chose to make his stand. I see people standing around the edges of the clearing, but no one has noticed me yet. Turien is on the ground, his opponent standing over him. I want to go to him, to help him, but I know that I’m too late. I sense that he’s dying, burned beyond any hope. Dr?foch, for I’m certain that’s Turien’s attacker, reaches down and grabs Turien’s Star, twisting the chain so that it’s jerked over Turien’s head. Turien reacts to the touch of a stranger on the ferr?l that is keyed to his mind and screams hoarsely. The pain echoes savagely through my head. I’m almost overcome by nausea.

  Now Dr?foch realizes I’m here. I’m close, near enough to fight him. He turns to look at me, a slight, mocking smile on his oddly broad face. I know that he’ll try to kill me, but I’m already dead, dying as Turien dies, feeling my an?ncára reach out to me as the darkness reaches out for him. Only a few moments are left to me, and I realize that I don’t have the power to stop Dr?foch. There is only one thing that I can do. It’s an act of suicide, but I don’t care. With any luck, I’ll take Dr?foch to the beyond with me. I stare into the ferr?l of my Star, using the durr?ls to draw in as much energy as I can. But instead of transforming the energy and creating something with it, I just charge the ferr?l up until it won’t hold any more. It seems to take forever. However, Dr?foch hasn’t figured out what I’m going to do yet, probably doesn’t realize that Turien and I are an?ncára, or what that means to me. When the ferr?l is charged, I use my mind to manipulate the lines of energy that exist in the crystal, making them twist, forcing them with brutal despair until they break. The energy releases catastrophically. For a moment, I see blue fire erupting from my Star, then nothing. I sense Turien, freed now from the pain, touch me. We are together.

  … And this is where the dream ends.

  **********

  My heart was still pounding. I put my head in my hands, feeling as though it might explode. As always, when I wake up from this dream, I’m not certain if I’m Killar?n or Farrw?n. I’ve even tried getting up and looking at myself in the mirror that hangs on the washroom wall. It doesn’t help … much. I see the same figure—tall and wide-shouldered, streaky ash-gold hair, blue-grey eyes so dark that they’re almost black—that could, without detailed examination, pass for either. A gift of my unacknowledged athairad, to be sure. Only in the bright light of day can you see that I have the hands of an artist and the eyes of a dreamer, and besides, I’m much too thin and lanky to be a Guardian.

  Of course, I’ve gone to the history archives, researching the names that I remember from the dream. That only succeeded in frightening me more. Dr?foch was one of the genetic engineers exiled at the end of the Genomic Enhancement Interval, three thousand or so years ago. Killar?n, Turien, and Danaldrí were three Guardians reported as never having returned from a mission shortly after the Genomic Enhancement Interval. Killar?n and Turien were listed as an?ncára and shield mates in the registry where our people’s important life events are recorded. They existed. So does the planet Erystarí—a distant world in the Third Arc about which little is known except that the original colony had regressed back to a state of barbarity.

  So the dream is real—a memory of someone long dead. But why does it haunt me? I have turas, the ability to see future paths, but not what has happened in the distant past. I’ve searched for explanations, and have come up with two possible answers, but neither is comforting. Possibly my turas is somehow twisted and warped, so that I can see both the past and the future. I find that very disturbing. Already my “gift” is a tangled chaos of threads, showing possibilities and probabilities, everything wound together in a knotted skein. Often I must spend days sorting through all the paths in order to get any clarity at all. If some of those threads were also from the past … my head spun as I contemplated the effort it would take unwind it all. Alternately, the memory could truly be mine—from a previous lifetime. Ellendrí believe in rebirth. In fact, there are some verified cases where people have been reborn many years after a previous life. However, rebirth is a rare event, and very difficult to prove. Most people who make such claims have relatively few memories of their past life. I have one recurrent dream. Is that enough to support such a belief?

  Given how crazy it seems to me, I have spoken to no one about the dream. I’d hoped that it would eventually go away, become a memory rather than a regular occurrence. However, it seems that just the opposite has happened—as time has passed, the dream has become more intense, more real … and I’ve started to feel driven by it. What is it trying to tell me? Furthermore, somehow Turien has reached out to me in the dream, through the thousands of years that separate us, even though he is dead and long returned to dust—and I have fallen in love with him. How do you explain to family and friends that you are in love with a ghost, or worse, an image in your imagination? I don’t know.

