Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but to the writers and producers of Roswell
Spoilers: After Chant Down Babylon, changes happening where Max is successfully rescued, and Michael was the one who broke up with Maria.
Pairings: You'll have to wait and see!
Pronunciation Guide:
Author's notes: Queen Fadilia Kedar: Max/Isabel's mother
King Alaric Kedar: Max/Isabel's father
Andaria: Tess' mother
Radim: Tess' father
Kedrans: race from which Royal Four descended
Iturians: race from which Khivar descended, and overthrew and killed Zan and the Kedrans
Cerideans: special core ops of the Iturian army, mostly psyonics and telepaths
Kaptar's Jewel: constellation in the Antarian's star system
Yun's Garment: Aurora Borealis - Northern Lights
Saren Dari: desert plain on Antar
Chasser : animal similar to a cat
Chapter Fifty Six
***
There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.
- George Elliott
***
Max stood reflecting on the past few days and lingered on the infinite wisdom and power, which he knew was carrying him through these trials, completely baffled by its sincerity and reality. As he peered out on the hard, barren landscape that spanned the distance, Max felt the calm of the lifeless, yet living, region. It turned his thoughts to his world, silently cautioning him of their own fate, which was looming ever nearer. But whatever was to befall him and his people, Max was confident today was not going to be the end, but just the beginning.
"What are you looking at?" Liz asked softly, peering over his shoulder.
Max kept his eyes upon the fading horizon; unable to force himself to look upon this woman he would now leave behind, and swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. "They'll come from over that hill." He pointed to a distant sand dune, which glowed a golden red, under the rays of the setting sun.
"How can you be so sure?"
This time he looked down at her innocent, questioning face, briefly, and folded his arms across his chest, as he returned his watchful gaze upon the empty horizon. "I just know."
Max knew he sounded cryptic, but it was true; it was hard to explain this confidence he had at that moment, but it gave him the strength to face the overwhelming battle before him. His life had changed so much since his brief, but revealing journey to that nameless beach. He wasn't the boy who walked off the seamless, white sands; it was a weird, but calming understanding of himself that he had never known before.
"You're so different Max," Liz said hesitantly. She rested her hand upon his forearm, and gently maneuvered Max's body towards her. "I know that a lot has been going on lately, but it's like you're slipping away from me."
Max closed his eyes as she spoke with a heartbreaking vulnerability. He nodded. "I know," he whispered. "It's hard Liz." Max slid his hands from under his arms and cupped her face in his hands. "It's the most difficult thing I've ever had to do, but..." He paused, averting his eyes. "I have to do this."
Liz felt a shiver run down her spine. Even his voice seemed distant as he spoke to her now.
"When we talked last night, it was like I was watching you drown, when you tried to figure this whole thing out - the lies, the deceit - I knew you had had enough."
Liz opened her mouth to protest, but Max shook his head, signalling for her to let him speak.
"I wasn't ready to give you up Liz. I was ready to stay here with you, keep my promise, and damn the consequences." Max dropped his hands from her searching face and took a step back. "I was going to tell you that nothing had changed..."
Liz stared at Max intently, as his body tensed during his explanation of their unravelling relationship, and closed her eyes in resignation. She didn't want to understand, but her heart spoke the words her mind wouldn't allow. "But things always do..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Change." Liz opened her eyes and tried to swallow the lump that was lodged in her throat. "Max, like I said last night, I know that you can't let those people die."
Max turned around and smiled sadly. "You gave me that strength, Liz." He lifted his hand towards her and clasped it in his. "I didn't want to go on without telling you this." Max took a deep breath, trying to relieve the dull ache underneath his chest. It was like he was saying goodbye, and perhaps in a way, he was.
"I have been struggling with this ever since Tess came back." Max searched the dark brown eyes, which he had always looked to for comfort and understanding, for any type of recognition of his behavior in the last several days. Her expression was unreadable. He sighed, deciding to continue on. "Her return brought a lot of old questions and decisions back, and this time it was more important because she wasn't giving me an easy out."
"Why was there any decision?" Liz asked pensively. She knew he was breaking his promise to her - to be with her, to love her - but she needed to know why this was happening at all.
Max nodded, understanding where Liz was coming from. "Because this time, she took herself out of the equation," he explained gently. "It wasn't about 'our' destiny, but about the fate of the millions of people on Antar."
"But wasn't it about that the first time?" Liz wasn't about to make this easy for him. She had questions, and she wanted answers.
"Partly," Max admitted. "But when I made my decision before, I really wasn't thinking at all about the people, or the consequences my decision would have for them."
"And now?"
"And now, I realize how pathetic it was, to think I was any king at all, when I had turned my back on all of my people." Max closed his eyes and could almost hear the screams of his people, calling out his name, pleading for God to rescue them. "I have been chosen," he said softly. "And you gave me the strength to be that man; the man who can face his destiny. You let me go."
