Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon) (40 page)

It wasn't that Timon had never been upset before in his life. It had happened. He'd even gone into combat rage a couple of times, so he knew what that was like. This was very different. He wasn't mad, and didn't feel like hurting people, not at all. He just didn't want to
be
any more. That way no one would ever be harmed by him again. It was, he realized, that new whatever it was the Tor had put into his head. Guilt.

It was worse than he'd thought it would be, and with each day it got stronger. It would have to be changed, somehow.

He landed at the Palace no more than a minute later, most of that spent in a decent that was probably far too fast for the guards on duty. They didn't get the shield up in time to stop him, so he hopped out and started to walk in. The woman that ran up to him wasn't all that familiar, but she tried to talk to him, her voice rough and mean sounding.

"Stop. You haven't been cleared."

He did it, since fighting with her wouldn't help him at all at that moment.

"Fine give me the amulet.
Now
. I'm in a hurry!" She'd started it, but from the look on her face she thought that she had a right to mistreat him. Timon disagreed.

She did her job and gave him the Truth amulet, so he held it out, ready to hand it back.

"I'm Timon Baker. Countier Lairdgren. I'm here to speak to the King and don't mean him or anyone here that I know of harm." It said nothing of loyalty, but he wasn't there for that anyway. The woman frowned then took the amulet back.

"Very well, I can see if he has an appointment slot open...
hey
!"

Timon walked into the building right past her, by reflex she tried to grab him, but his shield kicked on. She had one too, which was rare for the King's Palace Guard, since they weren't considered a military force. She slipped off of him as he kept walking. When she tried to force herself in front of him, he angled his body a bit and moved around her. Direct force would be stopped dead, and a glancing blow from a regular object would stop it in space, putting the force of its movement into the ground.

Another shield just slid off, if you did it right. There were others that came then, but most of them rather wisely stood back, not trying to fight with him. He didn't engage but a few tried to hit him with weapons, or grab him, which didn't work all that well. Even when they used sophisticated shield fighting techniques. The problem there was that he
wasn't
fighting with them. Everything they'd practiced involved someone doing something other than just walking away.

It did slow him down, but he found the throne room about seven minutes later. It was the same place where his grandmother Gray had died, so he had a pretty good recollection of where it was. The King was at the far end again, speaking to someone on the communications device that was attached to a low table near him. It was made of real wood, stained deep brown and polished to a level that made it seem like glass.

It didn't take magic to figure out who he was talking too.

"He's here. One moment..." The King waved to him, then at the Royal Guards who were trying to trip him as he moved. One of them, a younger man, tried to shoot the stone floor with a Force Lance. That broke the stone there, but only enough to leave cracks. They'd have to do better than that to stop him. The question was, why exactly were they trying so hard? He'd only come to talk, and even in a bad mood, he wouldn't take it out on the King. That would just be stupid. For one thing, it wasn't his fault. not really.

There was a bustle of noise behind him and a familiar female voice spoke, her tone more relaxed than he was used to.

"Go. It will be fine here. Timon isn't hurting anyone."

Constance stood there, and smiled gently as she made motions with her hands for them to leave, or at least back away a bit. He didn't really care about that. If they wanted to listen in, they could just as well stand in the room as hide in the walls, as far as he was concerned.

"Timon? We heard that you had a bit of a falling out with your brother? Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really. I came to get the King to let me out of this marriage. It's only fair to Trice. She loves Tor, which isn't news to anyone. I can't have her acting as a spy for him or anything. I think... that he and I aren't brothers anymore." There was a pause, and then he described
why
. That took a while, since it involved things like genetics and magical pattern manipulation, and while the King and Queen were intelligent people, they hadn't had the best educations in the realm of science really. More than what people commonly had, but not enough to truly understand what he was saying at first. Luckily for him, there didn't seem to be a big need for that. They were smart enough to understand that he was angry with Tor for changing him. That was enough, really.

The Queen gestured for him to walk with her, the soft slippers she wore nearly silent on the polished stone floor. His black boots with their hard soles made a sound with each step he took however. The Royals stood back, looking ready to run, which made sense. They probably couldn't tell that he wasn't in a combat rage. Not with his shield on.

The King listened and after a while Smythe of Westend came in and watched him closely, then got a chair and put it near him. Tim stopped talking, and the large military leader in all black waved to it.

