Mind Over Psyche (8 page)

“A salle?”

“Yeah. You know, a big empty room, where you can practice sword fighting? Usually has
mirrors?”

“I know what a salle is.” Deryl huffed. “What do you want
one for?”

“Well,” Joshua said as he stretched, “I'm totally keyed up, and regardless of what we just said, I have nothing to do but worry. I thought a workout could distract me, and I'm assuming there's no weight room? Besides, whether you get me back right before my audition or right after we left, I promised Rique I'd have a routine ready. I figured an empty salle would be a good place to
practice.”

“Oh. Right, okay.” Once again, he envied his friend's ability to take control of a situation, even of his own fear. He pushed that thought aside and reached out with his senses. “There are two, and the small one doesn't get used much. Cochise can lead you, and I'll find Salgoud, if tha
t's okay?”

Joshua looked at the everyn, who raised its head and stretched its wings with a large flap. “Sounds like a plan. Look, Deryl, we're going to be stuck here awhile. Lighten up and enjoy yourself. You've spent most of your life locked up with people telling you what to do and hardly anything under your control. But here, you're
the Ydrel
. Even if you don't want to buy the oracle routine, you've got skills, and you've got a fresh start.
Enjoy it.”

“S
eriously?”

Joshua shrugged. “It can't hurt. Besides, it's pretty clear to me that if you keep spinning yourself up, you're going to send out a signal that you aren't the Great and Powerful Ydrel. That could get us bot
h killed.”

Deryl tried to find
a comfortable seat on the log without looking like he was squirming. He hadn't thought his “fresh start” would include roughing it, but Salgoud had sent a warrior to his room with a uniform and instructions to meet him at the unicorn fields. The outfit fit like a wetsuit, but proved surprisingly comfortable while riding to where the warriors had set up for their next exercise. He'd spent the day observing their maneuvers until the sun had set, and the “kills” were racked up and a winner declared. Now, he sat around a campfire with Salgoud and his aides as they awaited his assessment.

He looked around at the circle of people who were focused on him. Salgoud, the equivalent of commander-in-chief of the world's army, peeled a piece of fruit with his dagger. The firelight played off the scars on his face. Despite his fearsome appearance and Joshua's misgivings, Deryl felt most comfortable around him. He seemed confident in his ability, yet ready to listen to what Deryl had to say. Ocapo eyed Deryl with barely restrained hero-worship. At first, he'd enjoyed it, but now it made him almost as nervous as the expectant, dubious looks of Salgoud's
staff did.

Anything he said, anything important, they would relay, in perfect detail, to the rest of the warriors. Should he say anythi
ng stupid…

No pressure
, h
e thought.

They watched and waited. Their expectation grew. He couldn't even stall by filling his mouth
with food.

He shut his eyes and thought about the battle. They were definitely missing something, something obvious. He focused on the cliffs. Why weren't they utiliz
ing these?

He heard a snort from one of the commanders. Apparently, some expressions were
universal.

Fine. He had a better idea, too. He showed them his sight of the battlefield, all the people in red. He showed them from Spot's eyes—red and red among the green. Then he showed them Spot sitting in a tree, his mottled pattern blending. He concluded with the memories of a veteran who had spent time at SK-Mental, and how their battle dress uniforms with the mottled greens and browns let them blend into th
e scenery.

He felt that sense of expectation come crashing down:
That
was the best the Ydrel could do?
The Ydrel, an oracle of God? Giving fashi
on advice?

Well, if it's so simple and obvious, why haven't you done it, then?
Nervousness made him snarly. When he got no answer, just a sense of disappointment, nervousness morphed into anger. He welcomed the anger, wrapped it around himself like a shield, and let it feed his natural arrogance.
I don't know what miracles you expect from me, but understand this: I am the Ydrel, but my skills are limited. I didn't come here to win a war for you. For millennia, I've done one thing, and only one, for your people. Offer my wisdom and advice. Even that has its limit. God may be all-knowing and all-powerful, but He has not passed that on to me. Now, you want what I have to offer? Here it is. If you don't,
I can go
.