  For many years, I just lived with my dream and the worries it brought to me. I had no real solutions. It just seemed to be one more neurotic part of my bizarre life. Then, about 10 years ago, shortly after Darriel died, I was asked by a friend to attend a meeting at which a person who’d been a homesteader from one of the newer colonies was going to give a presentation. There had been much talk about establishing a new home for the Ellendrí, as our sun is nearing the end of its life, and Ellendr?a has become a hot and desolate place to live. I was somewhat interested—not that I consider myself good colonist material, but rather that I’d be happy to live somewhere far enough from my athairan that she’d be unable to meddle in my life. There were a lot of rational and well-informed people interested in the colonist movement, many of them friends of mine, so I expected to enjoy the evening, even if I never became a colonist.

  The evening began with much good-natured bantering and lively discussion amongst the group, which gradually quieted when the speaker, named Gryff?th, entered the room. Although I’d heard of Gryff?th a few times before, and he’d been living on Ellendr?a for something like 50 years at that time, our paths had never crossed. However, when he turned to face the group, I saw his features for the first time. My heart nearly exploded with fear! The face I recognized—I’d seen it so often in my dreams—was the face of Dr?foch. Fortunately, the room was crowded, and he didn’t see my reaction. That he could have survived the blast created by the ferr?l of Killar?n’s Star was amazing. That he was still alive after three thousand years was even more amazing. Not outright impossible … but extremely unlikely. Nonetheless, I had no doubts as to who he was.

  I remember little else about that evening—I spent most of my time trying to behave normally while my mind was screaming for action. Eventually, I made it home without anything unusual happening. Clearly Dr?foch, or Gryff?th, was not expecting anyone to recognize him. His confidence gave me the safety to determine what I must do. Finally, it occurred to me that fate had placed me here for a reason. Whether I was Killar?n or Farrw?n or both, I was a piece in the great game of our universe, and I was being moved for a purpose. And I needed to figure out what that purpose was.

  My turas is a bit of a wild talent—sometimes I can control it, and sometimes it controls me. I often see things far in the future much more clearly than something which might happen tomorrow. It gives me a sense of the direction the future might take, but seldom provides clearly defined details, unless I am familiar with the people whose future I am seeing. When it works well, I can cast my mind along all the possible future paths arising from a particular decision, determine which paths have good outcomes, and which do not, and calculate the likelihood of each path. On bad days, I get wild visions and dreams that leave me shaking and frightened. After seeing Dr?foch, I had more reason than ever to struggle to make my sight work for me. With time and much practice, I eventually got better at using my turas—good enough to reliably visualize the many future paths arising from a choice. I learned to test every turning point, to check and double-check the flows of time, which greatly improved my accuracy. Ultimately, I realized that it was possible to influence the future, for indeed the future is not immutable.

  Based on what I could foresee, I made a plan. Dr?foch was not here for the good of the Ellendrí. In fact, his presence would bring about the end of our people’s long journey. He needed to be stopped, and our people needed hope and a new beginning. My plan was tenuous, difficult, and full of shaky places where failure was much more likely than success; however, it was better than no hope at all. While I hated the possibility of risking their lives, I knew that I must draw on the assistance of the two people I could trust absolutely—Eldranth and Eldarí. Not only could I trust them, but by the union of their parents’ bloodlines, they were amongst the most powerfully gifted of all the Ellendrí alive today. I knew that their destiny was twined with mine, and somewhere amidst it all, I was sure I could sense Turien’s soul, weaving us all together.

  Ellendr?a, Midsummer

  The sun was high in the sky, glowing fiercely through the translucent material of the dome. It would have been much more intense, but the photoelectrochromic compound that had been applied to the dome’s outer surface had automatically adjusted its opacity in response to the solar radiation coming from the sun, and was now blocking a significant percentage of it. Still, it was a warm day, midsummer for Ellendr?a. Seeking a respite from the heat, I found the old orchard a cool and welcome retreat. Although the living quarters of the house could be completely climate-controlled, I preferred the almost natural setting of the dome’s gardens. They reminded me of the diversity of other worlds I’d visited during my time as a Guardian, many of which were much more hospitable that Ellendr?a was now.

