Book 0: FIELDS OF FIRE Chapter v

Glendon returned to his quarters and paused outside it for a moment to brace before he opened the door. As he figured, his wife Janis was in the front room of their quarters patting her weeping sister in comfort. He entered uneasily. Janis glanced his way briefly and continued to listen as Lia wailed.

"... so dreadful. That horrible pair, speaking so ugly to me!" Lia saw Glendon out of the corner of her eye. "And you; you did not stop them, you did not defend me, you did not care at all!" she squalled.

"It was not my fight. I stayed out of it."

"That disgusting Brent Ardenne and that nasty Darien Phillipi spoke to me as if I were a... a Chassiren or worse! And you let them!"

Glendon watched his wife for her reaction. When she finally looked at him, he saw no reproach in her eyes. "Glendon was guarding the Princess Carrol," Janis reminded her weeping sister. "He was not in a position to rise to your defense in a cantina." She glanced back over at Glendon and made a brief glance upward, as if to plead for patience from a higher source.

“He could have. He should have, he is my brother-in-law. But no, Tomas is right. All the royal family sticks together with their Naradi to smooth their path,” Lia fumed.

“Nobody forced you to march into the Standard and put on a display for the unfortunate benefit of Gareth Duncan,” Glendon protested. “My place of duty was beside the princess. There has never been a time known when anyone with an issue could not throw a fist at a royal in a cantina; why did your great Major Hellick not defend your honor?”

“Because he has too much dignity,” she sniffed.

“Dignity! My maiden aunt’s garden, dignity!” Glendon responded sharply. “Does all that dignity leave him no room for a backbone?”

“Glendon,” Janis warned in alarm as she felt Lia quiver with indignation.

“Well, for the pity of it, Janis; at least Gareth speaks his mind! You may not be ready for what he has to say, but he says it. His words fly right in the face of the royal siblings and they take it without any rancor. Why is it a learned mechanic is brave enough to speak up to them, but the noble Tomas Hellick is not?”

“Do not speak of Tomas that way,” Lia said as she slapped at his arm and struck the air harmlessly.

“It is the truth. The man does not mind making a spectacle of you by nibbling your neck in front of the Standard’s bar rail,” Glendon said. Janis stiffened at his words, alarmed at the news of such scandalous behavior. “He would gladly do that but will not speak words to a prince’s face he would gladly repeat behind his back."

“Well, who are you, anyway,” Lia declared. “On duty to guard Her Highness when everyone knows she needs none! Did she not prove that with General Shanaugh?”

Lia suddenly found herself propelled toward the door by her sister. “That is enough of that,” Janis declared. “A hasty farewell kiss is a far cry from being on display in a bar. Go home, Lia, and try to explain this to Father.” Janis shut the door on her sister’s outraged squall. She turned back to Glendon. “Was it really as humiliating as she tried to make it sound?”

“It was no worse than your average drunken flirtation, if it were to come from Brent or Darien.”

“I should not put anything past them,” she said. “I did not think either of them knew Gareth.”

“They did not until today. He is taking it harder than she thinks. So much has been lost to him already. Did she tell you of the ring he had for her?” She moved forward and took his hand in hers.

“Yes. I think it bothered her greatly, but she is too stubborn to acknowledge it. I cannot believe she made a spectacle of herself! Whatever will Father say?” Janis lamented.

“He will say, ‘why are you not the soul of delight like your sister?’”

Janis kissed him. “I am so grateful I married you. Aside from being such a handsome old thing, you have all of the spoken honesty of Gareth with none of the bitter aftertaste.”

“It helps, should one need to swallow one’s words,” Glendon agreed, and she laughed and kissed him again. As they did so, their daughter Echo entered the apartment with her childhood friends, Erich Phillipi de Ardenne and Triton Ardenne de Orlean.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss," Echo complained as she headed to her room, leaving her friends to wait in the front room, "The first instinct of Thuringa next to fight, fight, fight."

"Speaking of fight, fight, fight; hurry and get your sword," Triton called to her. To her parents he explained, "We were going to a practice chamber and work on some hand-to-hand skills. The cadet consue training will be starting up someday, and we want to be ready."

