14

In a third timeline (nothing like meanwhile) a ferocious, predator-race had all but scoured their planet of life and resources. Next turning covetous eyes toward space, they built great machines with which to reach and conquer the stars. Found others, though, already there. Some of them refugees, some of them aliens. All well-armed, determined and ready for war. And then…

'Full consciousness required, pilot. The engagement is lost. Retreat: Y/ N. Self destruct: Y/ N."

…then he awoke into battle.

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In an ivy-draped courtyard, Valerian worked off frustration by teaching his pages a bit of offensive magic. Nothing much. Just 'dart' and how to deflect it. The girls, Mirielle and Pretty One, were eager learners, and he'd had to extract an airtight promise from each, not to use their new skills for mischief.

"Seriously. No tormenting the staff or each other with magical bolts. I am risking censure as it is, starting your training myself."

The girls were all wide, innocent eyes and sly, crossed stances as they 'promised'.

"We would never, Lord Val!" protested Mirielle (tygre-striped, at the moment). Then, chanting a memorized lesson, "Magic is a powerful tool and a mighty servant, never a toy."

"At least," giggled Pretty One, "not while you're watching us!"

"Not ever," he corrected, trying for 'stern' but managing only 'distracted'. "It is terribly easy to lose control and have Chaos slip into a spell. Especially now, in the short days of winter. Do not misuse your power."

At which point they'd had the grace to nod and look somber. Seemed reassuring enough… Only then, Mirielle summoned a spirit-blade, saying,

"And if anyone tries to centaur you, Milord, we'll dart 'em. Right, Pretty?"

"Oh, so much!" growled the tan-skinned goblin imp, jumping up and down on the flagstones, surrounded by shimmering darts like a school of pale fish.

Well, you couldn't have everything, he supposed. Attentive, capable students who also wouldn't spend all of their free time zapping each other, was probably too much to ask.

"I appreciate the offered defense," Val said lightly. "But I am well able to manage without silly pages, no matter the 'centaur' or censure I face. Now, one more dart apiece, at me, this time, as I evade. Then, off to wash up and have supper."

The day was sunny but cold, being well advanced, and the pages' bellies were rumbling. They were too excited to quit early, though. Even for supper in the New-blade mess hall.

Val mussed their hair with a playful spell, causing Mirielle's candy-striped braids and Pretty's black mane to stand up and ripple like wheat. Then, he shot off across the stone courtyard; misty-stepping at random. First to the gate, then the quartz archway and rose trellis, keeping ahead of twin, shining darts. The girls could control them a bit, once launched, sending the magic missiles where they thought he'd turn up… but mostly guessing wrong.

Stupid fun and a waste of time, but it gave him space to reflect… and that, Valerian very much needed. See, he'd gone to his rooms after the disastrous encounter with Mum, taking Bean back up to Alfea. Said nothing at all about what had happened, though, and didn't stay very long after changing. The lovely sprite was perceptive, and would have asked questions, had she been less exhausted.

Fee had fallen asleep again soon after feeding the baby, so he'd kissed them both, then gone to check with Katina. His former nanny might have sensed something wrong, but she didn't say so; merely fussing with his clothing and hair before sending him forth.

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"Mind you don't attempt too much magery, Sweetling," she'd advised, there in the cozy west sitting room. "You've drained yourself proper, keeping Her Ladyship well."

Valerian nodded, accepting the kelab-dipped biscuit she'd given him. Sweets and bread really did restore manna.

"I'll be careful," he promised. "It is low-level training, though. What's the wors…"

Katina lifted a hand to lay gentle fingertips over his mouth, stopping the question.

"Don't ask, and never find out, Milord. Chaos hears, and it answers."

Good advice, from someone who very much loved him. He'd taken her hand and squeezed it by way of response. Then, kissing his Nana's forehead, he misty-stepped off.