Liz was startled by Max's revelation. She never wanted to be credited with giving Max the strength to say goodbye to her. Last night had been a blur. It seemed more like a dream than reality. She had been tired and last night had been the final straw; she couldn't fight anymore, and now Max was telling her that she was the reason he was finally able to take on the responsibility of becoming this patriarch of an entire world. It was surreal.
"I...I don't know what to say," she stammered.
Max nodded. "Liz, this might sound crazy, but I know now that I am chosen," he said, like it was some secret he was not supposed to divulge. "God spoke to me; and I know that I need to go."
Liz tilted her head and cocked her eyebrow. "God...God what?"
Max tried to think of the words to explain all that had been revealed to him about his 'destiny' and reconciling the part of him that was Zan into human words. All of it seemed like a something out of a fantasy novel. "I know," he rolled his eyes back, "it sounds weird coming from me right? I never believed in God, and now he's the reason I've decided that I need to go to Antar." Max let out an ironic chuckle. "It's crazy!" He threw his hands up into the air. "But," he said, turning to her. "It's true. I know it's true. They talked about the Royal Four being chosen and that's what they meant. Apparently they have the same God in space as they do on Earth." He tried to make his revelation humorous, but the only expression on Liz's face was of confusion and distress.
"Don't think that I haven't tried to reason my way out of it," he groaned. "But it's no use. And it's probably not going to make any sense to you, since you didn't see the things I've seen in the past few days..."
Liz shook her head. "I believe you." The words seemed to come out of nowhere. Liz wasn't sure she understood it all, but enough of it made sense to her, that she wouldn't call him crazy. Even though she hadn't experienced the last few days with him, Liz had seen many unthinkable things since Max saved her life, and for some unknown reason, she truly understood what he was going through.
"Liz, I..." But before Max could tell her how much he appreciated her unexpected support, and trust that he was doing the right thing, he felt a sudden heaviness weigh in the air. He turned around and followed the desert landscape back to the sunlit hill, where he had been watching restlessly, for hours on end.
"What is it?" Liz frowned, following Max's distracted gaze to the location he had previously pointed out to her. Her voice caught in her throat, as her mouth was left agape.
Under the setting sun, was a thin shadowy line, just above the golden sands, that had not been there before.
"He's here." Max took a strode forward, until the tip of his foot hung millimetres from the steep, death drop, and gazed knowingly at the mask of shadowy figures that seemed to ripple against the matted sands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out into the darkened mass. "You won't win," Max muttered into the cooling expanse.
Liz watched intensely, as Max seemed to fall into a trance. Though her eyes remained upon Max, her whole body was aware of the shadows that seemed to be slowly creeping across the flat desert, and she held her breath. Liz followed Max's lead and closed her eyes; though she was unable to speak to darkness, if he was, indeed speaking to it, she would silently send up an anxious prayer to God. She herself was not a believer, but Max, who seemed almost unfazed by the unknown, emanated an unexpected confidence - a sign of his sudden 'change' - and stood tall upon the steep, jutting plateau.
Max opened his eyes and turned to Liz; aware his time was shortening with each breath. "Go into the cave and warn Jesse. I don't know what exactly is going to happen, but," he glanced briefly up at the now, thicker shadows, which filled the peak of the hill, and was creeping over the wide embankments, "you will need to stay out of sight."
Liz shook her head in adamant protest. She looked out into the distance. If the unending shadow, that seemed to move towards them as one 'thing', intended to attack Max, she would be by his side. "No. I'm not going anywhere."
Max snapped his head around and glared at her. "GO!"
Liz jumped back at the sudden ominous change in his calm demeanor: his face was hardened by the shadows cast by the fading sun, and his posture was rigid - commanding authority. She backed, several feet, down the rocky plateau, briefly glancing behind her, to find her footing; and when Max became only a grey shadow, Liz turned heel and ran down the untravelled path to the hidden cave.
Max continued his watch over the trained army approaching his chosen battlefield. As they came, Max pulled out Isabel's bible, and kept it in hand. His mind was filled with verses of the small book and how they applied to this very moment. His lips moved silently as he watched Khivar's men approach. Max narrowed his eyes and took one last deep breath before exhaling slowly.
'The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the Lord. Proverbs 21:31'
~~~
Kyle groaned, as he woke up to a whispered commotion; his attempt to guard the unconscious victims of the alien invasion had apparently failed, as he stretched his arms above his head. I must have fallen asleep.
"What the hell is going on?" Mr. Evans whispered through clenched teeth. The tall, stocky middle-aged man was sitting on the sandy floor, which was encased by bars of iron; his hair and business attire were disheveled from the kidnappers' jostling.
Kyle looked around the prison for support, and saw Maria also awaking from her state of unconsciousness. She looked as confounded by the demand as he was. "Uh, look Mr. and Mrs. Evans," he stammered, blinking several times, out of a nervous habit. "There's a lot," he glanced at Maria uncertainly, "you don't know."