He was as likable an adolescent as Glendon and Janis knew, so very Brent in his enthusiasm for action, but also so very Isador in his polite demeanor. He wore a websuit built especially for the Aquatics, since the artificial air and atmosphere of the ships dried their skin out quickly otherwise. Its intricate design allowed for greater mobility from ship to ship and afforded them a longer time away from the waters of the Freen.

"Let us hope there will not be much need for hand-to-hand skills in space," Glendon said.

"All the more reason not to get rusty," Erich pointed out with finality. "We have already worked out in the flight stations."

Glendon simply nodded. This was one royal he hoped he would not have to guard. The boy could be quite the bossy little prince. He had not always been that way; when he was younger, he was a spirited, friendly child. Of course, since the brutal kinetic bombardment of Thuringa, many personalities had been affected and it was no surprise this young prince was one more victim.

"Ready," Echo announced as she rejoined them with her wooden consue training sword and paused to strap its scabbard belt around her small waist. Like most active Thuringi, she wore her long blonde hair in a single braid down her back. The style showcased her face, which favored Glendon's especially. "I will not be gone long," she assured her parents as the three friends trooped out the door. She popped her head back around the door after the boys went through and whispered fiercely, "For goodness sake, please do not embarrass me again! Go off to your room if you are going to do that kissing business." She closed the door behind her, and Glendon and his wife chuckled.

"She is still very young," Janis reminded Glendon. "That kissing business means nothing to her at this age."

"It will mean something to all three of them, soon enough," Glendon said. "And when it does, they will see why two is compatible and three is uncomfortable."

Stuart went to his quarters after performing his common task, ready for a good sleep to put his tired body to rights. He hummed snatches of a tune he fancied as he carefully placed his sword in the Dorea wood holder by the entry door, beneath a carved shelf. He leaned against the wall and pulled off one of his boots. He heard a throat clear and saw his wife Aura in the doorway to their bedroom, eying him sternly.

"Do you know, I believe Maranta's mechanic is a capital fellow," Stuart told her. "He certainly pulled our Carrol out of her terrible depression." Aura did not reply, so Stuart continued. "And on top of all that, it seems he has been dealing with a great deal of his own loss. Is it poetic how some people seem to find each other?" Aura remained where she was, her arms folded in front of her chest disapprovingly.

Stuart sighed, and pulled off his other boot. "All right, what have I done now?" he asked as he carried the boots to their room. He stopped when she did not move from her position at the doorway. "Well, what is it? Or am I to be forced to stand here and guess what has set you off this time?"

"Poor little Carrol, so bereft over her lost love," Aura said coldly. "My father loses a limb in the service of his king, and his own son-in-law does not even bother to check on him! Too busy bending an elbow at his favorite cantina, I understand."

"I called him just recently. He told me not to bother myself about it as he was mending nicely and thanked me anyway. He sounded in good spirits," Stuart protested. "What was I supposed to have done? Gone to his quarters and kicked down his door, and demanded to be his personal bodyservant? He would have thrown a fit! I have no intention of impugning your father's pride by appearing to coddle an invalid."

"He would have been happy to see you. But no, you would rather spend your precious spare time in a glass. I just heard a perfectly riotous tale from no less than three people, all about how you sat by and did nothing but drink while my uncouth brother and that disastrous brother of yours accosted an innocent woman."

"Then three people were woefully in error, my dear Aura," Stuart said. "I only had two drinks; one I did not even finish. As for the woman in question, she was far from innocent. She allowed a man she only recently started seeing to nibble her neck in public while the unfortunate she spurned sat nearby to roast on the spit of yearning."

"Oh." Aura was surprised enough to relax her guard, so Stuart shouldered on past her into their bedroom. It was a cozy, softly lit room with warm colored cloth tapestries covering dull gray walls. Complimentary colored pillows festooned the large bed commanding the center of the room from the opposite wall. It was a lovely romantic setting to Stuart, who was dismayed to discover romance was wasted from the moment he and Aura moved in. The truth was similar settings had been wasted for years. He placed his boots upside down on their holding posts and changed for bed.

