Ellendr?a, Midsummer

  Hope … such a fragile thing. What we believe, or don’t believe, our subjective reality, can make or break us, can stretch and rend the delicate filaments of our hope, or build it into an enduring, multi-stranded web upon which we can suspend an entire life.

  Such a fragile thing … and I’d nearly lost mine. I had felt the darkness closing in on me, the colors fading from my world, leaving everything gray and tasting of dry dust. My fires had burned low, my energies ebbing outwards like a slowly falling tide, leaving the stranded flotsam behind. Finally to stop, to take that last sleep, to slip quietly into the beyond …

  Ah, but a single drop of that precious elixir can raise the nearly-dead … and I’d been given my dose, another chance to open my eyes and see the world in a different light. Now, it was up to me …

  **********

  I was running, my legs aching with fatigue, feeling the burn of lactic acid as I tried to get enough oxygen. I gasped for air and pushed harder, but the greater my attempt, the more force I expended, the slower it seemed my legs moved. I yelled out my frustration, hoarsely, breathlessly.

  The sand under my feet churned, puffed up in yellowish dust, which whirled about me, tormenting me with grit in eyes already burning with tears. I hacked, and tried to swallow, but my mouth was thick with dust, dry with fear.

  I was too late. I knew that already, heard it in my mind, felt it in the very depths of my straining body. Always too late. But still I ran. At least let me say farewell, if only to one of them …

  Slowly, the looming face of the mountain drew nearer. The blowing dust made everything grainy, indistinct, details lost in ever deepening shades of yellow. There … at last I could see the fresh scar on the mountainside, a place where rocks had fallen and slid … my destination.

  For a moment, time seemed to both stop and yet jump forward. I have no memory of traversing that final stretch of desert to the base of the mountain, and yet I am there and time slips into the present. My eyes focus on three people, a tableau of despair and loss. Eldark?n, my athairad, sits on the gravelly scree, legs carelessly askew, cradling Anaduviel’s head in his lap. Eldarí, deirfad and so much more to me, is on his knees, arms wrapped around Eldark?n in an attempt at comfort. I can see the blood on my athairan’s face, the deformation of skull that is the telltale of a fatal injury. Tears streak Eldark?n’s face, washing pale lines through the coating of yellow dust. Darí’s eyes are full of anguish, frustration, loss … he also is too late.

  My knees grind into the harsh, jagged rock as I reach Eldark?n’s side. A flash of recognition touches my mind, acknowledging my presence, but Eldark?n’s eyes remain fixed on Anaduviel’s face, staring unblinkingly at his an?ncára, almost lost to this world already. Touching his arm, I know there is too little time to say all the things I want to say. As I look down at my athairan, I know it is already too late to say goodbye to one I love so well. Soon my athairad will follow … he has only waited for me to come, to say his last farewells to Darí and me.

  Tears blur my sight and Anaduviel’s features shift, distort, and change as my vision swims in and out of focus. Then the image sharpens, and it’s not Anaduviel I see at all, but Darriel, sightless eyes staring dully upwards, face slack with death. Around me, the landscape ripples and wavers, mountains transforming into buildings, desert becoming roads. No! I am too late! My body, my mind feel as though they have been ripped apart, a sudden yawning emptiness opens within my soul, sucking me into its maw. With a terrible effort, I drag my eyes away from Darriel, from the void within me, and look for Darí with desperate need. But he is not beside me anymore, no longer a part of this tableau of death. I see his back as he walks away from me, like a sleepwalker, slow, unreachable. “Don’t leave me!” I cry out, despairing, as another emptiness opens up within me, leaving only one-third of a whole behind. Slowly, the color seeps out of the world around me, leaving behind shades of grey. The edges of my vision fade to black, gradually narrowing my field of view. I think, “So this is death,” and maybe that’s not so bad. I am so alone, and it hurts too much …

  **********

  Sound … a voice in the distance, someone calling my name. The eternal present crumbled and fell away. “Dran!” I heard a shout in my mind. “Dran, wake up!”

  “What??” I wheezed. There was no air in my lungs. I gasped, drawing in a deep refreshing breath.

  “Wake up! It’s just a dream.” The voice resolved into something I recognized … Darí’s mind touch, reaching out to me telepathically.

  “What?” I mumbled again, mentally and audibly, still mind-numbed with sleep.

  “You weren’t breathing!” Darí’s thoughts were anxious, concerned. “Your heart stopped for a few moments. I thought you were dying!”

  “I’m alright,” I tried to be reassuring, but I felt shaky. The pain of the dream was still with me, but fading fast as I drew in deep breaths of air. I must have been holding my breath. “I’ve had that nightmare before, and it hasn’t killed me yet.”

  “Yet …” Darí’s thought trailed off. I could hear the “There’s always a first time” in the background of his thoughts, although he hadn’t actually formulated the sentiment into mental speech. “So this nightmare is recurrent?”

  “Hmmph,” I responded in a noncommittal affirmative. I really did not want to discuss the dream, or its causes. “I’m sorry that slipped through and worried you. I’m usually better at shielding …” I added, feeling rather guilty about disturbing Darí so unpleasantly.

  “You thought you could shield that from me?” There was a mixture of anger and frustration in Darí’s tone.

  “Well, I have … before.” I finally opened my eyes, mostly awake now. It was still dark, although looking out my window, I could see a faint flush of rose on the horizon.

  “Why?” Darí asked sharply.

  “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. I did the mental equivalent of hanging my head. There really should be no secrets, no hiding, no shielding between the two of us.

  Darí’s mind touch went silent for a while, and I thought that he might have withdrawn, but then he was back, “I’m coming home today. I’ve got some information that needs to be presented to the Elder Council. I should arrive shortly before sunset, if I don’t get too tied up with meetings,” he paused again. “Dran, I really need to see you,” I could sense a measure of desperation in his thoughts.

  “And I you, my an?ncára,” I let my emotions color my thoughts so that Darí could sense the sincerity of my reply.

  There was another brief pause, then Darí added, “You are not alone, Dran. You do know that, don’t you?” Then he pulled his thoughts away, although I could still sense the bond linking us, quiescent, but present, even if once, in a state of self-imposed insanity, I had refused to believe in its existence. Yes, I was not alone.

  I lay still on my bed, waiting for my heart to slow to its normal, steady rhythm. Sweat soaked my skin, and I shivered slightly, even though the temperature in the room was warm. I certainly wasn’t going to get any more sleep this morning! I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, clasping my hands behind my head and arching my back, stretching out the muscles which had tightened with tension during the dream.

  I wandered over to the window and stared outwards to the landscape beyond, through both the pane and the translucent canopy of the dome. Purple streamers chased across the misty blue sky as I watched the first rays of the sun crest the distant green-topped mountains—another dawn like many others in the last few years of my life. I closed my eyes, took several slow deep breaths, and tried to relax as much as possible. Softly, I murmured the ancient sun mantra, “I welcome you, our sun, bringer of life”, the cynical part of my mind pointing out that it could be argued these days that the sun was more a bringer of death than life. I pushed the thought from my mind, repeating the mantra silently in my head, slowly and steadily as I inhaled and exhaled in time with the words. Gradually my mind stilled and my physical tension eased, as the quiet meditation grounded me and let me regain control of myself, body and mind.

  Unless I have some pressing duty to perform for the Elders, I often start my day with this small ritual, enjoying the sense of peace and balance it gives me, although seldom do I need it more than after that particular nightmare. In the calmness that follows, I feel more competent to sort out the day’s activities—and it was now looking as though today was going to be busy, if Darí was indeed coming home. I finished my morning pattern with some stretches followed by my usual daily workout—years spent as a Guardian had taught me never to neglect my body. By the time Hauldr?n’s white-hot orb had fully cleared the horizon, I had achieved a fine state of sweltering sweatiness. Even after 10 years of living mostly on Ellendr?a, I still sometimes forgot how hot the summer mornings could be.

  Throwing open the room’s window to let in a cooling breeze sparked a childhood memory—Darí and I engaged is some wild and crazy game in the pond out back, attempting to find relief from the tepid summer heat. I could smell the moisture from the pond even now. I chuckled a moment at the memory, stripped off the loose trousers that were my only clothing, paced barefoot through the house, and out the back door onto the soft meadow grass that extended behind our home. Taking a few running steps, I dove into the small garden pond, startling a variety of water birds that made various sounds of alarm and dismay at my apparently, from a bird’s perspective, strange behavior. I surfaced, swam a couple strokes to the edge of the pool, and lay in the water for a few moments, happily cooling off. Fortunately, the pumps and filter systems kept the water clean; otherwise I’d have been covered with the green slime that usually forms in ponds frequented by birds. Feeling my mood brightening as the last black tendrils of the dream faded from my mind, I laughed softly at the memories of some of the places I’d had to bathe in on other worlds, rolled to my feet in the shallow water, and clambered over the low rock wall that formed the pond’s boundaries.

  It only took a few minutes standing in the warm morning sunshine to dry off, then I headed back into the house to get dressed for the day. Pulling a tunic over my head, the soft white fabric, hand-woven from the silky fiber of a plant grown in one of the agricultural domes, was a tactile reminder of the many changes in my life. Instead of the closely fitted, durable clothing preferred by the Guardians, what I now wore was lightweight and loose, suited to the hot, dry climate of Ellendr?a. The trousers I selected for today, made of a similar, but slightly heavier weight fabric, were a pale blue in color. Using a belt of soft, yellow-dyed caprinid-hide, I gathered the loose tunic around my waist in the fashion favored by the younger Ellendrí. The tunic was unadorned, although by my current profession, I could choose to wear yellow trimming at cuff and collar. However, today I had no immediate duties with the Elders, and so I had no need to dress formally.

  Darí was coming home—my mind chanted this thought like another mantra, generating feelings of well-being and good humor. During the past 10 years, things had not been so good between Darí and me. Not that we hated each other—in fact, the very opposite was true—but rather, tragedy, loss, pain, and the pressures of social norms had put our relationship through some serious struggles. At one point, I wasn’t even sure that the deep soul bond which had linked me to my deirfad had even survived our misfortunes. But while I despaired, my actions driven by depression and an insane sense of recklessness, Darí had recovered. In fact, despite my self-inflicted fears, the strong, vital connection between us that I had remembered from our childhood was still present. However, my mood had been so dark that I’d barely noticed the existence of that one all important thing in my life. Only this spring, circumstances had led us to a situation which proved to us both, beyond any doubt, that our connection was still alive, strong, and healthy. That had cleared a lot of emotional debris out of our lives, and Darí had left me with the one question that still needed answering, “Will you become my s?athcára, my shield mate?” Not hide our relationship, run from it, pretend that it might have been destroyed by the whims of fate, but to accept it fully and completely for what it is—the bond between an?ncára—and stand by his side, regardless of criticism and disapproval. Darí had long since made his decision, and it had only been personal tragedy that had kept him from demanding an answer from me sooner. And after nearly 60 years of difficult choices, I did indeed have an answer.

