The white star one hundred and fifty million miles away was but a speck; one amongst trillions, one amongst tens of thousands she could count unaided with her human eyes alone -- if she had the inclination and the time.
The small moon she prowled restlessly was an insignificant satellite; one small barren rock orbiting an equally insignificant blue-green world once the home of an old race that dared follow the footsteps of the Ancients.
Sam listened as Durga whispered to her of the Ancients, of the people that had once lived on that small world. Durga whispered of happiness and peace, of quiet contemplation; she whispered of the exploration of stars and planets and moons that Sam could not comprehend in their wonder.
Saurav looked on, listening also to the voice he had known once so long ago when Siva was still young. He had tried to prepare Sam to accept and believe in herself. "Listen to her," he had said. "Listen to her as if she was your own voice of reason," he had urged. "Within you is the capacity to hear." He had smiled and held her close. "Accept that she speaks the truth as you would speak it yourself."
"Trust," he had said finally, quietly.
...
The grass at the edge of the forest was emerald green, cool and moist. Above her were the foothills of the great mountains and, closer, the ancient stone bridge that led to the temple. She knew there were many masters, many ways, many secret paths that would take her there, but today that place was not for her.
She let Durga guide her away from the trees, away from the mountains, through the open land, across the endless day. Her body was strong and sleek, she moved easily, with a grace that belied the physical form still so new to her; so much more was she than human, so much more than the tigress whose shape she wore.
The sun was high in the sky but still she ran tirelessly, every heartbeat a year sliding through time, slicing through space, every stride taking her from that which was to what may be.
The grass flowed beneath her until she came at last to the sacred river seducing the sea. Her eyes glowed with longing as she saw the low walls on the far bank. Faster she ran and raced against the sprites that swarmed the surface of the river, jumping, leaping high over their heads. Now she was home, on the far side of never, the twilight of the evening, before the darkness of the long night.
The philosopher and the warrior sat in the ancient garden amid the lotus blossoms.
"Do you see her? The warrior maiden?" Durga whispered in her ear. "What once we were; what we shall become?" The philosopher remained constant, a young boy, aging slowly, becoming a wise and venerable old man. The warrior shimmered, changing, evolving as time and space shifted about her. Her first form was ancient, human in shape but not in dress or demeanor. There were so few of her as the eons unfolded, yet always there was an aura of power, of confidence and belief.
"He senses you," Durga whispered. "He hears you, although she does not. Not yet." Durga sighed. "Go to them, child," she encouraged.
Sam hesitated. She still wore the body of the tigress. As she took half a step the warrior stood and the old man lowered his head. "Sleep well, master," the warrior said. The half-step became a stride and she was standing whole, human. The warrior turned to her slowly, smiling but with a tear in her eye. "Our time approaches," she said, quietly.
Sam watched herself wipe the tear away. "Our time?" she asked the warrior that she would become.
The warrior regarded her closely. "Ever was the time before, when we dreamed of the never to be," she said, most disconcertingly taking her hand. "This is the eternal garden of the philosopher Chen Li. Very soon he will die and the garden will cease."
"But if it's eternal..." Sam started, "You're talking in riddles."
"Science and magic," the warrior said cryptically.
Of course, Sam knew that was obvious. But the meaning behind it wasn't; as she saw the possibilities opening up before her, her future self stood more patiently, more quietly than she thought she ever could. She saw herself as she might become: her hair long, braided at her temples, but flowing free the length of her back; her skin was tanned, almost glowing with warmth; and the design... Her future stood easily in the brightest of short tunics of the lightest silk. She could see the tiger adorning her body, richer, darker, more intricate and complex than the simple patterns Saurav had painted on her.
"Is there an apple, or do I have to earn this knowledge?" Sam asked, finally. She glanced at the old man as dark blotches began to spoil the edges of the garden.
"The truth is within you," the warrior said, softly. "Allow Durga to guide you to the answers that you seek." A hint of red appeared at her lips as she smiled; tears of blood welled in her eyes as she blinked. "Listen to Saurav, heed his wisdom," she said, seemingly unaware, uncaring of the droplets falling from her ears, staining with crimson streaks her golden hair. "Trust."
Yet the warrior's blood flowed, spoiling her cheeks, painting dark the soft smile on her lips. Sam wrenched her hand away, she couldn't stop herself from recoiling at the sight of the blood consuming her.
Wide-eyed, the warrior she would become stared at her in disbelief and betrayal. Sam took a step back as shadow crept into the garden. She knew that the old man was dead and the garden was already dying. She took another step and suddenly she was crying out into the emptiness of space.
The dragon, watching her, bellowed his concern, launching himself from the moon, entreating her to follow. The tiger ran after him, leaping high, chasing him across the void. Gaining on him, she ran faster, glimpsing the weft and the warp, the weaving of the way beyond. Quickly she was at dragon's side and together they left the stars in their wake, returning to their small island of now.
Silently, they walked along the shore of the lake, keeping their fears to themselves yet holding their dreams in each others hands.
...
Sam watched Saurav stretch and twist and turn as the sun rose. His tunic flapped and whipped about him as he jumped and leapt, striking at the air with his feet. His face was calm and his eyes almost serene as he slowed, crouching, legs wide, inscribing circles in the air with his hands. In those few quiet moments they had to themselves Sam had seen that he would alternate between meditating and exercising, that he would never waste a minute of the day.