He felt their surprise—how could one be so haughty about his limitations? He didn't acknowledge their feelings. All he had aside from his knowledge was his arrogance. He had to bluff. Where would he go? He didn't know how to get back to Earth, though he'd have to figure it out for Joshua's sake. Still, they didn't know that, and his shields were strong enough that they couldn't have picked up on his thoughts if the
y'd tried.

He felt a second disappointment, from the liaison to the healers. She had hoped the Ydrel had come to preven
t the war.

I'd like nothing better than to find a way to keep the Barins away from your world,
he teleped.
But I don't know how. God has not told me how, any more than He's told you. What I do know is how to help you better defend yourselves, to try to minimize the loss of life. That's what I've always tried to do. Whether or not you accept my ideas, big or small, is
up to you.

He held himself tight against their doubt. He didn't want to argue, and he did not want to sit there, where their doubt pressed upon him like the muggy heat back home Joshua used to compl
ain about.

Know what? I don't have to. I'm a free man here.
He stood up, gave a respectful bow,
and left.

He headed through the campground, ignoring the warriors gathered around their own fires as they turned to look his way. If he paused now, they might see his own self-doubt and consider it weakness. No. First rule of engagement: maintain the high ground. He reinforced his mental shields and kept a stern frown on his face, while he let his feet carry him through a dense but narrow wood and his mind bounced an
d brooded.

Was Joshua okay? Salgoud spirited me off without explaining his plans. Someone would have told h
im, right?

I should have snagged a memory from Joshua's mind and taken us both to Colorado. But no, Tasmae had to Call me at just the wrong time, and my stupid, scared and drugged mind latche
d onto it.

Tasmae. Was she all right? Salgoud said no one, not even Leinad, thought she was ready to experience the Remembrance. My changing things between us forced her into this. What if he
was right?

Salgoud said even the most skilled Miscrias would lose themselves in Gardianju's memories—sometimes, pe
rmanently.

He shivered.
Come back to us, Tasmae. We need you. I
need you.

That thought surprised him almost as much as the fact that he had left the woods and stood in a large meadow. A thick blanket of stars bathed the meadow in silvery light almost as bright as a full moon. How long he stood there, looking and not thinking, he didn't know. Then it occurred to him that if they were in their own galaxy, they had to be near the core. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the view, until he faced a small, br
ight disk.

Barin. Once, when he was at SK-Mental and Tasmae had called him away, she'd shown him the planet in the night sky and explained that when it grew to a certain size, the invaders would come in their ships and fight like demons to secure a foothold while the world waxed i
n the sky.

Each time the war grows longer, she'd told him. Each time, they succeeded in killing more of her people, taking a bit more of land, but they could not hold it. Yet they kept coming back, and no one under
stood why.

This whole thing's whacked.
He glared at the disk, as if he could will answers from its blue-bright form.
Why fight a pointless war? Are they that evil or that
desperate?

Deryl knew what the Kanaan thought. Tasmae may have used the proper name for the planet and its people, but the warriors had other “names.” Contagion, Hel
l, Asylum.

An entire planet of criminally insane—generations of criminally insane?
Deryl shook his head.
Maybe this is how they purge their world of the violent? Then why let the worst of the lot—the survivo
rs—return?

You don't make sense!
he thought at the planet, and despite his shields, he felt a flare of anger that wasn't his own: Demon sun—bringing its e
vil to us!

No, this
isn't me!

The anger grew, morphed into vision, and he was standing on a dry and thirsting Kanaan, staring into a sky with
two suns.

Stop it! These are not my
memories!

Anger and vision became heat and pain. Every cell in his body caught fire with the pain of the world. In the vision, he
screamed.

NO! This isn't me! Get out o
f my mind!

Something “pinged” on his mental radar, throwing him out of the vision. Without thinking, he spun, one arm up to block a blow he didn't consciously realize w
as coming.

Salgoud's sword impacted against the telekinetic shield he'd
projected.

Salgoud's eyes widened in surprise. Then
he smiled.

*

Joshua did a cross step that led into a full turn and down into the splits. He held the pose a moment, looking at himself in the salle mirror and trying to imagine the positions and poses of the rest of his friends. He frowned in thought, then noticed Deryl's reflection. Deryl lounged in the doorway, wearing a grin and one of the tight red uniforms of the warriors. “Hey,” Joshua called. “Come on in. I'm about done
for now.”