  Davandr?a and Ellendr?a (approximately 11 years earlier), Midsummer

  Davandr?a; colonized planet circling the sun Danaldr?n at the edge of the Second Arc; slowly backsliding into chaos and confusion, like so many of the colonies in the Second and Third Arcs. A government feigning democracy rigged an election. The people decided to revolt. With violence incited by armed rioters in the streets, the government had placed a request with the Guardians to help bring about a ceasefire and negotiate new conditions for the governance of the planet—would’ve been nice if they’d asked a bit sooner.

  So … we had been sent in to deal with the situation. There are six major cities on Davandr?a, a planet of plains and wide open spaces where the majority of the population lives in small rural settlements. The cities seemed to be where the riots were focused—we’d been traveling to each city in turn, announcing the ceasefire and setting up timetables for facilitated meetings to hear grievances and start the process of moving towards a settlement. So far, we’d visited four of the cities. Gavaldr?n was the fifth—the largest city and the planetary capital—and also, by the look of things, the location of the worst of the violence.

  The three of us—Kerredr?n, Rallandrí, and I—had developed something of a pattern for handling this process. Mulling this over, I made a minor course correction in my ship’s flight path. As I looked to my right and left, I could see the other two ships, flying tight, one on each side of me, and just slightly to the rear, with my ship forming the spearhead. Announce our presence with a low, slow, precisely executed flyby—that was the first step. Supposedly, we weren’t showing off, but rather we were giving the people who were watching a chance to recognize the ships as Ellendr?an, letting them know that we were Guardians who came to assist, not to harm. The precision wasn’t a bad idea either—Kerredr?n figured that it was a good show of our professionalism and competence. So far, he seemed to be right. Fortunately for us, the Davandr?ans no longer possessed space flight technology. Their small atmospheric planes were no match for our ships’ speed and agility, and no one had challenged us yet. Of course, if someone had, what would we have done? It’s not like any of our ships are armed. Our only option would’ve been to run. But usually, if we’re asked in to help, we’re respected by the people, and not generally attacked. I was really putting my faith in that belief because I could see that there was a lot of chaos and violence going on in the city below us.

  I banked my ship, bringing it around to a new course and lining up with a large central plaza located in the governmental and administrative center of the city where we hoped to land. The other two adjusted their relative positions accordingly, and the formation stayed nice and neat. People in the plaza looked up and began to realize that they needed to get out of the way. Quickly the space cleared out, leaving us lots of room for landing. Excellent! It’s never the intent of the Guardians to cause injury or death, except in dire situations of self-defense, and it’s always best when the local population gives us space to maneuver without hurting anyone.

  Just as I brought my ship down to land, I spotted movement along the rooftop of a building fronting the plaza. Not so good. A brief flash of light suggested that the person on the roof was armed with some type of projectile weapon. I sincerely hoped that they weren’t shooting at us. I touched the communication screen, instantly bringing up the link between the other two ships, and warned them about the possible presence of snipers.

  Human cultural regression always seems to follow a particular pattern. I’ve seen it on half a dozen planets now, and while the details of the pattern may differ, the basic descent is the same. Space flight technology is resource expensive. Some cultures manage this better than others, are more conservative in their use of technology, or live more sustainably within their planet’s limitations; those who don’t quickly deplete essential resources. Once resource limitation sets in, the first step down the path of descent is the loss of space travel. Many of the people in the Ll’Ellendr?n survive this by relying on those worlds that can maintain space flight to supply them with trade goods, communication, knowledge exchange, medical needs, and so on. But as more and more of our peoples slip back down the rungs of cultural evolution, there are fewer and fewer ships plying our space ways, and neither goods nor knowledge are shared.

  As a culture loses its capabilities, its knowledge, even its history, there always seems to be an associated increase in violence. We humans are a violent lot at best, struggling to maintain a semblance of peace and goodwill. Add a lack of resources, poor medical aid, starvation, and suddenly people are very willing to fight each other in whatever way they can to get what they need. The desire to cooperate seems to be lost. Weapons always seem to be readily available. At first, we see a proliferation of high-tech weapons—lasers, missiles, biological warfare. Over time, as technology fails, every culture seems to develop, or redevelop, projectile weapons or firearms, devices based on explosive charges. As metallurgical and chemical sciences start being lost, we relearn how to make simple bladed weapons—knives, swords, spears, arrows. I haven’t seen it yet, but I guess this slide could keep on progressing until we were hitting each other with clubs and stones.

  Since this pattern is so common, Guardians doing covert work are trained in the use of as many weapons, both high-tech and low, as possible—not because our job is to go out and kill people, but rather that these skills are often very essential if you want to survive in conditions where violence could erupt at any moment. So, I know a firearm when I see one.

  Dust billowed around us as we set our ships down on what appeared to be a paved surface. The low two-story buildings surrounding the plaza were all made of some type of concrete or stone, colored in a variety of subdued hues. Everything was looking a little tired and worn—I could see chips on some of the buildings where projectile damage had occurred. The people who vacated the plaza for our landing were watching us warily from alleyways, looking distinctly nervous.

  With a few quick taps on the main control console, I had the ship’s antigrav units and main engine shut down, but I kept everything on standby, ready to be fired up again in an instant if necessary. I got up from the pilot’s position at the front of the ship, stretched a little bit to make sure all my muscles were limber, and put my hand against the panel that activated the ship’s hatch. With a quiet whir, the hatch opened downward to form a ramp. A furnace blast of dry, dusty air rolled into the ship. I could smell the tang of hot metal, the burningly aromatic odor of some type of spilled fuel, and most disturbingly, the sulfurous smell of gunpowder. Although it was mostly quiet outside, I could hear the occasional clipped explosion of a firearm being discharged. So … someone was still shooting. It would’ve been nice if they’d stopped to hear us out.

  Without stepping out of the ship, I stuck my head out as far as I dared and tried to scan all the rooftops around the plaza. Our ships were facing in a direction more or less towards planetary north. Looking eastward out through the hatch, I could see movement on a couple of roofs in that direction. Looking forward in a northward direction through the ship’s canopy, I didn’t see anything that looked particularly alarming. However, I couldn’t see much to the west or south, as there were no viewports in the ship that were oriented in those directions. I went back up to the pilot’s seat and activated the external viewer, watched as it showed a full hemispherical image of our surroundings, but still didn’t see anything except the two I’d already spotted on the east side.

  I quickly reached out with my mind telepathically and connected with Kerredr?n and Rallandrí. They’d been going through the same procedure as I’d been and confirmed that they’d only spotted the two snipers on the eastern rooftops. We’d need to be watching out for them. Hopefully there weren’t any others we hadn’t seen yet. Moving back to the hatch, I eyed the situation again and got ready to go into action.

  Back to our pattern … the next step was to meet with the local government representatives, presumably in the government complex which was located on the north side of the plaza. It would be their duty to contact the media and arrange for local broadcasting of the ceasefire. Our job, working in concert with whatever administrative structures were still functional, was to set up meetings with the various stakeholders. Normally, this process was not particularly dangerous, as we didn’t take sides and weren’t there to threaten anyone. However, getting caught in unfriendly crossfire was always a possibility, as it seemed today.

  Grasping my Star from where it hung on its chain around my neck, I quickly glanced down at it as I began to visualize a shield. The ferr?l was, as always, glowing with an inner blue fire, a reflection of my own vital energies. As I concentrated, the durr?ls flared bright yellow, absorbing planetary infrared radiation and feeding it to the ferr?l, increasing its glow to an intense blue fire. Controlled psychically, this energy was transformed into other wavelengths of electromagnetic and gravitational energy, and created a plasma force field a short distance in front of me. Although it was possible to make a spherical shield, which would provide protection from all directions, the energy expenditure to create such a shield was considerably more than that used to create a simple unidirectional shield. The shield I had just formed was a forward-facing arc that moved with my body and protected me from oncoming danger. This was usually more than adequate when the source of danger was known, and would be strong enough to deflect anything the snipers shot at us.

  Kerredr?n’s ship had landed in formation, to the right and just rearward of the landing ramp that now extended down from my ship. His ship would provide convenient cover between us and the sniper. I stepped down onto the ramp, and with a quick leap, landed on the ground beside my ship. The sniper apparently hadn’t noticed me yet, but I wasn’t taking any chances and kept my shield up while I sidled back towards the sheltered position between the two ships. Kerredr?n was already there, having jumped out of his ship and rolled underneath it to come up in the space between our ships. Rallandrí had it a bit easier, as he’d landed on the far side of my ship. He was able to walk around behind it and still stay hidden from the sniper, and joined us a moment later.

  Crouching in the shelter of our ships, we were able to drop our shields and take a few moments to assess the situation. Without any doubt, things were not as good as they should be. Normally, we would just walk up to whatever building had been assigned as the meeting location and get on with the work we had to do. Looking northward, I couldn’t see any signs of life in the government complex. If anybody was waiting for us, they were clearly staying out of sight and under cover. No one was about to welcome us in. So, should we attempt to enter the building and see if the plans here were still as scheduled, or should we get back in our ships and try to re-establish contact with the city from a safer locale? I made eye contact with Rallandrí and Kerredr?n, my question expressed both telepathically and by a quirk of my left eyebrow combined with a slight tilt of my head towards the complex.

  Of the three of us, Rallandrí was the oldest, and if it can be said that age imparts wisdom, the wisest amongst us. Kerredr?n and I valued his judgment, and thus he’d become, unofficially, our leader. Although we’d all had the same Guardian training, each of us had developed our own particular specialties and expertise. Kerredr?n was our spokesperson—he was able to project his voice and emotions using his Star—and could accomplish amazing things with the power of his words. I’d seen him calm aggressive and violent mobs and, within minutes, encourage people to start talking rather than fighting. Rallandrí was our expert on culture, sociology, history, and just about any of the other social sciences one could name. If we had a problem dealing with a situation, he could usually come up with a solution. Me? Well, I’m just Eldranth. I’ve been doing Guardian duty for a long time, 50 years or so, and seemed to have picked up a little of everything. Mostly, however, I’m the one who looks after the defensive end of our operations. Partly that’s because I’m not too bad at fighting, if it comes to a difficult situation. I’m a little taller and heavier built than a lot of Ellendrí—a physique I’ve inherited from my athairad—and this seems to be useful in a fight. Partly it’s because I seem to be lucky—although I’ve had my share of cuts, bruises, and scrapes, I’ve never been seriously hurt … until today.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s anyone here waiting for us,” Kerredr?n seconded my assessment of the circumstances. We spoke mind-to-mind, not wishing to provide any potentially lurking antagonists with information that could be used against us if it came to a fight.