Aura closed the door and got into her side of the bed. "Well even so, I doubt Brent and Darien needed to insinuate themselves into her business. But of course if there is a woman who is brazen, that is where they would be, I suppose."

"I suppose so," Stuart agreed and felt the need to further explain. "But they saw that the spurned suitor, this mechanic friend of Maranta's, was quite disturbed by the situation They were doing payback on his behalf. It backfired when we all discovered he actually wanted her back."

"Why would he want her back?"

"Possibly because he is in love," Stuart replied.

"I cannot understand why he would want someone that brazen."

Stuart playfully blew her a kiss. "Perhaps he needs a good woman to show him the error of his ways."

She gave him a flat unemotional stare accompanied by a haughty pout on her full lips. Stuart had the distinct impression the odds of this being the night his beautiful wife Aura might thaw out her chilly demeanor long enough to allow the fires of passion to be lit, were against him.

"If he was championed by Darien and Brent, the error of his ways may take too large a strain to overcome," she remarked. Any time Darien, Brent, a cantina, and public opinion were in the same conversation, an argument from Aura was bound to be in the offing. Brent was the wild Ardenne; Aura was the poised Ardenne. During their courting days Stuart thought her poise was alluring and enticing in a forbidden sort of way. He quickly discovered after marriage it was not poise. He was not sure what the most accurate term for it might be, but poise certainly was the polite way to put it.

He got into bed and attempted to put his arms around her. She abruptly turned on her side, away from him. "Aura, do not do that. I am sorry I have not been by personally to see your father. I will do it tomorrow after my task. And I am sorry I went to the cantina; it was only for a few minutes." She remained where she was, as silent as before. "Let us not do this either. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Aura, but you hurt mine as well."

"I do not see how."

Stuart flopped back over on his back and rested his hands on his chest and addressed the ceiling. "Oh, let us try this, then: 'Hello, darling. How was your day? I would like to tell you about mine, as well. Let us have a nice hot cup of lina tea and snuggle under the covers and warm each other.'"

"I have never said that," Aura objected.

"And am I aware!" Stuart declared as he sat up. "I have heard of couples doing and saying that is what they did; but no, I have never been a witness to it in my own home."

"Perhaps you should order lina tea in the cantina or better yet, bypass the cantina altogether and come home," Aura replied.

"And if I do, will you have a cup of tea with me in bed?" Stuart asked, seeing the doorway to hope open a bit.

"No. I do not like lina tea."

"Name of All!" Stuart's voice exploded into the quiet of the room. "You do not have to drink tea!"

"Father? Is anything wrong?" Erich called out from the other side of the bedroom door.

"No," Stuart muttered, just loud enough for Aura's benefit, "except that I am freezing." Louder for Erich to hear, he replied, "No son, it is all right. Your mother and I are only chatting." Erich opened the door a bit to peek in. Stuart waved at him in permission, so the boy entered and stood at the foot of the bed.

Erich had the same sweet wide-eyed expression Stuart and Lycasis shared even if the boy's temperament lately was short and testy. "Father, some of the equation lessons I have are hard. Could you help me with them on the morrow?" Stuart smiled and nodded. As Erich beamed, Stuart leaned to hug him. Erich withdrew after the briefest of embraces. "Soon I will not be able to hug you anymore," Erich told his father.

"Why not?" Stuart asked, startled.

"Why, I will be a man soon. Mother says men should not show emotion."

"No no, that is not what I said at all," Aura soothed, as she sat up beside Stuart. She reached to tuck a stray strand of Erich's hair behind his ear affectionately. With her other hand she stroked Stuart's back lightly and ran her fingers back and forth across his shoulders. "I said, when you are a man you should be careful how you present yourself in public, and not be as emotional as you might be in private."

"Father does not show his emotions in public," Erich mused, and checked with a look at Stuart to see if he was right. Stuart nodded. "Because you are a prince?"

