Chapter 11:
The pyre had burned down; the ashes had scattered on the wind. The mass grave had been set ablaze and still burned. The evening had come in. Wounded had died. The battle-weary troops had set up a temporary camp, and now he sat across from Talon, Renall, Jeval, and Marik and their mates. Tara was at his side, and he could feel the silky spring of her hair against his neck. That comforted him somewhat but his heart was heavy, and regret ate into him with every breath.
So much time wasted, and so many things left unsaid between his father and himself, and now there would never be time to say or do the things he had wanted to say and do with and to his father. Their time in the world had parted ways.
Renall said, “Tralam’s a myth.”
“I don’t even know what the myth is,” Tara said softly. “I have never heard of it.”
“That’s because you are human and young and the humans forgot about it centuries ago. But we Revants are long-lived, as are a few other species, and our memories are long,” Marik stared into the fire lit in the center of the shelter comprised of wreckage and cloth. The shadows danced over his face, highlighting the planes and angles there, and Blade said, “I heard of it once on some planet. There was a singer who sung of it, called it the fearsome Tralam and spoke of the horrors awaiting there.”
Renall chuckled. “That’s how they carried its tale, those who knew of its existence. They turned it into myth on purpose because they knew nobody would believe them, or so the very eldest of the ones who were centuries old when I was but a few years into life said.”
Tara looked at Blade. Her green eyes held so many questions and so much concern, and he knew that that concern was mostly for him. His hand found hers and squeezed gently. She managed a smile, and that made a small smile come upon his mouth too, but it died fast and hard.
Jenny said, “I have never heard of it either. Why don’t you tell it to us?”
Marik looked around at the others gathered there in the shelter. “I don’t know that I could do it as much justice as a singer.”
Blade said, “We do not need a singer to tell us this. My father thought that there was something to it. While it may be simply a tale, perhaps there is some truth to it at its heart. If we can hear it, we could either dismiss his words entirely or consider them.”
Renall spoke quietly. “They do say that every story has some grain of truth within it. I have no idea how much truth is within that particular tale, but if there is any, then it may serve us well.”
Jessica poked an elbow into Talon’s ribs. “Have you ever heard of it?”
Talon nodded his head. “I always disregarded it. I don’t need to know how or why the founding members of the Federation died or the creation of the universe. I did hear that many millennia ago humans worshipped a myth similar to that tale, a tale of creation and self-sacrifice, I mean. But who knows? They have all been dead for centuries, and while it is said that the first Federation founders killed themselves, that might just be a myth too.”
Blade shifted uneasily. The shelter had been built haphazardly, and the ground was near earth and grass. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sit, but that was not why he shifted the way he had.
A sudden memory had risen up in his mind, a memory of his father standing over him when he was ten or maybe eleven and saying to him that the root of all that could be found to be evil lay not in the Federation itself but in those who had taken it over. That if the eldest of the Federation, its founding members, could only come back, that they would be able to set right all that had gone wrong in their absence.
At the time he had thought it was merely wistful or wishful thinking, but perhaps his father was truly mourning the loss of the original Federation’s founding members—something that made much more sense now that he knew they had all taken their own lives.
That the Federation had gone from being a thing meant to ally the universe and bring it peace to a corrupted system filled with the power- and wealth-hungry was a clear thing, and even the Federation’s most staunch supporters knew that all was not what it should be.
Blade moved his leg so that it pressed more tightly against Tara’s. “I had not heard that the founding members took their own lives.”
Jessica looked at him with a frown forming between her straight brows. She looked over at Jenny and then at Margie. “Nor had I. That’s something I’ve never heard. I heard they died but that we were living their legacy and that we must always honor the thing that they’d created. I never heard they committed suicide.”
Blade’s fingers inscribed a small pattern into the dirt beside his bent knee. “Why on earth would they commit suicide? They had formed the most powerful alliance ever known, and they were in charge of it. Why would they have killed themselves?”