"I think this is going to be a rather long conversation. We may as well sit. So, the Wizard Tor finally did something that someone else takes exception with as well? Amazing. Well, it almost had to happen someday. Let me guess, he told you it was for both your own good
and
that of the people?" The look on his face was implacably calm, but firm at the same time.

"Pretty much. He may even be right. I can admit that. But he was acting on a flawed premise. He thinks that not having guilt means that a person will be a monster. There are other ways to live, like using logic and reasoning to make decisions. He decided that he didn't think
he
could do it, therefore I must not be able to as well. I don't know if I can fix it, but I'm going to try. It might kill me. Even Tor said so. That could take a while, so for now, I've come to get the King to let me out of the marriage to Trice. It's just being silly at this point, to lock us into place."

He had some decent arguments against it, but he didn't really get to use them, as Tor's voice came from the communications device. The words were wrong, meaning that it had to be the Count, not his brother at all.

"Timon, can you hold there for about fifteen minutes? I'd like to talk with you about some things, if you're willing. It might not change your mind about anything, but I'd appreciate being heard first. For the time being I'd like you to stay married however. There are things you aren't aware of that alter that situation. I'm headed toward you right now."

For the life of him he couldn't work out what he didn't know about things. There had to be vast amounts of information that might help him, since that was always true, but his mind felt slow and clumsy at the moment. Stupid almost.

It wasn't really true, he didn't think, but the new emotions were clouding his normally crisp decision making process. Worse, they had been for some time. Normally he wouldn't have married Trice, would he? It barely made sense at all.

Unless someone had put the suggestion in his thoughts? Say when they altered his ability to feel guilt? That could be paranoia, so he decided to wait and run it past the Count. The man may hate him, but he was old enough to have seen something similar to this before. Or at least have some kind of clue as to what might be needed. A cup of tea or some coffee to kick him out of this whatever it was. If only it turned out to be that easy.

"
Fine
. I have to do something. Today, I think. I can't keep going this way. The whole world is... I know that isn't true, nothing is falling in on me. Nothing. My life is fine, but it
feels
horrible, and like I can't fix it. I need to get this crap out of my head. Make him take it out." Timon balled up his right fist and slammed it into the side of his head hard. It made him see stars, but didn't fix anything at all.

Tim tried it a few more times, even knowing that it was nothing more than a useless gesture. It hurt, but that was only pain. He'd had so much that it barely registered any more now. It took work to keep his shield off for it too and on the last blow it kicked in. Then he dropped his hand and relaxed it. Hoping that something would make this better soon.

There was something that caught his attention, the King had stopped moving and closed his eyes. Five minutes passed and nothing happened at all, but no one bothered the man either. If he were in a trance, it seemed an odd time for it. If sleeping... Then Timon envied him the skill. Things weren't exactly peaceful around him, were they?

When his eyes opened it was done slowly, with total control.

"I think I see part of your problem Timon. You feel guilt, for the first time in your life, and that particular emotion tinges most human interactions. You feel that you're trapping Trice into a marriage with you, not realizing that even now you're truly protecting her. I could point out that she didn't struggle to be out of it very hard, but that won't mean much to you at this point. I can't force Tor to return you to the way you were, since that isn't within my power. You no doubt realize that, which fills you with guilt as well, for leading me to that position? Knowing that I have to try and order him to do it, which might cause a rift between us? Then, finally, every small action that you've taken, each nod that you've ignored, feeling pressed for time, each slightly callous thing you've said, suddenly haunts you, leaving you filled with dread and embarrassment. Also things you aren't overly familiar with. Is that correct?" The man leaned forward, his arms resting on his slightly spread legs he was so hunched toward Timon.

"There's a lot more than that, six layers or so.  But yes, that's about the right line of things. I can't even track it all. It keeps getting worse too. Ever since last night. Ever since Tor came today. This isn't normal or good. He's driving me insane. He might have meant well, but..." He hit his head again. Hard enough that there would be bruising. "This. Isn't. Working." With each word he struck again, so hard that even the Queen seemed troubled by it.

Which made him feel bad, for
worrying
her.

King Richard looked at him, the crown on his head seeming heavy and like it was about to slip off.