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  I was sitting with my back leaning against one of the tall, old nut trees at the edge of the orchard. It was one of those peaceful places—a quiet, cool spot where a person could meditate, or reflect on life, or simply sit and enjoy the songs of the birds that darted amongst the green foliage. The dome was a more or less self-maintaining ecosystem, and the birds, species that once flourished in the wilds of Ellendr?a, were some of the more visible animals inhabiting the system. Darí was sitting cross-legged in the grass next to me, absently stripping the seeds off the meadow grasses and scattering them in the sluggish air currents of the dome. We had been chatting sporadically throughout the morning, catching up on each other’s adventures, but mostly just enjoying a companionable silence. Hearing the sound of the dome entrance opening and closing, I got up from my comfortable position and went to bring Farrw?n, who had just arrived, back to our shady nook.

  Farrw?n looked relaxed and lighthearted today, reminding me that he had a life beyond just being the harbinger of future events. Indeed, Farrw?n was one of the best Psi Techs amongst the Ellendrí. More impressively, he was an extremely gifted artist, bringing a level of craftsmanship to the items he created out of psionic materials that was rarely seen. He actively developed new materials that not only had unique and useful properties when activated by psychic energy, but that were extremely strong and durable and could be formed into objects of exquisite beauty. I could tell that Farrw?n had spent the morning in his studio working on some project that had brightened his mood. He had a small bundle with him, something wrapped in an old scrap of white fabric, which he passed casually to me. Knowing what it probably was, I smiled and nodded my thanks, then sat back down against the tree, tucking the bundle beside me.

  Darí rose lithely to greet Farrw?n with the warm embrace of old friends. For a moment, I felt time become fluid. I could see us here, under the trees, 70 years and more ago, just as we were now. A long time ago … and it seemed as if nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.

  Ellendr?a (approximately a quarter-year earlier)

  And so my life had changed again. Now I was drifting, anchor-less, uncertain of my course. I had backed myself into a corner, convinced myself that Darí and I were no longer an?ncára, then used my despair to whip myself into deeper and wilder acts of desperation. Creating the very thing that I feared, I had ridden that fear almost to the brink of self-annihilation. Darí had forced me to see reality—in spite of all the unintended hurt we’d done to each other over the years, our lives and souls were still inexplicably and unbreakably bound together.

  But what course from here? I clearly could not continue down this path of self-destruction. Even if that was truly what I still wished, I now had to consider the impact that such a decision would have on Darí. Had our bond been destroyed by pain and neglect, as I had believed, my death would have been mourned by my deirfad, but he would have survived to go on with his life. If we were in truth still an?ncára—and I had little reason to doubt that now after all that had happened in the past few days—then my death could, quite likely, kill him. Regardless of how things had gone between us, I still loved my deirfad deeply and wholly. The thought of his death, particularly as an outcome of my own actions, was not something I ever wanted to consider. So racing down the heroic path to the beyond was not an option anymore.

  What did I want to do? Darí had asked me that question. And I had replied that I wanted to do the right thing. I still didn’t know what that was, but it was becoming clear that I needed to figure it out, and soon. I spent a couple of days contemplating the situation, thinking about possible courses of action. Nothing would be simple. I knew that. No choice would be without some potentially negative outcomes. Although I’ve always had a touch of the sight, it’s mostly a yes-or-no kind of thing and is nearly useless for analyzing complex situations. It was no help to me now; however, in trying to understand the future consequences of my choices, I decided that a visit with Farrw?n might be useful. By then, I’d worked out a couple of ideas. There was some hope that he could provide me with a bit of guidance.

  Farrw?n and I are close friends, and I knew that I could drop by his workshop to visit him without having to arrange anything in advance. So when I was finally ready to talk about the mess my life was in, I headed out the main entrance of our dome, into Ellendr?a’s hot, dry air, and down the old roadway towards the center of the city. My destination was another family dome—this one belonging to the House Aurora, which was Farrw?n’s family. It was located closer to the main part of the city and was of much newer construction. Farrw?n and his athairan shared the dome with his athairan-deirfa’s family. Like many of the family domes, ours included, this one was designed to be able to house upwards of 20 people, but was now occupied by far fewer than that—a sad sign of our declining population.

