Chapter 16 - First Confrontation
Tymos strove to break the silence. “When will we get to learn how to use all the equipment?” he asked with seeming casualness. Xyron’s gaze relaxed by a small amount and he perched casually on the edge of his desk.
“When the time comes for you to know, the knowledge will be yours,” Xyron told him softly. “Right now the information is of no use to you. It should be stored until required as you have already forgotten your life on Earth.” His statement was also a suggestion simply that Tymos should not fight him.
Kryslie understood the reason and saw the logic of it. She had no wish to resist and already the morning’s lecture was hazy. It had not occurred to her to try to read the mind of a Governor. She tried it now and sensed that Xyron wanted them to forget the information until after they had mastered their power. If they failed in that mastery, having knowledge of the mission would be dangerous to its success.
Xyron passed his hand slowly across Kryslie’s line of vision. Kryslie smiled then, remembering how pleasant it had been to spend time with her Earth father. Xyron then turned his full attention to Tymos who suddenly asked, “Shouldn’t we start learning what we need to know for the mission?”
“There is no hurry for that. There is so much basic knowledge that you must still learn, first.”
Xyron was patient. He sensed that Tymos was still resisting, but waiting to see if he realized what he was doing.
Tymos suddenly sprang up from the chair and began to stalk around the small room.
“How are you going to protect the base from detection? Who will teach the missionaries about Earth?”
Kryslie watched her brother’s odd behaviour and was bewildered. His questions sounded important, but she had no clue what he was talking about.
“Come on, Krys, You heard him tell us about the mission to Earth. Don’t just sit there stupidly. Back me up,” Tymos yelled in his sister’s direction.
Kryslie frowned, deducing that her memory of the morning was not complete. She stood slowly, worried by the turmoil in her brother’s mind.
“Prince Tymos,” Xyron spoke sharply.
Tymos turned to Xyron and snarled at him. “You can’t make me forget. I intend to remember.”
He turned suddenly and ran towards the door to the lab. Kryslie sensed his intention and reached the door first. Her brother stopped and glowered.
“Tym, what are you doing?”
“Get out of my way, Krys. I’m going to find out about this mission. We have to be ready. How can we though, if they make us forget everything?” He tried to push past his sister, but
Xyron moved quickly and caught him by the shoulders, turned him around and suggested, “Come and sit down, Prince Tymos.”
Xyron’s voice was hard and his manner no longer mild.
Tymos began to struggle, twisting his body violently, but he could not escape Xyron’s grip.
Kryslie began to move to help her brother.
“Stay back, Princess Kryslie.”
Kryslie backed away until she was against the wall. “Don’t resist him, Tym. Trust him! You don’t need to remember it now, truly!”
“I know, but I can’t help it,” Tymos told his sister, mentally. They both sensed Xyron’s indomitable will.
“Allow yourself to forget,” Xyron encouraged.
“NO,” Tymos yelled
“Do you know what is happening?” Xyron asked. His grip had tightened further with Tymos’ increased struggles
“You want me to forget and I can’t. Won’t,” Tymos said hoarsely, it was part pleading and part defiance. “Let me go. LET ME GO, damn you. I can’t stand this.”
“Listen to me, Prince Tymos. You have lost control of your power! I can help you but you must not resist me. Recall to your mind the first mantra for calm.” Xyron stated clearly.
Kryslie started to approach her twin; she shared the pain Tymos felt in Xyron’s grip.
“Return to your lesson’s, Princess Kryslie. Now!”
Kryslie transmitted away immediately, but did not go to the large lyceum. Maybe she wasn’t allowed to help her twin, but she knew someone who could and she instinctively transmitted to where she sensed Tymoros to be. It didn’t matter to her that he was in the middle of receiving petitions, somewhere in the Government building.
One glance at his daughter, and Tymoros stood up, passing a pile of data pads to his brother. The man giving his petition to the king stopped speaking and glared at the young woman who had interrupted his presentation.
“My apologies, good sir. Please be assured that my brother, Prince Callen has the authority to act in my name in this matter.”
Tymoros put his arm around Kryslie and transmitted to his sanctum where he pushed his daughter into a chair.
“Tell me what the matter is,” he invited, sitting opposite her.
Between tears of helpless confusion and worry, Kryslie described her brother’s behaviour and the turmoil in his mind.
“Back to work, young one,” he told her. “I will go to Tymos.”
A part of Tymos’s mind had begun to realize what was happening. He was resisting Xyron but he could not help himself. He was a pawn to his power. It had been wrong to try to probe Xyron’s mind but now he wanted to obey the older man but he had guided his power into a path of resistance and didn’t know how to change it. His body was still struggling.
Xyron’s eyes met his for a moment. The small part of Tymos’s mind that was still aware, found itself buffeted in a maelstrom of violence, blinding light and noises both higher and lower than his normal hearing.