  “Not that we can see,” Rallandrí replied as he stared intently at the building. “But someone might be trapped in there, in danger, or hurt. I’m going to scan around and see what I can detect.”

  I nodded my head fractionally, indicating that I would do the same. Using a combination of empathy and telepathy, we were looking for traces of emotion or stray projected thoughts that could provide information on the numbers, locations, and states of mind of the people around us. Psychic abilities were rare amongst the Davandr?ans, and generally feared whenever they did crop up in the population. In situations like this, telepathic shielding was extremely uncommon, and the environment was usually psychically noisy. However, where I expected to hear an emotional clamor—there had been quite a crowd in the plaza before we landed—I was surprised by how quiet things had become. The people who’d been hiding between the buildings had silently departed, possibly expecting more violence and wanting to be well clear of it. The two snipers were an easily detected churning of hate and anger and I could sense three people in the administrative complex; surprisingly, they felt very passive, unnaturally calm. Drugged? I wasn’t sure.

  “Two snipers, three people in the building,” Rallandrí reported. “Is that what you sense, Eldranth?” I gave him a confirmatory nod. “I’m not sure about the people in the building—could be drugged, or just very complacent,” he continued. “I think we should check it out. I’d feel guilty if we left and the people waiting for us were killed when we could’ve done something to prevent it.”

  Rallandrí made a good point and I could easily agree with him. Was it not a Guardian’s duty to protect those who had requested assistance? And yet, I felt a little uneasy … the mental state of the people in the building was concerning. Were they drugged … and was this some kind of trap? Or did they simply feel that they were completely safe regardless of what happened in the plaza? And if they felt so safe, why? What did they know that we didn’t?

  I’m a very cautious person, risk-adverse some might say, but I’m not a coward. I take my duties as a Guardian very seriously; nonetheless, I have made promises to others, and vows to myself, to be especially careful. Again, I analyzed the situation: two snipers, the three of us with shields, and a distance of maybe 30 strides to the entrance of the building. The door should be open; after all, they were expecting us. In any case, a locked door could be quickly dealt with. The likelihood of us getting hurt should be very low.

  “Should be safe enough,” I looked at Kerredr?n, raising my eyebrows quizzically by way of soliciting his opinion. He glanced back towards the complex and I found my eyes following his. The plaza was amazingly barren for a central city square … no vehicles, no benches, trees, or planters, no vendor’s stalls, nothing. I noticed an area of blackened paving off to the northeast corner and suspected that whatever had once occupied the plaza had been burned in some act of violence. It felt almost eerily empty, especially now that all the spectators had withdrawn.

  Kerredr?n sucked in his breath, “I can’t sense anything that should be a problem except for the snipers. It just seems so quiet …”

  Glancing at both of us, Rallandrí responded decisively, “So we go … shields up, facing eastward and overlapping, in a staggered diagonal line. I’ll go first, followed by Eldranth, and Kerredr?n will bring up the rear.” Checking to see that we were in agreement, Rallandrí gave us a brief tense smile, then turned and walked a step forward, bringing up his shield as he did so. Re-establishing my shield, I followed a pace behind him and slightly to his right, traveling north, but angling my shield towards the east to protect our flank. Behind me, I could sense Kerredr?n doing the same, staying just a little to my right. Two steps brought me out from the shadows of our ships and into brightness, the sun a white-hot orb in the eastern sky.

  If the snipers had missed their chance before, they were focused and aware of us now. A series of sharp reports sounded, and several projectiles slammed into our combined shields. I was prepared for this and had leaned my weight into my shield, taking up the recoil as it rebounding in response to the expended force of the bullets striking it. Step by step, we were moving out of the shelter of the ships and towards the administrative complex.

  For a brief instant, an image flashed in my mind—Kerredr?n being struck, falling to the ground, blood trickling from the side of his head—combined with a sharp sense of danger, not from the east, but from the west. Then I was back in the here and now. Turas … a warning, but how much time did I have? I whipped my head around and scanned the profiles of the roofs to the west … a flicker of movement, then nothing, no sense of a person at all. Was there a mind-shielded sniper? Unlikely, but …

  “Back!” I shouted. “Get back to the ships!” Rallandrí responded immediately, but Kerredr?n hesitated, searching for the source of my alarm. Kerredr?n’s stance was starting to echo the image still burning behind my eyes and I knew I had run out of time. Momentarily, I was caught between opposing responsibilities—my duty as a Guardian and my duty to my an?ncára. It was this conflict, and my obligations as a Guardian, that Darí understood and accepted, but that Darriel was unable to acknowledge. As adrenaline surged through my veins, time seemed to slow. I sent a quick thought outwards to the great One, a plea for luck, then steeled my determination to be a survivor no matter what was to come. I dropped my shield, took a couple running steps, and launched myself at Kerredr?n.

  The force of my impact slammed us to the pavement, skidding us most of the short distance back to the ships and forcibly ejecting the air from my lungs. Without thinking about it, I grabbed Kerredr?n around the torso and used our dying momentum to roll us into the ship’s shadows. Rallandrí had quickly stepped into a protective position between us and the snipers, expanding his shield so that it deflected the shots from both the east and west roofs. In only a few seconds, we were back in relative safety, sheltered by the ships. It was only as I sprawled on my back, winded and trying to catch my breath, that I realized I’d been hit.

  No matter what the statistics say, we always think that it will never happen to us. But it’s a fact that almost every Guardian will be seriously injured at least once during their service time. The positive side to this fact is that the majority of us recover. When you consider that most Guardians only serve for 20 to 30 years, I was even luckier to have survived nearly 50 years of service with only a few minor injuries. No one is quite sure how I managed such a record. In part, it’s due to simply being careful, cautious, and keeping my wits during difficult situations. It might also be attributed to the turas that runs in the genetics of our family which has often given me that tiny bit of forewarning I needed to stay out of trouble. And maybe chance and fate have played their roles in my life as well. In any case, whatever it was that usually kept me relatively safe, it failed that day. I’d taken a risk to save a friend’s life and I had not escaped unharmed.

  I guess you never forget the first time you get badly hurt. I’ll always wonder if I made the right choices, especially as the outcome of those choices led to a juncture in my life. I’m still questioning my actions today. More than that, I’m questioning the situation that we found ourselves in. Guardians were once highly regarded as peacekeepers throughout the Ll’Ellendr?n, so why were the Davandr?ans shooting at us in the first place?

  Initially, I hadn’t quite realized what had happened. I was a little stunned by the force of my tackle on Kerredr?n and numbed by the shock of the impact of the bullet. I couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. I kept thinking that my collision with Kerredr?n shouldn’t have winded me this badly. As I lay there gasping, things were still moving around me in slow motion. I saw Rallandrí walk towards us. Kerredr?n rolled to his feet and turned to look at me where I’d fallen. That was when the pain kicked in, and the world started moving in real time again. I rolled over on my side and curled up in agony. Flaming balls of fire! My brain was catching up now, and I realized that I’d been hit by a projectile. I could see blood was starting to ooze out of a wound on the right side of my chest and drip in bright red splatters on the dusty pavement. This was not good.

  The actions taken in the first few minutes after a serious injury can make the difference between living and dying. All Ellendrí are trained in biocontrol during their childhood—a technique that allows the mind to control certain bodily functions, such as temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and fertility. Biocontrol can also be used to control bleeding, alleviate pain, and prevent shock. As Guardians, we were given more advanced training in biocontrol techniques—training that often saved our lives when the assistance of a Healer could be days away. I closed my eyes, visualizing the numerous capillaries, arteries, and veins in my chest cavity, trying to find those that were injured … and willed the bleeding to stop. Opening them again, I could see that the blood flow was reduced to a trickle; however, the presence of pinkish froth around the wound indicated that my lung was punctured and air was escaping out through the wound with each breath; this was the reason I couldn’t seem to breathe properly.

  As I stared at the wound while my pain-dulled brain pondered my next action, two things happened. The first was that Rallandrí came over and knelt beside me. The second was that Darí’s voice suddenly spoke inside my head.

  Darí and I are very close; too close, some might say. We are an?ncára—soulmates, held together by a bond so intimate and strong that we can, and often do, share everything and anything. Once, long ago, our bond would have been recognized and honored as the great gift that it is. Darí would likely have chosen to accompany me as a Guardian, to be “the shield at my back and the sword at my side”, as the old adage goes. The Guardians still honor all an?ncára relationships, even if they occur between siblings. Once, long ago, before the Genomic Enhancement Interval, it wouldn’t have mattered that we were siblings. When our people were still improving our psychic abilities by selective breeding, an?ncára bonds between siblings were encouraged, as the inbreeding strengthened recessive genes. However, now that inbreeding and genetic engineering have resulted in low fertility, such relationships between siblings are strongly discouraged to prevent incest. Although Darí and I are both currently in male phase, and couldn’t produce children, it would only be a simple matter for one of us to switch to female phase, thus allowing us, at least in theory, to do the very thing that our society wants to prevent. Unfortunately, since I doubt that the Elders would be easily convinced that we intended to remain childless, I’ve chosen to keep our bond private and unconsummated. Of course, a few close friends know that Darí and I are an?ncára, and others may well suspect.

  At the moment, Darí was more than a little concerned, and I was hearing his worried thoughts clearly in my head. A strong telepathic bond is typical of the an?ncára relationship amongst Ellendrí. One of the interesting and unique things about telepathy is that it is not constrained to travel at the speed of light. Therefore, although my deirfad was many light years away, back on Ellendr?a, his thoughts were reaching me without any time lag and only a small degree of attenuation due to the distance. It’s been hypothesized that telepathic energy travels as waves in n-dimensional space, and is therefore subject to different laws of physics than light or radio waves. For this reason, the Ellendrí have often used telepathic communication as a means of relaying messages between star systems, although in more recent times we have developed relay stations that can pulse radio waves through gates in n-dimensional space.