“That looked cool,” Deryl said as he walked all the way in and took a seat on the bench. Cochise looked up from his nap to give a chirrup of greeting. Deryl scratched the top of the everyn's head. “How's the routin
e coming?”

“Not bad. Still too complex to teach the guys in a couple of hours, though, but I can tone it down. I'm not sure I'll remember all of it, anyway, but it was fun to make up. Did you know they haven't invented paper? Who doesn't ne
ed paper?”

“A psychic people with plants that record
memories?”

Joshua held up his hands in defeat, then snagged a towel and rubbed the sweat off
his face.

“You been doing this the whole time I was gone?” Deryl asked. His friend certainly seemed more relaxed, even like he was enjoying himself. Deryl wished he could say
the same.

Joshua jerked his head to where Cochise perched on a weapon's stand. “For all that he's a winged lizard and my jailer, Cochise is a pretty perceptive guy and a good guide. He took me out to the unicorn fields, too. I didn't realize how much I missed my horse.” His wistful smile turned to a smirk as he looked Deryl over. “So, snazz
y outfit.”

Deryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Salgoud's insistence. I felt kind of silly in it at first, but this stuff is tougher tha
n Kevlar.”

“Serious? You look kind of super-hero-ish. Just don't tell anyone I said so. Have a g
ood time?”

Deryl grinned. “I think I know our
purpose.”

Joshua cocked a
n eyebrow.

Deryl held out his hand to the everyn. “Cochise,
bite me.”

“What?” Joshua yelped. Cochise cocked
his head.

“Well, I know you won't hit me. Go ahead, boy. Give it your b
est shot.”

With a humanlike shrug of his shoulders, the everyn snapped his teeth around Deryl's hand. They stopped with a click before hitting
his skin.

Deryl laughed. “Remember when those monsters from the Netherworld were attacking me, and you told me to concentrate on defense—making a physical shield and wearing it li
ke armor?”

“I thought you were delirious. I was just trying to keep you from trashing your room and hurting someone.” Joshua rubbed his hair and set the towel around
his neck.

“Yeah, well, your lesson worked, and yesterday, when Salgoud tried to a
mbush me—”

“He what?”

“He does that a lot, apparently. Keeps people on their toes. Anyway, without even thinking, I put up this shield and blocked him. I thought he was going to drop his sword, he was so surprised! They don't know how to do that. So we're going to te
ach them.”

Cochise continued to gnaw on Deryl's shield, worrying at it like a bone. Deryl grinned at him and withdrew
his hand.

“We?” Joshua sat down on the other side of Cochise. “I don't know how to do that. Anything I know about psychic powers—or magic, for that matter—I got from reading fantasy novels, and then I tossed in some basics from my Neuro Linguistic Programming training for you. You figure
d it out.”

“Do you want to get out of here or not? I figure if I get stuck teaching them, you're the one with the ideas. I'm the Ydrel, remember? I'm just a conduit for inf
ormation.”

“You are more than that.” Tasmae startled them with
her words.

Deryl spun on the bench and looked at her, aghast. At first, Joshua thought he was afraid because of what he'd just said, but instead, Deryl asked, “What are you doing here? The Remembrance—” He paused, then frowned w
ith worry.

“I…was thrown out of it,” Tasmae said, still lingering in the doorway. “It should not happen that way.” She pinned Deryl with her stare, and Joshua had the idea that she was wondering if he had something to do with that. From the way Deryl squirmed under her gaze, Joshua thought his friend wondered
the same.

If something happens to the Miscria and they decide it's our fault...
“But you're okay, right? No harm done?” Jos
hua asked.

She gave a shrug that didn't reassure him in
the least.

“Okay,” Joshua said, though he didn't find anything okay about the situation. “So! Uh, Deryl has a great idea
for you.”

“That's right!” Deryl grinned and sat straighter.
“Hit me—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Tasmae struck him with a roundhouse kick that knocked him off the bench. Cochise squawked and flew to a high shelf, where he crouched and
gekkered.

Joshua looked at his prone friend and burst out
laughing.

“Yuck it up,” Deryl said as he rolled to a stand. He was grinning at Tasmae, who, Joshua noticed, looked confused. “She didn't
touch me.”