Mrs. Evans shook her head in disbelief. "Wh-what do you mean, Kyle?" she stuttered, clutching anxiously to Mr. Evans. "Where are we?"
Maria jumped into the conversation, for which Kyle was grateful for, trying to explain the unexplainable, as far as he was concerned. He had no idea how he ever wrapped his mind around the concept that Maxwell, Isabel, and Michael were aliens. "Mrs. Evans, there's a lot of information we're going to tell you, that might sound like we're on drugs or something, but it's all true."
Mr. Evans stared skeptically at him, while slowly nodding, acknowledging Maria's bid to give him a reason for why he and his wife were locked up in some cage in the middle of the desert. "Go on," he said with a strange calmness.
Maria looked to him, as if to inform him that she was going to begin. Kyle raised his eyebrows, as if to say, 'good luck', gesturing for her to take a stab at the mountainous task.
"'Kay," Maria drawled, turning her attention to Mr. and Mrs. Evans. "First thing you have to know is that..."
Suddenly they were rudely interrupted by two large, menacing brutes, whose faces were hidden by the blinding light that pierced the darkened tent. Kyle swallowed hard, as Maria had quickly bit her lip, silencing her speech, and he crawled back to the far corner where Maria and the Evans' were fearfully crouching.
"Get up!" One man in uniform approached the cell. His shadow fell upon the Evans' - Mrs. Evans, who shrunk away in fear, and Mr. Evans, who narrowed his eyes and growled. "Who do you think you are?"
The dark skinned man turned his steely gaze upon Mr. Evans, who stared back in defiance. "You will not speak," his low baritone voice commanded ominously.
Kyle turned to older, yet unlearned man to his right, and grasped his arm tightly in his hand. "Don't," he warned, locking gazes with Mr. Evans, who stared at him in disbelief. "You don't know what you're dealing with." Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes in skepticism, as if deliberating whether he could trust Kyle's assessment of the man, when Mrs. Evans tugged on his sleeve.
"Honey, I think we should listen to him," she whispered uneasily.
Mr. Evans glanced briefly at his wife, before looking up at the powerful figure, which loomed over them - his expression seemed to dare Mr. Evans to utter another word. Kyle held his breath, closing his eyes and praying the knowledgeable lawyer would heed his advice. And peeking out of the corner of his eye at Mr. and Mrs. Evans, he saw Mr. Evans back down. Kyle looked up at the soldier, in time to see the smirk emerge on his thin-lipped mouth.
"Now," his voice boomed, "if you give us no trouble, you just might live long enough to see Zan die a horrible death." The smirk on his lips grew in size, while a yellowish halo seemed to pulse beneath his green eyes.
At this declaration, Kyle glanced nervously at Maria, whose whole body was tensed in fear, while the Evans seemed unsure of whom this man was speaking of. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, trying to think positively on the whole situation. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with a sense of panic and fear. Who was he kidding? If they didn't get out of there, they would soon be dead!
Kyle glanced around the loosely tied down tent, looking for any possible means for escape. If they didn't find a way out, and get to Isabel, he was sure she would face the same fate the alien soldier had declared for 'Zan'. Unexpectedly, Kyle felt himself pushed towards the cell door, as one of their captors prodded each of them out of the cage, towards the other waiting guard.
God, get us out of this. Kyle winced as the guard shackled him with a pair of thin, plastic-like fasteners. They seemed easy enough to get out of, Kyle had thought, but when he pulled at the stretchy cord, he felt a sudden jolt; when he opened his eyes, Kyle found himself slumped on the floor.
The guards' laughter rumbled throughout the tent, as the guard, who put the restraints on him, roughly pulled him to his feet. "Oh, did I forget to mention," he wryly glanced at the others, "that wouldn't be recommended?"
Kyle could hear the other guard snicker behind his back, as he rubbed his sore neck, careful not to pull on the 'stunning' cuffs, as his dad would almost certainly say. His eyes widened at the thought. His dad. He would be worried sick about him. Kyle silently groaned. He couldn't leave his father, not like his mother did.
"Move," the new guard, with dark brown eyes ordered, prodding him with a grey metal rod.
Kyle glanced behind him, slowly walking towards the not-so-welcomed daylight, and saw Maria and the Evans' following behind him, in single file. He paused at the entrance of tent, staring out into the tan and copper tones of sand, rock and canvas, and took one last deep breath, before stepping out into the uncertain fates that awaited all of them. Very soon, each of them would face their own mortal destinies. He just didn't know if they would live to see it.
~~~
"Have the prisoners been sent for?" he asked. The General stood a league away from the evident landmark across the desert. Its golden peak pointed as if to the sun.
"Yes Sir," Captain Leisner nodded, standing to his right. "They are on their way."
"Good."
"Sir?" Captain Leisner's voice cracked.