  “Eldranth, focus on your biocontrol!” I heard Darí command me firmly. I realized that my mind had been drifting, my thoughts carrying me away from the pain and struggle of the moment. I felt Darí’s mind touch thread through my awareness, using my own psychic abilities to scan my body for injury. Darí is a healer, and his gentle touch was welcome, not only for the comfort it gave me, but because he could quickly assess my injury and provide me with whatever help he could.

  “Good, you have the bleeding under control,” Darí was talking me through his diagnostic scan, his thoughts positive and reassuring. I looked down at the wound again—the trickle of blood had stopped. I didn’t know what the exit wound looked like, but I supposed that the bleeding was probably stopped there as well. I made the telepathic equivalent of a grunt in agreement.

  “It’s a clean perforating wound,” Darí continued, almost more to himself than me, although long association with a healer gave me a great deal of familiarity with medical terminology. While still very worried, I sensed Darí’s tension was easing, which probably meant that the wound was not going to kill me immediately. “The tissue damage is quite limited, and it looks like I’ll be able to heal this without taking you into surgery.” That was good to know; I only wished he could heal me here on Davandr?a. However, I knew enough about healing techniques to know that this was impossible. While telepathy can travel great distances, psychokinetic energy, a vital component of psychic healing, is much more limited in its spatial reach. There was no way Darí could heal me when he was so far away. If I were a fully trained healer myself, it might be possible for Darí to use his mind touch to guide me through a process of self-healing. But a healer I am not, so that wasn’t possible either.

  “You need to bring your heart rate down and your blood pressure up,” Darí’s voice interrupted my mental meanderings. “Don’t let yourself go into shock.” While his worry was ebbing, concern was still clear in Darí’s tone.

  “I’ll definitely try to avoid it,” I tried to make my telepathic voice sound steady, replying to Darí with my usual irreverent, and sometimes cynical, humor. Closing my eyes and visualizing the various systems in my body that I must bring under my mental control, I attempted to follow his instructions.

  “Good!” Darí’s voice was encouraging. “Keep that up for a while. Rallandrí and Kerredr?n will help stabilize that wound and send you back to Ellendr?a.” Darí was reminding me of the process, keeping my mind focused. The entrance and exit wounds needed tending—they must be sealed with an airtight dressing so that air could no longer enter my thoracic cavity and compromise my breathing. Although I’d never been injured this seriously before, the standing order for my treatment was to stabilize and ship immediately to Darí … he would allow no one else to look after my long-term care.

  I opened my eyes and looked up to see Rallandrí’s concerned face hovering in front of me. “Darí, I need to respond to Rallandrí. He’s getting very worried.” Darí made the equivalent of a telepathic “Mmmph”, and then, reassuringly, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  “Thank you, my an?ncára,” I felt Darí’s presence settle into me, like a gentle embrace, and it gave me a sense of well-being and safety.

  “Eldranth, let me see where you’re hurt,” Rallandrí adjured, and I could tell from the level of concern in his voice that this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get me to respond. I hadn’t noticed during my communication with Darí, but Rallandrí had one hand on my shoulder and was gently trying to roll me over enough that he could examine my injury—I was still curled into a fetal position. The pain was starting to become bearable, and I pushed it further away, blocking it and trying to get some mental clarity. I forced my body to relax, rolling onto my back as my muscles unclenched and allowing Rallandrí to get a look at the wound. The look on his face wasn’t very reassuring.

  “Kerredr?n, we’re going to have to get Eldranth to a Healer,” Rallandrí spoke as he glanced over his shoulder to where Kerredr?n had taken up a defensive position, “as soon as possible.” Looking back at me, he asked, “Can you get up?” I closed my eyes and quickly monitored myself—I had my blood pressure back up to a reasonable level, my heart was beating slowly and strongly, and I hadn’t lost too much blood. On the other hand, I was only getting about half as much air into my lungs as I would be if I was able to breathe normally. Fortunately, Ellendrí are adapted to relatively low oxygen levels, about 13 percent compared to the 15 to 20 percent found on many of the worlds in the Ll’Ellendr?n. Davandr?a was closer to the 20 percent range, so even with only one functional lung, I was getting pretty close to what I needed in terms of oxygen as long as my hemoglobin-rich blood did a good job at scavenging it out of what air I was taking in. With those thoughts in mind … I didn’t think I was going to pass out if I stood up. I nodded, and let Rallandrí give me a hand up. The pain ratcheted to a higher level as I moved, and I swayed a bit, but Rallandrí slid under my left arm and supported me so that I didn’t fall over. I closed my eyes and willed the pain into a back corner of my mind. For the moment, it reluctantly slunk away, like some predatory beast.

  “Is Eldarí with you?” Rallandrí asked. I nodded. He was one of the ones who suspected. “Good. Do what he tells you.” Rallandrí adjusted his position so that he could take more of my weight. “Now, we just need to go a few steps to get you back into your ship. Kerredr?n is going to shield us. Can you walk?” It was clear from the way Rallandrí was handling the situation that he and Kerredr?n were in telepathic communication, and had obviously devised some plan while I was trying to get myself together.

  “Yes, I can walk,” I was starting to feel a little better, as my body’s systems began to stabilize and adapt to an upright position.

  “And talk too,” Rallandrí responded cheerfully, albeit the cheer may have been a bit forced. We made it easily to my ship, and with a little more difficulty, up the ramp and inside. The snipers may have taken a few more shots at us, I don’t really know, but if they did, Kerredr?n fended them off without any problems. Rallandrí hauled me to the rear of the ship and seated me on the bunk, while Kerredr?n crouched over the main flight console. Rallandrí rummaged around in the ship for a few moments, and then returned with the medical kit that I kept on board.

  “I need to get your shirt off so I can get some temporary patches over those holes. We’re going to send you back to Eldarí, but we need to make sure you’re going to be able to handle the flight.” Rallandrí emphasized his words by starting to loosen my shirt where it was tucked into my trousers. Rather than being forcibly undressed, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it off over my head, not without some reservations after the pain monster resurfaced and left me a little breathless. I shook my head to clear it, and Rallandrí gave me a wry grin. “Well, I guess you’ve got the worst over now”.

  With my shirt off, I could see the entrance wound a little more clearly. It didn’t look all that bad, but I still felt a bit queasy looking at it. Rallandrí must have seen this, and warned “Don’t look at that if it’s going to make you faint. It really would be best if you try to stay conscious.”

  Glancing up at Rallandrí, I frowned slightly. I’ve been through enough ugly situations with the Guardians that a little blood, even if it is my own, is not going to make me pass out. “I’m not going to faint, I’m just trying to see how bad it is,” I moved my right shoulder slightly. It was painful, but it seemed like the exit wound had missed my shoulder blade, and the joint was still functional. It didn’t feel like any of my ribs were broken either—the sniper had been far enough away that the projectile’s velocity had been reduced, and it hadn’t had the force to shatter bones. I was lucky.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Rallandrí was watching me intently as I checked things out. “You don’t have Healer training, do you? I’d heard that many of your family do.” Strangely, although Rallandrí and I had known each other for years, and had worked together as Guardians for much of that time, we’d never talked much about my early life or my family. I guess that was mostly my fault, a reticence to discuss problems for which I had no good solutions.

  I shook my head, “No—just what I’ve picked up from Eldarí over the years.” Rallandrí had the medical kit open and was using a sterile antiseptic wipe to clean the blood away from around the entrance wound, carefully avoiding touching my Star where it lay suspended from its chain against my chest—contact with a ferr?l keyed to someone else’s pattern could be very painful for both parties. “Too bad,” he shifted to my back and continued working on the exit wound, “Although that’s probably better than what most of us have. Why hasn’t Eldarí become a Guardian? The two of you would make a great team, and we could really use a Guardian with Healer training.”

  I responded with another head shake, “Darriel wouldn’t let him, even if he wanted to.” I wasn’t entirely sure how Darí felt about being a Guardian now, not with the way our lives had drifted apart. It had been a long time since last we’d discussed it, and I’d just assumed that he was content being a Healer. He was, after all, one of the best Healers on Ellendr?a, and well respected.

  Rallandrí was now doing a good job at putting airtight dressings on the wounds, and appeared to be mostly unperturbed by my injury. “Darriel—that’s Eldarí’s an?ncára?” I nodded. “Why doesn’t Darriel become a Guardian as well? There’s no reason why the three of you couldn’t work together. And besides, I heard a rumor that Eldarí and his partner haven’t had much success having children. Maybe it’s time for them to do something else.” Rallandrí’s comments left me wondering what other sorts of rumors abounded about my familial circumstances. I guess I only hear what my mind wishes to acknowledge.

  “If only it was that simple,” I paused and found that I was able to take a slightly deeper breath now that Rallandrí had patched things up. Enough air that I could manage a couple of complete sentences, “Darriel doesn’t have enough psi potential to take Guardian training. She’s lost her sense of adventure, and her tolerance for risk of any kind is very low.” And that was a terrible simplification. Distractedly, my mind wandered through memories of Darriel. As a child, she had been just as wild and adventuresome as Farrw?n, Darí, and I. The four of us had been an inseparable team, full of the crazy schemes of youth. But that had been while everyone still hoped that Darriel would recover her psi capabilities, that they hadn’t been completely burned out. Time passed, we learned, we trained, we grew into our adulthood, and still Darriel remained only a very limited telepath. Finally, believing that she had little psi potential, Darriel became the person she is today—a gentle individual with a sharp intelligence and a teasing sense of humor, but with her adventurous spirit limited by fear and vulnerability. I still wonder if she might have reached her full potential if she hadn’t foundered in despair.

  On that thought, my mind returned to the present situation. Darriel and I were best of friends, avángri but not lovers, not an?ncára. And she was going to be very annoyed with me for getting injured, not that I wasn’t annoyed with myself. She always wished I would be more careful, even when I returned home with little more than minor scrapes and bruises. I hoped she wouldn’t take this too badly. “I suspect that I’m going to get a lecture on the dangers of recklessness when I get home. Hopefully, Darí will get to me first,” I commented, grimacing at the thought.

  “Have you ever thought of taking Healer training? I assume you have the potential abilities?” Rallandrí was double-checking his work, and seemed to be satisfied.

  “No, and yes,” I replied in answer to his questions. I’d been too busy working as a Guardian to have considered expanding my skills in other areas, but I knew that Darí and I had pretty similar abilities—we were so alike that some people had difficulty telling us apart. I suspected that just as Darí could become a Guardian, so I too could become a Healer. We simply hadn’t tested that theory yet.

