CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE OF THE INHERITANCE




No one uttered a word when Eugene stopped reading and folded
up the letter.

Ricar broke the silence. "What a tale," he whispered. "A
most incredible adventure, so fantastic it could hardly have
occurred."

"But it must have occurred," the Dowager said, "how heavy
must the burden of this secret have lain on Irwain. To keep
silent all through that time and not able to tell it to
another soul."

"He tried to share the secrets of this instrument he had
uncovered with Valorin," Lukus said, grimacing, "but I
gather happy-go-lucky Valorin could hardly be the type of
being the safekeeper of such a terrible tool."

All eyes turned to Eugene and they looked up at him, their
faces aglow with admiration and reverence.

"But Lar Irwain chose you," the Grand Proctor said and for
him there was little doubt the erstwhile Lar Protector of
Trevarthen had chosen his successor well.

"What about the Hexstone?" Lukus cried out. "Where is it
now?"

"It is here," Eugene quietly answered, "I have brought it
with me this evening for a purpose, one of the reasons why
the Council was assembled in such haste. Tonight is the time
to reveal to you and the rest of our realm the might and
power that have been put into our hands and what we are able
to do with it."

"Please explain what you have in mind, Eugene," the Dowager
implored, striving to keep her voice steady. "Firstly, a
meeting of the Council was called presumably to resolve the
lingering question of the Trevarthen inheritance, and to
resolve it, in my mind, in a slapdash fashion. Secondly,
during this meeting we learnt of strange and bizarre events
culminating in the revelation of how the Hexstone came to be
found. Thirdly, I must ask this question, why should this
all happen, at the time of Councillor Byrull's grand
festivity and in his own home? What has Councillor Byrull to
do with all this?"

"Dama Clarya," Willouri said, "we are here because
Councillor Byrull has also become part of a great
enterprise, an enterprise he has in fact partly initiated,
to learn to use the powers of the Hexstone for the
betterment and further glory of our civilization. Through it
we can strengthen our resources, consolidate our frontiers
and explore the stars."

Ricar interrupted vehemently: "I thought the Tres-Tiorem has
imposed a moratorium on space exploration beyond our
system."

Eugene lifted up his hand, his whole face radiant with the
light of conviction: "That is why our enterprise makes it so
remarkable, because we do not need to equip expensive
starships and send them on long, dangerous space voyages.
The Hexstone will be our bridge; it will open the gateway to
other worlds."

Several of the group sprang to their feet, some in dreadful
shock, but most of them in exhilaration.

"And how do you plan to use the Hexstone?" Lukus asked. He
was visibly shaken. "Have you taken heed of its destructive
nature? Remember, it was found among the ruins of Aberon. It
might well be the instrument that destroyed Aberon."

"I am aware of the formidable power of the Hexstone," said
Eugene with a sombre look that temporarily clouded the
radiance on his face. "Once I was so foolish as to believe
that I would be able to wield it single-handedly. No! The
power of the Hexstone has to be shared, it is not for one
individual to keep and use. Enough lives have been
sacrificed. I am wiser now. But I am certain that there are
others like me, raring to go, to explore the unknown and to
know more what lies beyond our spatial barriers. When
Councillor Byrull introduced to me the physicist, Carlomon,
I immediately knew he is one who shares my aspirations."

Lukus jumped forward but the Dowager's hand closed around
his arm. Trembling violently she turned to Lar Wryn with a
desperate plea: "Viraun, what are we going to do?"

"Tell him the truth, my Dama."

Blank confusion replaced the feverish anticipation which had
flushed so many faces in the room.

"What truth?"

"Eugene!" Lukus cried out, no longer able to restrain
himself. "You couldn't have done worse than taking as your
friends two of the most dangerous individuals in this realm.
Byrull is the perpetrator of a most heinous plot to take
control of Iucari-Tres and Carlomon is his accomplice!"

Another hush, filled with nerve-tingling static, enveloped
the little space. Lukus's insane accusations against their
illustrious host, voiced under his roof and while attending
his grand festivity, had stricken them with momentary
numbness.

"Are you implying my son is wrong?"

The voice shattered the silence like the clang of a cymbal.
Dama Anjelie Trevarthen swept through the ring of people to
the front and no longer abashed but fierce and proud, she
stood daring any speaker to corroborate the accusations.

Lar Wryn turned to the Dama. "Your son," he said with
profound sadness, "also Lar Irwain's son, as is so suddenly
made known to us, would be better off being marooned in
Aberon than making his alliance with Carlomon and Byrull.
Dama Clarya, I think it is time to make our own revelations.
Tell our friends here what--"

The wide doors at the other end of the room swished open and
their host stepped into the room. He still looked charmed
with the best of his congenial smiles creasing his face but
there was a tinge of hardness in his eyes and the knuckles
around his glass looked a little tight.

