1980 - Part III Dream--07/18/80
A low fire burns before us - in midnight shadows others move across Breane's and my line of vision. It is the evening of departure and separation. We, with Jedric, go to seek the mysteries of the birthing universe, while Roderick, Danielle and Anatana (in Gala aspect) will stay to combat the dark Solomon Kraft's threat. They are with Jedric now, laying out plans to deal with the evil being. I look at Breane - she is leaning against a boulder. She has gone back to mahogany buckskins almost, her hair tied in one long ponytail to one side of her head. Her hands glow slightly bio-luminescent in the dark. She is in thought: "My people -" she breaks off; I look at her, "are facing a crucible, Shardow - if they go on with their policy of involvement, they will break every tenet laid down by my father." I shrug and speak. "They elected this path - your father's rules were for a different gain." She is silent and walks away into surrounding blackness. We have come once more to Aliana-Beveth for this final briefing, and the red sands beneath two blue moons are eerie. I open to this place and feel the waves of energy - home! My spirit lives higher than before, and I recognize how badly I want to be done with this conflict. "Conflict never ends - it just shifts," comes a voice in my head - not Breane or the others. My eyes open wide, hands clench - I whirl. On the crest of the dune are two figures, one in a mask of wings - the other is Jarane. He is older, in early manhood, no longer a youth; he wears silver and white, and his headband 'round red black hair is gold. It was not he who spoke. The man next to Jarane is massive, nearly ten feet tall; on his head sits a blueblack metallic helmet, covering all but his eyes - a bright blue. Breane is at my side suddenly. "Shardow?" from her. "It isn't necessary to be alarmed," speaks Jarane with incredible control. "Who is this?" I demand. I ignore Jarane's "recovery." Breane responds, "This is Blackthorn," and the being laughs. "Not quite true." His voice is familiar. His hands reach for the ebon mask, and as his words come, "My name is Abel Kantley," his features are revealed to be those of Delaqui Abel Cand-ley as the dream ends.
Dream--07/19/80
Night on red sands - the fire crackles higher now, and Roderick has materialized silver goblets in honor of his old friend. Danielle is in one area by herself - eyes hooded in disbelief that one she had murdered while insane yet lives. Jedric is wary, cautious; the rests are in various states of welcome. Jarane amazes - his abilities seem to have returned whole, and even the loss of his arm (the right one) doesn't hamper him. It's as tho his re-emergence has caused an acceptance of his condition as being real. Breane sits on Blackthorn's right; her eyes are flashing and happy like a little girl's. We await Kantley's pleasure - but my mind keeps guard. He clinks his goblet down and looks into the fire; his eyes raise. "The beginning? You know most of it from my Lady" (and Corolis' absence is felt) "She told you of the origins of multiverse, but omitted the name of the fourth power. You assumed, when she got to Adrionna Keep's role in all this, that she was the fourth power, transport. Such is not the case." He pauses, draws forth a gleaming ebony pipe like Holmes used to smoke, packs it and looks up again. "I am the fourth power." He lights the pipe. "My people were the first to band as a civilization - a loose confederation you might call it, with twelve chiefs of state beneath me - all sorcerers, I might add." My mind flashes on that - he continues. "We even spoke of the other planes as separate from our own - the Triverse. Saving for Corolis leaving out my importance, all else is true. Keep fled to Amaka - she is dead, by the way," - my face grows flush with anger and disbelief - "and Corolis came after - we fell in love, but there was a hitch: she gave birth to twins, Breane and Bartholomew. Twins were not accepted, almost a blasphemous occurrence, and to save much grief I took Barth and watched over him secretly on his world. He and I traveled much together," - we are a little more saddened at his loss - "as t'is our power to shift through all dimensions of existence." "You doubt me?" - his voice is pitched at me. "I was in Breane's mind, saw the blockage that Kraft II put there - Keep lives - thus you lie." Roderick is torn between truth and loyalty - he looks at me mutely. Kantley again: "You assume that he blocked her memory - that is not true; if he could block it, he certainly is capable of giving her a whole new memory. The 'Celebration' did not occur - your enemy's greatest perception is his deception." "As are yours," I respond hotly - and the fact of his self-disclosure brings a wary note to all. "Let me finish. Barth's existence was unnatural. Amakan blood will tell, as Corolis bore no more twins, and Breane shall not either - hence I concluded that reality's fabric had been toyed with in some fashion." Here Jedric is more alert, and Kantley nods to him in assent. "And when Barth's dimensional selves were being killed off by Berella and Jowennes cast Shardow into Roderick's exile, I took a more active part as Delaqui Abel. I remained with Fleece and Jarane until the point of my death." He pauses; in the distance, verdant clouds brighten with dawn. "It was a near thing - Danielle truly burnt me and only near instantaneous travel saved me. After that, I was recuperating. When I returned to Amaka, in disguise, I learned of Keep's death and recognized a pattern emerging. At first, I believed you and Shardow to be its focus," he points to Roderick, "then realized you were agents of Jedric, though unknowing. Because I knew not if he was a threat, I manipulated Amaka into selecting me as their Champion. When Corolis was abducted by Kraft II and Barth's last self killed here, I decided to make another appearance - and found Jarane in the folds of limbo, befuddled, clearing out of some great fog. His first words to me were, "She's alive!" He meant Fleece, but upon a careful probing, I learned that his soul link was to Cymynal." Here he looks at gala. "Apparently, it's a time-release thing; when Barth aged her into maturity, the link with Jarane, dormant til then, came into full being - Jarane is whole." Roderick looks to me; I am less wary. He has been aboveboard - and more than that, my internal sense tells me that his presence has evoked a calming in us all. We now must plan - but my guard stays alert, and I raise my eyes to gaze at him as the dream ends.
