BOOK 2




LEGACY OF TERROR



CHAPTER I

CHANGING TIMES


The sky was like black satin and scintillant with the
mysteries of the stars. No better time to come home in, when
the night was alive with sounds of the silver firs
whispering in the breeze and small nocturnal animals
creaking in the fern bushes. To all appearances, home and
hearth had stayed the same. Pausing in the woods from a long
hike Trajan made the vow there and then that he will bar the
winds of change from blowing this way and that such serenity
in Ferngarthen will prevail.

Sensing a presence in the park, the two kingwolvers came
breezing menacingly through the thickets but recognizing him
they pulled up, their haughty plumes of tails trailing over
the ground as if they felt his sorrow.

Trajan paid the King and pregnant Queen his respect. For
moments, the proud animals hung their heads low as a kind of
acknowledgment and afterwards they quietly went their own
way.

The living room was still brightly lit at this late time.
Normally he would enter through the terrace but nowadays
these were no longer normal times. Trajan decided to
circumvent the house and knock on the private wing of the
chamberlain who, perceiving from the lights inside, could
still be awake.

* * *

Grysal with due consideration called Norielle out of the
living room before he broke the news to her and as she
speeded away, he entered the salon to inform the Lar with
softer and less excitable words.

Trajan stood in the front hall, still wearing the
single-lapelled dark-blue uniform of the commanders, and
Norielle went to him swiftly and hugged him tightly. No word
was exchanged between them but from this desperate embrace
Trajan knew he was sorely needed. Lar Alden presently joined
them and he put his arms around them both, pressing Trajan
to his breast as if his grandson had been away for long
epochs.

"Finally, you are home, Trajan," he said with wet eyes, "We
have missed you all so much."

Norielle was still unable to say anything but her gaze never
left the face of her younger son, taller, leaner and more
mature than on the day he had departed on his long patrol.
She clung to him and Trajan held her close, painfully aware
of undercurrents of terror and distress.

Back in the living room Grysal had already set out on a
small table a variety of nourishments and Trajan thanked the
chamberlain with a grateful smile for he had hardly taken
any food on the long return journey.

"It feels good to be home," he said when the emotion of his
homecoming had subsided.

Norielle looked at him searchingly and said, "Adilar is all
right."

"Yes, I know," Trajan said and Norielle nodded satisfied.
Trajan would certainly be the first to know, by his own
means or otherwise.

"To which sanatorium have they taken him? I haven't had time
to enquire because I didn't stop at Frairimont."

"They have taken him to Myaron," Norielle answered.

Trajan scalded his tongue on a spoonful of steaming soup and
spluttered vehemently. "Why of all places Myaron! That is
nearly off the beaten track. There are plenty of good
therapy institutions in Frairimont."

Norielle put a restraining hand on his knee and said
quietly: "It is on the insistence of your aunt, the Dama
Dowager of Ayrie, and also, come to think of it, of Director
Milraus. You can't deny that his sanatorium is one of the
best and actually, Myaron is a good place. All Adilar's
friends are there: the young Lar Rylan Wryn, Fredric and
Jefroy. They will take good care of him, and we are all of
the opinion that Myaron is a safer place after what happened
in Frairimont."

"But it is so far away from all of us!"

"No, Trajan," said Lar Alden amiably, "for we are all going
there soon. We are just waiting here for you to come back so
that we can go to Myaron together. You haven't met your
great-grandaunt but she is a formidable Dama and we thought
it better not to argue with her." Lar Alden looked at
Trajan, saw his lasting devotion and glowed with happiness.
Trajan who was always able to fill his heart with gladness
just by being close, and he was back and they would soon be
reunited with Adilar in Myarvil.

Trajan glanced at him worriedly and carefully shoved his
plate away. His appetite had momentarily left him as he
contemplated how to inform his mother and grandfather of
more disturbing tidings.

"Do they know about me?" he asked.

"Apart from Leoynar, none of them. A pity Leoynar is not
here tonight, presumably he is on his way to Myaron too."

"How is Adilar exactly? Has he sustained serious injuries in
the explosion?"

Norielle answered with a worn and pallid face: "Adilar is
extremely lucky to have escaped with his life, and with only
a few burns and a mild concussion. I still cannot believe
the cruelty of using an explosive device to destroy a fellow
Iucarian. What is happening to our world?"

Trajan gently took her hand and comforted her. "Glynmoran, I
believe, was instantly killed."

"And with him the Dama Virga Ermiz," Norielle confirmed with
white lips.

Trajan took a deep breath before he said: "Listen carefully
to me, grandfather, Mothy. Do not go to Myaron in any
circumstances. I believe Adilar is well enough to travel and
I will arrange for Adilar to return here as soon as
possible. Do not leave Ferngarthen or Verimur unless I tell
you so. I will also request that Marshall Lauren stay here
with you for he will be the liaison between Chief Guillen
and me. I am not at liberty to explain what this all means
but please take my word for it, will you?"

Norielle and her father glanced at each other with drawn
faces. Shades of fear and doubt threw a haze on their joy
that had so briefly glowed but they trusted his undisputed
authority in security matters far beyond their comprehension
and gave him their word without hesitation. It was getting
very late and both Norielle and Lar Alden decided to retire
while Trajan expressed his intention to stay up a little
longer. Each of them embraced him once more with warm
affection. "Don't stay up too late," Norielle whispered to
him before following her father out of the room.

Alone, Trajan dropped back into the easy chair before the
Simu-fire that was now depicting fiery butterflies picking
at an orange bush. He covered his head with his hands,
feeling unhappy, ill at ease and the fatigue of the journey
home pounding at him. He looked up and stared at the
spectacle of the morphing fire, listening to the sounds of
the night and hearing the tender rustling of the trees and
the breathing of creatures in their deep slumber. He freed
what he called his Oracles for lack of a better denomination
since so far nobody seemed to possess this gift, or burden.

"Hear me, Adilar, wherever you are. I am here. Make contact
now."