"Ah," he greeted them, "there you are. The missing part of
my guests, the most important ones. I believe that you've
had your discussions. I have come here to request you to
rejoin the ball and to witness the most magnificent
spectacle you will ever behold."

"Are you ready to conduct the experiment?" Eugene asked.

"Yes, dear boy. Carlomon is waiting."

"Wait!" Lar Wryn shouted. "This has gone far enough! My Lar
Trevarthen, listen to me. Do not do anything rash before you
have heard us out completely. By putting the Hexstone into
your hands, your father made you its guardian. Have you ever
thought that others are coveting the forces of this thing as
your father warned you about, to master it and use it to
commit evil. That you were deceived with dreams of achieving
glory and success, not knowing what their true intent is.
Break with them, turn back now before it is too late!"

"Aunt Clarya!" Eugene interrupted, "do you corroborate these
mad accusations?"

"Eugene," the Dowager said, "I have no hard proof but let me
tell you why Lar Glynmoran was killed. They murdered him to
stop him from talking about what he had seen in Trevarthen
Hall, when Carlomon, as a guest of Dama Lisaloran, was
experimenting with the Hexstone in the library."

Eugene turned white to the lips. "That is impossible!" he
whispered and furiously he turned to his mother who clutched
his arm, panic in her eyes. "Mother! I thought the Hexstone
was with you all the time. Haven't I told you not to let it
out of your sight while they are conducting their tests."

Dama Anjelie made an attempt to open her mouth but she got
no further as Byrull with a sudden movement stepped
backwards and with a feather-light touch on the wall
metamorphosed the surrounding area. With an almost inaudible
sigh the roof above their heads parted to reveal a twinkling
night sky and in the same unobtrusive manner the enclosing
walls slid into invisibility blending the room with the
adjacent guest hall.

The hall was crowded and when the walls fell away one group
of people stared at the other as if one of the groups had
fallen from the stars. A resounding boom drowned the voices
of the guests and the night sky overhead burst with an
assortment of fiery fountains.

Hern Byrull threw back his head and his triumphant laughter
rippled from one corner of the hall to the other. He dashed
through the floor and leapt up a podium that stood at the
far end and spread his arms wide as if to embrace his whole
audience. "The fireworks have begun! Enjoy the sight since
for some of you it will not last long enough."

He snapped his fingers and in a nightmarish transformation
of a festivity gone deadly wrong the guests suddenly found
themselves hemmed in by a band of individuals, clad in
tarblack suits and heavily armed with gruesome weapons. No
one could tell in the confusion where they had materialized
from, but it all happened so fast it seemed as if they had
mushroomed from the very marble floors of the guest hall.

Hern Byrull pointed a finger at his mesmerized audience, a
Phycel exercising the authority of a Lar Protector. No one
would steal this moment from him. "Listen, my friends!" he
cried aloud. "MY FRIENDS need not be afraid. My guards are
only mustered here as a precaution, for your safety and
mine. There are among you who have sought to vilify me, ME
who had done and achieved so much for the community of
Myaron. Look around and judge for yourself, see with your
own eyes what I have done for you. I have shared with you
all my wealth and I am willing to offer you more. And yet,
here are Iucarians of prominence who say otherwise. Dama
Clarya, Dowager of Ayrie, Lar Wryn, your own Lar Protector
and Cestor Lukus Stratken are accusing me of being the
perpetrator of an evil plot!"

All eyes focussed on the threesome who had been so glaringly
pointed out by their host. As if encountering an angry wind,
the guests scattered away from their sides as if fearing
their taint of ignominy. Subtly and without a sound Byrull's
tar-suited guards filled the vacant spaces around the three
of them.

"Hold it!" Willouri cried out, raising his hands, "There
must be some mistake. Councillor Byrull, you cannot jump to
such hasty conclusions. Those who have provoked your anger
are also Eugene's dearest friends and mine. Explanations are
needed here!"

"No explanations," said Lukus, his eyes smouldering in his
tense and white face, "only a question. Eugene, you said
earlier that the Hexstone was in your possession, then ask
Byrull how it came into the hands of Dama Lisaloran. Hear
his answer and then decide who is speaking the truth."

Eugene stood tall and rigid among the crowd, his face the
pallor of dirty snow. "It is true," he said in a leaden
voice.

"What is true?" Willouri asked tremulously.

"The Hexstone has been taken from me."

"By the Lars," Willouri whispered, "may the HeliĆ save us
all."

"Hern Byrull!" Eugene's voice rang through the hall, "You
have committed treason, not only against me but against our
society. I was deceived by your generosity, by your
enthusiasm for new ventures of explorations. Merely
pretensions, I now see, demoniac trickery designed only to
rob one's rightful heritage. I warn you, Councillor Byrull,
the Hexstone is a fearful weapon. Give it back before it
destroys you."

