The Triple Rising — Chapter 10

The Triple Rising can’t be accomplished until you destroy the Defalcator

Omree stood beside Semylyn’s bed. Xerell and Troyak maintained a vigilant stance at the foot.

“Semylyn’s life signs are stable,” reported the attending medic from where he stood behind Jag’s chair. “We cannot ascertain the cause of her coma-like state. We suggest monitoring her for another few hours to see if she can recover on her own before initiating more tests.”

Omree nodded his agreement.

“What about the young man? Do you want us to monitor him as well,” the attendant asked.

Omree again nodded his agreement as he added a cautionary reminder. “Be careful.”

The medical attendant gingerly lifted Jags’s hand from Semylyn’s, preparing to attach the monitoring sleeve to his upper arm. Semylyn’s life-sign panel lit up across the board setting off warning beeps from several attached ports.

Omree leaned across his daughter and jerked Jag's arm free of the medic’s hold, replacing Jag’s hand on Semylyn’s. The beeping stopped.

The startled attendant stepped back as Omree moved around the bed to stand at Jag’s side. “Don’t touch him for now. Leave them both exactly as they are. Under no circumstance, remove his hand from hers. Understood?”

“Yes, Guardian.”

“Good. Now, please give us some privacy. We won’t keep you from your duties for too long,” Omree forced a relaxed tone to his voice. He waited for the door to close behind the attendant, then walked a few paces to sit on an empty bench by the wall. The impact of what he’d just seen sent blood rushing to his head. He didn’t trust his legs to support his weight.

“Guardian, are you ill? Do you need our assistance?” Xerell and Troyak moved toward him in unison.

“Loo…Look at the Sun-Dweller.” Omree pointed a trembling finger toward where Jag sat slumped over the edge of Semylyn’s bed.

Xerell studied the unconscious boy for a brief moment. “What do you mean, Guardian? He appears to be alright.”

“Look at him.” The forceful command erased Omree’s earlier attempt at calmness.

Both Xerell and Troyak stepped closer to the Sun-Dweller.

“Nothing has changed. He is as before,” stated Xerell.

“Wha…What’s that?” croaked Troyak. “How did that get there? Did you do this?” Troyak spun on his heel to confront Omree.

Omree shook his head in denial. “That was not on the wristband when your father and I attached it earlier.”

“What about the band?” Xerell asked as he twisted to get a better view of the Sun-Dweller’s bonding bracelet. “What is the meaning of this?” he blustered. That wasn’t there earlier. How do you explain this?” His eyes darkened like a churned sea.

Omree shook his head in confusion. “There is only one explanation. The Ward…the Warder has chosen…”

Xerell stared at Omree’s glassy-eyed confusion. The heavy angst he already felt increased. “That’s not possible! His voice boomed with contempt.

“Do you deny the evidence that’s in front of your own eyes?” Omree lifted both hands in the direction of Jag’s chair. “Only the Warder can reject an heir to Guardianship in favor of another. He…He has chosen. The Guardian insignia on Jag’s band is irrefutable proof. By the Warder’s authority, this Sun-Dweller is now Sitnalta’s High Guardian.

Semylyn sensed the healing caress as it moved throughout the wounded edges of her mind. Its presence seemed at first to be a part of her, but that couldn’t be, for it was masculine in essence.

Like a kaleidoscope, colorful shapes morphed repeatedly into exquisite patterns behind her eyelids while a single thought, softly spoken, resonated along the synapses of her brain. — “She still needs me.”

Cold crept throughout her body, except for her right hand that prickled with pulsing heat. Her eyes fluttered open, closed, and opened again.

Her father, Xerell, and Troyak all stood at the end of the bed where she lay. The Med-lab, she was in the Med-lab. The three men argued among themselves but she couldn’t make sense of their words. She looked to see what was causing the heat in her hand.

A horrified shudder reverberated through her body as she bounced to a sitting position, yanking her right hand up to her chest.

“Wha…What?” She whispered, as the three men standing at the foot of her bed wrenched towards her in startled confusion, their eyes wide with astonishment.

Omree rushed to embrace her, calling her name in repeated succession and muttering questions one after another like a string of pearls. “Are you in pain? Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?”

“Guardian,” interrupted Xerell. “You need to release her so she can breathe properly. Give her a moment to think.”

Omree loosened his grip on her shoulders, giving Xerell an affronted frown.