Now, with a great knot of tangled emotions and worry churning his gut, the young elf-lord flashed hither and yon through the courtyard; followed (and sometimes surprised) by glittering mage-darts. Nothing hit him, until a sudden outburst of Chaos appeared, in the direction of Lerendar's mansion. Huge, at first, the crackling sphere instantly began to contract; shattering bridges and cleaving platforms, sending folk shrieking for safety.

Then, utterly shocked, Valerian stopped short and sharp. Got struck, one-two, by paired darts that hit chest and right arm, for he hadn't bothered to shield. They stung a bit going through. Minor damage, at best… but he hardly noticed.

"Mirielle, Pretty One, go to the New-blade barracks. Find Claire or Mello and stay with them. Now."

"But, Milord," they begged, trying to catch at his hands. "We can…"

"Now," he repeated, readying magic he couldn't afford. "Move!"

The girls scurried off, which was one less concern. For himself, Val tacked into a ley line and ported, absorbing as much manna as the stone giant fortress would loan. As always, confusingly, he sensed its willing acceptance of him as Silmerana; like Dad and Lord Galadin, Warden of the North.

Got there in less than a heartbeat, to find the pulsating globe clenching tight like a purple-dark hand. Centered on Lerendar's manse, it had already crushed the west wing and gardens, as terrified servants fought to escape.

Val created a tunnel of sorts, jamming it into that bubble of roiling darkness. The noise… cracking stone, splintering timber, screaming and curses… was thunderous. Overwhelming. Louder yet, that chaotic sphere crackled and buzzed, flaring with tendrils of lightning each time it convulsed.

Those who got to his safe-path abandoned the mansion. But not… he couldn't see…

"Honored Beatriz and Lady Zara," he demanded, seizing the chief steward's shoulder. "Where are they!?"

The man, a grizzled half-elf, shook his head.

"I don't know, Milord! They were just in the dining room. We'd served dessert, but…" he looked around wildly, brown eyes frantic with misery. "I don't see them, My Lord."

And Val could not sense them at all. Out here, at least. Releasing the steward, he snapped,

"Clear everyone out that you can, Rowlin. I place you in charge of evacuating the premises until the High Lord arrives."

"Yessir. Yes, Milord!" Rowlin answered. "The dining room, Sire. They must still be in there!"

But Val was already moving, transporting himself up the quivering tunnel, pushing its walls back with borrowed strength, as Chaos clamped down like a steel-armored fist.

Here, Starloft's magical feed was reduced to a trickle, choking his manna. Val pushed through, anyhow. He knew where the dining hall was. Ought to have taken a heartbeat at most to reach it. Only, there were servants… people he knew and cared about… crushed and dying all through the building. He couldn't just leave them. Pages, the cook and tutor, a few tween-aged maids, Lerendar's man-servant... These, he got to in time, yanking them into the tunnel while battling Chaos with sigil, power and word.

Others were already pulped, and beyond his help. Those he released with clean fire, not letting the darkness swallow them up. Reached Beatriz and Zara… with Speckles, the cat… moments later. Bea's pet had ballooned to lion-size, was flaring with magic, using all that it had to keep Chaos at bay. Wretched, foul-tempered monster hissed at him, as Valerian fought his way over through waves of compressive force and shattered debris. Scratched at him, too, but he dodged its clawed swipe.

"Uncle Val!" shouted Scamp. "Over here! We're right here!"

She was held tight by her crouching Mum, while darkness bore down like the ocean at crush depth. Her mother gasped,

"Can't move. Promised. Please, help Scamp… take Zara… get her out of here, please!"

Val got to the woman and child, suddenly comprehending. She must have promised his brother… her lord… that she'd stay in the house. Now, bound by her vow until Lando released her, Bea was trapped.

Holy flame. Now what?

Val might have been able to grab just Zara and flee, but the girl wouldn't go, and he couldn't leave Bea. Hauled them into his arms, instead, crouching low as he called upon Starloft for power and strength.

The terrible pressure increased explosively. That chaotic globe contracted relentlessly, demolishing walls and furnishings, entombing them all in a saw-toothed and tightening death trap.