A pale, elegant hand swept aside the heavy curtains fringing
the back of the podium and Dama Lisaloran appeared to take
her stand at Byrull's side. The audience gasped in awe. She
wore a long velvet dress of deep scarlet, the colour of the
setting HeliĆ along the horizon of Red Lake. A shawl of
silvery fur draped her bare shoulders and a tiara of
diamonds sparkled in her hair. Carlomon followed her onto
the podium, looking severe and ominous in his dark suit. She
was holding between her hands a strongbox as she looked down
on them with scorn and addressed Eugene .

"You, Eugene Sharys, or for the time being Lar Trevarthen,
do not be too sure of your own position. I have known of
this Thing of Light even before you were born. Clever was
the Lar when he hid it but not too careful when he was using
it. He should have known that the power of the Light was so
strong its rays could filter through walls and illuminate an
adjacent room.

"I have searched for it long and hard after his death. I
knew he must have given it to someone for safekeeping,
someone he trusted as his own. But who still remained there
of his illustrious Trevarthen line? They are either dead or
in self-imposed exile. I was convinced he did not take the
Hexstone with him when he departed on his last journey to
Evening Star, but there were always ways of finding out what
he was doing and whom he met just before he left. Lar Ermiz,
so close to the Castelmoer protectorate, has been very
helpful in this respect."

She turned her head slightly as from behind the parted
curtains at the back of the podium the supposedly ill Lar
Protector of Ermizgarth revealed himself in the pink of
health.

"I am always ready to help my friends," Julyan said.

"And by graciously allowing the Treasury Council of the
Trevarthen estate to hold their meeting in my house," Byrull
continued, smiling once again his beguiling host's smile,
"we finally came to know the secret of the Hexstone's
origin."

Cries of dismay erupted from Eugene's little group. Eugene
looked like one who had just seen his whole life going up in
smoke but he stood his ground and did not flinch. "So now
that you are all gathered like carrion eaters, you might as
well reveal to us what the ultimate aim is of all these
lies, deceit and your loathsome betrayal of your fellow
Iucarians."

Dama Lisaloran gave a short, contemptuous laugh. "You are
either a fool or the biggest hypocrite among us. You know as
well as I what it means having the Hexstone at one's
control. The ultimate power that no one in our whole realm
has ever experienced. It is like having the mightiest of all
beings in the palm of one's hand and order it to create
anything one could ever wish."

"This is madness!" Willouri thundered. "You are aware, don't
you, that it can also wreak havoc in the most horrific
manner."

"It depends," Carlomon said, stepping forward, "on the
strength of your mind and willpower to control it. It is the
belief that whoever is able to touch it with his bare hand
will absorb all its powers and have the forces of a whole
universe at his fingertips. But so far none of you has been
able to do it, but we can manipulate the Hexstone as we will
show you very soon."

"You consider yourself strong enough to control it?" Eugene
said, grimacing bitterly. "The Hexstone is rightfully mine.
My father found it and bequeathed it to me. None of you can
dispute this fact."

"Yes indeed!" Dama Lisaloran said, twitching her lips
contemptuously, "the beloved son. My Lar Irwain could not
have made a worse choice. It has essentially been your
mother, who has always guarded it, but even so she is
afraid, and because of her apprehension, especially when the
Light has the illusion of jumping right out of the box, it
has been so much easier to switch boxes while she was
looking the other way, so to speak. Some guardian! You, who
cannot even bear to look at the Hexstone, let alone hold it
in your hand."

"I would not be surprised," said Eugene dully, "another
lie."

"We shall see," the Dama remarked with a half-smile, "in all
fairness since neither of us can decide who will possess the
Hexstone, let the Hexstone decide for itself. We will enter
into a contest, a battle of wills. Carlomon has stated
earlier that the Hexstone can be controlled through the
mind.

"My associates and I will challenge you, and whoever is
prepared to stand by you, for the psychic domination of the
Hexstone. We will place the box with the Light in the centre
of the room with our two groups facing each other, and the
combat shall start. Are you agreeable to this arrangement,
Lar Trevarthen?"

Up to this moment, none in the audience spoke a word as they
listened spellbound to every denunciation hurled back and
forth. At the last words of Dama Lisaloran most of the
guests started to stir and scuttle away from the centre of
the hall, some of them a little hesitantly as if none too
sure on which side the best bets were.

Standing erect, proud and grim Lar Wryn observed his
companions. "We have to stand by Eugene, no matter what the
cost. But each of you has to make your own choice, on your
own conscience."

"You are absolutely right, my Lar," Lukus said, "I am with
Lar Eugene Trevarthen."

"Count me in too," Maea said and she turned to the Dowager,
her young face pale but determined. "Aunt, I think it is
much better for you to avoid this contest. Things could go a
little rough."

"Thank you, Maea, but it is here that I stay."

Anxiously Willouri bent over to the Dowager. "I cannot force
you to go, my Dama, but at least stay close behind me, at
the very back of our group so that you will not take the
first blow, if it comes so far."