  The walk was not too long, less than a millirad, but the low oxygen level of the atmosphere made it into good exercise, forcing my heart and lungs to work harder than they did in our climate-controlled dome. I’d always enjoyed the challenge of walking outside, but I knew that most Ellendrí seldom left the network of domes and underground passageways that formed the city and its surrounding resource base. The walk was very quiet—little sound made it through the material from which the domes were formed, and there were no bird calls or insect noises to be heard, just the soft sighing of the breeze and the tread of my own feet. It was a little eerie, actually, like walking on a dead moon, only here there was still an atmosphere that you could breathe, barely. Looking away from the domes, the landscape was a monotonous yellow-brown, flat along the old river valley, then rolling in dusty reddish hills to the mountains beyond. High up on the mountains, there was still green, and some life flourished, at least as much as was possible. I’d been up in those mountains, the last home for much of the native flora and fauna on Ellendr?a, collecting samples for a comprehensive tissue bank. It’s different up there—even though oxygen is still limiting, there is water in small streams, and plants supported by that water. A few hardy birds and animals are able to eke out an existence, and high up in the mountains where there is snow on the ground during winter, the elusive f?alen can be glimpsed, the large wild canine that is the top predator.

  Without much thought, my feet took me along the path to my destination, a trip that I had made many, many times before. The main entrance to the dome had the typical square control panel mounted at breast height on the right side of the door into the airlock. I placed my hand flat against the panel. It scanned the patterns of my palm and fingertips, using biometric authentication to identify me, notifying the occupants in the dome of my presence. If Farrw?n was there, he could activate the door by a simple voice command, even if he was busy with some project. I waited patiently. After a short while, the door slid open with a quiet swoosh. I stepped inside, and the door quickly shut behind me. A few moments later, I had cycled through the airlock and was in the dome proper.

  Directly ahead of me was the main house for Farrw?n’s family, a low, stone building similar to the one that Darí and I lived in. However, I was headed to a small, square building, located further towards the rear of the dome. This structure was a composite of materials—broad vertical strips of dark blue polished stone alternating with narrower bands of a gold-colored metal, the walls pierced by large windows. This was Farrw?n’s studio. He had built it himself some years ago, partly to contain the collection of assorted materials that were an integral part of his craft, and partly as a personal sanctuary, a place to escape to when being in the main house with his athairan became too onerous. Farrw?n’s relationship with his athairan was difficult, to say the least.

  The door to the studio was open, so I knew that Farrw?n was expecting me to come in. I stepped inside the entrance-way and stopped, looking about to see what Farrw?n was up to lest my sudden entrance disrupt him. The inside of the building was bright—the big windows let sunlight illuminate the interior during the day. I knew from previous visits that the workshop had good nighttime lighting as well, allowing Farrw?n to work whenever the creative urge inspired him. The bottom level of the building was one single, open room, with benches and storage units along the walls and a large table dominating the center of the floor. Above the work area, in the rear of the building, was a half loft, where Farrw?n lived. The remaining half of the studio was open from floor to roof, letting light from the upper windows at the front of the building reach the lower level. Farrw?n was sitting on a stool at the big table, just finishing some engraving on a flat piece of gold-colored metal that appeared to be a component of some larger project. I waited quietly in the entrance until he had completed his work and had raised his head to look at me.

  “Dran,” he smiled at me, absently pushing a strand of his long wavy hair out of his eyes, “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Don’t you always? Have I ever surprised you yet?” Trying to surprise Farrw?n was a game going back to our childhood, one that I seldom succeeded at.

  “Oh, a couple of times,” Farrw?n chuckled, a low bass rumble. Although he was thin and somewhat lanky, Farrw?n had a surprisingly deep voice. “But I’m not going to tell you when.” His eyes held a gleam of amusement.

  Thinking back to our childhood reminded me of the times when the four of us, Farrw?n, Darriel, Darí and I, had been inseparable. Aleys?a, Farrw?n’s athairan, was a rather arrogant person of the opinion that my deirfad and I were dastardly rogues, barely good enough to associate with her dar?lad. However, as the years progressed, and the degree of Farrw?n’s turas became evident, her opinion changed somewhat. Although Farrw?n was well-liked by many, few wanted to be overly close to someone with Farrw?n’s ability to see the future—a skill that was both a boon and a curse. From being marginally acceptable, we became potential partners for her dar?lad. After Darriel and Darí had become an?ncára, Aleys?a had hoped that Farrw?n and I might also bond. Of course, that had never happened. We both knew that it wasn’t possible. I was an?ncára with Darí, and Farrw?n’s soul had already been claimed—somewhere in his visions he’d seen his an?ncára, and he would wait for as long as it took to find that person.