"What is it?"
"Can I ask why we left Princess Vilandra behind?"
The General turned to his Second in Command. "Never put all of your eggs in one basket," he said discernibly, finding another human analogy within his host, useful. "If there is the slightest possibility, which his highly unlikely," he gestured to his legion of hundreds, "then we always have a 'Plan B'."
Captain Leisner's eyes lit up in recognition. "I understand now."
"Good."
Suddenly shouts rose from behind him. The General turned around and saw a procession approaching. Two of his soldiers marched with Khivar's banner flying above. His soldiers slowly departed, creating a pathway, which led to him. Behind them were four meek and cowering beings, shackled in their energy restraints, more than enough to keep humans in line, followed by two rear guards. He turned to Captain Leisner, who seemed pleased with the arrival of their prisoners.
"And now, let our battle finish as it should have, for the last time!"
~~~
"Uhh." Michael grunted, as he struck down hard at his startled sparring partner. His bow reverberated underneath his fingers, as he pushed the image of Isabel from his mind. After his meeting with General Steren, Fadilia, and Tess, Michael was spurred on to continue his training. He needed to be ready; nothing would stand in his way. Once again he struck down hard against his opponent's bow. His thoughts drifted to the image of Isabel's body underneath the dark flowing waters - a picture that plagued him. "Gah!" he cried, spinning around countering his opponent's attack and swinging the light wooden rod reflexively, coming only millimeters from striking the young, dark haired soldier's stunned face.
"Something on your mind?" Tess said dryly, as she stepped out from the shadows of the closed cubicle. She had followed him after the impromptu meeting, as he left in a cloudy haze, his focus elsewhere, to the training centre.
Michael cocked his head slightly, realizing he had a spectator, his gaze remaining on his sparring partner, who remained under the control of his bow. "What do you want?" he said breathily. Pausing for a moment, Michael swallowed, regaining his composure again and removed his bow from the vicinity of his sparring partner's face. Michael reached down and offered his hand to the boy, who accepted his hand appreciatively.
"I think," she paused a moment, gazing intently at the stranger in their midst, "we need to talk."
Suddenly the boy realized their Queen stood in his presence and he reverently bowed before Tess.
"You can go," Michael dismissed casually, as he stepped down from the raised stage, with a two-inch thick, white painted ring, in the middle of the average sized quarters. The quick and jittery boy stood at attention and turned to Michael and saluted. Without a word, his sparring partner left the black room, which was only dimly lit; in fact the sparring area was the only space with any direct light shining upon it. It was a military training tool, he had often used in his past, to learn not to depend on his sight, but rather feel his opponent's presence, without having to see him...or her. Taking a long dreg from his water bottle, Michael kept his eyes averted, hoping to avoid this conversation.
"What's got you all wound up?" Tess asked curiously. "It's like you've got something eating at you."
Michael walked a few steps further and grabbed his towel, which he had left on the floor. "Nothing."
Tess rolled her eyes. "Do we have to do this every time something's bothering you?" she groaned, folding her arms across her chest, tapping her index finger against her forearm.
Michael leaned against the dark walls, which were such an intense black, he almost felt like his hand could reach into the black void. Keeping his eyes focused on the sparring ring, he mopped his brow. "I'm here to spar, not talk," he said curtly.
Tess narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. He was just being plain difficult. It irritated her and she almost felt like walking away, letting the emotionally stunted hybrid, brood like he always did. But then she heard these words pass her lips, "If you're here to spar, then let's spar..."
Inwardly, Tess slapped herself up side the head. She had no idea where that came from. She had no experience at all with this sort of training, or in her opinion, coordination for it.
Michael couldn't help but be thrown by Tess' sudden challenge. He glanced mischievously at the small petite frame that stood, glaring defiantly at him. Cocking his head, he narrowed his eyes and asked, "You serious?"
Tess could hear a voice inside her head saying, 'Yes. I was kidding!' This was her chance to back out. But her physical and mental control seemed in malfunction. "Yes," she heard herself rebuke Michael's skepticism. Tess closed her eyes and groaned.
Michael smirked. He motioned with his head, to the sparring ring. "Let's go."
He watched her slowly approach the ring, as if regretting each step closer she got to the darkened stage. Michael walked over to the entrance of the room and pressed a sequence of numbers and letters; suddenly the room was flooded with several lights, which made Michael flinch.
Tess stood atop the hard padded ring. She placed her hands on her hips and looked out at Michael, who was swaggering towards her. "So what now?" she asked.
Michael placed one hand on the stage and hopped onto the ring with her. His eyes glanced down her body. Tess frowned. Was he checking her out?
She followed his gaze and realized he was looking at her clothes. Michael wore a grey tank top, which was drenched in sweat, and matched with a pair of loose sweats, which seemed to have a stretchy quality to them. Tess looked down at what she wore, which was a thin silky white chiffon-like robe. It was not exactly sparring attire.