The Dowager silently pressed his hand, benumbed by the
avalanche of bad events. Someone has to warn the commanders!
The thought only remained, she felt powerless to propel it
into action.

Meanwhile, Carlomon had put the box on a stand in the centre
of the hall. He opened the lid with pincers and the enigma
inside flooded the entire hall with an eruption of
scintillating light. The discharge of radiance was so fierce
both groups backed off a few steps.

Immediately Dama Lisaloran and her group crowded into
position behind the turned-up lid of the box.

"My dear friends," Eugene said to his group of supporters
and for a moment his voice caught in his throat with
emotion. "I cannot express myself well enough what I feel
for you. I am grateful for your loyalty to me but I must
also tell you that if any one of you is in doubt, you may
leave. I am even imploring you to do so for if I fail you
will fail and suffer with me."

No one spoke; they just stared back at him blandly and he
turned and faced Dama Lisaloran.

"I am ready, if you are."

"We are."

The fireworks overhead had gone on with hisses, crackles and
spurting cascades of varicoloured rays but the show had now
ended, and as the night sky above the open roof resumed its
former flickering tranquility a sudden intense silence
drowned all sounds in the guest hall.

Dama Lisaloran and her party concentrated on the box, from
behind the lid. In front Eugene and his group did likewise,
linking hands in stoic solidarity. Moments of suspense
sailed by like storm clouds and nothing happened. Then,
abruptly a low zooming sound rose from the box and the
brilliance started to swirl and with each spin strobes of
intense light were hurled gyrating across the hall.

Eugene and his group staggered when the first light lance
broke sidelong against them but they looked upon the
sinister faces of their adversaries, knew that to waver
meant defeat and they clenched their teeth and held their
ground. The Light began spitting violent colours, blazing
white, to piercing gold, flaming red. Light lances shot
upwards through the opening in the roof where in the sky
they infused with the lingering smoke of the fireworks to
generate a glowing aura that hovered like a reddish cloak of
fog.

The Light paused as if to flaunt its capricious nature and
drew back its fiery outburst. From inside the box it shone
like a savage white globe of Thing, zooming with the voices
of angry wasps. There was a tentative stirring in the crowd,
quickly halted when bursts of colour started to swing again
and jets of flames spouted into the sky. A wind began to
blow and howl around the turrets of the palace. The Light
zoomed to red, striating the walls with ruddy streaks. The
open skylight in the ceiling dome revealed a night firmament
in turmoil. Massive drifts of clouds appeared to blot out
the stars and forks of lightning clashed through the bellies
of these vessels as if they were battle ships locked in
combat. The Light spun to the brilliance of diamonds and
with all the radiance it spewed out, waves of heated air
surged through the hall. Cries issued from the crowd when
the floor started to heave and rumble. Terror gripped the
assembly but no one dared to make a move.

The Dowager clasped her hands as she silently witnessed the
Hexstone's frightful forces at play. She had remained
motionless while the others of her company had steadily
edged forward in their intensity to gain the upper hand. She
gazed at the flashing pandemonium that had taken control of
the sky above, felt the shaking of the palace foundation,
and prayed and despaired.

She gasped in alarm as someone put a hand on her shoulder.
Trajan stood behind her, covered in dirt from head to toe,
and with a dry sob she fell into his arms.

"Trajan! Thank the Lars, you are here at last! What took you
so long?"

"I couldn't make it sooner, even if I wanted to. We had to
deal with tough resistance up at the castle."

"How is everything?" the Dowager asked anxiously.

"We are all right. We had the element of surprise. Minor
casualties. As soon as we had the castle and the airstrip
under control, we came right here. We took advantage of the
confusion to get in. My concern is to tackle those black
suits without harming the guests. What is happening here?"

The Dowager clung at him in desperation. "Do something to
stop this madness!"

"What is that flashing object in the centre of the hall?"

"That is the Hexstone Lukus spoke about."

"The Hexstone? What is it doing? What the scruts are they
doing?"

Trajan suppressed a sudden urge to laugh at the tableau that
was unfolding in front of him: two groups confronting one
another with fierce faces and gleaming eyes. He could not
help getting the impression that they were playing some sort
of stare-me-down game, which was absurd to even think given
that his commanders had just come out of a short but tough
battle and another battle was imminent inside the palace.

Dama Clarya clung at his arm. "Trajan, so much has happened
that I can't tell you everything. But I am telling you that
the Hexstone is very dangerous and Byrull and his cohorts
are using it as a weapon!"

Trajan frowned. What appeared at first blush to be comical
had gained sinister overtones of malice and destruction.
"The fools!" he muttered. "They are destroying each other!"

Looking round, Trajan quickly appraised the situation.
Byrull's phalanx of guards standing against the walls,
distracted as everyone else by the spectacular scene before
their eyes. Commanders had now mingled with the guests,
keeping their rephars under their jackets. Rylan had also
managed to slip in, just a few steps away from him. Rylan,
who was leaning slightly forward with clenched fists, all
his sinews straining toward his grandfather. Trajan elbowed
his way through the ranks of petrified guests to reach
Rylan.

