10. CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES

And so it was, Sparhawk, former Pandion Knight and Champion to the Queen of Elenia, waited for the person from child protective services to pick him up while Nurse Joy provided stimulating conversation. He quickly realized that questions he asked (How do you put this shirt on, now?") which would have been nigh on suspicious in normal circumstances, were easily assumed to be of his amnesia. And so he had spent the next couple of hours or so badgering Nurse Joy at his desk, quizzing the older man on a wide range of subjects from rudimentary geography and history to 'How do those lights work?' He could see he was pushing the older (from one point of perspective, anyhow) man's patience at times, but apparently, the people here were a lot more tolerant from his times. Not once did he get thrashed or even threatened to do so. The lax in discipline was frightening.

Gradually Sparhawk began to get his bearings. The year was 1992, which seemed not quite right, given that Aphrael had told him that a few millennia had passed. He put it down to local naming conventions. The place they were in was a city called London, in a country called England. Which was in a continent called Europe. Which was on a planet called Earth. Which was just one of nine planets in the solar system. Sparhawk had been boggled by the sheer scale of things. How could they have been so ignorant, back in their times, to assume that the Eosian and the Daresian continent constituted the entire world? Even after being informed that the other planets were not populated, he'd still been visibly shaken by the state of affairs.

Democracy had not gone a long way to improving his state of mind. When he'd asked Nurse Joy who the King of these lands was, he'd gotten funny looks from the man, almost as if he was holding in laughter. Maybe it was a queen, then? Apparently yes, it was her majesty, Queen Elizabeth, but he still seemed to be holding back laughter and it was losing its novelty fast. "What's so funny, neighbour?" he'd asked in a deadly calm voice and that turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. The big man roared in laughter, his chest heaving. After he'd calmed down somewhat, he asked Sparhawk, in a disbelieving voice, "Lad, do you know what a Prime Minister is?"

After Sparhawk's rather detailed explanation of how he was a person assisting the monarch in the administration of the territories, usually assisted by a group of ministers (the politics of the Daresian continent were not foreign to such a brilliant student as Sparhawk. The Patriarch Dolmant had been quite enthusiastic in his instruction), but ultimately answerable to the ruler, was met with a disbelieving stare. After being congratulated on having a vivid imagination, he'd been introduced to democracy. By the people, for the people, of the people.

He was still recovering from the shock of that when, finally, a gent in even stranger clothes, some sort of tight-fitting black thing (oh Lord, was that his dick? For shame, sir!) came around and took Sparhawk off the grateful man's hands. As any good bureaucracy does, there was paperwork, and therein came the first hurdle. While Nurse Joy had been quite satisfied with laddie and kiddo, the man from 'child protective services' (a truly noble concept, now that Sparhawk thought about it) was looking quite put out that he didn't remember his name. "Well, he has to have a name!" he demanded in exasperation as Nurse Joy fidgeted. "There wasn't anything to ID him with" he explained. Well, this was as good a chance as any.

Sparhawk reached out and tugged on the irate man's sleeve. "Not now, kid," he said, brushing him off. But Sparhawk was nothing, if insistent. Finally, the man gave up and turned. "How about..." and Sparhawk pretended to think, "Sparhawk?". Nurse Joy was kneeling down by him in a flash. "Is that your name? Do you remember now?" he asked, voice hopeful. Sparhawk felt rather bad lying to such a kind man, but he shook his head and murmured "I don't know. But...that just...came to mind?"

"Maybe the kid remembered it from Animal planet or something. Well, that's as good as any." the other man agreed, "Now, if you can get his treating doctor to sign the forms here and here, I and Sparhawk can be on our merry way."


Sparhawk was having the time of his life. He was in some sort of metal carriage that was zooming on the black, surprisingly smooth roads all by its lonesome, no horses attached. And all around were similar contraptions, cars apparently, going about with so many different people. So many. Cimmura and Cammoria were about the most crowded cities back on the Eosian continent, but even there he wasn't sure he'd seen this many people. And the air! With so many people he'd been expecting the stench of sewage and unwashed bodies, but it was surprisingly clean if a bit...smoky?

And the people themselves astonished him. They were mostly well if strangely dressed (but fashion, he reasoned, was a matter of temporal perspective) and most of them seemed reasonably well-fed, even bordering on chubby. There were the occasional vagrants and beggars, but they weren't so numerous as would be expected. Now if only he could get his eyes fixed.

He glanced at the man, Jonathan Stag, who seemed to have relaxed considerably in the short time since the hospital. "Mr. Stag?" he called, "My vision is somewhat blurred." Stag turned away from the wheel ( what a novel way to steer!) and stared at him for a second. then he snorted, a smile blooming on his face as he turned back. "You talk like an old man, kid," he said, laughter in his voice. Sparhawk winced. "Well, the doctor did tell me you seemed to be shortsighted. We'll get you to your fosters first and then we'll see about some glasses, kay?"

"Foster?"

This was followed by a, it seemed to him, quite kid-friendly explanation of the rather nice concept of foster parents. Sparhawk could see that it could not be foolproof, but the very idea of providing a family for kids who had lost theirs or who could not be taken care of by their own was uplifting. Sparhawk did not know a lot about the times and lives of where he was now, but anywhere that took pains to take care of their children so could not be all bad.