Talon said, “Maybe that’s why they don’t discuss it much. It doesn’t make any sense, does it? Why would the beings that had complete control of the entire universe suddenly destroy themselves? I always thought that part of it was strange, but the old tales of the old gods and old civilizations have plenty of deities who gave their lives in order to save the population.”
Blade snorted. “I’d say they fucked up then. If they really did off themselves, all they accomplished was to let their underlings run amok with all the power in the universe, and look what they have done with it through the centuries.”
Tara looked over at him. Her mouth was turned down a bit, and he could see the weariness in her expression. The expression on her face tugged at his heartstrings, and he felt more regret and remorse settling in. He had nearly lost her more than once, and still might. The Federation had been beaten back; they had not been beaten. In order to truly best them, they would have to fight for a lot longer, and many more lives would have to be given.
But, oh God, he did not want hers to be one of them.
Talon said, “Tell the story then, Marik.”
Marik settled in a bit. His voice began, and Blade leaned further against the body of the woman that he was in love with. He closed his eyes as the tale began, and he let the words spin out around him, take him to another time and place...
“Once, long ago when the universe was still uncivilized and unsettled, there arose war. All of the planets were governed by their own governments and upon each planet was war. The planets were at war with themselves, and with each other. There was war over class systems, war over resources, many of which were dwindling throughout the universe. There was violence and blood, disagreement, and hatred. Humans disliked those who were not human. The alien races who were not human disliked the humans because they were too arrogant and prideful and because they had not yet understood, as their awakening to the fact that the universe was greater than just their planet system, that they were but one species among many.
During this time of great strife and darkness, there grew another time. Alongside the darkness came much light. Technologies advanced. Civilizations advanced. Death could not be stopped; it is the universal rule that death shall always have its hold. But the things that caused death could sometimes be changed or halted in their tracks and death could be stalled or stymied.
At that time, the greatest beings in the universe were the Speakers. The Speakers were an ancient race, older than even the universe, or so some whispered. Others said that the Speakers were in fact the creators of the universe. That they had fled from their own universe into the one of which we now speak, and then closed the door firmly behind them in order to prevent this new universe from ever knowing of the other. It was whispered that the Speakers had done this because on the other side of that door lay nothing but the ruins of planets and worlds who had been too long at war and who had destroyed themselves and everything living in its lust and need for war and power.
The Speakers were said to have created life by bringing life from the other side of that door, the door that they had so firmly closed. They settled life here, and there. They gave the life that they set into motion tools to survive and hoped that the beings that they created and placed upon planets all across the universe would forget what war was and never engage in it again.
The Speakers were not immortal. They had a lifespan, and it would cease. Before it ceased, however, they had the opportunity to spend many centuries watching as the universe that they had seeded sprang into life and then sprang into the very thing that the Speakers had hoped would never be on that side of the door.
The Speakers were disheartened. They watched as war broke out. They watched as oppression began. They watched as class systems were put into place and some beings were held under the heavy foot of those who considered themselves better than the ones that they oppressed.
They watched this hatred over species, breeds and the color of skins and the form of bodies begin and spread like a virulent fever across the universe that they had hoped would be their redemption.
The Speakers did not intervene nor interfere. They believed that what they had created was a failure and that it was their own fault for having faith where none should’ve been.
They despised what they had created for it had proven itself to be unable to forget the one thing the Speakers had hoped would be lost.
Hatred.
Hatred which led to war and greed and all the other things that had destroyed the universe from which the Speakers had come.
The Speakers fled the universe, leaving it in chaos and disarray, choosing to die outside the door that they had created rather than face the awfulness of their creation. They would rather close their eyes and close the door. They re-centered themselves in the emptied world and universe that they had left behind in the hopes of creating something better.
They chose to do that rather than stay in the universe that they made as its civilizations and populations tore itself and themselves apart.