"Captain."

Trajan fingered his optic strip urgently. "Lieutenant?"

"Something weird is happening to the sky. Debris is falling
as if a volcano has erupted nearby! We have to herd the
people on the lawns into the palace for shelter."

"Keep them in the front galleries, Royan, but don't let them
into the main halls. And –"

A chill-rending cry of distress and another one, more
savage, more victorious made Trajan swing his focus back to
the centre of the hall.

Like one in the throes of madness, the Light had started up
once more its gyration of colours, ruby, topaz, diamond,
sapphire, ruby, and in pulsing bloodred it stayed. The ring
of glow spiralled and widened moment by moment. Eddies of
energy that moment by moment multiplied in force buffeted
the surrounding walls. Glass splintered, stone and marble
cracked. From the ceiling came sounds of metal and alloy
grinding under tremendous pressure. A fine rain of plaster
showered on the spectators. A throbbing fallow oval had
filled the opened roof, a window beyond which foreign stars
and moons skimmed by in spasms giving the appearance as if a
hole had been punched in space above Phylee-Patre and havoc
had sideswiped other worlds, whose wounds are now
alternately bleeding icy winds and fire-tipped hailstones
into their world.

"The gateway!" Eugene cried out. "The gateway is open once
again. It is happening again, but I don't want it like this,
no, not like this."

His strength and confidence began to weaken. Perspiration
beaded his forehead. Through a red haze he suddenly
discovered that his adversaries had abandoned the frontline
while all eyes were riveted on the raging light show. They
had taken cover on the podium behind a protective shield.
The sight defeated him. No one could control the Light, not
even the strongest mind among them. They had let the Light
loose to destroy them all. Groaning aloud he closed his eyes
with his hands. He floundered backwards and with him, his
companions staggered in retreat. Perceiving the crack in the
opposition's will, Dama Lisaloran's group gave out a howl of
triumph.

Willouri uttered a cry of dismay. "Demons! Stop your
savagery!" The Proctor suddenly lurched to the front,
running up the steps of the podium like a raging wisur bull.
Immediately the tar-suited guards surrounded him like a
plague of black locusts. Raised daggers glinted in the
flashes of the Light like blood-tipped giant stings.

Eugene and his friends cried out to Willouri in horror and
pain. They stumbled a few steps forward in an attempt to
save him. Suddenly a beam of light shot from the box,
hitting Eugene in the chest and a nest of brilliance hedged
him in as he fell to the ground.

Dama Lisaloran laughed. "What now, Guardian of the
Hexstone?"

The shock scattered Eugene's supporters. They tried to rush
to Eugene's aid but the heat of the Light was too intense.
Lar Wryn pointed his finger at Dama Lisaloran. "In the name
of Iucari-Tres," he said, "you have brought about enough
destruction. Let this young Lar go. Have you lost so much of
your dignity that you cannot even be merciful in your
victory. I am the Lar Protector of Myaron, don't you dare
defy me."

Lar Wryn strode forward to the centre of the hall, calm and
dignified, with every intent to take charge, but he did not
go very far. To everyone's terror, another red lance was
ejected from the box and struck the old Lar full in the
chest. The clash threw Lar Wryn into a corner of the hall
where he crumpled up on the floor. The cage of brilliance
dissolved itself from around Eugene but he too lay unmoving.

"Well now," Byrull's voice came behind the shield, "the
Light is choosing its victims well."

His words appeared to be the catalyst for the crowd to start
moving and there was a frantic shove and push toward the
front doors. This was like a situation of an enemy swarming
at them from all sides and many things needed to be done at
the same time. Trajan forced his way through the chaos to
get to Rylan. "Rylan, stay where you are! Don't move"

Rylan, true to his nature, had already sprung forward with
blazing eyes. "You soildemons!" he screamed. "You killed my
grandfather! You will pay for this, I swear you will!"

Hern Byrull momentarily materialized from behind the screen.
Dark protective goggles were over his eyes. "There you are,
my stepson," he sneered, "just in time for the show. I
didn't kill your grandfather. The Hexstone did, and come on,
my boy, come forward now, it will give you a full dosage
too."

With renewed horror the Dowager saw how another red beam was
being projected straight at Rylan. And at Trajan who was
right behind Rylan. She gasped when the spear of light
seemed to bend aside in the nanosecond before impact like an
arm in the midst of dealing a blow but bending as if having
a sudden change of heart. The beam only seemed to brush
Rylan's body. Rylan collapsed on the floor. Trajan was at
his side and knelt down. Dama Clarya stumbled against him,
grasping him by the shoulders.

"Is he--" the Dowager faltered.

"He is all right. He is only stunned."