  “Well, you should. If you’d been able to heal yourself, we wouldn’t need to send you back to Ellendr?a.” Finished, Rallandrí took a step back from me and cocked his head to one side, “There, that should hold until you get home.” Turning away from the bunk in the narrow confines of the ship, Rallandrí opened the door to the ship’s washroom and cleaned his hands in the small sanitizer unit. A few moments later, he returned, asking “Any improvement in the breathing?”

  “Yes, thanks,” I was actually almost able to breathe normally, now that I wasn’t sucking air in through two holes in my chest. Rallandrí bustled around, packing up the medical kit and searching through my belongings until he found a loose shirt that opened down the front. He handed it to me and I carefully put it on, glad for the warmth, as I was feeling a bit cool and shivery.

  “So, you know how this works,” Rallandrí was obviously giving me his final instructions before they sent me off. “Try to stay awake and conscious. If you start having problems breathing, loosen one edge of that front dressing—that should relieve any pressure build up. You should be home in less than a deciday. If things start getting really bad, let Eldarí know and he’ll send a rescue ship out from Ellendr?a.” I nodded. I was certain that Darí had already contacted K?rr?l, our ?dr?lad and manager of Ellendr?a’s space flight facility, and set up an emergency response vessel. “Let’s get you up front and strapped in. Hopefully the locals haven’t been giving us any more problems.” He gave me a hand up and steadied me as we walked forward to the front of the ship.

  Kerredr?n looked up from the main console as I slid past him and into the pilot’s seat. “It’s been pretty quiet out there—looks like the snipers have everybody pinned down and nobody’s been moving about.” He tapped the main console one final time, clearly finishing what he’d been working on. “I’ve programmed your ship to do the entire flight on autopilot, from liftoff to landing on Ellendr?a. When I activate the program, it’ll give us just enough time to get over to our ships and get them ready for flight. Your ship will lift off first and we’ll follow behind. We’ll escort you as far as the edge of the atmosphere, then you’ll be on your own,” Kerredr?n smiled in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner, although it looked more worried than encouraging to me. “We’ll stay behind on Davandr?a and wait until we can get some more support.”

  “Great! I hate takeoffs and landings on auto,” I muttered, trying to be slightly humorous. In realty, I felt terrible and not just because I was hurt. I had failed the mission, and the team, and they were sending me home. At least I wasn’t going back as pieces in a bucket, but that thought didn’t make me feel much more cheerful.

  “I know you’re a good pilot,” Kerredr?n was sensitive to my feelings of wretchedness and trying to make me feel less like a failure, “but we don’t want to lose you if you pass out while trying to fly.”

  “I’m sorry,” I started buckling myself into the seat, “I’m just being miserable.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be back on duty soon,” Kerredr?n was using his talent to radiate feelings of comfort and support. “Maybe they’ll send you back here to finish off this assignment with us.” I sensed his encouragement, and deeper, a little hint of wistfulness.

  “I hope so.” We were all friends—I was certainly going to miss their companionship. However, there was little more I could say.

  We were quiet for a moment, then Kerredr?n put his hand on my shoulder, the light feathery touch of a fellow telepath, “Thank you. You saved my life out there.”

  I smiled ruefully, “Guardians look out for each other … and I watch out for my friends.” I closed my eyes briefly, trying to shut out the mental image of Kerredr?n lying on the ground, dead eyes staring up at me, killed instantly by a projectile through the brain. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “I saw you die … I couldn’t let that happen.” I knew that Kerredr?n and Rallandrí would understand that the sight I referred to was turas, foresight. With a shake of my head, I tried to drive the grim vision from my mind. “I only wish you didn’t have to send me back to Ellendr?a … I guess I didn’t really think that I’d get hurt,” I added. “I’m sorry. I’ve let you both down.”

  “No,” I felt Kerredr?n squeeze my shoulder very slightly, as if to emphasize his negation. “We were all too quick to dismiss the possibility that someone might be shielded from us. You are no more to blame that we are. I’m just glad you weren’t more badly injured. Go home and heal, Dran.”

  Taking his hand off my shoulder, Kerredr?n reached out and touched the control panel, activating the program, and then the two of them were scrambling to get out. I could hear them running down the ramp, Kerredr?n calling out the voice command which would trigger my ship to close the hatch as they darted towards their own ships, hopefully with their shields up in case the sniper was paying attention. The main engine started warming up and then the ship engaged its antigrav units. A slight whining sound indicated that the engines were rotating into position for vertical takeoff, and a breath later, the ship was airborne. It all had the slight jerkiness of the overly-precise autopilot system, not the smooth grace of a manual liftoff, and it grated on my nerves, but there wasn’t much to do but bear with it. Looking to the left and right, over my shoulders, I could see the other two ships liftoff—good, that meant that both Rallandrí and Kerredr?n had made a safe escape. That was a cheering thought—for a moment I’d entertained a terrible fear that someone else was going to get injured or killed in the attempt to get me safely on my way home, but apparently everything was going according to plan.

  Looking down, I could see the city buildings growing smaller as we gained altitude. Soon, I could see the surrounding plains, great expanses of sun-gold grass. A few small houses formed clusters in the distance, probably farmsteads. And far off, faint and hazy, was a range of mountains. A nice place—just too bad that the humans here weren’t any better at getting along with each other than they were any place else in the universe.

  The pale blue sky got darker and darker as we soared higher up into the atmosphere. Rallandrí and Kerredr?n maintained tight formation with my ship, just as we had on the flight earlier in the day. Gradually, the air thinned, and I found myself looking out into velvety blackness, stars glowing brightly. My escort peeled away, one turning left and one turning right, but my ship continued forward into the darkness of space. Suddenly, I felt very lonely.

  Luckily, this didn’t last too long. Darí’s voice was in my head again, “Are you doing all right?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in hiding my feelings from Darí. “I feel badly about how things ended up. I’ve really let the others down.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. It was just mischance.” That was easy enough for Darí to say—he hadn’t been there. However, as my mind returned to the day’s unfortunate outcome and I started to dwell on the consequences of my actions, Darí relived the events with me. Disrupting the dark turnings of my thoughts, Darí added pointedly, “You saved Kerredr?n’s life.”

  “I did, but what if I’d been killed instead?” I asked the question that seemed to take over my thoughts now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “What would have happened to you?”

  For a long time there was silence. Darí’s thoughts were withdrawn and muted. Finally, he answered, “That’s the choice we’ve made.” Although he didn’t send it clearly, I could hear the subtext “and the price for your freedom” in his thoughts. I could sense his feelings were mixed, chaotic. Did he accept the life I was leading, or did he hate what I was doing to him, to us? I couldn’t tell. There was little more I could say that would make much difference to the situation, we’d been over this ground before. I quieted my thoughts and watched Davandr?a gradually fall away and become a small round globe, like some brightly colored ornament hanging against the black backdrop of space. Soon the ship would be in position to make the jump between.

  “Dran,” Darí’s telepathic voice had a certain timbre to it that instantly brought my mind back to reality, “you’re not going to enjoy the trip through between.”

  “Hmmph,” I responded. “I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed going between.” I wondered what Darí’s point was. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve had patients tell me that going between with a serious injury can be very painful,” Darí responded. True enough—I’d gone between with the occasional cut or scrape, and that had certainly smarted a bit, but nothing that I couldn’t bear. As I considered Darí’s concern, my ship came to a complete stop, and then started to do small precise maneuvers, like a strange jittery dance, as it made final pre-jump adjustments to its position.

  Even after all my years of flying, I still feel a moment of anxiety before making a jump. Taking a slow, but necessarily shallow breath, to calm myself, I replied, “I’ll let you know if they were right—I’m just about to go through now.” A patch of space in front of my ship started to distort in a way that was visually nauseating. The electromagnetic shields hummed loudly as they came up to full power. Before I could take another breath, I was plunging through space that was twisting and writhing around me like a nest of demented worms. Instantly, the raw flesh in my chest turned to searing fire. I screamed, and then there was nothingness.

  **********

  I must have passed out from the pain. I don’t think I was unconscious for long—when I opened my eyes again, the universe was normal, and off in the distance I could see a tiny sphere that I knew was my home, Ellendr?a. I had come through the jump safely. My chest ached fiercely, and there was a clamor in my head. Darí was, of course, worried, so much so that my first coherent thoughts were feelings of concern for my deirfad. But I could hear another voice, not as loud, but just as clearly worried—Darriel. Why she would have reached out to me now was odd. She knew that Darí would tell her how I was faring, and given her distress when I’d had only minor injuries, I was surprised that she would brave my pain to touch my mind now. I drew a shaky breath and tried to let them both know that I was still alive, and as far as I could tell, other than the intense pain, no worse than I was before. “Well, Darí, your patients were right—it hurt like the mythical fifteen hells of Vor?n …”

  The rest of the flight passed quickly. For a while, I just stayed very still, waiting for the pain to recede a bit, and trying to re-establish some biocontrol over my rebelling body. I was peripherally aware of Ellendr?a growing larger in my view out the forward canopy, the mountain ridges with their vibrant green crests standing out in sharp contrast to the yellow-brown sand which formed the base material for most of the continents. Except for high in the mountains, there was no surface water on the land masses, no rivers, no lakes, only deserts, and beyond the land, the great seas. My ship dipped shallowly into the outer atmosphere of the planet, its heat shielding starting to glow redly as it shed excess heat generated by the interaction with atmospheric gases. Dropping lower, the ship trembled in the thicker, more turbulent layers of the atmosphere, losing both speed and elevation as rapidly as possible—Kerredr?n had programmed the autopilot to take the fastest route, not necessarily the most comfortable one. It was somewhat assuring to know that Kerredr?n and Rallandrí had judged me tough enough, or at least alive enough, to tolerate a fast re-entry.

  Looking down, I could see that I was descending at high latitude over the largest northern landmass. Soon the city, the only city on Ellendr?a, came into view. The flight path took me directly over it, and I could clearly see the cluster of domes that served my people as sanctuaries on a dying world. Then the ship had flown past the city and was banking into a final landing approach. Leveling out in that sharply mechanical way so typical of the autopilot, the ship flew straight towards the outlying domes on the edge of the city, losing elevation and braking as it prepared for landing. Hovering momentary, it performed a precise touchdown, gracefully settling on the tips of its downward sweeping wings and the base of its nose cone in a solid three-point landing, just outside of one of the domes located on the farthest extent of the city. I could see two people standing beside the dome’s entrance, waiting for my ship to settle—Darí and Darriel.