  “Somehow, I don’t think you’re here to discuss harvesting the fruit in your orchard,” Farrw?n’s dark blue-grey eyes still held a trace of humor. “What can I do for you?”

  “Possibly a couple of things,” I walked into the room, taking a more thorough look around. Various projects were neatly organized along the benches that lined the walls—I recognized where Farrw?n had been synthesizing ferr?ls and durr?ls, another place where he was working with a blue, metallic material, and yet another where he was drafting up artwork on a tablet, maybe for future engraving. A particular project that caught my eye was a set of four cylindrical objects, each about the length of my fingers, made of that same blue metal. Although I couldn’t see the details, I knew what they were. Only a Guardian would have commissioned such a work. I contemplated them a moment, as they might have some bearing on my discussion with Farrw?n, then turned towards the table, pulled a second stool out from under it, and sat opposite Farrw?n.

  Farrw?n had noted where my eyes had lingered, but said nothing, just waited for me to continue. “Some things in my life have changed recently,” I started out tentatively. Farrw?n’s attention was wholly on me. He made a small affirmative noise, encouraging me to go on. “I guess some of my decisions haven’t been too good lately, and I’d like some advice.”

  “Personal or professional?” Farrw?n chuckled again, and by professional I knew he meant the use of his turas.

  “Both, I suspect,” I stared down at the table, studying the piece of engraving work that Farrw?n had been occupied with when I’d arrived. It consisted of a beautifully intricate design of twining vines, forming a twisting, braid-like pattern around the border of the flat metal plate, with pendant flowers drooping into the center of the artwork. It was typical of Farrw?n’s creativity, and his pieces were in high demand. “I have a choice to make, and I want to be sure that I make the right one this time.”

  “I hope that means that you’re giving up on killing yourself by misadventure?” I looked up to see Farrw?n gazing at me steadily. I raised an eyebrow in a “What are you talking about?” gesture, but Farrw?n was completely unperturbed. “You didn’t think we’d notice?” He laughed softly, obviously finding my attempt at solitary self-obliteration somehow wryly amusing. “If Rallandrí doesn’t ground you, several of us are planning to sabotage your ship.”

  “Thanks.” My tone was cynical. “It’s good to know I have friends I can trust.”

  “At least to keep you alive long enough that you can start thinking rationally again.” Farrw?n shook his head, tossing his shaggy hair back out of his eyes. “But what choice do you wish to discuss?”

  Farrw?n was, of course, being polite. I was quite sure he knew exactly why I was there, but he was giving me a chance to explain myself. I appreciated that. “It’s about Darí and I,” I found myself studying the engraved metal again, the vines twisting like my thoughts, slippery, hard to hold and formulate into words. “For a long time, I’ve thought that we were no longer an?ncára.”

  I hesitated, maybe for too long, because it was Farrw?n who spoke next, “Do you really think that the bond between soulmates can be broken?”

  “I guess I did.” My hands were sweaty. I rubbed them on my thighs.

  “I suppose Darí did give you good reason to think that,” Farrw?n replied after some time. “He was mad with grief over Darriel. For a while there, I don’t think he was able to feel much of anything for anyone. However, people do recover from grief. And, as far as I know, death is the only thing that can break the an?ncára bond. In fact, I’ve heard it said that the bond can survive death and rebirth—that an?ncára find each other again in their new lives.”

  I made a small huffing noise, then elaborated on my thoughts, “Maybe that’s true. It seems that our bond survived Darí’s grief and my stupidity, and that might have been worse than death and rebirth,” I smiled a little at my grim humor. “In any case, it seems that we are still an?ncára in spite of our best attempts to make a disaster of a good thing. But what do we do now? Darí wants me to be his s?athcára, his shield mate.”

  “And you’re not sure if this is the right thing to do?” Farrw?n prompted.

  “No, I’m not,” I tried to meet Farrw?n’s eyes, his disconcerting smoky gaze. I really wanted him to understand my complex feelings on the matter. “I’m afraid … afraid that Darí will seek someone else again, and we’ll be back where we started,” I shuddered as memories flooded through my mind. “And I’m not sure that I should bind Darí to me. Maybe it would be better to give him the freedom to make the choices he needs. At the same time, I desperately want us to be together. So that’s what I’m here to ask. What’s the right decision for both of us? Should we become s?athcára, or should we continue to live our lives separately?” I shrugged my shoulders, leaving the questions hanging.