It is said that the Speakers knew then that the only way to redeem themselves after such a horrible mistake was to let the universe that they created die, to let those who would make war, make it. To let those who would suffer from that war, suffer from it, and to never allow that failed universe entry into the universe beyond the door
They also say that the Speakers intent in closing that door was not just to keep their vile creation from spreading into the empty universe beyond but to protect the universes beyond that universe, universes upon universes too vast to be numbered.
The Federation was formed in this time and among the beings that formed the original founding members of the Federation were several beings who believed quite sincerely that the Speakers had indeed existed. That they had foreseen a universe capable of greatness, of great peace, and of equality and justice.
That it had failed, the founding members of the Federation reasoned, was inevitable. All civilizations and births are bloodied and violent. All children must be taught and raised and educated in this way. It seemed that the Speakers had neglected their duties as parents of that universe.
The founding members of the Federation reasoned that if they could forge an alliance, one made of not just trade agreements and necessity, but of real and genuine trust, then they could take hold of their populations. That they could spread the necessity for peace. That all could thrive and prosper. That the power would lie within each and every being upon each and every planet within that universe and that the universe would be peaceful and plentiful.
So the Federation was created. More and more planets fell into line as they saw these powerful founding members, rife with wealth and the ability to broker trade and peace, begin to bring an end to the terrible wars that raged. An advanced technology rose to new heights, heights that only their working together could have created.
Those who were within the Federation found themselves suddenly blessed with not just technology but resources. The Federation had the ability to travel into corners of the universe previously unknown via the wormholes whose locations only the Federation knew. Those wormholes gave Federation allies and members the ability to keep their populations from starving or dying of thirst and the elements. There were materials and other resources in the corners of the universe too, things that would help beat back death and make civilization spread faster.
More and more planets joined. The Federation grew. It spread from a handful of planets to nearly every corner of the universe in less than a half-a-century. But all was not well even with this early alliance. Suddenly the founding members found themselves possessed of massive and mighty armies, many of which had blood grudges against other armies also part of the Federation. The founding members could not keep their own members from fighting each other.
As the power grew. As the wealth grew. As the renown grew, so did the war.
And then came the day when all of the founding members realized that their bodies were old and frail and that death was imminent. That nothing, not technology and not even their intentions, could halt death. It was coming for them, and it was coming soon.
The founding members of the Federation called a special council meeting and began delegating duties and asking for truce treaties and doctrines within its members. But power brings corruption, and many within the Federation’s lower ranks had already tasted what heady power could be had—and they wanted more.
An assassination plot began. Every founding member found themselves in danger, grave danger. The only kind of danger that truly exists.
Knowing that they were dying and that their deaths would come much faster if they did not do something to prevent it, the founding members resolved to remove themselves from the world. Not just the world either, but the universe.
They took themselves to a secret stronghold called Tralam and there they took their own lives. Their bodies remain there to this day, it is said. There are some who, many centuries ago, found the way into that stronghold. What they saw there was fearsome and terrible. None who ever entered came back whole. Most never came back at all.
Tralam is the place where the remains of the founders lie and shall always lie, protected by the thing that first sealed the door: the tech that the Speakers used and that the founding Federation members discovered and then used but only once. To seal their bodies away.
So the founding members, like the Speakers before them, turned their back on the universe that they had wished only peace and enlightenment for. Now they too are gone.”
Blade’s eyes flew open. He turned to Talon. “I know our main objectives and fighting the Federation were never aligned. Mine was to break them and take them all down. Yours was to stop them from opening a wormhole that would lead into another universe, a universe whose beings could kill the entire universe here.”
Talon said, “It’s still our objective. Although we have different objectives, they both need to be played out. But I see your point. That old tale speaks of the wormhole in the universe beyond the Speakers door. I had forgotten about that. Like I said, it’s a tale told only by the oldest, and they are all gone now. I haven’t heard it in centuries, and I had never connected the two things.”
Renall ran his long hands up and down his legs. His face held a reflective look. “Nor had I. I don’t think any of us did. I don’t think I have heard that tale since I was maybe twenty summers old, and that was nearly four centuries before. If there is any truth to that, if the Federation truly can open that door, we may be letting ourselves in for more than just war from the other side.”