  As soon as the ship was down, I unbuckled myself and wobbled to my feet. I still had a bit of pride left, and I didn’t want to see Darriel’s face if she and Darí had to drag me bodily out of the ship. With a sense of grim determination, I steadied myself and walked to the ship’s hatch. Leaning against the wall, I touched the door panel, and the hatch smoothly opened downward into its landing ramp configuration. Hot, dry air swept into the cabin—Ellendr?a’s atmosphere, torrid, dusty, with too little water and not enough oxygen. The sudden decrease in oxygen concentration almost made me pass out again, but I held myself up against the wall, willing myself to stay conscious. The dryness burned my chest. I coughed. Squinting in the bright sunlight, I watched Darí run towards the ship, now that the dust had settled, with Darriel a moment behind him. Taking a couple shallow breaths, I forced myself out onto the ramp. My steps were shaky as I made my way down to ground level, trying to keep my knees from buckling. Struggling, I managed to stay upright as Darí reached me, panting himself in the oxygen-poor air.

  You can’t hide anything from your an?ncára. His eyes met mine, and in the next moment, he was on my left side, arm wrapped around my waist and supporting me. I can take some little solace in the fact that I didn’t quite fall down.

  Darriel caught up to us, her eyes full of concern, and maybe something else—sadness, love—I don’t know. Underneath that, I caught her fear—of me, of the work that I do, of the life I lead—and even a sense of anger. I could almost hear her scold, “Look at what you’ve done to yourself now! Don’t you ever think about us?” But she didn’t say anything.

  Physical contact with Darí intensified our bond. I could feel his energy flowing into me, giving me strength. “Just a little bit further, and everything will be fine.” I sensed him encouraging me to keep going, so I put my head down and told my body to walk, and it did.

  “It’ll be better once we get inside the dome,” I wheezed out between painful gasps for air. I suppose a person could get accustomed to coping with injuries, but I really hadn’t had much practice in tolerating intense pain. I definitely wasn’t feeling much like a strong and capable Guardian with 50 years of experience.

  Although it seemed to take far longer than I would have liked, Darí quickly had me up to the dome entrance. Darriel already had the outer door to the airlock open, and my next breath was an ecstasy of moist, oxygen-laden air. The door hissed shut behind us, keeping as much of the precious moisture and oxygen contained within the dome environment as possible. The breath after that started me coughing, at which point the bones in my legs seemed to dissolve. Darí caught me as I started to fall, and despite being a little lighter and less muscular than I am, easily picked me up.

  After that, things got pretty cloudy for me. I remember Darí putting me down on a bed, in my own room in our old family home, I think. I saw Darí’s ferr?l flash—it was a small one, of the size commonly used by Healers and maybe a tenth the size of the one in my Star, with no associated durr?ls. I remember trying to tell him to use my Star—the psychic patterns of an?ncára are usually so similar that they can handle each other’s keyed ferr?ls, and I knew Darí could use my Star—and then my mind faded into a swirl of chaotic images and thoughts.

  **********

  Full consciousness was slow to return, but gradually, by stages, I knew I was finally awake again. My head was turned towards the window in the room, which was dark, so I knew night had fallen. Cautiously, I took a breath, and then another one, deeper. Everything seemed fine, so Darí must have completed the healing. Moving my head, I could see Darí standing over the bed. He looked pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. Immediately, I began to worry. Shifting my head a little further, I saw Darriel standing in the doorway, looking tired, like she’d been standing there for a long time.

  Darí looked down at me, giving me a smile that was almost overwhelmed by exhaustion, with a hint of pain around the edges, “You’ll be fine now.” His voice, normally a warm tenor, was wispy, barely audible. He took a step back from the bed, stumbled, as though trying to keep balance on a suddenly shifting surface, then his eyes rolled up, and he collapsed bonelessly forward towards the bed. I didn’t think I was awake enough to have reflexes, but I caught him before he could strike his head on anything solid, dragging him across my lap. I looked up at Darriel, whose face was a mixture of shock and fear.

  “What happened?” I asked her sharply. Her eyes were wide, alarmed, but gradually her attention focused on me.

  “He had two other emergencies before you were injured,” she seemed to break out of her dazed state and stepped forward to kneel beside the bed, hand on Darí’s chest, checking his breathing and heart beat. “He was tired before you arrived. I told him to get help, but he refused to bring another Healer in to work on you.”

  “That was foolish,” I growled, but I knew why he couldn’t ask another Healer to assist. How could I speak against the love, responsibility, and commitment that we felt for each other? “Did he use my Star?”

  “No,” Darriel shook her head. “I didn’t think he could.”

  By the great One! So much myth and misinformation surrounds the Guardians these days. “He can. I tried to tell him to use it before he put me into a healing trance.” I was beginning to get seriously worried about my deirfad. I rolled him over onto his back on the bed beside me, not liking the flaccid way his body moved. He was, of course, still alive—if he were dead, our an?ncára bond would be broken, and the breaking of such bonds is traumatic to the degree that the survivor frequently dies shortly afterwards. I was still alive and functional; therefore my an?ncára was also still alive. I pulled out my Star and started to monitor his unconscious form, but I was suspecting the worst, “If he’s burned out his psi channels looking after me, I’ll …” I never got around to finishing that thought, as it was pretty clear what was wrong. The paleness had left Darí’s face, and he was starting to look flushed and feverish.

  Healers use psychic energy to regenerate tissues, modify body chemistry, alter hormonal balances, and even correct or change DNA sequences, in the same way that Guardians use psychic energy for various defensive purposes and to assist in crowd management and control. Many other Guilds use psychic energy for tasks specific to their particular roles in our society. Regardless of how psychic energy is used, it must first be channeled through the body of the person wielding the energy. This generally occurs following the tracts of the major nerves in the body. Most nerves lie in grooves or canals—these then form the channels along which the psychic energy must flow, or what we refer to as psi channels. Excessive flow of psychic energy through these channels, particularly if the affected individual is already exhausted and getting careless with their energy control, can lead to inflammation or “burning” of the channels. This inflammation causes pressure on the nerves, fever and delirium, and ultimately depression of the central nervous system resulting in death in some cases. Darí was exhibiting a classic case of psi channel burn out.

  There are ways of “clearing” the psi channels, reducing the inflammation, and releasing the pressure on the nerves. Since channel burn out is fairly common amongst Guardians, who often end up in challenging situations where they are using large amounts of psychic energy, most Guardians are taught how to perform channel clearing—it’s a skill you might need to save the life of a friend. Psi channel burn out is also common during puberty when a combination of physical changes and increasing psi abilities can cause a crisis to occur. Thus, families having high psi potential tend to train some, if not all, of their members how to clear channels in order to deal with this possibility. In my case, I had been doubly trained, both at home by my r’athaira and later as a Guardian, so I knew what needed to be done for Darí. However, I was also still pretty shaky after recovering from the day’s events … I wasn’t at all sure that it was a good idea for me to try.

  “Darriel,” I touched her shoulder, “Darí’s burned his channels. He needs to have someone clear them. Can you help?”

  Darriel looked up at me, her face going pale, “No. No, I can’t.” She shook her head back and forth, agitated, a look of fear in her eyes—fear that harm would come to Darí if she couldn’t help, or memories of a fear long past, I wasn’t sure. I’d hoped that maybe, over the long years I’d been away on Guardian duties, she’d been able to overcome some of that fear and regain at least a fraction of what she’d lost. My own worry for Darí had made me insensitive to Darriel’s struggle. The hurt I’d caused her stung me, left me regretting my words.

  Eldarí, Darriel, and I are the products of lineages that have been highly bred for psi powers; however, where Darí and I had developed our abilities normally, Darriel was damaged, stunted. What we take for granted, Darriel can’t even attempt. I felt a wave of sympathy and sadness for her—it must be a difficult challenge for her to be Darí’s an?ncára. Darriel must have seen the look in my eyes, or read the thoughts from my mind, because suddenly her eyes flamed with anger, and she jumped up, pulling away from us, “That’s right—I can’t do anything!” She whirled and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Without thinking, my exclamation had the snap of a command, meant to stop her before she was out the door and beyond reach. She turned slowly back to me, feeling my power, her angry eyes burning through me as she tried to break away. Darí needed her help too much for me to let her go. “You can do something. I need you to bring me some firal?an. Darí usually keeps some in his medical supplies. It’s in a small blue vial.” I let her go, and hoped that she would see the sense in helping me.

  Whether or not I felt fit enough, it was quickly looking like I was going to have to deal with this. My time sense told me that it was late at night, and by the time I managed to find and wake up another Healer, Darí might be in full crisis. Better to deal with it now, than wait. I had my Star and a good deal of training that should hopefully allow me to do what was necessary without ending up in the same condition as Darí. I shifted around on the bed so that I had Darí’s head in my lap. He was starting to move restlessly, probably in pain.

  I heard footsteps and looked up to see that Darriel was back. She had the blue vial in her hand, which was an immense relief. Firal?an is a drug specifically used to treat this particular condition, and it would help Darí a great deal. I took the vial from her, tilted Darí’s head back in my lap, and gently used my thumb to open his mouth just enough that I could get a drop of the vial’s contents on his tongue. The drug was designed to be absorbed directly through the mucous membranes, and didn’t need to be swallowed, which was good because Darí was in no condition to swallow anything at the moment. Waiting for the drug to take effect, I looked up at Darriel. The anger had faded from her eyes, and she just looked terribly weary.

  “Darriel, I’m sorry,” I tried to apologize. Using mind control on a friend was unconscionable. I had no justification—I had to accept that my concern for Darí had overwhelmed my ethics. “I had no right to do that to you.”

  “You did,” she smiled weakly. “You have every right to try to help Darí, and I have every reason for you to try. I only wish that I could do more.”

  Gentle Darriel—even now she was capable of forgiving me for such a serious transgression. I shook my head sadly, “Sometimes our lives just don’t happen the way we would like.” Those words had far too much meaning for me right now, but they were all I could give as an explanation for the current state of affairs. “You’re tired. Try to get some rest. I’ll do what I can for Darí. You’ll be the first to know if anything gets worse.” I tried to smile encouragingly at her, but I was too tired and worried to be terribly convincing. Darriel met my gaze, and I felt the complex swirl of her emotions—anguish, sadness, frustration. She turned and went out the door, but I knew she wouldn’t be far away, that she was allowing me this time with Darí only because she believed that I could do something she could not.