  Farrw?n’s eyes started to get that far away, luminous look that told me he was already mentally walking the strands of possible future choices. “You know that either choice will have its challenges,” his voice sounded like it was coming from a long distance away.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I asked. There was just enough of Farrw?n still in the present that he gave me a small smile.

  “If you choose not to become s?athcára, your lives will go on much as they have, but a little better,” Farrw?n continued, his voice still sounding strange, formal, like he was making a pronouncement. “You’ll be happier than you’ve been, but you’ll still be alone; maybe not so desperate or crazy, but working mostly by yourself. You’ve learned to take risks, and you’ll continue to take risks. Eventually you’ll make a mistake—not this year or next year, but sometime not long in the future. It’ll cost you your life.” Farrw?n blinked, but I could see that his eyes were unfocused, that he was seeing things beyond the room we were in.

  “What about Darí?”

  “He’ll follow you to the beyond. Regardless of anything you might believe, Darí is devoted to you.” Farrw?n shook his head slightly. I could see he was sweating, and his skin looked pale. He was seeing something he didn’t like.

  “What is it?” I was anxious and concerned.

  “If both you and Darí die, the future of the Ellendrí will be altered. You are both part of an important juncture in time.”

  “And if we become s?athcára?” I posed the alternative.

  “You’ll have some difficult struggles, but in the end, you’ll find happiness and be together for a long time,” Farrw?n paused for a moment, letting his words sink into my mind. “However, in the near future, Darí will be pulled away from you by circumstances that are not his choosing. You’ll have the power to follow him. It will be your choice that will bring you back together,” Farrw?n frowned, his dark brows drawing together. “Darí and you are destined to form a triad. You must overcome your fear. If you fight against your destiny, you will destroy each other. If you accept it, you will find that the universe holds much more than you have ever believed possible,” Farrw?n was starting to sound cryptic now, which was more typical of the way he presented his visions, although his predictions always turned out to be accurate.

  “So you’re saying that the right choice is to accept Darí’s offer to become s?athcára?” I wanted to make sure of this answer, especially with Farrw?n drifting away into vague generalities. Farrw?n’s eyes rolled up for a moment, then, with a jerk, he snapped out of his almost trance-like state.

  “Yes, that’s what I said,” his eyes were focused on me. He absently rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his hand.

  “I can’t believe it,” I cocked both eyebrows up in cynical amusement, “a simple answer from a seer.” Farrw?n rolled his eyes at me, and I laughed. Touching him lightly on the shoulder, I spoke with more gentleness and feeling, “Thanks, Farrw?n. That gives me some hope.”

  “So … you said a couple of things. What else is on your mind?” Farrw?n asked, referring back to my original comment.

  “If Darí and I are to become s?athcára, and since you concur that this appears to be the right choice, then we need to acknowledge it properly, first with the Guardian’s ceremony, and afterwards, with a registry at the archives,” I replied. Inclining my head towards the project that had attracted my attention earlier, I added, “I see you are familiar with the requirements for the s?athcára ceremony.”

  I walked over to the bench where the four cylindrical objects were. On closer examination, I could see they were actually slightly conical, sized to fit comfortably around a wrist. They were, in their own way, anachronistic. Born of a time, far back in our ancient history, when differences were solved by dueling with swords and other primitive weapons, a time when your an?ncára was also the person who watched your back, they were a once common piece of ancient armor. Called bracers, cuffs, or wrist guards, their purpose was to protect the exposed tendons of the wrist from an opponent’s blade, where an injury could be crippling. Over time, warriors who were an?ncára took to exchanging these wrist guards, calling them an?nbr?nne, in a rite where they recognized their eternal love as soulmates and vowed to protect and shield each other from all harm.

  In times less ancient, the Ellendrí had chosen a path away from war and violence, although on other planets in the Ll’Ellendr?n, dueling and war still does occur on occasion. Thus, no present-day Ellendrí can claim to be a warrior; however, the Guardians adopted the old s?athcára ceremony, since the benefits of having your an?ncára shielding your back still hold as true for them as it once did for the warriors of ancient times. Ellendrí who are not Guardians have other ceremonies for recognizing their status as an?ncára, but for Darí and me, both of us Guardians, the s?athcára rite was appropriate. As most Guardians tended to stay in their male phase, the an?nbr?nne were usually engraved with the patrilineal lineages of the two partners. I didn’t touch the an?nbr?nne on Farrw?n’s workbench, but I did bend closer to examine the engraved pattern, a wonderfully complex series of curved lines that formed two creatures twined together, a bird of prey, and what I was certain was a f?alen, my own patrilineal emblem. I didn’t know many Houses that were symbolized by predatory birds—the only one that came to mind immediately was House Seab?n, which was Thorven’s patrilineal lineage. There also weren’t that many Guardians these days, and I couldn’t think of any potential pairs that could claim to combine House F?alen with House Seab?n.