"That is right," Stuart agreed, beside himself at the delight he felt of his wife's soothing soft hand on his body, feeling her stroke his broad shoulders. "It would not do to let our people witness those to whom they turn for solid leadership, shout and display temper over slights, now would it? One must pick and choose those situations he must champion and which he must let go by."

"Yes sir," Erich agreed, "but Uncle Darien shouts and whoops and makes all manner of expression even when he is in public. He is a prince, too, so why can he do that?"

Aura chimed in, "Uncle Darien is a boor and you should stay away from him."

"Aura, do not tell him things like that. Darien does these things, Erich, because he is not the crown prince. He is able to gain a larger variance in what he does by virtue of not carrying the burden of a future crown. There is no harm in laughing or expressing pleasure. If I could, I would shout and whoop too. In fact, when I am happy I do shout and whoop. I have been taught not to show anger in public and if I should, it must be only righteous anger over serious matters. Otherwise, as your Grandfather Lycasis would say, 'it is not seemly'. Now, is it time you were in bed? After I do my tasks tomorrow, I will be certain to help you with your schoolwork. Do you like attending classes with other children?"

"Yes. Mother says you had to study by yourself in Grace Castle. It must have been lonely."

"I was not alone. I had Darien with whom to study."

"I am the only prince in school. Father, why is cousin Triton not a prince as well?"

"You know the answer to that. Is this your way of getting out of going to bed?" Stuart asked astutely. Erich grinned and laughed.

"Well, it was not intended as such, but it is a capital idea!" the boy chortled. He quickly kissed his mother's cheek and waved before going out. Stuart reached to place his arm around Aura and gently hugged her to him. She allowed his embrace for a second or two before firmly pushing him away and facing away from him.

"I thought –" Stuart began.

"You assumed wrong." For a minute he stared as his heart cried out for her. He finally lay back down and faced the opposite wall.

"Why do you do this to me?" he asked quietly.

"I am not some little amusement, put here for your enjoyment during your off-hours," Aura pointed out. "I do not appreciate being mauled like some wanton Chassiren. We both need our rest for we both have tasks to do tomorrow. Let us not argue anymore, Stuart; let us sleep."

"Easy for you to say," Stuart grumbled. They heard the sound of broken glass from the front parlor. "Whatever is that?" Stuart slid out of bed. With Aura behind him, he went into the parlor. Erich stood with a very guilty look on his face, a wooden training sword in his hands and a broken vase at his feet next to a table. It was one of the museum pieces from Gallina, crafted hundreds of years ago during the Eleventh Rule.

"You were supposed to go to bed," Stuart told him. "If you had obeyed you would not be in trouble now." He started toward Erich, but the boy dodged at the last minute and ran into another room. He also dodged his mother and the three began a wild chase around the apartment. “Come back here! If you were not in trouble before you are most certainly in it now!” Stuart finally stopped at one point and doubled back to catch him. He gave the boy a powerful swat on his seat and Erich yelped in alarm.

"Stuart, do not strike my baby!" Aura demanded furiously.

"Your baby is not longer a baby, Aura. It is beyond time that he learned the consequences of his misbehavior, and words are no longer effective enough," Stuart declared, but Aura grabbed his wrist before a second swat could be administered.

"I said, no!" she ordered. "You brutal warrior man! I will not allow my child to be brought up by corporal punishment."

"He is my son, too! Aura, we cannot continue to let him get away with infractions. Look at that vase; do you want to explain to the curators why it will never be available for display again? How do you propose to punish him for breaking it? Scold him until he is put to sleep by boredom?" Erich chuckled. Stuart gave him a high voltage glare and the chuckles stopped abruptly.

"You are not going to strike him for it," Aura said. "I will speak to the duty assignment officer tomorrow and Erich can be assigned to cleaning out gakki stalls."

"Ew," Erich voiced his disgust at the idea.

"There," Aura said coolly to Stuart. "If you believe cleaning stalls is not punishment, Stuart, then pray tell me what is."

"At this moment? Marriage," Stuart said shortly, and returned to bed.