That night saw Sparhawk spend the night with Jonathan courtesy of some bureaucratic red tape that ensured that Sparhawk's fosters could take him in only on the morrow. Jonathan had hit the hay as soon as humanly possible, shoving food into his mouth and brushing his teeth in an exhausted daze and situating Sparhawk on a very comfortable couch, before retiring to his room. He was snoring just a few minutes later.

As Sparhawk lay in the dark, huddled in the warm blanket, his thoughts drifted to his family. If what Aphrael said was to be believed, then they were long dead, turned to dust so many millennia ago. An expanse of time so vast Sparhawk could not even begin to fathom in human terms. And leaving aside the obvious, that they would still be just as dead today even if he'd been back in the past where he'd belonged, maybe they would have lived a bit longer, a bit fuller.

The day had been hectic, jumping from one thing to the next, with no time for idle contemplation. But now, the sun was set and it was the time of night and idle thoughts. Sparhawk did not have any pressing concerns. But he did have regrets. His mind hearkened back to when he had brought his sword down onto the Bhelliom. The power of the rings had surged through him and the jewel had shattered and with it, according to Aphrael, the future of Eosia. Had he been too hasty? Had he misjudged Azash and doomed everyone he knew with that simple act?

As his thoughts always did, they turned to his Queen. Ehlana had known nothing but hardship throughout her entire life. Her mother had died in childbirth and until Aldreas had demoted Sparhawk to caretaker and tutor of the child, she had been alone, frightened, and weak. Sparhawk had changed all that. She wasn't quick to open up to him, but when he'd broken the nose of an uppity noble who just couldn't seem to take no for an answer, the girl seemed to warm up to him. And he'd taught her everything he knew and strove to protect her.

But then, Aldreas, under the influence of his sister, the promiscuous Lady Ariana, and the traitorous churchman Annias had exiled him to Rendor, bereaving her of her staunchest ally. But by all accounts, the damage had been done, and when King Aldreas had passed on to the Hall of the Dead with some coaxing by his sister, Ehlana had taken the throne and ground Annias plans and ambitions to powder with an iron fist. Sparhawk had never been prouder of her, but then, before he could return to her side, Annias had once again dipped his hand into the poison jar and when Sparhawk finally made it to Cimmura, foiling all of Annias and his co-conspirator Martel's assassins and hopes, he found her entombed in a crystal, held in mystic stasis, supported by the life-force of the twelve Pandion Knights who had performed the spell and their tutor Sephrenia.

Even as his brothers died around him, one every month in accordance with the spell, he had raced against time and his enemies, both mortal and Godly, to obtain the one artifact that could cure Ehlana. The Bhelliom. And with the aid of his friends and the Child Goddess Aphrael, he had succeeded, and he succeeded in curing his Queen. But to his bewilderment, just when she plopped out of the crystal hale and healthy, she had gone ahead and married him. He had protested there were younger and less damaged men she could choose, but she'd been stubborn about it and before he could do anything else, he found himself in matrimonial harmony. His friends had had a laugh over that.

But just when everything should have been happy for her, Otha and his Zemochs had decided to invade, for his foul deity the Elder God Azash, coveted the Bhelliom which Sparhawk possessed. Having come to a decision that the God needed to be put down to end all this madness once and for all, he and his comrades, champion knights of their orders all, had saddled up and set out to go slay a God. His wife had been none too pleased about that and now it seemed, with good reason. He'd gone and gotten himself blown up.

He could only imagine how that had broken Ehlana's heart and he felt ashamed. He had brought her more sorrow than joy. But it seemed she had recovered somewhat with the birth of their daughter, who, surprise, surprise, had actually been Aphrael. She had chosen to be born as Danae, the crown princess of the Kingdom of Elenia. And she should have at least led a happy life from then.

But, no. Apparently, a new God had crawled out from the woodworks calling himself Cyrgon and one thing had led to another and apparently, Bhelliom and its counterpart, this Klael, had gone at it and destroyed the world. He sighed, a loud sound in the empty silence of the room. And now here he was, all alone, in a foreign world. But he could take that. What he couldn't take was this...absence within him. A loss of purpose. For what was he to do in this world? He could not go back, that much he knew. Sephrenia had been a good instructor and she'd given him a hundred and one reasons for why tampering with time was never a good idea. Chief among which was, you'd kill yourself, which was right up there with, 'You'd destroy the world too'. Once had been enough.

The one consolation he did have had been Aphrael, or Danae, his daughter, coming back. But she had been strangely silent since their chat in his mind. And that worried him. Had her confrontation with whatever that parasite had been worn her out more than she'd cared to admit? After all, she had just woken up from millennia-long slumber. He tried casting out for her again, a gentle prayer, and was relieved when he could feel her, weakly, but there. But when he called out for her, she didn't answer. It did nothing to improve his mood and his sleep that night was scant and fitful.


Read and Review, ye fiends. P.S. I know nothing of child protective services. Crucify me not.