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Part Nine . . . finis?

 Tuesday night. Liz still dreamed. She and Maria and Alex would go on whatever strange road trip Maria had planned tomorrow, but for now she dreamed.

Even as Max awoke from his own dreams of kingship, alternately shivering from abhorrence or burning with desire, she dreamed. Even as he dressed quickly in his haste to reach Liz, even as he ran to her balcony and called up to her, as he climbed the fire escape and reached her window, she dreamed. Putting a hand to the glass, he called her name in both hope and despair. "Liz. . ."

She heard his voice, but not his words. She did not wake, for she thought his voice spoke in her dreams, and in a way, it did. . .

"My lord, come inside."

Yessul parted the tent flap and laid a hand on my shoulder. Ever concerned for my welfare, that one. Indeed, I had been sitting outside the royal pavillion much longer than I realized. The last sun had gone down some time before, I noted belatedly, and the evening fog was quickly descending. I rose from my chair and followed Yessul into the pavillion, stopping abruptly at the heavy scent assaulting my nose and the smoky dimness from the torches .

"I. . . took the liberty of ordering some entertainment for you tonight. I know this . . . war with the Baron is taxing upon you and you needn’t have come to the battleground. With so little comfort here, I thought you would desire a . . . companion." I saw the faintest tinge of a blush reach Yessul’s cheeks as he quickly ducked out of the tent.

"Your Majesty. . . do you wish companionship?" a breathy, yet familiar voice came to me, seeming to float along on the fragrant smoke. A small laugh drew my eyes to the veils surrounding my sleeping area. A negligent wave of my hand and they parted, revealing such a companion certainly worthy of my adoration, was my heart not soley given to Lady T’arin. Indeed just before my sojourn to the battlefield, I had wed to the lady, in the midst of this silly war the baron concocted to discredit me. Aye, the lady herself was the cause for the war, but one look at her and any male could see why.

"My Lord?" Again, that voice. So familiar. Why had I heard the voice? And slowly, something inside me began to change, something I had thought forever dedicated to one, something that I realized was false. And as I knelt beside the girl among the silken bedsheets and gazed at her face, I suddenly remembered. And I broke the hold forever when I said her name. . ."Zaria."

"Zaria, I remember. She. . .T’arin. . .she put me in miindsket. She trapped a royal! She made me forget you and wage this silly war against the baron and. . oh gods. . . Vilandra. . . I knew something was happening with her but I could think of nothing but T’arin. . . vishu na Barak!" I sank even lower on the bed, clutching my head in my hands. I would truly need the high god Barak’s aid in this. I had let my kingdom go to ruin over a woman!

"Shh. My lord, this was the only way I could see you. You closed the entrance-" I saw the gleam of tears before she turned her head aside "-and I thought you did not want me. And you wed. . .her. But I had to see you just once more-"

"M’ailia, it was good that you did. Else this planet would be destroyed for the love- nay, the false love of a woman. Perhaps I am too young for the coronel, to have let myself fall prey to her. But all will be well. I have you, now. Nothing can part us. Nothing." I spoke with the conviction of all my power and my kingship, and the very air crackled with the force of it. I reached a hand to her face, touching her lips with my thumb. As her lips parted, I felt it- the intense need to be with her, what I had not felt since that night in the baron’s backrooms. I pulled her close and kissed her, and felt the blood rush to my face, and other parts. . .

CRASH!

"What was that? My lord, they are close!" Zaria’s panicked cry startled me almost more than the noise outside had done. But seconds later, Yessul strode in, carefully looking at the walls and nowhere near the bed.

"My lord, you must leave. They are trying a night attack, and the baron has majises who can lift the fog for his troops while obscuring the view for your soldiers. They cannot hold this line. You must go back to the palace straightaway. I have ordered your steed here, and an escort for your retreat. I will follow with your things-"

"Order one more steed. And a drykka for this lady. She comes with me." At Yessul’s widened eyes, I stated, more firmly, "The lady comes with me." Yessul nodded once, and disappeared through the tent drapes.

"Hurry, lady. We have not much time. Put these on. You will be as one of my Drykkan, my sworn body soldiers. That way there can be no speculation among either side and the Baron will think you just another soldier. We cannot have him knowing my reason for leaving! Both our reasons for war have just evaporated- I no longer want his woman! Hurry. I have just found you and could not bear to lose you again, m’ailia."

She undressed quickly, and just as quickly, but too quickly for my desires, donned the men’s garments. There was hardly anything one could do to disguise the beauty of her face, but the drykkan helm would have to serve.

"My lord, the drykka is here. We must go!" Yessul shouted from outside the pavillion. I pulled Zaria from the bed, and said, "You shall be safe, my lady."

