THE VROL TRILOGY (75 page)

"Excellent!" boomed Krynos, as children
gathered around the huge, smiling lycan, curiously touching his
leathers.

"Wouldn't it be pertinent to
interrogate… I mean,
interview
the locals here? We need more intel than
he went on a walkabout
. Liliana can keep the
children busy while we talk with the campers," Bagatelle
offered.

"Good idea, Brother. I'll speak with the
women and you can talk to the men. That way Draagh can concentrate
on his mini satellite and Krynos can… well, Krynos can check out
the surrounding area and secure the perimeter, while Gabriel does
whatever it is that Gabriel does," said Jennie, as she called out
to her daughter. "Lili, keep the kids busy, please. Show them a bit
of magic. Oh, snap - I don't even know if there's magic on this
world, but my senses are at full alert, so it should be ok."

"Magic and racial skills are in full order on
this world, my niece, so it should be nothing shocking to the
locals. Technology is not blocked, either," added Gabriel.

"Kids! Would you like to see some magic?"
asked Liliana, the children immediately emitting squeals of delight
as they all filed in behind her, with the young lycan/mage leading
them in a coordinated march out to an open field behind the
campsite.

"I am going to scan the local area,"
said Gabriel, as a wide, black span of wings morphed out from his
back, followed by him immediately shooting into the air and leaving
a very audible concussive boom in his wake. Wings were not
necessary for flight, but they looked awesome, so Gabriel used them
around the
easy to
impress
.

Bagatelle and Jennie led campers over
to the other side of their site, splitting them into male and
female groups, while Draagh continued to track herb plantations and
Michael's DNA trails, having again exposed his oval view portal. As
the siblings interviewed the locals they learned that
Mickey
was the local go-to guy for
knowledge. He had no skills, such as magic, but he seemed to always
give the best advice and know how to fix things. He also loved the
herb, and apparently was quite the weed cultivator, but the more
she learned about Mija-El the more she was glad that he hadn't
raised Max. However, she also took into consideration the fact that
he had been stranded on that world, and it seemed like there wasn't
a whole lot going on aside from growing vegetables and getting
loaded.

Draagh continued using his satellite drone
infopanel to capture imagery of the local surroundings, when he
conveniently picked up his son's trail 500 kilometers to the
northeast. Acquiring precise coordinates, but not saying anything,
he made sure that Jennie and Bagatelle were busy interviewing the
locals, Krynos was walking around and feeling very important (while
not actually doing anything), and that Liliana was showing feats of
magical skill to the children. Determining all was clear, he
slipped out, coming in about ten meters behind Michael, who
happened to be picking some berries in a wooded area.

Draagh surveyed his son, noting that his
brown hair had grown out nicely and was pulled back into a
ponytail. He also noticed Michael looked substantially thinner than
normal, but attributed it to local dietary restrictions. Walking up
to his son, he was mildly surprised that Michael didn't detect his
presence any sooner than a normal human. Turning around quickly
once he heard approaching footsteps, Michael grew a great smile as
he recognized his father.

"You came for me. Is Gabriel with you?"

"Yes, my son, on both counts. It is good to
see you. How have you been?" asked Draagh as he closed the gap
between the two.

"Surviving, Father. It has been some number
of years, and I believe I was a bit thoughtless in agreeing to the
terms of our wager. However, Gabriel won and I lost. It is here I
pay the price of my brash arrogance."

"Well, my son. Gabriel and I have come to an
agreement. Part of it is that we find you. The other part I shall
need to deal with later. Yes, quite a bit later."

"What did he get out of you, Father?"

"His own world," Draagh responded
quietly.

"Then I truly pity that world's
population."

"We shall see. They will not be alone, as I
will keep vigil over their societies. It is all I can do, as I will
be the creator of their situation."

"So, why do you come to find me?"

"Well, my son, I have need of you.
Specifically I have need of your DNA."