Dream--09/10/80
A silver sea beneath all black skies - drifting tendrils of glowing plants provide illumination in these midnite hours. We are four, awaiting four. On a gleaming vessel with twin sets of masts set high. A ghostly land Kantley has brought us to - he called it Calikiel. It is a land of phantom realities. Roderick, Jarane and myself are with him. The vessel floats in air and Abel stands, blonde hair sweeping back as wind billows. We await the dawntime, when a silver sun will play with our pasts. Roderick is all in black; he is bearded and his hair is in a long pageboy cut. On his forehead is a gleaming emerald in a gold setting. Jedric is in his prismatic form, but on this world the facets are bright blue. His eyes seek out the night like beacons. I am in blue and silver, Moodoom strapped to my waist, its colour once more ebony and pulsing. There is a storm in the sky, moonless. "Why here?" comes Roderick's voice. "This is a primal place - created at Time's dawning - long before all of us," comes from Kantley. There is a blurredness near the bow, and Danielle, Breane, Jarane and Anatana shift into visibility. Danielle is robed in mahogany silence, Breane in light blue. Jarane is in black trimmed with red, his right sleeve fastened right below his stump. Anatana is nervous, demanding. "Why here?" she echoes Roderick's words, spoken moments before. The wind is harsh, unyielding. "Do any reside here?" Danielle's voice, cold. Kantley looks at her. "You know better than to ask - here, futility is given form and demons rage. Trace your past, your futures - Calikiel outlives all. One of you bears a weapon of this place," he nods at me. I look at Moodoom - he continues. "Forged from many different realities - the blade itself is more than real - it attunes to those whose lifeforce masters chaos." Roderick peers at Kantley. "Shardow's not of the Lost Confusion." "His mastery of chaos is a learned thing - I marvel at that." Kantley motions to the North, where a silvery glow begins to blot out the night. One moment it is night, the next a furious sunrise, glare blinding. I move off to port, Breane at my side. I am troubled, and her face hints at knowledge of my concern. "Time does not obey me here," I say to her. "I've tried - little things, pockets and pools - nothing." Her face touches mine; as she does so a shimmering face forms above us. We separate instantly. A voice like mine, yet unlike, says "I am Bleyne" and it shifts into a feminine visage and voice, "I am Byre." Kantley is there instantly. "Beware, you activate your futures," to us. "Father, who are they?" from Breane. "They are your children." I stare at him and at her - the visages fade - day hangs high in the sky. "Now!" calls out Kantley and Roderick, as pre-arranged, chants in a tongue unknown. The sea restructures into a corridor and before us, like chessmen in their carvedness, stand images of the past. Ketain, Hellmann, Barth, Victoria, all the fallen pawns - Kraft, Kerlan, Keep - Gina and Carol, Angra, Atara, midnite vagaries - floating, floating, the downed of dawn - Keirus, Aliana, Fleece, Beveth, Bevev - the dead ones - a cry of terror from Anatana at Fleece's form. "No!" calls out Kantley. "You must restrain her," to Roderick - too late. Anatana hurls herself into the tableau before us. Instantly, all vanish. "Where - !" comes from Roderick. "This is a land of possibilities, not probables - your Lady stands at the heart of them." "What do you mean?" "I brought us here to better understand Kraft II's powers - through the shifting dimensions. Anatana has merged with those dimensions." He stops - a face appears high above, glinting in silvery cascades. The face is Ceycirie's, and her words echo distant past. "Now we shall see if one unborn to this land can best its resident goddess?" Roderick stands - and hurls a bolt at the form. It dissipates and a last note of laughter is its farewell as the dream ends.