"Timon! Stop that this instant! You will
not
harm yourself. Your grandfather is coming and we will find a way to help you, I promise that. If need be I'll send for Tor and
order
him to repair this, even if it means losing him as a friend. For the moment you're required to focus and not let yourself get too out of hand. Will you do this for me? For all of us? I know that the Queen feels the same way." He glanced at her, and got a nod at least.

Surprisingly she also spoke.

"Yes. I know that things have at times been tense between us Timon, but we're family and I can't stand to see you harmed. Please, I beg of you, still yourself and hold on until Count Lairdgren comes to aid us?"

That was nearly the wrong thing to say, from the very worst person that could utter the words.

"
Tense
? You clearly
hate
me. You always have, since the first time we met. You've tried to embarrass me, undermine me, and tear me down when you thought I didn't know about it. I've put up with stares, glares, and hard words, that you didn't deliver to anyone else. Why is that? What did I ever do to you?"

The Count spoke from the door, walking while he did so, his footfalls nearly silent the whole time.

"You didn't do anything Timon. It's simply her way of defending herself from you, since you're so young."

Lairdgren smiled as the Queen looked away, her jaw clenching hard.

"Oh, are you going to say she loves me now? Like I'm some kind of younger version of Tor, or you?"

"Not at all. No, she feels a need to defend herself, because you're already too powerful, and she hasn't found a way to control you at all. In a very real sense, that's why we have to leave you married to Trice, so that Richard and Constance will feel they have some way to prevent you from taking over their kingdom."

Timon nodded, getting that he didn't know enough at all.

"Because
that
makes sense? I'm just some kid from Two Bends. Maybe in a hundred years or more I'll be a threat, but
now
?"

The Green man walked over to him and put a gentle hand on the top of his head. It was strange, but at least he didn't pat it like he might a dog.

There was a silence over the room, and finally he stopped and spoke in a low and very even tone.

"Yes. You're very much a danger to them. As to what Tor did, if I have a good sense of things here, you're currently experiencing about half of what a regular person would, as far as feelings of guilt and shame. It really shouldn't get any stronger for you either. Not enough to really notice. That being the case, might I suggest you calm down a bit? We have some things to discuss, before you remove a large part of your mind, trying to change yourself back to what you were."

"I can't take this. How do you people live like this?" Timon half growled the words, his eyes feeling gummy and red, even if he wasn't crying. Not even close, but there was a sinking inward of his body that he knew had to look small and weak. After noticing it he forced himself to sit up straight and to raise his chin, which at least seemed to make everyone else feel better.

Not him, but that was Tor's fault, wasn't it?

He tried to articulate it, but his Grandfather just looked at him, his face too much like his brother's for comfort. They were the same person, so of course he'd think it was a brilliant idea, messing with Timon's pattern. Sooner or later he would have thought to try it himself.

The man grimaced.

"It isn't a good idea to change people like this. I've tried, and each time there have been consequences that I didn't project coming into being. Nature is balanced, and trying to alter that is a problem. Of course you're not exactly giving this a chance. As to how people manage feeling as you do, the key is not taking action that will leave them feeling bad. You will grow used to this however, over time. It will take a while. Years perhaps, but sooner or later you'll adapt. The worst will be over in a month or two I think. As I said, you haven't been given the same level of guilt or shame as most. That will make it easier." Looking around the copy of his brother shrugged, his slightly older looking face the only thing that reassured anyone that it wasn't Tor now, since they were about the same size. "Might we have the room? I think that the two of us need to discuss some things that have happened. I should have earlier, but... Well, it's a flaw in the very old. We always assume that we have more time, or that things will fix themselves. In my defense, that usually works."

It was telling that the King stood first, in his own throne room, to give the space over to them without waiting to pontificate or suggest that it might be better if they left than the other way around. Smythe was the second one on his feet. He managed to pat Tim on the shoulder as he walked past and whispered something in a low tone, a thing that the Count heard, being right there, but the others probably didn't.

"This won't kill you. It might feel like it's too great for you in the moment, but you will come out above it, in the end." There was a sound to his words that spoke of having been in a similar place himself. It probably wasn't some wizard making him feel new things that he spoke of either, but rather causing the death of masses of people and having to live with it.

Lairdgren nodded, not smiling or looking at the other man, but clearly agreeing.

"William is correct. In the moment I think that calming your mind would be helpful. I know that you haven't had formal education in meditation, but you have the skills, or else you wouldn't be capable of building as you have been doing."