  Darí had quieted, so the firal?an was probably working. It should prevent him from going into convulsions and full crisis, but without any further help, he would be days recovering. I placed my hands against Darí’s temples, closed my eyes, and let myself sink into the depths of our bond, using it as my anchor point. Allowing my mind to expand outward into his body, I explored along the lines where I knew the channels lay, searching for the source of his distress. In my mental visualizations, I saw pain as a dull red glow, like metal that’s been heated in a fire. As I found the swollen red nodes in Darí’s channels, I pictured my energy as cooling blue water, which I used to quench the heat and still the pain. I was using the durr?ls of my Star to recharge my depleted levels of vital energy—I didn’t want to end up burning out my own psi channels, since that would leave no one to help Darí. Even with the assistance of the Star, the procedure seemed to take a long time. However, when I’d finally finished, and opened my eyes again, it was still dark outside.

  Darí’s skin was no longer feverish, although he looked very tired and worn even as he slept. I gently lifted his head off my lap, and slid down to lay beside him, like I used to do when we were younger. I hoped my presence was still a comfort to him. I was weary, but emotionally keyed up from the day’s intense events. Feeling like a fiery meteor coming through the atmosphere, leaving flames and chaos in my wake, I was about to crash. Rallandrí’s words of the afternoon had struck a sensitive nerve. An old saying ran through my mind: “Vulnerable is the one without deirfa.” A venerable old adage it was, but a true one. And I would never have my deirfad, or my an?ncára, at my back, nor did I suspect that I would ever seek to find an intimate companion elsewhere. Our bond is what it is, and it’s all that I have. Unexpectedly, deep, silent sobs wracked me, releasing tension and emotional anguish. It had been a long time since I’d been so overcome by my emotions.

  I had cried for some time, quietly, inconsolably, lost in my own world of dark depression, when I began to realize that some of the emotions were not my own. I was instantly contrite—I hadn’t meant to wake Darí up. I started to apologize, but Darí placed his fingers on my lips and shook his head. “The tears are my own. You don’t need to say you’re sorry,” he paused for a moment. “I should have been out there with you today. We’ve been so lucky—more than 50 years and you’ve never really been hurt. They say you’re the best Guardian in living memory. I guess I’ve just come to believe that my deirfad is invincible,” he turned to me and smiled sadly. “But I guess that’s not really true, is it?”

  I shook my head. Words like “best” and “invincible” bothered me—they were exaggerations of reality. Yes, I was cautious and careful, and I had my turas and maybe some luck, but to say that I was greater than that … no. However, there was more to Darí’s words. I hesitated a moment, then asked a question that had been unasked for many years now, “Would you really want to be a Guardian?”

  Darí was quiet for a while, thinking I guess. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I just want the people I love to be happy. For Darriel, that means staying here and being as good a Healer as I can. For you, that means becoming a Guardian, joining you in the one place where we can be an?ncára without facing criticism. I can’t be both things.”

  “I know, Darí,” I reached out and held him like I’d done when we were children. “That’s why I’ve stayed away as much as I do—to make your choice easier, to give you the freedom to make a life for yourself here with Darriel.” Darí curled up against me, accepting the comfort I was offering. His face lay close to mine, and I could feel his steady breathing against my cheek. We were like two halves of a whole, and I missed Darí’s companionship every day that I went about my duties as a Guardian. I wanted this moment to last, but knew it would end far too soon.

  Darí took a deep breath and sighed, “You could stay here with us.” He was tired, and I could feel him struggling to find the energy to speak. Although we could communicate mind-to-mind, Darí seemed to need to vocalize, to express himself aloud, as if that could imbue his words with more meaning, more emphasis. “We could register officially as a threesome. Darriel wants that—the two of you are almost bonded now.” I could hear the pleading in Darí’s voice. “And with Darriel as a part of us, we could argue against the concerns about inbreeding. Maybe you might even give Darriel a child; I certainly haven’t been able to.”

  In a way, I really wanted to do as Darí asked, but there were so many reasons why his simple proposal wouldn’t work. Our situation was much too complicated. Even if he refused to acknowledge them, I knew that Darí was aware of those complexities. I didn’t really expect to change his perspective, but I tried. “Darriel is afraid of what I’ve become. She doesn’t want to share my experiences or try to understand who I am or why I’ve chosen to become a Guardian.” Again, the image of a younger Darriel filled my mind. “She wasn’t so distant when we were children, but now …” I trailed off.

  Darí sighed softly again, as if the situation was so obvious that it didn’t need clarification. “She’s afraid of what might happen to you. Haven’t you noticed that you only come home after you’ve been on a tough assignment?” Darí paused, resting for a few moments, giving me time to contemplate the delicate balance between my needs to be both at home and yet far away. My life ran in cycles—time spent amongst the Guardians, far from home, but also far from the difficulties that arose as a result of Darriel’s relationship with Darí, followed by short, intense periods at home when I could no longer withstand the isolation and loneliness.

  Darí made a disparaging sound, in response to some thought of his own. “I know you were never badly hurt, but you were tired, bruised, battered.” Raising his head, Darí looked me full in the eyes, “She’s afraid that one day you’re going to be sent home in a box, so she keeps her distance. She fears what will happen if you die.”

  “And you don’t?” It wasn’t a fair question, but I was beginning to feel defensive. Today seemed to be one of those days that everyone was full of criticism about the way I was leading my life. But what choice had I been left?

  “How can you ask that?” Darí sounded choked, and rightfully so.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep another freshet of tears from starting. “Darí, I’m sorry. Truly, I didn’t mean that,” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “But at least you and Darriel have each other.” That was some of the pain—Darí didn’t really need me anymore.

  Darí grabbed my arm, forcing me to open my eyes. “Darriel is not a replacement for you!” his quiet voice was intense. “How can you believe that?”

  I closed my eyes again, shaking my head, tears leaking out across my cheeks in damp trails. The problem was that to some extent I did believe exactly that—and it was both a source of deep grief and limited freedom. If I was killed during my Guardian duties, it was possible that Darí might not suffer the fate common to an?ncára. His bond to Darriel might protect him from my death, allowing him to survive. I wasn’t certain about that, but it helped to ease my conscience when I found myself in dangerous situations. So I didn’t answer Darí’s question—it seemed rhetorical to me, even though I knew he hadn’t meant it that way. How often does a single person have two an?ncára bonds at the same time? Even amongst the Ellendrí, this is considered unusual. Darí firmly believed that his bond with Darriel had not supplanted the bond that had developed between Darí and me as children, but I knew of no test save death itself that would actually prove this one way or the other.

  I needed to take the conversation away from this place of conflict and angst. “You and Darriel know that I’ll be as careful as I can. I’m not a risk taker,” I shook my head ruefully, trying to imagine what it would take to satisfy Darriel’s concept of careful.

  Darí sensed my attempt at changing the mood of the discussion, and raised another point, “You’ve been a Guardian for a long time—longer than anyone has a right to expect. You might have died out there today. No one will be unsympathetic if you lay down your Star and stay home after that.”

  “And do what?” I raised a diversionary question. It wasn’t what I did that was the issue, but how I was going to live with Darí and Darriel, how I was going to find my place within Darriel’s complicated universe, how I was going to find the other half of my whole when it might already have been given over to someone else.

  Darí took my question at face value. I couldn’t believe that he was unaware of my deeper concerns, not with the bond that we still had, but for some reason, he wouldn’t address them. “Become a Healer like me,” he answered softly. “Or do whatever you’d like—I doubt there’s much you can’t do if you turn your mind and skills to it.”

  I shook my head again, trying to imagine what it would be like to stay and live on Ellendr?a. More than that, although my separation from Darí hurt, I’d come to find enjoyment and satisfaction from my travels throughout the Ll’Ellendr?n. Trying to fill my words with some of the passion that has kept me journeying throughout the Arcs in spite of the lonely ache in my heart, I asserted, “I’d be trapped here, feeling the call of the stars and not being able to answer. Traveling to different places, learning about new things, trying to help people make better lives for themselves—that’s what gives my life meaning. I’m not sure I could give that up.” I paused, taking a deep breath, and added more weight to my case, “Maybe I’m addicted to adventure. Maybe I just can’t see myself finding anything meaningful in the work I could do on Ellendr?a.” I wasn’t entirely sure of the truth of those statements, but certainly I did enjoy the challenges and the diversity of the tasks that I performed as a Guardian. Listening, Darí lay still in my arms, quiet, but I could feel the tension in him, the painful desire to go with me balancing the need to stay with Darriel.

  Something sparked at the edge of my mind, “Why didn’t you use my Star tonight? I tried to tell you—it would have saved you from burning yourself out. I didn’t realize how exhausted you were.”

  Darí remained silent for a long time. I thought maybe he’d finally fallen asleep, but after a while, he spoke softly, “I couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I’m sure my Star would have answered to you.” Not just sure … I knew with an inner certainty. For whatever reason—sibling relatedness, growing up together, our an?ncára bond—Darí’s psi pattern and mine were as close to identical as two people could get. He could use my Star without even needing to modify his psi frequencies.

  “It’s a Guardian’s Star. Healers don’t use Stars to heal,” Darí seemed to be trying to convince himself more than me, trying to rationalize his reasons for avoiding my Star.

  “That’s odd.” I shifted my head to meet Darí’s eyes. “Just today, Rallandrí was suggesting that I take Healer’s training so that I could do exactly that. It seems to me that Stars have been used to heal people for millennia.” I waited a moment, but Darí wasn’t willing to respond. “Are you afraid that if you use my Star, you’re suddenly going to want to become a Guardian?” If only that was Darí’s problem … I could wish. Then my cynical side twisted this little strand of hope, and I added, “Believe me, the power is not that addictive, especially when you balance it against the challenges a Guardian faces. The desire to be a Guardian comes from the heart—you wouldn’t make it through the training if it didn’t.” I felt Darí sigh, but his thoughts were unreadable to me, confused and chaotic. Once again, we were at an impasse.

  Speaking mind-to-mind, I tried to ease the rift I feared was developing between us, “My an?ncára, you have my heart, my soul. I would give my life for you. But I cannot let you chain me here … we both need our freedom.” I held Darí tightly, sinking deeply into our bond and opening my mind up to him completely. I couldn’t make things better. I couldn’t fix the dilemma that we were in. All I could do was give him my love. It probably wasn’t enough, but after a long while, our fatigue overcame us, and we fell asleep.