“I’m okay, Father,” she said. What a stupid reply, she thought. How could she be okay? Her whole body ached, an imaginary voice lurked in her head, and nothing in her life made sense.

Omree turned to Troyak. “Call the attendant in. We need to assess Jag’s condition immediately.”

The name shrunk the surrounding room to a pinpoint of attention, the man whose head and arm lay just inches from her body. She eased herself to the opposite edge of the gurney.

Within moments Jag’s inert body was transferred to a gurney alongside hers and three medics worked furiously to attach an array of monitoring devices, all of which, fluctuated erratically and ceased to work after registering past the maximum output range. Jag registered as one dead despite the evidence to the contrary. She could see his chest rise and fall, and more strange, she could feel his life-presence on the fringes of her mind…searching.

“Semylyn,” her father lifted her hand. “Let Troyak take you back to your quarters. I think you’ll rest better there.”

She thought so too and eagerly slipped off the gurney to stand. Troyak placed an arm around her waist to support her as she walked. A twinge of unexplained nervousness tightened her chest as they neared the lab doors. Ignoring it, she let Troyak lead her into the corridor and paused to catch her breath. The door closed behind her with a dull snap.

Troyak increased the pressure against her waist and she took another step, then another. Apprehension locked her feet in place.

“It’s okay, Semylyn, we’ll go slow,” Troyak said softly.

Her knees buckled and Troyak’s arms saved her from crumpling to the floor.

“Troyak!” She heard Xerell shout his son’s name. “Bring her back, quickly!”

Semylyn’s heart danced to the tune of an uneven rhythm, spreading a sickening pressure in her chest. She heard her father’s voice, but he didn’t seem to be talking to her.

“Hurry, Troyak! Lay her down and push her bed next to Jag. He’s in some kind of distress…hardly breathing…”

This time she knew who raced through her mind, searching…suffering…

She turned to see Jag’s body twisting from side to side, his arms pushing against the attendants. He broke the hold of the two attendants trying to subdue him and reached for her, his muscular arm falling across her waist. He stopped jerking and went still as his breathing slowed to normal. Everyone else in the room stood back in a confused stupor.

“Semylyn?” Omree’s voice whispered in her ear. “What do you want us to do? It’s too dangerous to separate you right now.”

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She whispered, feeling her mind level out like a glassy sea after a turbulent rain, soothing her heart back into its normal pacing. “But…”

“Leave Us,” Jag muttered as his hand tightened on her waist.

Semylyn turned her head to stare at the Sun-Dweller who's opened eyes, just inches from hers, were warm brown pools of total resolve. He locked her eyes with his, compelling her attention, holding her in place with invisible silver threads.

“But what, Semylyn?” Omree tried to get a response from his daughter.

“The girl needs to sleep,” Jag stated, not taking his eyes off Semylyn. “Leave us. If you want her to recover, don’t interfere again.”

Semylyn barely heard the door’s locking mechanism click into place as it closed. “I… I…” She stuttered, not knowing what she wanted to say, or how to begin.

“Sleep.” The Sun Dwellers' eyes darkened as he spoke, making them almost black.

“But…” But what? There was something she wanted to say, but it kept slipping further from her voice.

“Sleep.” He said in a sharper tone and closed his eyes.

“We need…” Her argument faded as the annoying presence in her mind overrode her wishes with a commanding strength.

“Sleep…Sleep…Sleep.”

Jag felt her mental resistance succumb to his influence, allowing her mind to slip into a healing sleep. She would survive, and so would he. But what exactly was he surviving? For sure, this was no nightmare from which he could hope to awake.

He flexed his fingers and slipped his hand from the girl’s waist. Good! The compulsion to touch her was fading in intensity. Rolling to his back, he took a long, nerve-calming breath that allowed his aching muscles to relax.

At least, he and the girl were finally alone, and he could think. He wished the men, whoever they were, had turned the overhead lights off when they’d left. He lifted his arm to lie across his forehead, shading his eyes from the brightness. Something hard and warm touched his head. Springing to a seated position, he stared at the bracelet-like band on his wrist, solid, seamless, plain, except for the strange symbols etched onto its surface.

Memories played across his mind like a slideshow. His arm raised, silver light projecting like a missile toward another man. The girl’s hand in his. The knowing of her, the sharing, the mind perception…

He grasped the band with his other hand, attempting to yank it from his wrist. But it was as if he yanked on his arm instead. He fingered it, examining its edges. There were no edges, only a smooth transition from metal to living skin. No clasp, no lock, how was he supposed to remove the thing?