"You're going to fight in that?" Michael chuckled, raising his eyebrow at the wispy dress.
Tess rolled her eyes. She tugged at the narrow ribbon-like tie, which held her robe closed - dropping the thin fabric over her shoulders and letting it slide down her arms. "Is this better?"
Michael dropped his jaw, not expecting her to drop the feminine garb to the floor. His reaction was premature though, because underneath the white robe was a stretchy, blue tank top, and her legs were covered with a pair of black tights.
Tess stifled the urge to laugh out loud. She tilted her head, staring at him innocently. "Were you expecting me to be wearing something else?" she asked mischievously.
Michael consciously closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, glaring acerbically at her little joke. "Funny," he said dryly. "Very funny."
Tess tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of her lips curled slightly, and before she knew it, she was laughing openly. "You should have seen your face," she giggled, pointing at Michael. "It was priceless."
Michael rolled his eyes and sighed. "Here," he said, handing her his bow, while he bent down to pick up his partner's bow. "Take this."
Tess frowned as Michael dropped a somewhat heavy stick into her hands. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she pouted. "It's not like I've ever picked one these up before." She looked at him skeptically. "Why don't we just skip this part?"
Now it was Michael's turn to look at her with confusion. "What do you mean? I thought you knew how to spar? If you didn't, why would you challenge me?" he teased, walking around her in a circle.
Tess let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you really going to make me fight you?" she said mournfully.
Michael remained silent, as if truly debating his answer, all the while, continuing to circle her, as if she was his prey; when a sudden stroke of genius came upon him. He hated, in part, to humiliate her like this, but she deserved it; if she was ever to learn that when he told her to go away, that he meant it. With a swift strike, Michael brought his bow upon her, slow enough to control his movement, stopping before he hit her - just to teach her lesson.
Tess' eyes widened as she saw the wooden stick coming towards her face. She closed her eyes and cringed, ready for the blow, but before she felt any sting of the hard rod, she felt her arms rise in a reflex action, and then she heard a 'clack'. When Tess opened her eyes, her jaw dropped in astonishment, when she saw her arms raised slightly above her head and the bow blocking Michael's strike.
"Where did that come from?" Michael exclaimed in amazement. He was about to stop short when he saw Tess block his 'blow'.
It could have been reflexes, or it could have been something along the lines of what he had been experiencing while training. He wasn't quite sure. Whatever the reason, he knew she was shocked at her response, too.
"I...I have no clue," she stammered. "It's a surprise to me!"
Michael stepped back, pulling his bow away and began to circle her; Tess in response, began to circle as well, keeping her eye on him. He tried a few tentative attacks, to see if her earlier block had been a reflex. Michael chose a few different, yet difficult moves to use on her, and she seemed to block each one, with some ease. Her skill with the bow was not fluid, by any means, but she seemed to understand the motion of the weapon, and where to strategically place her hands. After several minutes passed and he had pinned her on a few attacks, though not without quickening his attacks, to a level only used on a trained soldier, he stepped back, winded by his previous sparring match and now this test of Tess' skills.
Tess shook her head and swallowed, trying to catch her breath, after only a few minutes of sparring with Michael. She tried not to think while fighting, if she did, her concentration would be divided, and she learned, a few times, that mistakes could hurt. Once she found her rhythm and allowed some automatic, or trained response to guide her movements, Tess found her speed and attack quickened. It baffled her that she could do these things.
Michael walked to the edge of the ring, where he had placed his water bottle and squeezed some of the quenching liquid down his throat before handing it to Tess, who looked like she was ready to fall over. He consciously took slow, deep breaths, so he wouldn't cramp up after the short work out, while staring intently at Tess. He nodded approvingly. "You must have listening when I forced you to take some physical training," he said perceptibly.
Tess frowned. "What lessons?"
"You don't remember that?" Michael looked at her in disbelief. He just assumed she had regain all of her memories; on Earth she always seemed to sure of herself, and referred to their past numerous times.
Tess shrugged. "I remember the big things, but certain details...no," she admitted, brushing back the stray damp, curly locks hanging in her eyes. His question made it sound like he remembered everything, which surprised her. "So are you saying you remember everything?"
Michael shrugged, making a face. "I guess," he said dismissively. "It's all in my head. It's not like I know it, like the memories I have of my 'real' life now." He paused, wiping his sweaty brow with the towel he hung loosely around his neck. "I remember some things more vividly than others, like you do; but if I think hard enough, usually can recall most of the details of some event." He didn't want to make a big deal over it.
Tess was stunned by the revelation. "Hmm," she mumbled, trying to understand why she could regain all of her memories. "You mean, if I was to talk to you about Zan and my wedding, you could recall pretty much what happened?"