Maranta’s spirit wandered in and out among the ships of the Armada. He especially stayed close to the tiny cargo vessel, the Shanaugh Special. It was like a kindred spirit, the seeds of hope for a New Thuringa and a powerful force to which he was drawn. He came to the flagship Quantid where he passed through the hull and eased along the walls and corridors. He saw the king at his command post on the bridge, keeping track of the Armada’s progress. Lycasis looked weary but the light of new challenge gleamed in his eyes. Lycasis always loved a challenge, always eager for a good quasch match to see how he could slip from the grip of an opponent. Advisors were nearby on the bridge, keeping a nonstop flow of information about variables of the situation before the king. Lycasis was in his element, dispensing his wisdom and leadership with a sure and steady hand.

Maranta spied Prince Darien on an observation deck, pointing out the changing patterns of constellations to a small group of attentive children and their parents. One of the advisors approached him and gestured back toward the bridge of the Quantid. Darien frowned and nodded and excused himself to the people he taught. He left with the advisor, obviously not happy. Darien tugged at the insignia of Warrior General on his uniform tunic. Maranta knew the Warrior Prince was not comfortable about the role thrust upon him. He spoke into Darien’s ear to reassure him, but Darien heard nothing.

Maranta came across Prince Stuart and Aura in hot pursuit of their son Erich in their family quarters. Erich attempted to escape some sort of parental punishment. Maranta tried to trip the boy up but the child went through him as if nothing were there and of course, nothing was. Stuart went through Maranta’s mist and stopped. For a fleeting moment, Maranta held hope Stuart sensed he was there. But no, Stuart only used that moment to gauge Erich’s whereabouts. He darted around a wall and caught up with the errant young prince.

Stuart never hesitated to mete out swift but fair punishment on the boy and as long as Erich was only in Stuart’s care, Stuart only had to place a restriction on him. The boy was generally eager to please and behaved. Aura was fiercely protective of her son and did not allow physical correction. Erich used this to his advantage any time he got into trouble.

Stuart was torn between keeping the peace with his already difficult wife and trying to correct his increasingly difficult son. Maranta bore a pinch of foreboding this boy needed a firmer hand and was not likely to get it from Stuart as long as Aura had a say in it. They allowed Erich to attend the public school, where the young prince was constantly reminded of his special role in Thuringi society. Maranta did not enjoy the times he worked with the boy, and Erich certainly did not like being ordered about. He had jumped to do so nevertheless, out of awe of the legendary general.

Princess Aura protested only once about the rigorous and demanded expectations of her son. “I have never known of a fool or coward to claim the throne of Thuringa,” Maranta told her then, “and I do not intend to see a spoiled boy do so in the future.” The look in Maranta’s eyes was all it took for the lofty princess to gulp hard, scramble to gather her things, and depart his office hastily.

This time, the boy was to be sent to clean gakki stalls for his latest transgression of disobedience and carelessness, when a sound smack on the rump might have served better.

Maranta saw his friend Gareth Duncan install one of his new inventions at his workstation in a Quantid hanger bay. Gareth and he enjoyed a long and enduring friendship. Gareth was Maranta’s favorite auxiliary worker whose honesty and loyalty won a special place in the general’s heart. Maranta longed to be able to ruffle the already tousled hair on the mechanic’s head and assure him of his presence. Gareth looked up and around slowly, squinting slightly, as if trying to figure something out.

<I am here. Can you see me? Can you hear me>? Maranta hoped. Gareth stopped and looked the other way, still concentrating. Maranta’s spirit surrounded Gareth’s head and for a moment he could see from the mechanic’s point of view. Gareth’s eyes took on a strange glow as he stepped forward with a familiar purposeful stride. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He gave a shudder, grabbed hold of his tool chest, and clung to it with effort. Maranta sprang away, reluctant to do more for fear of harming his former self’s friend and confidant. Gareth sat down on the floor and shook his head from side to side. He rose to his feet and chuckled a little in confusion and continued his work. He was none the worse for wear.