Trajan jumped up and dashed to where Lar Wryn was lying. The
Dowager stayed close behind him. Bending over the stricken
lord, Trajan shook his head sombrely. A thin stream of blood
trickled from Lar Wryn's nostrils and he was breathing only
barely. Trajan felt his pulse and sensing the touch Lar Wryn
opened his eyes.

"Trajan, my boy. In the nick of time. How is my grandson?"

"He will live and carry on your line."

A ghost of a smile flittered through the pale, gaunt face
and an expression of profound peace settled on Lar Wryn as
he closed his eyes. Undecided what to do next Trajan and the
Dowager remained crouched near the Lar while the Light
zoomed, buzzed, spun and flung its fury far and wide across
the hall.

Shivering the Dowager whispered in Trajan's ear: "How
terrible this Hexstone has become. Trajan, do something!"

"I don't know what to do, really I don't. I know that we
have to get out of here." Trajan coded his optic strip.
"Commanders, take those black suits out of action and
evacuate the guests. AH!" Trajan suddenly clutched his head
and doubled up over Lar Wryn. He squeezed his eyes and
grunted in pain. "Ease off, ease off. I can't bear this."

"What is it, Trajan!" Dama Clarya shrilled.

Trajan half-turned and squinted at the Light, fingertips
touching the floor, his body coiling like a kingwolver
readying for the pounce. "I can feel and hear you in my
mind, in my Auricles. Who are you?"

"I know you."

"Stop hurting my people," Trajan said aloud.

"I am hurting too. I am lost, caged."

Wildly Dama Clarya stared at him and then at the Light. Her
voice came out in a croak. "Trajan, are--are you talking to
that thing?"

"Trajan." Both Trajan and the Dowager got a start hearing
Lar Wryn's voice. With surprising strength the old Lar
grasped Trajan's shoulder, pulled him lower and whispered in
his ear, after which the Lar lay back with a sigh and closed
his eyes once more.

Trajan slowly straightened to his feet. From afar came
Lukus's yell: "Aunt Clarya, get away from there! Look at the
Hexstone! It's doing something terrible!"

Dama Clarya however kept clinging on to Trajan, even trying
to drag him away as he steadily faced the Light. The Light
was taking another shape. Spirals suffused with silver-blue
radiance weaved and intertwined like strings of stardust
caught in a rhythmic dance that was both beautiful and
frightening to behold. From the heart of this sparkling
elegance there sprouted clusters of hair-fine needles tipped
with blue fire. Like burgeoning stalks these clusters
wreathed through the air toward the two of them.

Get away! Get away! His yells rising to a hysteric pitch,
Lukus sped toward them, moving out of pure compulsion even
when he knew it would be in vain. He suddenly halted. The
glittering mesh had stopped just in front of nephew and
aunt, and Trajan had his arm stretched and hand splayed out
to stop the assault. The cluster halted. The spirals
coalesced to propel a blue spear upwards through the open
ceiling and into the leak in the sky. The impact with the
webwork of flares and lightning sent shockwaves through the
whole region and made the very foundation of the palace to
heave and shudder.

Amidst gasps and groans of the assembly, Lukus sprang
forward and pulled the Dowager to a safer place. Then the
lights in the hall sputtered out and all went black. Only
the Light sparkled in the centre, a starburst of glitter
needles, blindingly silver-blue.

All noise died down. In the darkness there was only the
swivelling Light, and Trajan standing in its glow. They
seemed to communicate, commander and Light, cocooned in
ice-blue fire, ignoring the presence of enemies and friends.
Trajan went forward and approached the box until he was only
an arm's length away from the bristling radiance. The
Light's buzzing began to fade away. The furious whirling
slowed; the spirals contracted, the blinding effulgence
dampened until only a pulsing lambency remained.

Trajan stretched out his arm and took the Light into his
hand. Immediately the blue glow sprouted inwards from his
fingertips and surged all over him. He became Light himself.
He extended his arm high above his head, raising an orb of
blue brilliance towards the turbulent sky above him.

He might have said something; the audience could not be
sure. They were sure however that when the Light disappeared
from around him, the tremors of the floor receded until all
was stable and quiescent once more and the hall lights
flickered on again. In the place of the oval blur above the
ceiling, where worlds had been bruised, the night of
Phylee-Patre fell back. Trajan was still standing in the
centre and only a little sapphire star pulsated in his palm.
He closed his hand and then it was gone too. The box on the
stand was empty.

"Look!" Lukus cried out breathlessly, "Look, everybody! It
is the prophecy fulfilled! Only the one who can take the
Light into his bare hand!"

"Krystan Schurell!" Dama Lisaloran screeched from the
podium.

"No!" Lukus jumped forward to stand at Trajan's side, "His
son, Trajan Schurell and great-grandson of Lar Irwain
Trevarthen!"

Carlomon broke the impasse with thunderous laughter. He
yanked off his goggles. "The cunning foxes! They had led us
a merry dance after all. My salute to you both, Lar Irwain
and Lord Schurell!"