Timon didn't wait, seeking any trick that would let him get past the crisis of the moment. His body feeling small and sick like it was. It took a while but he managed to breathe, and pay attention only to that. It helped, so he blanked things out totally, like he'd learned to do while being tortured. That made a vast difference. His eyes were closed, so he didn't have to see all the people staring at him, judging his weakness.

When he opened them, feeling better, only the Green man was left. Everyone else had managed to escape, like sensible individuals.

Even with things being held at a remove like they were, it wasn't perfect. He wasn't filled with rage, but he felt a flash of annoyance for Tor anyway. Some feelings were far too strong to easily contain, it seemed.

"It wasn't right. He didn't have a right to do this to me. He shouldn't have, especially after what Nora and that Larval did. Doesn't he realize that it's the
same
thing? It's another person forcing their will on me, not caring if I have feelings or if it hurts me. For their own pleasure."

The Count used his foot to pull another chair over from the side of the space. It was a simple gray thing and far too tiny for most of the giant nobles that would be there visiting or seeking council, which was probably the point. They'd feel smaller and less adept, placed in the tiny chair. All the while the King would be up there on his huge and decorated throne, raised on a platform of stone, looking down on them, no matter how large they were.

Count Lairdgren sat in it as if it had been built for him. In a way the whole world always seemed to fit him somehow, even if it had been built for people that were much bigger than they were. Timon didn't notice it most of the time, but he didn't fit as well. He stood out, drew attention with each breath. The man next to him just merged with the place, like he'd always been there and would be. A boulder that sat on a river bank for thousands of years. Unchanging to the eyes of mere mortals.

When he spoke, his words weren't exactly what Timon had expected they would be. He'd figured on a pure defense of his brother, but instead the topic changed slightly. In a way that he couldn't like at all.

"I should have spent more time with you, after you were tortured. It takes time to move past that kind of thing. Years. Decades at times. I let things get away from me, thinking that you seemed fine. That you and I weren't that close to begin with, so you might not want me around." Sitting so that he was at an angle to him, but able to see Timon's face the man leaned forward just a few inches, but well out of arms reach. "That isn't a very good reason to abandon you. I'm sorry."

Timon tried to hold his mind clear, but couldn't really manage it at the moment, not while being bombarded by guilt like he was still. The faces of the dead coming at him over and over. Particularly the woman who begged for her life the night before. The innocent one with children and no doubt a husband that loved her. Had loved her. That was worse that all the thousands he killed, in a strange way. Even worse than the men that had been with her, for some reason. She'd been important to others.

Before Timon stole her away forever into a dark hole.

"I can manage, or could, before Tor did this to me."

The man shrugged again, and shook his head.

"It wasn't a great plan. If he'd thought it through, he would have waited, or even thought twice about doing it at all. It's true that many of the monsters of history were people like you were. Those without the ability to see others as more than pieces on the board. It didn't mean that you were evil however, which is what I think Torrance feared for you. That it made you so different from others that your logic and education would fail you, and you'd become cold and unfeeling, as the world heaped terrors upon you. In that way, perhaps Nora Alan and her compatriots were to blame in this as well? Pushing him to action that he might not have ever thought of, if you hadn't been pushed past the edge of sanity already?"

The man didn't react to his own words, but Tim did, clearing his throat.

"
I'm
insane? Oh, wait, yes, I see it now. Like how I ambushed that boy in his sleep and changed his entire pattern because I had an idea that... No, wait, that wasn't
me
. Now, what are you talking about?"

"When a man or woman is pushed beyond all reason, like you were, and harmed too badly, they can't exist in the same framework that the rest of us do, for a time. Some never come back from it. There are things that will almost certainly take place that make life harder for them. Reliving the scene for instance? Being afraid of people, or situations that aren't harmful... There used to be names for such things, but now we don't really speak of it often. You need time to heal, and people, to be there for you. I know that right now it's convenient to blame your brother for what he did and think that undoing his work will make it all better, but Timon, I swear this to you; the changes he made were very minor. Most of what you're experiencing has nothing to do with him at all."

Timon forced himself not to think, letting even his breathing stop for a moment, then let what little air he had in him out, shaking softly.