Blade said, “That doesn’t answer the major question though.”
He leaned forward. The flames from the fire licked upward, orange and red with blue at the very tips, “What actually lies on the other side of that door? And how does Tralam figure into all of this? My father said that the Federation is there. Apparently they are. Also, apparently they’re all dead. Why would we need to go there?”
The scent of the fire drifted upward, wood and flame. It was a good smell. It was the smell that signified life, and he savored it, for a moment of silence reigned all around him. It seemed that every question just brought another question along with it. There was no way to know if his father had been merely hallucinating and repeating some portion of an old tale. But the fact that the old tales specifically mentioned wormholes controlled by the Federation and a door closed by the Speakers was interesting.
It was also far too neat to be just coincidental. Why had his father said that he had to go to Tralam? Even if the place existed, what could possibly be there that would help anything or anyone at all?
For that matter, if it was an impenetrable fortress and nobody knew where it was, and it certainly seemed as if nobody had any clue as to where the hell it was, what good would it do to try to go there?
It was all just a wild goose chase, he decided as he stared into the flames. The heat of those flames beat against his face, and he found himself remembering again. When he had been a small boy, his father had been away a lot. Federation duty had meant that he was seldom at home. On one of his rare furloughs, General Bates had taken his young son on an expedition. They had walked for an entire day, eating rations and drinking purified water from refresher bottles. They had stopped in the old-growth forest outside Newport City and set up a meager shelter there. General Bates had started a fire and then turned to his son.
The young boy that Blade had been had stared up at his father’s face as General Bates said in a gruff voice, “This is where I leave you. You will find your way home, or you will never return home again.”
And with those words, a hovercraft had appeared, clearly called by his father. Blade, young and frightened and protesting wildly, had tried to climb aboard the craft as well. His father had pushed him away and left him seated there on the forest floor staring upward as the hovercraft crested the trees and then vanished.
He’d stayed the night there because he’d been too afraid to move. The next day he had dutifully put out the fire and then began the trek home. He had no rations. No water. No way to know in which direction he was traveling or how far he would have to go before he reached the city again.
And somewhere in the two and a half days that it took him to find his way back home, he became a man. He became a man who could listen hard and hear water running along the bank. A man who was unafraid to climb into a tree and steal eggs from a prey bird’s nest. A man who was young in age and body but strong in spirit and will and who had found his way home again.
The first thing he had done when he had walked through that door into his father’s house had been to punch his father directly in the nose, breaking it. He had stood there, his fingers burning and his rage burning even higher. To his shock, his father had merely looked at him and said, “Good for you. You hungry?”
And that had been the end of it.
Blade had never understood why his father had done that. Despite all the years between that day and the one he was currently living, he was still at a loss to understand why his father had done that.
Oh, he understood the reasons on the outside of that action. He’d been too young, and far too frail. He had always been a sickly child, and his mother had doted on him, always keeping him confined to bed or to hospital despite the hospital continually telling her that there was nothing wrong with him other than that he needed exercise and fresh air.
After that day, his mother had avoided him. Blade had seen the marks on her arms and cheek; he had known, he had not wanted to know, but he had known, that his father had put those marks there. He also knew that it was his father’s orders that kept her from denying him the right to run play and to be healthy.
His mother had been domineering and smothering. She had been sure that her son would die during an early childhood battle with some small disease and Blade knew, after he was much older, that that had been what had directed her actions toward his childhood and what made her so careful with him.
As he sat there now, staring at the flames, he found himself wondering if his father had done that to prove to his wife and Blade’s mother that Blade was, indeed, quite strong and capable, if he was only given the chance to be so.
Or perhaps he had done it to force his son to realize that he was indeed capable of all of the things that his mother swore that he was not.
Perhaps at the end, it didn’t matter what the reasoning behind that action was. What did matter was that Blade had been forever changed by the experience. And his hero-worship of his father had died that day. The biggest casualty from that day had been the relationship between boy and father.