"It is impossible!" Dama Lisaloran cried. "It cannot be
true, it cannot!"

"Believe it, Lisaloran," the Dowager sternly said, "Face the
truth. The wind has finally turned against you and your
cohorts."

"True or not," said Byrull and snapped his fingers, "we
still have the upper hand. Guards, take your position, shoot
them, shoot all of them."

A tumultuous clattering of heavy weapons and boots rang
through the hall as the black-clad phalanx, who had so far
stood against the walls as baffled and mesmerized as the
other spectators, jumped into action. A commander once more
Trajan signalled his optic strip and took his rephar in his
hand.

"Lieutenant Royan," he called, "now!"

He turned and trained his rephar at Byrull and his group. "I
will not use strange forces against you but simply this: if
your guards dare to harm anyone here in this room I will
fire upon you, first and foremost. My rephar is set to
eliminate."

"Right," said Lieutenant Royan, appearing at his side, "what
are we waiting for?" Other commanders materialized from the
dispersed groups of guests and fanned out in assault
formation.

Hern Byrull stumbled against the back of the podium,
helpless rage contorting his once genial face. "The exit
behind the curtains," he growled," as fast as you can."

He furiously pulled Dama Lisaloran with him and pushed
Julyan Ermiz forward, who had been standing on the side limp
and haggard as if his feigned illness had now actually
claimed him. Carlomon and his bodyguard had already swiftly
made their exit.

"They are escaping!" Lukus cried out. "We must not let them
go!"

"No," Trajan said, "leave them be for the time being. It is
the living and the injured who need our urgent attention
first of all."

By this time the rest of the contingent of commanders had
swarmed into the hall and after a brief scuffle and fierce
exchange of fire they took control of the hall. A junior
commander briefly reported that all black suits had been
vanquished.

"Good," Royan acknowledged, "time for pursuit, Captain?"

"Not just yet. Our problems are just beginning."

Trajan pointed to the deep fissures zigzagging through the
walls and the domed ceiling. When the clamor of shouts and
firing had died down, the roar of a fierce wind came
sweeping into the hall and each savage gust brought down
garlands of chandeliers in a flurry of hisses and sparks.

"We have to get out as soon as possible. The walls of this
house won't stand it much longer. Gather the injured
quickly, it won't be easy to find our way back home in the
storm."

By now the guests had regained their presence of mind and
several of them went round the hall looking for survivors
among the debris, while others started to put together
makeshift stretchers. Deeply grieved Director Milraus closed
the eyes of his old friend Willouri who was now beyond all
medical assistance and covered him with his own coat.
Milraus did not spare himself. He went immediately to his
next charge, Rylan who sat huddled on the floor with his
head upon his knees.

Rylan enquired anxiously about his grandfather and Fredric
who had knelt by his side with an arm around his shoulders,
informed that Lar Wryn was still alive but in desperate need
of medical attention. A stretcher was laid down beside him.
Rylan violently objected and sternly Fredric pressed him
down. "Don't be such a nuisance and do what I tell you!
Don't you hear the wind screeching outside? In your state
you won't be able to crawl home."

Milraus tapped Rylan gently on the shoulder. "Lie down, my
boy. When we get to the Sanatorium I will give you a
sedative." He then proceeded with a heavy heart to where
Eugene lay. Dama Anjelie sprawled beside her son, clutching
his hands and calling his name. Milraus shuddered in horror
at the sight of the horrible burns.

"Cover him well," he instructed the stretcher-bearers, "keep
him warm." He put a comforting arm round Anjelie's
shoulders. "Come, my Dama, there is little I can do for him
at present but as soon as we arrive at the Sanatorium I will
do everything I can."

Abruptly Dama Anjelie shook herself free and Milraus gazed
at her a little perturbed. With intense eyes she looked
round and when she found the one she sought she went up to
him with Milraus trailing her uncomfortably. Feverishly she
broke through the circle of commanders engrossed in
discussing their next strategy, and addressed their Captain:
"You are now the keeper of the Hexstone. Please help my son!
You can use it to heal him."

For a moment Trajan was taken aback. "My Dama, forgive me if
I say I don't know what you are talking about. Why do you
think it can heal? It is an entity of pure light, a force
not to be taken lightly. I still don't understand what it
really is, but it has nearly destroyed your son, it will
kill him for sure the second time round. If Lar Trevarthen
has the will to survive with the help of his physicians, he
will, believe me."

'Too modest, Captain,' Milraus thought and smiled sadly,
'you, who are holding the most terrible force of the
universe in the palm of your hand. You, born in the image of
Lar Irwain!'

"You still do not understand, you say," Milraus said, "but
you did exactly the right thing at the right moment. How do
you explain that?"

With his tousled hair and begrimed face Trajan had nothing
one would call charisma; yet when he looked at the Director
Surgeon, Milraus felt the power of his strange eyes. "You
might say it was instinct on my part," he said.