  **********

  I stayed on Ellendr?a for 10 days—the longest I’d stayed for quite a while. After the third day, feeling fully rested, I let the Guardians know that I was recovered and ready to return to service. I was told that I’d been overdue for a break from duty, and that I should take as long as I needed to recuperate. This was the Guardians’ polite way of telling me that, since I’d nearly been killed carrying out a mission, they were happy to give me all the time I needed to decide whether or not I wanted to lay down my Star and take up a new life on Ellendr?a. It was not uncommon for Guardians who had been seriously injured to choose not to continue on in the service, and this was well accepted by all Ellendrí.

  For a time, I enjoyed a renewed closeness with Darí. Even Darriel seemed very happy to have me home, just like it once had been when we were children growing up together. Everything seemed idyllic, and I almost made up my mind to stay. But it wasn’t long before I became restless again. I tried keeping myself busy doing chores around the gardens and repairing things that needed to be fixed. That helped a bit, but not enough.

  On the eighth day, I started to notice a change in Darí. His energies shifted subtly, and he almost seemed to have a special kind of glow around him, a certain sparkle and snap that tried to draw out the same response in me. I was probably more aware of this change than other Ellendrí would’ve been, but on the ninth day, Darí stepped down from his Healer’s duties for an unspecified period of time, which confirmed my suspicions. The air in our home was sweet with pheromones, and Darriel began to respond in her own way.

  I don’t know whether it was stimulated by my close contact with Darí, the approach of midsummer, or whether he and Darriel had their own particular timing, but it was very obvious to me that they were both coming into ?r?ol, a period of sexual arousal. In the past, I’d always managed to be somewhere else when Darí and Darriel were at the height of ?r?ol, and since this seldom occurred more than a couple times a year, that hadn’t been too difficult. Now, however, I was clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Worse, I could feel my body respond to Darí’s pheromones; I could feel the heat stirring in my blood. I knew I could control myself, but it would be unpleasant and difficult. Allowing myself to respond would be even more problematic, because I was sure that if I joined with them, a triad would be forged and my life would forever be different. I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t sure what kind of life that would be. I needed to leave.

  So, on the ninth day, I informed Darí that I’d been called back to service to finish the work I’d been involved in on Davandr?a, and that I would be leaving the following morning. It was one of those polite untruths that you use to avoid hurting someone you love. Darí saw through it, of course. As I stood next to him, my body trembled with need and desire. I gritted my teeth and struggled for control and equanimity.

  “Stay,” Darí’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Stay and make love to Darriel. Give her the child she’s always wanted.” It was Darí’s last try at convincing me not to leave.

  “Darí, you’re a Healer. You know that if you can’t give Darriel a child, neither can I. And you know why,” I turned aside, struggling for composure. Our family’s dark secret, come to haunt us. And what Darí had, so did I. Then for a moment, I did give in, and flung my arms around Darí, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of him, the smell of him—wanting so badly, yet knowing that I couldn’t accept their offer without giving up those things that made me who I was, knowing that my presence here would not heal Darriel or give her what she desired. His arms went around me and for an endless instant our passions met, mingled, and merged. Then I was pulling away, knowing that I couldn’t take any more and still leave.

  “Maybe we will find a way someday, an?ncára,” Darí smiled sadly, touched the tears that were trickling down my face with his fingertips, then turned away.

  We enjoyed the remainder of the day as best we could, trying to keep our passions under control, trying to treat each other with kindness. It was bittersweet. I ached deep inside, desperately wishing there was something that I could undo to make us a happy family again. On the morning of the tenth day, I said my goodbyes to Darí and Darriel, and made my way to my ship, sitting outside our dome where it had landed 10 days before. The air was still as hot and dry as it had been when I’d arrived, but now that my injury was healed, I was once again able to tolerate the low oxygen levels of my dying home.

  As I was about to open the hatch, I heard the soft scuff of a foot and turned to see that Darriel had followed me outside. She reached out, caught my arm, turning me so that I was facing her. My breath caught in my throat—she was so beautiful, more beautiful than I’d ever remembered her being before. Her soft grey eyes had a captivating radiance, the delicately penciled eyebrows raised slightly as her eyes met mine. Her pale hair was cut neatly to collar length, curving around to frame her heart-shaped face, gleaming silver in the early morning sunlight. Her slender, fine-boned body seemed rounder and more feminine than the wiry, energetic person I remembered from our youth. I knew it was the pheromones, the fact that she was in ?r?ol, but it nearly drove me crazy.

  “Stay. Please.” She was making her plea with her entire body, with everything of which she was made, even down to her very deepest essence.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” I rasped out hoarsely. “I’m a wild thing. You can’t cage me or tame me. If you drive me into ?r?ol, you’ll regret it.” My head was throbbing with the effort to keep control of my body.

  Darriel smiled at me, the smile of a close friend who was offering to become something deeper and more soulful. “I won’t regret it. And I’m willing to take the risk.” I knew she was offering herself to me, asking me to be an?ncára with her, to complete the circle.

  “You can’t live with what I am. I can’t be what you want. We’ll just end up making our lives more painful than they already are.” My voice was a husky gasp. I needed to get away before it was too late.

  She just looked at me, cocked her head in a way that was so typically Darriel, and said, “I can learn to live with you.” She let go of my arm, her eyes catching mine before I could turn away, a look in them that has haunted me ever since. There was something important here that I was missing, something that I was unable to read even with my psi abilities. Then she dropped her gaze and took a step backward. “Think about it. We’ll still be here for you.” And then she was gone.

  The Ellendrí year is written in the form: “years since colonization day on Ellendr?a”.”current year day number”. For example, the date 8936.113 can be read as the 113th day in the 8936th year since the colonization of Ellendr?a.

  The visible, three-dimensional universe is embedded in a higher-dimensional space, called “hyperspace”, “n-dimensional space”, or the “between”. Consciousness can be described as a series of hierarchal mental spaces occupying the “between”. The higher the mental space reached, the further into the “between” the consciousness has gone, and the greater the dimensionality of the universal structure. While physical spacetime, at the lowest level of the multiverse, is four-dimensional, the highest mental space is eleven-dimensional. The Ellendrí refer to ten- and eleven-dimensional mental space as the “beyond”, a place where the spirit goes after life on this plane of existence ends.

  The Ellendrí are hermaphroditic. Thus, each parent in a union is capable of either siring or birthing a child. Where the specific relationship of the genitor to the progeny is unknown, the individual is referred to as athaira, which roughly translates into Terran English as “parent”. Where the genitor is the child’s sire (e.g., during the act of procreation, the individual which was in male phase with functional testes), then the term athairad is used, which translates to Terran English as “father”; alternately if the genitor is the child’s birthing parent (e.g., during the act of procreation, the individual which was in female phase with functional ovaries and uterus, and who then underwent gestation), then the term athairan is used, which translates to Terran English as “mother”.

  In cases where the individual is clearly in male phase, the Terran English pronouns he/his/him are used. Where the individual is in female phase, the Terran English pronouns she/hers/her are used. In ambiguous, unknown, or androgynous situations, the pronouns ey/eir/em are used.

  The non gender-specific term for Ellendrí siblings is deirfa. When referring to a hermaphroditic sibling in male phase, this noun would be modified to deirfad. For a hermaphroditic sibling in female phase, the modified form would be deirfan. Since Terrans are not hermaphroditic, the closest Terran English translation for deirfad is brother, and for deirfan is sister. Unfortunately, the words brother and sister do not recognize the true nature of the Ellendrí, since an individual can be both deirfan and deirfad at different times during their life.

  Translated into Terran English, an?ncára means “soulmate”. However, these bonds are deeper, stronger, and more encompassing than the Terran concept of “love” or “marriage”; they are enduring bonds of friendship, companionship, and eternal partnership. Soulmates resonate with each other, and have very similar psychic patterns. Soulmates will seek each other out after rebirth, and may spend several lifetimes together.

  The short form for Eldranth; used affectionately by close friends and family.

  The Guardians of Peace are a corps of Ellendrí peacekeepers, carefully selected for strong psychic abilities, and trained extensively in mediation, peacekeeping, and a variety of armed and unarmed combat skills. Although highly skilled in survival, and well capable of defending themselves and protecting those seeking their aid, these Ellendrí are oath-bound to a specific creed: to always pursue the path of non-violence whenever and wherever possible, to seek peaceful solutions to disputes, and to limit physical conflict to the least amount possible. Guardians are primarily involved in interstellar issues, and have no authority over planetary governments; however, if requested, Guardians will serve as mediators in planetary disputes. The Guardians are self-regulating, and are not bound politically or legally to any planet in the Ll’Ellendr?n. Ellendr?a provides the funding and resources for the Guardians, but does not demand any allegiance in return. At the time that this part of our story was taking place, there were very few Guardians remaining in service.

  A caprinid is a domesticated ruminant mammal belonging to the same family as Terran sheep and goats.

  Guardians who are an?ncára may choose to recognize their eternal love as soulmates through a ritual where they exchange wrist guards, called an?nbr?nne, and vow to protect and shield each other from all harm. This is similar in some regards to a Terran marriage ceremony, but with greater spiritual depth and meaning. S?athcára translates as shield mate in Terran English.

  A Guardian’s Star is a six-pointed star-shaped pendant which has at its center a large ferr?l, and at each point, a durr?l.

  Certain synthetic crystalline materials have proven to be extremely useful in Ellendrí psi technology. These crystals are a complex amalgam of both organic and inorganic compounds, nearly indestructible, and capable of resonating with the wavelengths of psychic energy. A ferr?l is a focusing crystal, often blue colored, which enables a person to focus their psychic energy intensely on a specific task, thus enhancing their control and skill. It is able to transform psychic energy into other, more usable, forms of energy. A ferr?l is specifically keyed to the unique psychic wavelength patterns of each individual, and thus it can only be used by one person.

  A durr?l is an energy capturing crystal, generally yellow colored. It is able to capture energy from some extraneous source, such as sunlight, infrared energy, or the high-frequency energies of the between, and convert it to psychic energy. A durr?l is used in conjunction with a ferr?l to greatly enhance the amount of psychic energy available to perform a given task.

  Turas is the ability to see the future. It can range from simple forewarnings of danger to the ability to trace paths created by specific decisions into the future and determine the probabilities of outcomes related to those decisions.

  A relationship that is much deeper and closer than simple friendship, but not as close and intimate as between an?ncára; often occurs amongst children who have been raised together or between members of the same family.

  1 day = 44.6 Terran hours = 1.85 Terran days; 1 deciday = 4.46 Terran hours; 1 centiday = 26.76 Terran minutes; 1 milliday = 2.676 Terran minutes.

  Cousin, male phase.

  Parents, plural of athaira.

  World Building – Storytelling.

  Guardians’ Destiny – Storytelling.