"That sounds so… impersonal," responded
Mija-El, as he rolled his eyes.

"There is much more to it, my son. Yes, much,
much more," exclaimed the old mage as he prepared to inform his son
about his progeny.

"Michael…"

"Mickey, just call me Mickey, please,"
responded the Taxiarch.

"No, my son. You are Taxiarch Mija-El, and
the father of my grandson."

"I prefer Mickey, and I am… huh? Father?
Grandson?"

Michael lost focus momentarily and started to
look around, almost in a panicky fashion, as he tried to piece
together what his father had just claimed.

"Who and where? And please, how does this
affect me and why is my DNA required?"

"My son, do you recall a particular dalliance
of yours, nearly three standard decades ago with a lycan-potential
female on Azul? She was a particularly gorgeous creature by the
name of Clarisa Martinez. And when you found that she was with
child you clouded her memories and matched her with a university
professor?"

Michael gained a look of sudden
realization as he put together the pieces from his father's
puzzling manner of speaking. He did indeed remember. However, after
securing a caretaker for the woman, he never kept track of the
offspring, figuring he would have been better off with the elder
Gunnarsson and the mother. He did truly care for the girl, but also
knew that not only would it have been difficult for him to stay and
care for her, but that it was also basically forbidden. She was a
mere mortal on her world, while he had a universe to attend to.
Michael had implanted the name
Maximilianus
into Clarisa's subconscious, so she would be sure to bestow
it upon the child. He did intend on checking up on the boy, but as
he had been, for lack of a better term,
stranded
on his current world for near a quarter
century it had never even entered his mind.

"Please tell me about my son, Father.
Is he here with you? I know I am not much to look at these days,
but I have been told that I
clean
up
very well."

"Michael, do you remember? Your son's name
is-"

"
Maximilianus
. Yes, I remember, the
powerless archangel calmly responded."

"He is unique among his kind, and invented
humanity's first faster-than-light propulsion technology. I tracked
his progress during his few years on his world, but when he
returned to the home of his ancestors I felt it was time to make my
presence known."

"Huh? He went to Earth? Why would he do that?
It is a dead world in his timeline, is it not?"

"Yes, my son. It is, but it shall yet again
flourish. The plague that the Vrol unleashed upon Earth had gone
into dormancy, and then fossilized, so it was perfectly safe for
him. However, things are not all well on the world of his birth.
Lovers of Death have commanded positions of power and…"

"Vampires? On Azul? Have the ghouls been
activated? How did this happen?" asked the powerless angel, showing
only a slight bit of concern.

"No, not activated, but they do hold
onto some of their innate characteristics. Despite the attempts of
many of our kind, certain
politicians
managed to create a power structure
similar to that which nearly destroyed their former world, even
though the Vrol basically finished the job for them. Anyway, I took
your son to Earth of the future, where he has trained with lycans
and, of course, with me. He is an incredibly powerful mage, an
accomplished warrior… but he is currently lost to us. That is why
we need you, my son. We need to attempt one last thing to try and
locate him. Well, no, I lie. I will never stop looking for the lad.
It is my most sincere hope, however, that you will assist us in
this effort."

The banished Taxiarch took a seat on the soft
grass as Draagh then detailed Max's entire story to Mija-El,
starting with their meeting at Machu Picchu.

"So you believe that he was sent to the
location of Marnn's ghanlo?" asked Michael.

"Yes, my son. It is the only logical
destination."

"I never agreed with that law, you know. Have
you not considered supplicating to Jah?" asked Michael, not being
aware of the current status of the universal consciousness.

"Jah is nowhere to be found, my eldest one.
Think of it as a form of sabbatical. Even the most powerful being
in existence needs a vacation every now and then."

Draagh gave his son a whimsical look, and
then winked at him as he pulled a satchel of herb out of his
leather jacket. Michael snickered as his father handed him his pipe
and they both enjoyed a bit of nature's finest.

