A Maze of Time

 
Danger
We wake up when it is still dark, to begin the trip home.
The night sky is thick with lightning.

The storm is everywhere, as I fly us home.
But I hold the storm at bay, with an energy shield around us that deflects the lightning.

Shazira has never liked traveling in the storms.
But Tzina and Berek enjoy the wild energy, from within the safety of my shield.

Tshuan, and the party fade, through the trip.
I stop briefly as we pass a small island about 50 miles from the watchtower.
The energy of the place is strange.

“What’s down there, Shazira?” I ask, as we hover above the island.

“No one lives there,” she says, her voice small against the remnant of the storm that is moving away from us.
“It’s a tiny island, with rocks and birds.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” I tell them.
“I’ll have to return there in a few days to investigate.”

We arrive at the watchtower as dawn comes.

Zias and Bintar release the watchtower to Shazira and me.
And we become guardians again.

“Yagrin,” says Shazira, “my mother messaged us.”
“She wants to visit with Tzina and me for a few hours.”

“We’ll be back after lunch.”
Berek says goodbye to Tzina with a hug.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Berek?” asks his mother Zias, playing with his hair.
“It was incredible, mother!” he says, with a huge smile.
“The sisters showed us the way they used to sing when they were old ones.”

“And you, Yagrin,” asks Bintar, his father, “did you perform with the sisters?”

“He did, father,” says Berek, excitedly.
“He transformed himself hundreds of times.”
“He took the shape of a mountain, and a storm, and the shapes of all the sisters!”

“And he built me a wintzal.”

“A wintzal?!” asks Bintar, with wonder in his voice.
“There have been no mind weavers among us,” he says, “since the war.”

“There’s a mind weaver among the sisters,” I answer.
“She’s a distant relative of Shazira.”

“But Berek said that you built a wintzal!” he counters.

I sigh.
“Makish insisted that we all be protected with a wintzal.”
“She taught me the skill, Bintar, and helped me build the wintzal for Tzina.”
“After that, I built a wintzal for Shazira and Berek.”

“Why does he need this, Yagrin?” asks Bintar.
“What good will come of this?
“Who will attack an eleven-year old boy?”

“In Tshuan, they know that Berek is my son.”
“We have nothing to fear from the king, but who knows what others may do.”

“Do you fear the sisters?” asks Zias.

“The sisters of the long path are peaceful,” I say, “and I trust them completely.”
“They will help us, not attack us.”

“But they all know mental warfare.”
“It was common in the old days.”

“Maybe the libraries of Tshuan hold cubes from the old masters on mind warfare.”
“What if that knowledge spreads?”

“And the Tshuan soldiers have many weapons from ancient times.”
“What if they have weapons that can twist or enslave the mind.”

“The world grows more dangerous every day, Yagrin,” says Bintar.
“With every step you take,” he says sharply, “you seem to bring more danger among us!”
“Then you tell us how you will protect us from it.”

“Zias,” I say, turning to her, “help me protect Berek!”

“I believe you, Yagrin,” she says, “when you say that you want to protect your son.”
“But I also think that Bintar is right.”

“Danger follows you.”
“You never should have freed the old ones!”

“The old ones, and their old ways were bound up, far from us.”
“You have released the old ones, and somehow all the ancient ways pour through some hole in the world.”
“The world could have remained quiet!”

“What will be the end of this Yagrin?”
“Will you bring us back to the ancient wars?”

“And now that you have made our Berek a target, how will you protect him?” asks Zias, her voice rising.

“I know only one way to protect him, Zias,” I answer
“I need to train him in energy weaving.”

She looks at me for a moment, and shakes her head.
“NO! He’s too young, Yagrin.”

“He’s already eleven, Zias,” I say.
“Berek is old enough to become an apprentice.”
“He has the talent.”

“And if war, or an attack comes, the weaving will help him escape from harm.”

“Yagrin,” she says, “he’s seen things that no child should have to see.”
“He’s barely had a childhood.”
“Just let him be a child for a while,” she begs.