Blade had never trusted his father after that. He knew that now and as he sat there trying to decipher some sort of reasoning from the old tale that had just been told and his father’s words.
Blade and his father had fought continually simply because there was no trust between them. And now he had to try to trust the words of his father, a man he had never trusted, not even after that very man had turned his back on the thing he held so dear his entire life.
He spoke again, shattering the silence. “I don’t know if this is something we should pursue. My father was a man who was reasonable to a fault, and perhaps his blood loss made his mind weak or something. I mean, how could we even find it, and why would we want to try when we need to do so much here, now that the war is really on?”
Jessica snorted. “If there is a fortress, and consider this for a moment, will you guys? How could there possibly be this place that none of us have ever seen or heard of? If it was an actual place, somebody would’ve found it by now.”
Tara’s hair brushed against his neck again as she leaned forward and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. The weight and heat of her arm centered Blade. Her words and settled him. “Because it is not in this universe and maybe the reason nobody has ever found it is because they went through the wormhole the wrong way. I mean, what if they went in the way that they thought was the direction because that is the direction they would go in, but that led nowhere? He said the exit-way is the entrance, after all.”
Talon’s fingers stroked along his chin. “That still doesn’t answer the question as to where this wormhole is. We do know, we know without a doubt, that the Federation was wild to get to it. We intend to blow it the hell up to prevent them from using it. But what if we went into it instead?”
Blade said, “I think that would be a mistake. We don’t have time for the foolish chasing of old tales. We have to fight now.”
Talon said, “Think on this for a second. If there really is a weapon there, some kind of tech that only the Speakers and the founding members could use, that would be an incredible tool for us to use. If there was something there that was used by the races before us and we could use it, and remember they were a warring universe from all accounts, could we not use that to take the Federation down in one fell swoop?”
Blade said, “You’re talking ancient tech. Tech none of us know how to use. We’d likely kill ourselves before we could figure out what to do with it.”
Jessica chuckled. “You know what would be great? If we could trap the Federation within an empty universe.”
Renall said, “But if there are doors out of that universe, the dead one, into ones that are peaceful and not advanced, we would be doing nothing but ensuring that the Federation was given a universe.”
Blade shook his head. “This is all just wild talk. We’re wasting time here. We need to call in more troops for the fighting going on along the outer rings of the Solaris system, and we need to put our energies into beating the Federation now and right here.”
Talon nodded. Marik said, “Yes but what if we could find something there? Something that would help us to win with less bloodshed and loss?”
Tara said, “Maybe we’re meant to find it.”
Blade’s laughter fell from his mouth but it held no humor. “I think you need more sleep. You’re talking in circles.”
Tara looked from face-to-face and then her eyes settled on his face again. Her fingers gripped his tightly. “Think of it, Blade. Look at the people gathered here. You are an assassin. Jenny is a woman who is capable not only of healing but of being a weapon that can blast death and light into something. Talon, the best captain in the universe. Jeval, who has a gift that can allow him to see things that nobody else can see. Jessica, a warrior unlike any other. Marik, who can heal the most grievous of wounds. There must be a reason for all of you being gathered this way.”
He stared at her. “Tara, you make it sound as if we were fated to embark upon some quest to find this place of which my father spoke. To which the old legends still speak, but not often and not loudly.”
Her smile trembled, and a tear slid down her face. “What if you were?”
Many hours later he stood guard, his shoulder leaning against the very tree that his father had died under. The world was quiet except for the sound of the wounded moaning or crying softly and the wind which blew hard from the east. He had settled Tara into bed, making love to her long and hard before leaving her to her slumber.
Everything felt strange and in disarray. His mind kept going back to Tara’s earlier words. Was there some type of cosmic fate at work here, one that he could not escape?
Footsteps sounded on the ground. His body went tense and rigid in his hands went to his weapons. A voice came across the wind. “Hold your weapons.”