"Trajan," Fredric called, "the rain is really starting to
come down now. What shall we do? Wait?"

"We cannot afford it. Assemble everybody and prepare to
move. What is going on now?"

He turned round as frantic shouting and running footsteps
came upon them, and Lukus elbowed through the crowd, waving
his hands to capture Trajan's attention.

"Trajan, something terrible has happened," he panted, "I
cannot find Maea anywhere. I am afraid she has been taken by
Byrull's guards."

"Ricar is missing too," Lamidor broke in.

The Dowager who had also approached the group said
horrified: "Where could they have been taken? Under the
ground?"

"Yes!" a shrill voice answered behind them, "to the
underground chambers of this house, a place you wouldn't
even dream of entering."

The group whirled round, all eyes focussing on Ecelyn Byrull
like glaring spotlights.

An expression of petulance had replaced the hostess charm as
Ecelyn, looking dishevelled in her torn and crumpled gown,
withstood their scrutiny and said, "I know the way and will
personally lead you to the underground chambers but I need
you to stand by me."

Trajan looked at her hard. "And lead us into a trap?"

"I am the one who is trapped," said Ecelyn. "He left me
behind to face the consequences of his action while he took
HER with him, and not me. I have no wish of harming you,
commanders, but I only want to find my master in union and
maybe persuade him to break away from the alliance. I am
still wedded to him."

For a moment the Dowager and Trajan looked at each other,
then he beckoned with his finger. "Lieutenant, over here."

Pulling Royan to a quieter spot, Trajan quickly discussed
with his lieutenant the options that were available to the
command. Time was running out and the gales and rain outside
were intensifying by the moment into the rage of a
hurricane.

"We have to go inside but we are dangerously overstretched.
Just listen to the wind. I've never heard such a howling
before! We may have to complement the Rescue Force with our
commanders, and there is still a considerable mopping up to
do. I have to go. We have not found my Uncle Leoynar either
at the airstrip or in the castle. I fear he is being held
underground. The question is, how many can we spare to go
with me."

"I go with you, Captain, I insist. The place we are going to
infiltrate presents far more dangers than up here. The storm
will make it unlikely the enemy would want to do battle
here. We'll take a whole platoon of commanders with us.
Second lieutenant Fedros can take command here."

Trajan pounded his knuckles against the wall in aggravation
and muttered: "What is there below? A tunnel? A cave?"

Royan looked at him with wide eyes when it seemed that for
an instant a sapphire light sparkled from beneath his
Captain's fingertips. Trajan ran a hand through his hair
irritably and the moment of this remarkable phenomenon had
passed. He decided: "We take a stealth group. It is easier
to move about in smaller numbers. The real calamity is
happening right up here. It will be a Code Red One
situation. Attune your optic strips accordingly."

"So be it," said Royan and he turned briskly round to gather
their task force and brief their third-in-command Lieutenant
Fedros.

Briefly Trajan stopped by the stretcher on which Eugene lay
and rested his hand on his kinsman's brow. "He is strong,"
he reassured Milraus who stood near, "he will survive."

"I believe it," said Milraus, "because you said it."

"My best wishes to you all, Director. You will have to
withstand the brunt of the storm. I have already alerted the
Rescue Force and they are on their way, but I am afraid that
before the day is over you will see many more casualties."

"My best wishes go to you also, Captain," spoke Milraus
gravely, "for you are going into a hornets' nest."

Lieutenant Royan signalled to him that their small
contingent was ready. Trajan nodded and while he carefully
re-examined his own weapons the Dowager approached and laid
a hand on his arm.

"Tell me where is the Hexstone now?"

Trajan slipped his rephar into the holster and placed his
hands on the Dowager's shoulders.

"It is not a Hexstone," he said with serious grey eyes, "it
is Starglory."

"Where is it now?" the Dowager whispered.

"It is in me. I took it in because it is the only place
where it is safe and where it can do no more harm. Believe
me, Aunt Clarya, I will gladly tell you everything if I know
what this means but I can't. I didn't even understand what
happened when I saw it and it me. It seemed to recognize me
and for an incredible instant, I seemed to recognize it too,
as a friend not a foe, something that was lost and wanted to
be united with me, and to save us all from annihilation I
did what was asked of me. That's all I can tell you."

With a soft cry the Dowager swept her arms around him and
pressed him closely against her bosom.

"Young Captain, unpretentious, unspoilt! You are a real Lar!
So formidable and yet so vulnerable. Do not go into the
enemy's den. I fear for your safety. We cannot lose you
now."

"I must go, for I feel there are more things to find out
under the ground."

With a final warm embrace Trajan parted from his aunt and
went swiftly to where Royan stood with Ecelyn Byrull and the
commanders of their small task force. He smiled grimly and
made an inviting gesture with his hand. "Lead the way, lady.
We will be following behind you closely. It is only fair to
warn you that if there is an army of shooters waiting for us
you will get the first full blast."