“I can’t stop this,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t…”
“Look into my eyes,” Xyron commanded of Tymos, who turned his eyes upward and found that he could see multiple images of Xyron looking at him, but their gazes did not lock together.
“Go back to the very basic meditation exercises we taught you,” Xyron told him. “Run through them in your mind. Concentrate.”
Tymos tried to obey. Recalling, amid the confusion, was difficult. Fragments of the first meditative chant came into his mind. He pieced them together in his mind and concentrating on the puzzle, brought about a reduction in his struggles and an easing of the light and noise in his head.
He was unaware that Tymoros and Jono Reslic had quietly entered the room.
Reslic studied Tymos, noting his actions, reading his body language and assessing the level of power in him.
“I do not think you should allow this to continue much longer, Xyron,” Reslic advised softly.
“He is still aware of me, and there is still a thread of control. His life signs are not critical,” Xyron explained.
“With his high potential, it is not the physical body that cannot contain the power but the mind. He is still so young.”
He soft voices distracted Tymos. He forgot the first mantra, as he turned to listen to the quiet voices.
An atavistic voice in his mind said the other voices were talking about him. He couldn’t hear the words and he swore at the speakers, and tried once again to get free. He swore again, unaware that he had reverted for the moment to Earth English. When he was still unable to hear the words or have them stop, Tymos instinctively stilled his body and drew on some of his power to enhance his hearing.
Tymos heard his name called and turned towards that voice. He needed more of his power to distance the bright light and to focus his eyes so he could recognise his foster father. He held out his hands in a plea for help.
Tymoros took his son’s hand and maintained eye contact. Tymos was trembling – trying desperately not to fight against a man he had nothing but respect for. He flinched when Tymoros placed a hand on his forehead, but after that one agonising moment, Tymos felt the fire in his veins cool and the assault of light and sound in his eyes and ears drain away into nothing. He would have fallen if Xyron not been holding him up.
Xyron eased Tymos into a chair, aware of the silent tears streaming from the boy’s eyes.
“I will wait with him,” Xyron offered.
Tymoros shook his head, “I’ll take him back to my suite. I will take the necessary action to ensure that he has regained control. Now that he knows what can happen, he will be on guard against it happening again.”
Tymoros, summoned his personal attendant, Aldiv, and instructed him to transmit the three of them to his sanctum. The attendant then arranged Tymos on a couch then departed, returning with a cup of effervescent green liquid.
While Aldiv waited discreetly by the door, Tymoros helped Tymos to sit up enough to drink from the cup.
“This will restore your energy. Unfortunately, when we have to ground out wild power, this is the effect.”
Tymos felt his teeth chattering on the rim of the cup. When he had managed to drink several mouthfuls, he began to feel his body coming back to normal. He finished the drink, and then brought up one arm so that he could wipe the tears from his face on his sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” Tymos managed to say. “I let you down. I couldn’t … I couldn’t control it.”
“Hush,” Tymoros said. “You did not lose control completely. We could see that and for one with so little training – and with that much power – you have done well. Do not feel that you failed because you needed our help. What you need now is rest. We will talk again after you wake.”
Even as Tymoros eased his son down, Tymos was asleep.
After covering his son with a light blanket, brought in by Aldiv, Tymoros retreated to his favourite chair, taking the opportunity for some quiet meditation.
Tymoros thought over the events just concluded and all that he had sensed. The power in Tymos had been greater than any he had felt before in a child so young. Normally, when children recently come into the second stage lost control, restraining the child until they wore themselves out was all that was needed. Rare indeed was the need to ground the excess power. That it had been needed for Tymos, meant that it would be wise to teach him the means to do it for himself – if increasing his physical activity was not enough.
There was also the sense that he had felt of the power in Tymos, ebbing and growing. It was almost as if there was a psychic influence at work.
Tymoros suddenly thought of his daughter, who had come to him for help, who had known what was happening and of the turmoil in her brother’s mind.
“Perhaps that is it? A psychic bond between twins. Perhaps, she was helping him to maintain that thread of control?” Tymoros considered the idea for a while.
“Aldiv.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Speak to who ever is supervising level zeta this afternoon. Ensure that my daughter remains fully challenged until I send a further message.”
Aldiv bowed and transmitted away.
Tymos struggled back to awareness, late in the afternoon. His mind was confused with the memories of frightening dreams.
“Tymos?”
The last vestiges of the dreams faded and he recalled where he was. He sat up quickly.
“Father, why am I here?”
“What do you remember?”
The uncomfortable flush that reddened Tymos’s face betrayed his embarrassment. The dreams had not been nightmares.
“I lost control,” Tymos admitted, shrinking back into the pillows of the couch.
“You drew on more power than you knew how to handle,” Tymoros corrected. “I had to reduce your power. You should have recovered now.”
“I don’t feel as if I have. My veins still seem to be full of fire.”
Tymoros rose and went to sit next to his son.
“Do you remember why you felt you needed to draw on so much power?”