He spun, fast weapons already at the ready and drawn. His voice was thick. “You tell me to hold? You are treading on rebel territory, and yet you come to me and say to hold my weapons from your flesh?”
The man regarding him took a slow step forward. A small beam of moonlight laid a stray finger across that man’s face. A face that Blade knew well because it was so like his own. Chiseled features, full lips, black hair, and high cheekbones. The man stepped forward again, moving easily despite his slow pace. His voice was low and calm. “Yes, I do. If for no other reason but for the fact that we are brothers.”
Blade snorted. “You are the son of the woman that my father betrayed his vows to my mother with. You are no brother to me. You are also a Federation officer, and so you are my enemy. What sort of irrationality would put you here in the sight of my weapon fire, Drake?”
Drake flashed him a broad smile. “You speak as if you would like to kill me.”
Blade admitted, “I have thought about it several times in my life.”
Drake shrugged. The gesture lifted one shoulder and dropped it again in a slow rolling motion. “I can understand that. I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I thought about killing you a few times in my life. That time you and your friends held me down and tried to drown me in the well was one of them.”
Blades eyebrows rose. “You had that coming.”
Drake snorted softly. “Because I bested you in a game and made you feel embarrassed?”
Blade said, “No, because you compared yourself to my father and the fact that that was a game that he won most often of anyone.”
Drake advanced again, just a single step. “Our father. You forget that. He is our father.”
Blades throat closed. “Was. He died earlier this very day. We set his body to burn in the way of the warriors of times past.”
Drake sighed. “I know. Before he died, he managed to send me a message saying that his death was imminent and that I must come.”
Blade said, “To do what? To try to figure out what we are doing so that you can run back to your commanding officers and give them information that would prevent us from moving forward with this war?”
Drake spoke softly, his voice hissing between his teeth. “How do you think that our father managed to keep you alive for so long? How do you think that you truly escaped more than once when he was across the universe from you, and there were Federation ships ranged all around you? Did you truly believe you had outflown them all? Do you not remember that time that there were two Federation ships, one a small single craft and one a warship?”
Blade did remember that. He studied Drake’s face carefully. “How could I forget it? I thought I was dead for sure.”
Drake said, “The only reason that you are not is because I was the person in that small craft. I fired upon the Federation ship, aiming for its weakest spot. I hit it and took it down so that you could escape. I know that you thought oh, an overeager pilot just accidentally shot down a Federation warship in its haste to kill me off. That is not what happened. It was deliberate. It was done to save you.”
Blades mouth hung ajar. “You are lying.”
Drake said, “I wish I were. I had friends on that ship.”
Blade did not holster his weapons. “You still have not explained to me what the hell it is you want.”
Drake said, “I don’t know if he had time to relay to you his last message.”
Blade said, “If you mean the riddle that he tossed out about Tralam, then yes. It made absolutely no sense, and it does nothing to help either side. Go back to your warship. There are still, as you can see, people here that you can kill.”
Drake said, “I am no longer part of the Federation. When our father died, and you left your hiding place, all of my reasons for being within the Federation died as well.”
Blade said, “Do not come here and try to trick me with your bullshit.”
Drake said, “Trick you? I should kill you right here and now just for that. Our father forced me to be your keeper since the day you stormed out of the house and declared yourself a rebel and an outlaw. My entire adult life has been spent cleaning up behind your messes and keeping you from being captured and killed. To do that I had to be a part of the Federation. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Blade shook his head. “I do not believe you.”
Drake said, “You do not have to believe me. What you do have to do is let me show you the way to the Speakers door.”
Everything went dark in his vision. Blade staggered a few steps and leaned even harder against the tree. His hands, still clutching his weapons, fell limply by his sides. His mouth worked, but only a thin croak admitted forth.
Drake said, “I see you are shocked. Of course you are. Nobody believes it’s real. But it is real. I have been there.”
Blade shook his head, “That’s not possible.”