She chuckled, and when I looked at her questioningly, she said, "I am not a lady, sire, only a peasant. You know this, but when you say it, I believe I could be. Even in this outfit. But, enough. Let us fly!" And so we ran hand in hand to the waiting steeds and a drykka was wrapped about Zaria as well as myself. No watcher could perceive who was zitan and who was drykkan.

And we did fly.

*****

Regret is such a terrible burden.

weeks later. . .

"Sister, what troubles you?"

"Nothing, my king, my . . . brother. Leave me be."

And I had. So I had talked to my mother. I told her everything. I knew something was bothering Vilandra, but I could not understand. I thought perhaps my mother could. I thought ‘Landra would be happy with Rath, and I left her alone. But it seems I should not have. And now the war was far more than a silly one, fought only over a woman who desired more than her means. Aye, the baron still fought, for I had kept the deceiver by my side rather than give her to the enemy, but Khivar was at the gates of the kingdom, held by fewer and fewer of my adherents every day.

My mother told me of the reven-daai. She told me to find the one bit of happiness I could in these uncertain times, to connect with this woman, become one with her, the one who had captured my heart so unerringly that the sight of her could break a miindsket. The reven-daai was a ritual so old and rooted in myth that only the king’s historians had accurate records of it. She had done it with my father, and she knew that he was always with her because of it. And Barak knew, I desired that, to have Zaria with me for all time.

And not a month before I left her to suffer in my total absence, we performed the ritual. It was the last time we would be together truly, for after that all we had were stolen moments behind closed doors. And even the little time I had with her compromised my power, for soon after the reven-daai, the Baron a’Rosschil recruited enough of my subjects usurp the throne. He was able to to this in large part because no matter how careful we had been, there is always some gossip or crone who finds the truth and we had been found out. The resulting scandal allowed the baron enough leverage over me and enough righteous anger at the throne that many joined him on principle. Never mind the fact that Khivar was at work behind my sister. All my will was focussed upon my soulmate. Soon all I had was Zaria, and finally she was left alone.

*****

Liz woke, feeling sick at all she had lost. . . no, what Zaria had lost. But in a way she had lost Zan, and to the very same liar. But Liz knew Zaria had indeed lost even more than Liz herself had. Zaria had to watch her love die. But in true scientific fashion, she had helped him live, in essence, at least, as she sought out the scientist Zan had mentioned at one of their clandestine meetings, the one who was trying to find a formula to extend life. . . but instead of extending the life of her beloved, she helped the scientist devise a way to send the life-essence of the royals, even the royal deceiver’s, and send them to Earth, the far-away planet of exile.

It was almost as if Liz knew what Zaria did, how she kept working through her tears, being strong for her soulmate. Liz felt Zaria’s love for Zan, as powerful and forbidden as her own for Max. And Liz knew, if Max came for her tonight, she would fall willingly into his arms and take him back, and damn the consequences.

*****

Alas, Max did not come back that night, and she hardly saw him at school. Their schedules were different that day, but there was one point during passing time when he asked if he could stop by that night. Liz told him about the random road trip Maria was adamant about them taking, relieved not to have to lie or make up an excuse as to why she wouldn’t see him. He accepted the reason remarkably well, and walked away with a small smile, saying, "I’ll see you soon, then. I love you."

*****

"She lives her life based on her advice." Maria.

"And that’s supposed to be a recommendation?" Alex.

Liz stared up at the glowing neon of the fortune teller’s sign. She sighed, and followed her friends inside. After waiting for Alex and Maria to learn their future, and fighting a totally unreasonable anxiety, it was her turn. She felt like she was about to lose something, but what was there to lose? Of course she and Max would be together. She unconciously knew it- she’d had the experience of a past life, even if she could not conciously admit it to herself.

But as she walked through the absurdly arched door into Madame Vivian’s parlor, she shivered. When Madame Vivian gestured to a chair, she hesitated. There was no reason for this, she told herself, stop being childish. She sat down in a rickety chair across from the fortune teller, tucking her feet beneath her.

"I need to see your palm, love. I always start a session with a palm reading." Liz obediently stretched her hand across the table.

A shock ran through Liz as their hands touched. She suddenly felt dizzy, and then she felt a deep emptiness. Something she knew was gone, but she did not know what.

"My, my, my. You had some powerful past-life memories stored in you, child. I’m sorry, but to know your future you must give up your past. I don’t know what you had, but you cannot know both your past and future. I hope, for your sake, that your future will be happy." Madame Vivian shook her head. Past-lives were always tricky. Sometimes a tatter of the past remained, but most often all memories were swept away by the reading of the future. She read Liz’s palm almost perfunctorily; the real reading would come from the cards. The best reading, saved for last.

"This boy, he’s . . . different. . ."

Liz had forgetten. Somewhere, deep inside of her, a voice echoed sadly, barely registering.

<I do this for you, m’aili. We are forever.>

Finis.

Now watch EOTW. Unless you're a dreamer. . . then read Part Ten, coming soon.

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