“You asked me how to keep him safe,” I say.
“I can’t be with him at all times.”
“The only way to protect him, is to teach him to protect himself.”

She looks at Berek with concern.
“I want him to stay little, forever, Yagrin,” she says with a sad smile.

“But I know that’s not the best thing for him.”
“Danger, or not, though, he must keep up with his regular studies,” she says, addressing Berek and me.

She pauses.
“He can spend a few hours a week training.”
“And first,” she says to me, “you’ll teach him to fly, and raise an energy shield!”

It’s an awkward goodbye when Berek leaves.
We’re still trying to figure out how to act with each other.
He can’t bear to call me ina, or father in front of his adopted father.

But he won’t call me inta either.
I’m no uncle, anymore.

He hugs me goodbye and leaves with his parents.
And the watchtower is quiet.

 
Doubt
The next morning, I sit in the healing room, while Shazira and Tzina are busy elsewhere.

Makish told me that I look like Botzar, the last Tshuan king, who killed millions during the energy wars.
He tried to stop a war with an energy weapon called the spinning sword.

I look down at the disk, encased in crystal, that I carry as an ornament on my belt.
The disk has a genetic lock.

In my hands, it will release the spinning sword.
But I don’t know how to activate it, or use it.

Where did my foolish arrogance come from?
The world considers the sword a curse, and I wear it like it is nothing!

I know the sword’s history, but something within tells me to look at it with hope.
Again, I trust my intution, but does it lead us all to disaster?

Last night, I woke up troubled, in the middle of the night.
The future seemed distant, and uncertain.
I doubted all that seemed clear in the daylight, and I tried to destroy the disk.

Flow, weaving, heat, pressure, explosives.
Nothing that I did had any effect on the disk, other than to give it a gentle glow that lasted for a few seconds.

I can hide away the disk, deep in the earth or the sea, or even cast it into space.
But tomorrow, or next year someone may find it.

And will the person who finds it, seek war or peace with it?
Now that I hold it, it’s up to me to guard it.

My thoughts return to where I found it, the breath of life, a place of peace.
No harm, it’s said, can ever come from that place.

I felt the peace in that place as an incredible calm that moved through me.
In the midst of that peace, I found the sword.
And I believe the legend that the sword will be used someday to bring peace.

Is my family the family of the sword in the legend?
How can I risk so much on the words of a legend, and a feeling of what I must do?

For now I can only wait.
In the coming war, when there is no hope left, the sword may be the only way to bring peace.

 
Spinning Time
I return to Tshuan to meet with Chiwan and the sisters.
And discuss how the sisters will help us to keep peace in the world.

It was the Bizra who selected masters to be old ones, after the last war, so the old ones could help us find the balance in a time of war.
The old ones have become the sisters, and walk among us.
But what will the sisters do?

“How did the Bizra convince you and the others to become old ones and hide away from the world?”

“The world was in ruins, Yagrin.”
“The Bizra always seemed older and wiser than us.”

“They helped our people when they first came to this world.”
“Somehow, we felt that they were trying to save us again.”

“It was an honor to be chosen to be an old one.”
“They told us that the world would return to war again, but that we might be able to stop the horror!”

“We saw millions die, Yagrin.”
“Can you even imagine anything so horrible!”
“We would do anything to keep that from happening again.”

“Did the Bizra tell you, Niyta, what you would do to save the world, when your returned to us?”

“We asked them, again and again, before they would answer us.”
“Finally they told us that there are many futures, and it’s impossible to know which future will be born.”

“If the future is uncertain,” I say, “then why hide you away as old ones?”
“Maybe the war will never happen.”

“They told us, Yagrin, that war fills most of the possible futures.”

“And they told us what to do.”
“In a thousand years,” they told us, “the horror of the war will be forgotten.”
“Teach the future masters, the children, and anyone who will listen, about the horrors of the energy war, and the ways of healing and peace.”

“Build the wintzal,” they said, “for the future masters.”
“And if war comes,” the Bizra said, “do not fight.”
“Hide beneath the sea, and protect the children, until the war is over.”