  “Can you tell me who commissioned these?” I asked Farrw?n curiously. He shook his head. “Too bad—I can see that it must involve someone from my own house, but I haven’t any idea who it might be.”

  “You’ll know in time,” Farrw?n commented enigmatically.

  I sighed, “I’m sure I will. What’s the metal? I thought they were usually made of silver.”

  “You’re right,” he concurred. “Guardians usually prefer silver, or sometimes copper or bronze, as metals for wrist guards. Since they serve a ceremonial function rather than acting as actual armor, it’s not necessary for the metal to be especially hard or durable. However, I’ve been experimenting with a material that is similar to the substance from which the Guardians’ Stars are made. It’s actually a very strong metallic composite. Unlike the material in the Stars, it’s psi-active. The Ellendorí used it in the ancient past for a variety of purposes—it’s called drur?an,” Farrw?n picked up a small fragment of the blue metal from his workbench, handing it to me. I turned the material over in my hands, feeling it resonate slightly in response to my own psychic energies.

  “Can it be keyed?” I asked inquisitively. Farrw?n nodded as I examined the small piece more closely. Then I bent down, looking at the an?nbr?nne again, reaching out with my mind to sense the psychic resonance of the metal. I felt the slight twisting sensation in my head that occurs when you stare too long into a ferr?l that’s keyed to someone else’s pattern—apparently they were already keyed.

  “What’s the purpose of that?” I stood up, looking at Farrw?n as I contemplated what I’d seen so far. Very curious. I wondered what Farrw?n was up to.

  “A couple of things,” Farrw?n cocked his head, gazing down at his work. “Firstly, it makes the consummation of the ritual, consecrated by the exchange of the an?nbr?nne, more personal, since they are keyed to the specific an?ncára pair. Secondly, and more practically, the an?nbr?nne can be used to focus and direct psychic energy. This makes them useful for defensive purposes, and, I suppose, even offensive ones.”

  “And you see a reason for this …” I probed.

  “I do,” Farrw?n replied tersely. That was probably all I was going to get from him. Long ago, Farrw?n had once explained to us that it was often difficult to tell people everything he knew; that, in doing so, he could cause the future to be changed in negative ways. I had to trust that the future he was guarding was the best one for all of us.

  Bringing myself back to the reason for my visit, I summed things up with, “So … I’d like to commission you to make a set of an?nbr?nne for Darí and I, F?alen with F?alen, traditional silver.”

  “F?alen with F?alen indeed,” Farrw?n made a sound of amusement deep in his throat. “The Elders aren’t going to be all that happy about it, but don’t worry, it’ll be the least of their concerns soon.” I smiled grimly in return. It was that very censorship that had caused much of the hardships that Darí and I had faced so far.

  “However,” Farrw?n continued, “like the set you’ve been studying, I would like to make the ones for you and Darí out of drur?an and key them.”

  “Why?” I queried, surprised at his suggestion. A strange sensation stirred deep within my mind. Somehow, I knew that my destiny was intertwined with the an?ncára pair for whom the an?nbr?nne I’d just examined were intended. I shivered slightly.

  Farrw?n sensed my flash of turas. His humor turned gentle, “It’s a hard path that we must follow, but in the end, it will work out. That’s my hope and my faith.” He paused, regarding me more directly, “The drur?an will prove itself valuable to you and Darí.”

  “Hmmph,” I snorted. Farrw?n was arming us. And I didn’t even know who “we” were—certainly not any of the other Guardians on active duty that I knew. It was a good thing that I trusted Farrw?n with my life, as it seemed quite likely that my life, and Darí’s as well, were going to be at stake.

  A brane is an extended object with any given number of dimensions, of which strings in string theory are examples with one dimension. Our universe is a three-brane.

  1 millirad = 7.601 km; 1 microrad = 7.601 m.