"Not bad, Dad, not bad. But try this stuff
out," stated the Taxiarch as he packed some of his own weed into
the pipe and handed it to his father. Draagh took a long draw; a
pleasant smile grew on his face, as his eyes closed lazily.

"This is quite nice. I should like to
replicate it for further use. Perhaps once we have accomplished our
mission you and I could… work together on some horticultural
efforts on a beautiful garden world in galaxy Messier 51? The
sunsets on that particular globe are quite spectacular."

Michael sat for a moment, thinking about what
his father proposed, but then reminisced about all of the wonders
of his current world - the lack of responsibilities, the smoke, the
countless females who fawned over him, and so he selfishly decided
to reject his father's offer. He was sure his son would be fine,
wherever he was, and if he was that great of a mage he would find
his way back home.

"You know, I'm good where I'm at. I have
about 75 more years, a few common-law wives, get to do whatever I
please and… well, no thank you, but good luck in whatever you do,
Father."

Draagh stared at his son, unable to believe
he was looking at Mija-El - the warrior who had fought for the
existence of so many species - mankind being primary among them.
All he saw before him was a wasted, burnt-out shell of a former
archangel who only desired to get stoned and to partake in personal
pleasures. It was at that very moment that Draagh regretted having
some of his stash with his failure of a son. Angrily, he pulled out
his satchel of weed and dumped it on the ground, watching as the
former Taxiarch scrambled to pick up the dust-covered buds.

"You are truly pathetic, my son. Look
at you - on your knees, attempting to save a bit of this noxious
substance, instead of saving not only your own progeny, but also an
entire race -
the
race that
was created in your image. I believe that it is time for what the
humans call
family
intervention
."

"Man, why did you dump that herb? It was so
good and now it's all mixed up with dirt," whined Michael," and
what do you mean by family intervention?"

Before Michael could even continue, he looked
around and saw a number of unfamiliar faces looking down at him, as
he was kneeled on the ground, pathetically holding some soiled herb
in the palm of his hand. Draagh had quietly slipped them both back
to the Woodstock camp, surprising not only Michael, but also the
separated males and females distributed on either side of the
campsite. Krynos was the first at Draagh's side.

"Ah my old friend! You have… have you found
this Mickey that we seek? Are you Mickey?"

"King Krynos, please meet my most unwilling
and petulant offspring, Mija-El, also pathetically known as Mickey.
He does not desire to assist us in our quest, which is sad. Yes,
quite sad indeed. In fact, he has outright refused to help us in
any way whatsoever."

Krynos took a long look at the smaller man
kneeling on the ground, and then turned to Draagh, asking, "You
said he does not possess the powers of his kind at present?"

"That is correct, King Krynos. Quite correct,
I must say."

"Um… hello?" was all Michael could
manage to say before Krynos picked him up by his shirt and started
to toss him around, laughing in a sinister fashion. Jennie and
Bagatelle's intel groups got up and ran over near the campsite
center, staying cautiously away, but also looking on helplessly as
the massive lycan king swung their friend
Mickey
around, much like a rag doll.

"So, the great warrior Michael is not
desirous of assisting in the location of the good and honorable Max
Gunnarsson? I find this to be unconscionable. Your son saved my
kingdom! Your son is a good man! And I am also finding it hard to
make a connection between Max and this pathetic waste of a formerly
great angel. The leader of all archangels, indeed!"

The campers started to whisper among
themselves. Apparently, Michael had never confided in them the fact
that he was the Taxiarch, and instead only sought to live a
peaceful, worry-free existence.

"Mickey, are you really… an angel?" asked one
of the women, looking at him pleadingly.

Michael helplessly answered, hanging from
Krynos grip that kept his a full meter off the soft earth. "Yes. I
am Mija-El. But my powers were taken from me, and I only want to be
here. I have no son that I care for. I only want to be with you,
Becky. Well, and with you also, Sunny… and you, Sarah…"