And while she watched, she journeyed again in her mind the path that Durga had shown her. In her mind she saw again the snow-covered peaks high above the temple. And on the narrow bridge high overhead, now she could recall seeing two monks leaping as Saurav did, their robes beating the air; and beyond them she heard the soft chants and falling footsteps of others beginning their day.
The warrior that she could be was lean and hard; the Major that she was now was heavy and soft. Her future hands were strong and firm; today... Yet she'd also seen the grace in the way she stood, the way she walked. She'd seen the respect for the old man, the happiness in her eyes, the joy in her smile.
The first time she'd met an alternate self it had been more than a little disconcerting -- seeing the pain, the loss, the heartache for her Colonel and the suffering. She knew -- at least on the quantum level -- that two of her couldn't exist in the same reality as each other. Was it the same with the metaphysical, with the ontological?
Was that the cause of her own future pain? Was it her presence in the garden? Was it their proximity? Or was it her fate to die with the philosopher and his garden? How many alternatives of her could there be, and which was the proper reflection of her self? Did she really have it within her to live an alternate reality? One of her own choosing?
The more she thought, the less she understood. Durga had gone quiet; not speaking to her, not answering her questions.
She tried to focus on Saurav but an itch began to gnaw at her, an electric hum began to beat at her ears. With a sudden sense of fear she recognized the awakening of the stargate. She knew that her time alone should not yet be over, that the stargate was being activated too soon.
Within moments the stargate would lock and...
She looked within herself for the spark that would let her transform. She called inwards, but Durga only watched the gate. Then she saw... She saw the worm-hole splash out and she fell to her knees, almost screaming at the enlightenment that threatened to overwhelm her. She saw the glowing ripple of the event horizon, the dividing line, and clutched at the new awareness. A new vitality coursed through her as she withdrew herself from the illusion of space, dismissing time from her mind. She raced away from the stargate, leaving Saurav behind. Her heart pounded as she leapt as high as she could, over the waterfall, not thinking of falling.
The way beyond was hers now; she could see it clearly -- more than its shape, so much more than its pattern. She could see her destiny: the stars that had shaped her, the design that drove her. She heard Saurav's words echo through her mind, she heard Durga again, whispering the truth that was inside her.
Faster than she'd ever ran, she didn't stop at the small moon but raced on to the eternal garden only for her faith to falter at the darkness she found.
The old man was dead, his flesh gone, his bones bleached white by the hot sun. The garden was no longer green, the trees had withered, the lotus blossoms had shriveled, the grass turned black.
Yet still the warrior stood beside him, resolute. "Now you return?" The scorn in her voice was plain.
And standing beside her, she saw the shade of a girl, her face crimson, her hair bright red, matted, soaked in her own blood. The girl's cheek burned, blood spilled from her chin; a scarlet tongue flicked through teeth that sparkled like rubies, licking lips as bright as cherries. So plaintive, the girl cried.
Sam stared in horror. "I'm sorry," she said.
The warrior raised her head. "Master Chen lies dead; all this..." she spread her arms wide, "has come to an end," she whispered, the pain eating at her. "It is all I can do to sustain this place. The garden..." Her shoulders sagged at the weight of the task bearing down on her; yet she stood as tall as she could as she walked away. "Anubis has claimed this world for himself; just one of many in his empire," she continued, walking the winding path through the dead trees. "You come seeking your future, but it is not here. You see the child. Do you have the strength to withstand her death? Do you have the wisdom to bear that responsibility?" She paused, her face grim, bleak. "You come here and... and all you can say is that you're sorry?!"
"I...", Sam started, but the warrior stopped her.
"I?" The warrior cried back at her. She reached out, touched the branch of a tree. "I stand here now so that you might live." New life spread out about the limb where her hand rested; new leaves sprouted and a flower grew. "A broken mirror never again reflects; fallen flowers never go back to the old branches," the warrior sighed. The twisting path had led the warrior to stand in front of her. Sam paled as she saw her eyes gone, her ears closed, her mouth empty. "Spare me your sorrow," her future said.
Sam shrank back in shock. The words had come, but her lips never moved; she waited as if for an answer, but had no ears to hear it.
"This choice was mine, and I chose to remain." The warrior inched closer, holding her with the sadness of her smile. "Will you?" Her future was more than blind, but still she knew that the warrior saw through to the core of her soul. Slowly, Sam reached out, not knowing if the choice was hers, if it ever was or ever would be. She reached out and took the warrior's hands, not resisting as she was drawn into her firm embrace.
And she saw herself reflected back. She saw the tangled paths that had led to this moment; she saw the myriad broken dreams that lay ahead. She saw the face of her daughter who would come after; tears of blood flowed from her eyes, but she knew. She saw Durga smile. And she saw again the warriors that had come before, but now she heard them and knew there was still hope.
"The dreams and the illusions shall be ours. We shall awaken to remember you. The stars themselves shall boil in the sky before we leave your side."
This time she would not turn away.
A/N : This completes the second part of the Way Beyond trilogy.
Many thanks to everyone who has submitted reviews. It really is very encouraging to know that you are prepared to take the time to read a complex story that is, at best, difficult and confusing. Almost all of the answers (and questions) are there, but there are a few more still to come.
To be concluded in Forever::Beyond The Golden Mean.