Maranta came to Carrol's quarters and found her curled up on her bed, peacefully at rest, her covers gathered around like a cocoon. She looked even younger than when he first noticed her as a young medical officer. The years since then gave her character; they had not robbed her of her freshness and beauty. She wore the fiber vest he gave her to keep warm the morning after First Night. He bent over her sleeping figure and attempted to kiss her cheek. He called her name in hope he might reach her in her unconscious state. She knew nothing, and he felt nothing. The hot passion of his love had evolved until it became a fondness for her, a gentle memory. He took his leave, unable to dispel the growing feeling of helplessness.

He went to the Royal chambers, where Oriel lay in a meditative state on her bed. He spoke to her thoughts. <I have taken the second path> he told her. For a moment, she was silent. Then to his astonishment, he felt a shiver in his mind and heard her thoughts faintly.

>My dear Maranta, you have found us< She was relieved to hear him but showed no particular surprise in the fact.

<I have found a great many things; especially the untold difficulty along the path of this newfound freedom of which you spoke>

>Most go on the path to the Great Hall of the God of All. Only a very few choose the path you have chosen<

<I can see why. You did not tell me the particulars of the choice> Maranta informed her tersely.

>I do not profess to know everything in this mortal state<

For a moment, Maranta felt something akin to betrayal. <Then why did you not tell me that before? I should have gone to the Great Hall immediately when I first died>

>Then you must do so now if that is what you wish<

<It does not work that way, my queen. I have taken my only choice. There is no path to the Great Hall left for me to take now. You spoke a fallacy>

She gasped, a mental shudder of her startled realization that he reported from his own experience and not from another’s deduction. >I am so deeply sorry I was wrong, Maranta<.

He was mollified for the regret in her thoughts was genuine and deep. <No matter now. It was my choice, after all. I might have chosen it anyway without your prior revelation. How is it we do not know the Choice in our mortal state of alertness? There is nothing in the texts about it>

>I came about the theory long ago and sampled it only by chance when my sons were born. I was prepared to go on the Path until I saw the Choice presented. But it was not my time and I was drawn back and remained in my physical form. Such as it is< she replied.

<Where are the others, the ones who chose the second path>?

>It is believed they chose to join in the spirits of the creatures and living things of this plain. One can only assume they might have had a second choice for the Path to the Great Hall. But one cannot be certain. If they are not with you, then I could not tell you<

<If I join with an animal or a man, then could I go to the Great Hall with them when they ultimately pass>?

>That is my understanding, but now I am unsure<

<Why do not more Thuringi know of this>?

>They do not know. The Hunda do<

Maranta was silent for a moment. <The Hunda witches. Of course. Only a weirdman would tinker with the Path to the God of All. One more question, Queen Oriel. Did you tell me of the choice of the Path to help me or to punish me>?

>Oh Maranta< her thoughts sighed. >I had no inkling it would be so harsh for you. I only wanted to help you, perhaps find a way to be with Carrol again<

<As Maranta Shanaugh>?

>As whomever you choose to become<

<But you are not certain. I would not be the same as before>

>How could you be? The God of All makes but one of each of us<

She heard his reply, so dreadful in its sorrow. <Then I am lost. I am Maranta Shanaugh. Why would I choose another form to win her again? Whom would she choose: me, or another man? It would not be fair to her, or me, or him. I am gone. She must find another>

After a long moment, Oriel responded. >Come to me in my final hour. When I pass, perhaps I will be able to lead you with me along the Path, and you will have peace, my poor dear soul. It is my prayer you will not have to wait for long<

<Do not hasten on my account> Maranta returned solemnly. He drifted away.

The queen awoke from her meditation with a start and cried into her pillow.

He returned to Carrol’s quarters and gazed upon her sleeping figure. She tossed a little, restless in her slumber, and hugged the vest tighter. A tear slowly found its way down her cheek. It would take time, but she would heal. She would eventually remember him only as a warm memory and find someone else. He wondered how long she would live in this sad state until she accepted her widowhood and moved on to learn to live and love again. All he wanted for her now was to find peace, the kind of peace so closely aligned to the resignation he felt.