“It seemed to me there was something I needed to learn, and I was concentrating on that. But then, I think I got angry about being thwarted. After a while, I was more frightened than angry.”
“What can you deduce from that?”
“Only what my instructors keep stressing – that we must be aware of the power of our emotions.”
“Quite right,” Tymoros agreed. “Sometimes, our emotions are all that keep us going. Now is not such a time. What else have your teachers stressed?”
“Control of ourselves,” Tymos kept his head down.
Tymoros placed his hand on his son’s arm.
“Why do you think that you failed to control yourself?”
“It just seemed like a pressure building inside me,” Tymos tried to describe what he had felt. “I had to do something to ease it.”
“As good a description as any,” Tymoros agreed. “When you feel that way again, here is what you must do…”
Tymos shivered. His father had tried to explain how to ground out excess power, but it had not helped him to do it himself. Finally, Tymoros had used his mind to give him the knowledge on a very deep level. Some of the immense strength of will possessed by the Governor was apparent to Tymos during the exchange. Tymos felt very small and helpless. However, the technique had worked. He knew how to drain away excess power from himself at will.
Now, though, he had to go to Professor Governor Xyron and apologise for his behaviour. That at least was the right thing to do. Then, he had to present himself to the President Governor – for extra training. His father had implied that he had been beyond merely rude to both Governors. He was certain that he would lose his personal freedom for weeks, they would deny him the evening contact with his friends, the time to continue his personal study of Vulcanology that fascinated him. He felt afraid that he would not be able to tolerate it and was angry with himself for having to.
Tymoros watched silently. He sensed the power building again and wondered if Tymos was aware of it. He nodded to himself as he saw Tymos become still and the power level dropping.
Aldiv re-entered the room unsummoned.
“Your majesty, there is a delegation from Ecla that needs to speak to you. Prince Callen sent me to say that the matter is urgent.”
Tymoros felt the need to be in two places.
“I will present myself to President Reslic, Father,” Tymos decided stoically.
With a gentle arm squeeze of encouragement, Tymoros rose.
“Aldiv, assist Prince Tymos to Governor Reslic, and then attend me in the audience Hall.”
Late in the day, after the evening meal, Tymos joined his sister and friends in the High King’s suite. He managed a brief ‘Hi’ to Jonko and Keleb, but he did not feel like talking. He sent a mental, “I’m okay” in answer to his sister’s look of concern but kept himself tightly shielded even from her. He muttered, “Thank you Krys!” when only she could hear. Kryslie didn’t have to ask what for - she knew.
Jonko and Keleb knew some of what had happened. They had decided to return with Kryslie to offer whatever support and encouragement they could. Jonko smiled at Tymos, and he managed a faint return grin.
“I wondered why our worthy instructor, Perrin Reslic, gave us a lecture on how perilous is our control in the early days of the second stage,” Jonko commented.
Keleb added, “I had the distinct feeling that that the three of us there that were born on an alien world, would find it hard to gain mastery.”
“I think it makes it easier,” Tymos said softly. “They had to give us special training to make us aware of our power and because we are – alien – we can never take it for granted.”
“So what happened?” Jonko demanded.
Tymos didn’t answer at once. Kryslie could sense both his reluctance to discuss it and his resolve that he should.
“I very nearly lost control totally. I had so much power in me that - I could have destroyed the room or worse. Father grounded out the power. Later, he showed me how to do it myself, and then President Reslic corrected certain other deficiencies in my training along with telling me to return to see him each evening for a week.”
Jonko had a thoughtful expression on his face as he looked from Tymos to Kryslie.
“How convenient, Kryslie received the very same invitation.”
Tymos, until then aware only of his own sense of embarrassment, glanced at his sister.
Kryslie grinned maliciously.
“It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was up. I saw Aldiv talking to Perrin Reslic, about halfway through our session this afternoon. Right after that, he decides that it is my turn for some concentrated coaching. Mostly he was pitching his skill to my level but every time he thought my attention was wondering – he knocked me down. I swear I will have an enviable collection of bruises tomorrow.”
“Seriously, they didn’t want you helping me,” Tymos said.
“I know.”
“I felt your support!”
Kryslie chuckled. “I knew you’d be alright and I knew that you had to do things yourself, but if it was me, just knowing you were there would help a lot.”
Keleb interrupted. “It wasn’t fun, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Tymos admitted.
Keleb shook his head. “I thought so. You two are uncanny. I bet, that when you were having your chat with the President, was when Krys was being a real trial to the President’s brother.”
“I believe the words ‘undisciplined whelp’ were mentioned,” Jonko murmured with a grin.
“Kryslie!”
“Well, brother, they wanted to keep my mind off you, as if they could, so I was merely distracting myself.”
“I don’t think ‘undisciplined’ is a description you should aim for,” Tymos warned.
“That wasn’t undisciplined,” Kryslie said sobering. “That was me saying that no one is allowed to separate us and they can think again if they try.”