"That doesn't matter. I can fix it. Even if I don't risk changing myself, I can learn to control how I feel. It isn't about what he did to me, it's about the fact that he did it without
permission
. He had no right. Even if he meant well, or can't see me as a real person, there is no way in which he should be allowed to get away with this. I can't explain it. You probably don't understand what it's like, having all your power taken away from you, being forced to do things, having them done to you, and not being able to fight back at all. That's as bad as the pain, at least after it's over. That lack of being able to do anything. To feel trapped, and like you aren't a real person anymore."

There was a long and drawn out silence, the man's too good looking and almost girlish face a mask suddenly. Not that he ever had a lot of emotional range. His black hair was short and well-kept and his clothing perfect, but for a moment there was a sense of him sitting there with very long hair, naked and covered with dirt. It was, Timon knew, the Ancient reliving something very dark and very strong, so much so it overwhelmed reality for a few moments, until he spoke, coming out of it.

 "I might know a thing or two about that. The point here isn't to compare wounds, but to help you find a way to cope and move past what's happened. I was hoping that you might be able to help Patricia, and in doing that, aid yourself. The things that happened with you were different, but similar enough in a way that you should be able to understand each other. Gerent... He's stronger than you or Trice. His life trained him to be able to cope with hardships such as abuse and rape. It isn't a good thing, please don't think that I'm claiming that, but it's why I didn't suggest overly that he be the one linked with her. It would be best if you not force her away however. Not now. She needs stability and someone to care for her at least as much as you do. Perhaps more."

The words just hung in the air, not really touching him for a long time, but after a while Timon could see the sense in them.

"It isn't fair, is it? What happened to us."

"No, it really isn't. It never is, when someone forces their will on another. It's too common, and not always a rape of the soul, but, no, fair it isn't. The question then, is what you plan to do about it? Are you going to let yourself hate the world that allowed it to happen, or will you strive to make it a better place? Most people choose the first one, in case you're wondering. Then, they only have a few decades to deal with. Being selfish and bitter isn't a good long term survival strategy. It can be hard not to take that road however."

It seemed like there wasn't anything left to be said then. That and more things than he had words for. Would talking about pain and bad things truly help him? Or would good works and helping others fix things for him at all? For some reason he doubted that it would. Some things were just too dark for little gestures or platitudes to repair, weren't they?

The fact was... that there was nothing left for him to do. Except try to get past the things that had happened, and maybe, as his grandfather had suggested, help his wife with her problems. If she wanted him too.

The Count surprised him again, his face bland and unfeeling, a thing that Timon thought he might understand a little better now. Something very bad had happened to the man, a thing that was far worse than anything that he'd gone through at all. Loss and pain that would have broken his mind a hundred times over or more. The words he spoke weren't about that.

They probably never would be, because dumping that on other people wouldn't help them, would it? Or him.

"Countess Montblanc will need you too. Not in the same way, but she'll need protection from the society she has to rejoin. People won't easily forget or forgive her actions, standing against the King. If you stand with her, it might ease the transition." Standing he let his right hand float out, and gently patted Tim on the shoulder. Only a few times. "I hear that you've also made inroads with those still fighting against the rest of us? Not the best way of doing it, perhaps, for your own peace of mind, but a rather certain one. It won't hurt for them to see you as someone they can count on, I don't think. I had hopes that your sister would be the one to take that up, to be the bridge between the two factions, but I don't think that will survive the destruction of County Morris, do you? She's going to need you as well soon. Can I count on you to help her?"

Timon rolled his eyes, then made himself stop, knowing it was rude and the Count, while a jerk most of the time, deserved not to have him acting that way to his face. He'd save it for later, when the man was gone.

"Of course. She's my
sister
. I have to be there for her." It was the way he'd been raised after all.

"Tor's your brother." The man let himself smile gently, the words conversational in tone.

"I disowned him. He's a self-centered moron that thinks he should be allowed to do whatever he wants."

"Who else do you think can stand in front of him and tell him no? If you don't do it, who will? Tiera? She's busy with her own concerns and might be for a long while. Me? I'm barely able to pay attention to the things in my immediate vicinity anymore. It will be a while, perhaps hundreds of years, but I'm failing, Timon. It's why I need Tor, to take my place. That means I need you and your sisters to keep him honest, when I'm gone. Denno will help you. He's always been stronger than I have. That means you have to make it through this. I don't think I have time to start over. You, your brother and Tiera, possibly Taman too... You're all the hope we have left for Noram."