Drake said, “Oh, but it is. I could not gain entry, of course, but when our father relayed to me the particular talents of many in your group, I knew that it was possible to enter.”
Tara’s words floated back to him again. The whole thing was so surreal that all Blade could do was lean against the tree and survey his half-brother. The half-brother that he had never liked or trusted. The brother who had been born several years after Blade had been born and the half-brother that his father had always seemed to prefer over him. There was a lot of bitterness and resentment between the two because of that, and Blade knew that part of his distrust for Drake came from that, from being overlooked by their father.
More footsteps sounded. The Revants; Talon, Renall, Marik, and Jeval all stood there. Behind them stood Jenny, Jessica, Margie, and Tara.
Tara stepped forward, a weapon blaster in her hands. She spoke quietly, “Who are you and why are you here?”
Drake spoke. “I am his brother. He would never admit that, but it’s true. And I am here to take you to Tralam. You should know that we’re probably all going to die. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re all going to die.”
Jessica said, “Do you know that ever since I was taken from a slaver ship, just about every man I have met has told me that he’s pretty sure we are all going to die?”
Margie said, “Men. Always believing the worst.”
Talon said, “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Jenny put in, mildly, “I think they’re right. I mean, death is the great equalizer. It lets nobody escape.”
Drake threw up his hands. For a moment, Blade felt a bit of spiteful satisfaction at the flash of bewilderment on Drake’s features. He also felt a streak of sympathy. He had been in that position, and he didn’t envy Drake for being in it just then.
Tara stepped forward. Her hair burned like fire and Blade’s heart pounded hard as he looked at her. She was his. His and he wanted to be there for her, to be alive with her. To be with her until the entire world blew apart, and the universe too.
Tara asked, “Why Tralam? What’s there?”
Drake shook his head, “I don’t know what’s there or why we have to go. I just know that our father believed that if we could enter, we could break the very heart and mind of the Federation from within the walls there.”
Talon stepped closer. His weapons gleamed. “Why would he think that?”
Drake sighed. “He did not tell me all. He had intel, something he found. I don’t know what it was because he destroyed it and would not tell me all of it. He just said, when he decided to turn all the way to this side, that if he fell, that going there would be the way to save this universe from destruction and darkness.”
Margie said, “There’s fairly melodramatic.”
Tara said, “He didn’t trust you. Did he?”
Drake’s features were outlined by the moon again. A thin sliver of pain laced his voice. “No. He never did. I was not his favorite son, but his favorite son, the one he would have trusted to tell what he had found, had gone to the other side, and by the time they reconnected, Father was not sure that son would understand. So he told me part. I wish he had told me more.”
The world turned upside down. Blade stood there, confused and uncertain for the first time in his adult life. Trusting Drake was stupid. Believing in an old tale that was probably not even true was stupider yet.
Believing that he was his father’s favorite son was the dumbest thing he could do—ever. His father had disowned him.
But had he?
Had he really? He had kept him alive. Had risked his own life and the life of his other son to keep him alive and now there was this mission, this mission that he did not trust in and did not believe in but seemed to be the only thing that his father had ever asked of him in return for all that he had done.
How could he say no to going?
And how could he risk so much by going when there was so little intel and no answer to so many questions about the why of the mission?
He said, “How do we know that we can trust you?”
Jeval stepped forward. His hands came out, and he captured Drake’s face between them. Drake’s mouth opened and his hands came up in a fighter stance, but then they dropped limply. Drake went to his knees, his face blank in his mouth hanging agape as he stared upward into Jeval’s face.
A pause, pregnant and heavily weighted, sprung up but then it shattered when Jeval stepped backward with Drake’s mouth working and his hands battering at the air for his face. Drake slumped forward, completely unconscious. Blade stared from his half-brother to the Revant.
He got out the words, “What is it? What did you see within his mind?”
Jeval looked at him. Blood ran from one of Jeval’s nostrils, and his face was saggy. An expression of sheer and utter terror coated his features. “The Speakers door. It is real. And he knows where it is.”