Michael sat down on the stage, pulling his knees up slightly and resting his arms on them. "Yeah. But don't you?" He looked curiously at Tess, who joined him on the stage, sitting with her legs sprawled to her left
Tess closed her eyes and pictured that day. She could remember the excitement, and feel the butterflies in her stomach, even now; but could she see the event, or recall each event...Tess shook her head. "I know what I felt," she said softly, "but I can't remember what was said at the toast, or what my bridesmaids were wearing." Tess opened her eyes and looked over at Michael. "It's so frustrating."
Michael shook his head in opposition. "It's not always a bad thing," he muttered.
Tess tilted her head and frowned. "What do you mean?" She leaned forward, awaiting his answer.
"I remember things that...that I sometimes don't want to remember," he mumbled. Michael could see Vilandra's face as she fell helplessly into the pool and then the image flashed to Isabel under the purple water. He grit his teeth and threw the wet towel across the ring. "Sometimes I wish I could forget."
Tess scooted forward until she was an arms' length away from him. "Are you talking about how we died?" she asked tentatively. "I know I would hate to relive that over and over again..." Her voice trailed off. She was uncertain just what she should say to him. He had experiences that she didn't - she didn't have to face her life before 24/7.
"It has nothing to do with that," Michael said gruffly. He really wanted to stop talking about it. He didn't even know how they got on this topic.
"Then what is it?"
Michael pushed himself up off the matting and shook his head. "I just can't talk about it," he muttered, walking off the ring.
Tess reached out and grabbed his arm and stopped Michael from walking away. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "I know what it is like...dealing with a past." Suddenly Michael stopped her and pulled out of her grasp. "This has nothing to do with the past!" he shouted.
Tess was taken aback. Her heart raced, as she became sensitive to
the emotional state Michael was in. She
had never seen him like this. He looked
frustrated and helpless. As she watched
him pacing back and forth before her, trying to deal with some demon or
unresolved relationship, deep inside.
It brought back memories of when she thought she might lose that chance
with Max, when she found out that she was dying...Tess' eyes glanced up at
Michael's anxiety plagued expression.
"Michael, is something wrong with Isabel?" she asked
intuitively. "Is that why you're
acting like this?"
Michael spun around and glared at Tess. "Did you go inside my head?" he glared, pointing accusingly at her.
Tess shook her head. "N-no, Michael," she said hesitantly. Silence filled the room. "Are you saying that that's what's wrong?"
Michael swallowed, running his fingers through his hair, going over in his head what was real and what was only a dream. He shook his head tiredly. "I don't know," he sighed, as if somehow that would lighten this weight, which had been sitting heavily, on his chest.
"Tell me what you saw..."
"I don't know if it was a dream or if it was just a memory," Michael rambled. "It was all so mixed up." He turned around and began pacing again. "I," he made quote marks with his fingers, "was teasing Vilandra, and all of the sudden she accidentally fell off the terrace and into the swimming pool. And I know this happened when we were kids, I remember it." Michael stopped midstride and squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to recall something, and suddenly began pacing again.
"So this happened a lifetime ago," Tess said soothingly. She wished she could understand what he was trying to say. The memory was disturbing, but what she couldn't understand, was why this brought such an intense reaction of guilt.
"But you don't understand," Michael turned around and stared at her, as if imploring her to understand. "I wasn't Rath anymore. I saw Isabel floating in the pool. I tried to save her, but she just grew heavier and heavier..." His voice faded, as if there was no voice left to voice his thoughts.
Tess wanted to hold him, and tell him things would be fine, but she knew she couldn't. What Michael saw could have been because of his connection with her, which would mean she probably was in trouble, and that knowledge would not comfort him at all. Instead, Tess stood in front of him and grabbed his upper arms, and looked him in the eye. "I don't know what's happening, Michael. And I'm not going to lie to you," she said warily. "You could be right. I understand how helpless you feel. I felt like that when I heard Max was dying."
Michael glared at her. "But you saved him. You got a second chance," he spat. "What do I have?" His heart ached and he tried to fill the emptiness, the despair with rage and anger, but there was none. Michael closed his eyes and allowed the tears to silently slide down his face, while he felt Tess grip his hand when he tried to pull away.
"But she is strong," Tess protested. "I know Isabel, and she would not give up without a fight. Right, Michael?" She made him face her.
Michael nodded slowly. "I know she is strong..." He closed his eyes. "But there's just something about what I saw," he shook his head, "it wasn't normal."
Over and over, Michael tried to figure out if there had been another way - did he really have to leave her behind - but he kept drawing a blank.
"Max will protect her." This was the last word of comfort she had for him. Tess knew they couldn't leave, not when the war had just begun; as General Steren had mentioned, several battles were being waged right now. And also...she needed him. If it was only herself against Khivar and his entire army, she knew they didn't stand a chance; but with Michael, at least they had twice the odds as when she returned to Antar.