“What about the spinning sword?” I ask.
“Did they mention it?”
Niyta pauses, and the other sisters are quiet.

Niyta looks around at the other sisters, and takes a deep breath.
“The Bizra gave me a message that they didn’t share with the other sisters,” she says.
“They told me that the last king of Tshuan would live again.”

“Tell him this,” they said, “if he asks about the sword.”
“Botzar found what he sought in the world of the seven towers, a way to truly control the sword.”

“The family of the sword will control the sword, but they will bring peace and destruction.”
“Use the sword, only when there is no other hope.”

“But why tell me this, Niyta?”
“I’m not the king.”

“The Bizra spoke of you, Yagrin, when they said that the king will live again.”
“I’m sure of it.”

“In many ways, Yagrin, you are his heir.”
“It doesn’t matter whether or not you rule, Yagrin.”
“You’re descended from him, and like him, you will try to stop the war.”

She gives me a knowing glance.
I feel something pressing on my mental wall.
And somehow, I know that it’s her.
She wants to speak with me privately, mind to mind.

I open my wall, and touch her mind.

“Makish told you,” she says, “that you look like the old king.”
“Somehow the Bizra have arranged this.”
“They picked the time, and arranged for a child to be born as Botzar’s twin.”

“How did they do that?” I ask.
“And why?”

“I don’t know, Yagrin,” she answers.
“But how else could you be the exact double of someone who died a thousand years ago?”

“What are the Bizra after, Niyta?” I ask.

I feel her mental sigh.
“They’re trying to help us!” she says.
“But the Bizra think differently than we do.”
“Do we want their help?”
“Can we bear it?”

“It’s up to you Yagrin to figure out what they want.”
“You’re the only one of us who has been Bizra, and dreamed with them.”
“Maybe they will explain themselves to you.”

“It’s they who see the future!” I say angrily.
“If they’re trying to help us, let them do whatever needs to be done!”
“Why do they always manipulate us into doing what they want.”

I sigh, and think for a few minutes about my time with the Bizra.

“The Bizra can’t fight,” I say at last.
“They can’t knowingly harm others.”
“Perhaps they need us to fight, in order to do what must be done.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Yagrin,” says Niyta.
“But that’s only a small part of why they won’t solve our problems for us.”

“The Bizra believe that all violence spins time around it.”
“If war breaks out, and goes uncorrected, history repeats itself.”

“How would we correct war, Niyta?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” she answers.
“Perhaps by preventing another war, or ending the next war without violence.”
“Or, something else entirely!”

“Our people have suffered destruction already in two wars.”
“The Bizra believe that our second war came from the first.”

“We could have stopped the chain of wars, if we acted differently.”
“But the destruction came again.”

“And now the third war comes.”
“Perhaps this is our last chance.”
“This one may destroy us completely, unless we find a new way to deal with it.”

“Do the Bizra believe we are doomed to repeat our past mistakes, Niyta?” I ask.
“Are they helping us to repeat the same horrors, again and again?!”

“No, Yagrin,” she says.
“They believe in choice above all else.”

“The Bizra think it’s in our power to break out of the cycle.”
“They call it straightening time.”

“The last destruction came when Botzar released the spinning sword,” I say.
“The solution is simple.”
“This time, we don’t use the sword.”

“No, Yagrin.”
“There are choices each time, but the choices are different.”
“Perhaps this time, you choose the sword, but use it for peace.”

“Why must I look like Botzar, who killed millions?” I shout.
“I’m not him!”
“I don’t even want to fight!”

“Yagrin,” she says quietly, “I don’t know why you need to look like him.”
“You’re not Botzar.”

“Learn all you can about him, and his mistakes, and find your own way to help us.”

I end the mind touch.

After an hour of discussion, the sisters agree to a plan.

A third of the sisters will remain in Tshuan, where they were born, and the rest will go to the guild lands.
After we get permission from the guild council.

The sisters will teach in schools throughout the world.
So this generation may feel the horrors of war.
And the promise of healing and peace.