Michael appreciated Tess' attempts to give him solace, but he knew there would be no sleep, no rest for him, as long as he knew Isabel was in danger. He thought about the discussion that happened earlier that evening, and sighed. They needed him - he knew that. The rescue of Andaria and Zander from Khivar and Nicholas' experiments was important, if the war were to end, they would need to take his leverage over Tess from his grasp.
But Isabel...
"The One has a plan for her Michael."
Michael and Tess spun around, startled at the familiar voice. "Fadilia," Tess gasped. "How long have you been there?"
The older, wiser Kedran smiled faintly and lowered her eyes. "I must apologize for listening to your private conversation; it was rude of me."
Michael knew her heart must have been as torn as his was right at this moment. She had lived so long without her daughter or her son, and here he was blurting out that she could die. He did not envy her; yet from his standpoint, she didn't seem worried, but calm and understanding of the situation.
"How can you be so calm?" he asked tersely. "Not after what I just told Tess about seeing Isabel dead."
Fadilia's eyes flashed with emotion, but her expression remained stoic. "You don't know what you saw, Michael." She gracefully strode towards them. "The visions, the things you see, aren't always as they appear," she explained calmly. "You should know that, or at least, Rath should know that." Her tone was pointed, and her eyes gazed at them with an aged experience. "You cannot turn away from your path, Michael...even if it is because of my daughter."
Michael frowned. "What are you saying?" His voice held an underlying sharpness.
Fadilia sighed warily at him. "You cannot second guess yourself." She lowered her eyes and rubbed her smooth temples. "You are where the One needs you to be," she stated.
"But I can make mistakes," Michael protested. "You say I'm where I need to be, but it's not like I'm listening to his advice or anything. For all you or I know, I was supposed to stay and keep her out of whatever has got her!" His heart was racing, his blood filled with adrenaline.
"Michael," Tess said quietly. "Don't get so upset. She's only trying to help."
Michael furrowed his brow at Tess' remark and shook his head. "I remember my life as Rath, and I know you created us to have a second chance, but it doesn't mean I buy into this 'the One' thing," he spat, backing away from Tess and Fadilia, who both stood silently, with pained expressions on their faces. "You may be able to sit idly by as Isabel could be in pain, or dying at this very minute, but I can't. I won't."
He hopped down off the platform and stalked towards the door. Neither Tess nor Fadilia made a move to stop him. He was glad. The more he opened up about his fears for Isabel's life, the more surreal Tess and Fadilia's reactions were. They just didn't seem to care.
Tess smiled half-heartedly at Fadilia, whose face had paled, as she stood unmoved after Michael's tirade. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," she whispered softly. Tess bent down and grabbed her white robe and draped it across her arm. "I think he's a little out of his mind after that dream." She sighed. "To tell you the truth, I've never seen him like that."
Fadilia glanced behind her towards the dimly lit hallway through the sliding door, which was slightly ajar. "He's entitled to feel that way," she said thoughtfully. "He loves her very much." Her blue eyes turned towards Tess, and gazed inquisitively at her. "I shouldn't assume that either you or Michael should feel comfortable believing that the One is overseeing all of us. It wasn't that way when you lived before."
Tess shifted uncomfortably, unable to explain her feelings about the subject. "It's just hard," she said slowly; finally settling with a vague reply. "We never thought about it."
Fadilia slid her right hand from under her long flowing sleeve, and reached out towards her. "I was unfaithful too - rebellious towards the authority He wielded." She paused. "But I have never known such peace and joy as I have found over the past decade, trusting Him to bring my children home to me."
Tess stepped hesitantly forward, sliding off the padded stage and slipping her hand underneath crook of Fadilia's arm. "But he hasn't done that," she said, gazing at her quizzically. "I mean, he hasn't brought them home."
If she believed, Tess was sure that she would have given up years ago, unable to hold to the faith that God would bring her children home. But now, surely it seemed even more like a confirmation of the absence of a Higher Power, when she beheld two of the Royal Four, who did not have blood ties. Tess knew she would have a hard time reconciling the oddity of it all.
Fadilia shook her head. "I still believe..." Her voice seemed a little hesitant, as if doubt were creeping into her heart. The long hazel lashes above and below her piercing eyes shadowed the thoughts of her heart.
Silence fell between the two. Tess consciously matched Fadilia's leisurely stride, as they entered the main corridor. It felt familiar, walking with her former mother-in-law. "Why...or how do you have so much faith in something, or someone you've never seen before?"
Fadilia, unthinkingly, began to pat her arm as they wandered the scenic, though dim and humid, hiding place. "Do you know what I used to ponder during the first days here at Wadi Eschol?" she asked wistfully, as if speaking to the silent walls. "I used to contemplate the meaning of my existence - what the purpose of my life was."
Tess furrowed her brow slightly, not understanding why this would be an odd occurrence. She was sure many people had those thoughts.
Fadilia turned her steady gaze upon her and squeezed her hand. "I know it is not a strange thought; but when I was musing over this, I realized that this thought had never crossed my mind before," she admitted sheepishly. "As queen over Antar, I had been too busy planning balls, travelling to allying planets, and a host of other unimportant duties; but not once did I bother to concern myself with the needs of our people."
"That's not true," Tess protested vehemently. "I know I don't remember everything, but you were a good Queen."
Fadilia chuckled softly, as she squeezed her hand again. "Of course I wasn't a witch, or by any means a tyrant," she exclaimed in amusement. "But, for the most part, I was involved with me and my surrounding world." Her expression turned serious once again. "My children and Alaric, that was what mattered the most to me - above all else."
"Is that a bad thing, though?"
"It is," Fadilia said knowingly, "when you are the Queen of Antar."
"But why don't I remember you that way?" Tess asked restlessly.
"My dear child," Fadilia cooed, stopping midstride and pressing her hand against Tess' cheek. "Of course you and Zan did not know any better, I surrounded you with people who were the same way. How could you have known any different?"
Tess still couldn't reconcile this image of Queen Fadilia, with the one Fadilia was describing. She shook her head. She didn't believe it. "You're being too hard on yourself," she chided. "You were loved by your people."
Fadilia stiffened and gazed critically at her. "It was not I," she rebuked her. Tess shrunk back. Fadilia paused a moment and then backed away, her expression softening once again. She turned her gaze back towards the end of the corridor, where her room was. "You must understand Alaric was the one the people loved, even though our people did not realize it. He was the one who loved his people."
Tess didn't know what to say. Fadilia's sudden unveiling of this charismatic and gentle woman Tess had remembered from her past, was startling and unsettling. "Why are you telling me all of this?" she asked hesitantly.
The un-aged Queen paused a moment, her eyes gazing off distantly, as if she were reliving a past life. "I," she hedged, "I was ignorant and heedless to the needs of our people." Fadilia closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning her gaze back upon Tess. "Don't make the same mistakes that I did," she said breathily. "Everything was taken away from me in one moment, and I had nothing left but to find Him."
Tess shifted uncomfortably. Fadilia had not confronted her, so blatantly, with the idea of the One's Prophecy. The urgent and pleading eyes that stared after her somehow reached inside and made her understand Fadilia's sense of loss. But what else flourished from underneath the echoing sorrow was a light sense of hope, which carried her. Tess frowned. It was this sense of hope that fueled Fadilia in her darkest hours.
"So," she swallowed, "you're telling me that I need Him?" Tess looked cynically upon Fadilia, who seemed convinced of a superior being, and his power to save them. Fadilia nodded expectantly. "And I'm just supposed to put everything into this belief of yours, that He will somehow convince Max and Isabel back to Antar to save our people; when he has so firmly told us that he could care less?"
Fadilia's bright eyes dimmed, and her shoulders drooped slightly, causing her elegant carriage to diminish. Her mouth pursed, as she folded her hands neatly in front of her. "You're not ready to believe," she said softly, more to herself than to Tess. And as Tess watched intently, as Fadilia returned her gaze back upon her, she felt this sense of expectation. Her heart fluttered ever so slightly. "You will see, my child. My son, who is like his father in so many ways, will come back to us." Her eyes remained steady as she gazed confidently at Tess. "He will."
"I...I'm tired," Tess lied, feigning a weak yawn. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms above her head.
Fadilia tilted her head slightly and smiled faintly. "Of course," she whispered. "I did not mean to keep you up so late."
Tess swallowed her guilt. In that instance, she regretted lying to Fadilia in an attempt to escape this awkward conversation. Nodding courteously, Tess backed away, turning on her heel and making her way back to her room. Why did that make me feel so uncomfortable? Tess sighed and shook her head. Surely the idea of someone watching over them and having a plan for their lives couldn't be so repulsive? As she stepped into her room and began her rituals before going to bed, Tess stopped and looked at herself in the full-length mirror that hung against the wall.
'Or maybe you're afraid that you're going to get everything you've ever wanted?'
Tess blinked several times, gently resting her hand against her bare neck - she had never been afraid of hoping before, but now, it seemed to make her pulse race. "I know we've said that we were done with him," she whispered to the image, who stared searchingly back at her. "But can we ever really let go?" Tess glanced over her shoulder to the picture of Zander sitting on her desk. "He needs to know his father." She turned back to the image in the mirror. "I know he wants to know our son." Swallowing uneasily at the idea that was now resurfacing from a dream that existed before her return now long since dead and buried, Tess took a deep breath and walked over towards her bed; flopping onto the firm mattress and sliding her body to the right, she peered up through the small portal in the ceiling. A small portion of the evening sky filled, what now, seemed like a stifling room.
"Maybe," she said to herself. "Just maybe..." Her voice trailed off, as her lids grew heavy and her mind darkened - sleep over taking her.