“The Bonding Bracelet of Jatar, once received, cannot be removed, Guardian.”

The voice again. The Warder guy, or whatever he called himself, was back. Good! He wanted answers.

“Okay, I don’t know how all this works, but I hear you loud and clear,” Jag spoke the words aloud.

“There is no need to vocalize, Guardian. Your thoughts are heard and understood.”

Jag tested the concept. “Who the freak are you?” he shouted mentally.

“As previously answered, I am Sitnalta’s Intelligence Interface. We are linked.”

“Linked how? How did you get in my head? How do I get you out?”

“Listen carefully, Guardian. You are the chosen Guardian of Sitnalta. The dire circumstances facing the peoples of this world, and your own, caused the choosing. It is irrevocable. You must respond. I will assist you in the ways of Guardianship, as will the girl. Submit willingly, learn, and grow in the power of Jatar. Only then will the choosing complete its purpose.”

Jag heard the words, but comprehension wasn’t part of the package.

“And if I don’t submit, what happens then?” Jag scanned the room for the tenth time. If he could just find the guy behind the voice…

“Probability factors indicate an impending loss.”

A glimpse of recognition played with Jag’s reasoning. He was a top-level gamer, after all. Probability factors… could it be…?

“Hey Ward, you’re a computer, right?”

“For your present abilities of assimilation, that is an acceptable assumption. I am the Warder.”

Relief poured over Jag like cool summer rain. A computer couldn’t control him. It was a matter of finding the programmer or the IT guy for this place and getting to the bottom of this practical joke.

“That is impossible, Guardian. My creators no longer live. Your assumptions as to my fundamental nature are finite in scale.”

The girl moaned and turned on her side, facing him, drawing his attention. Still asleep, she drew her knees toward her chest and stretched an arm in his direction. Her hand reached to lie limply on the side of his bed.

He stared at her, taking in her long silver-blonde hair and dark lashes that looked as if they had dipped the tips in silver paint. A small nose and pouty mouth made her look younger than the obvious body curves indicated. Two things struck him at once. She was a stranger, and she was his. The last thought caused him to jerk sideways, nearly toppling him from the bed.

“Yes, Guardian. The girl now belongs to you. She is your bonded mate.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough. This isn’t funny anymore.” Jag shouted aloud, moving off the bed to stand. “I don’t need some kind of bonded servant or slave. I’m leaving now. You guys can play your games with someone else.”

He stalked toward the door, but with each step, a foreboding dread drained his strength. He paused at the door, wanting desperately to open it. Something deep inside cautioned him, impelled him to stay. Why this battle? Why couldn’t he just reach out and open the door, confront whatever lay on the other side, and leave this place? The girl called him back, not with words, but how?

“Your bonding is the strongest in the history of the Bonding Bracelets.” The Warder answered Jag’s question. “The variables of your differing natures, the strength of your enhancements, and your own self-will fused a link never experienced. Even I do not know the full possibilities of this bonding. Therefore, you must proceed with discretion, Guardian.”

“Why can’t I leave her?” asked Jag, the question lunging from him, more from fear than curiosity.

“With all such bonding, there is a stipulated distance of time and space between bonded mates. These may stay consistent from the beginning, or they may vary due to circumstances. Currently, your time and space differential is very limited. Probability shows this is because of the life-threatening effect of your bonding, each of you, at present, needing the sustaining aura of the other. Only time will signify whether the current parameters will change.”

“You mean I can’t get further from the girl than this door?” Jag turned to estimate the distance. “That can’t be over twelve feet!”

“It appears to be the current space requirements for you.” The Warder replied.

Jag shook his head. This was crazy. They had given him some kind of slave that he couldn’t get twelve feet from.

“I don’t want this girl. What am I supposed to do with her? Give her to someone else.”

“The bonding can only occur once, Guardian. She is not a slave. She is your wife.”

The Council Chamber fell quiet as all present paid rapt attention to recent events as related by Omree Vock.

“It has been one day since the Bonding ceremony. I have spoken to the Warder. He confirms the appointment of Sitnalta’s new High Guardian to be the Sun Dweller, Jag O’Neal. However, the Warder will not place Sitnalta under the new Guardian’s complete care until we have fully integrated him into Sitnaltian society.”

Troyak rose from his seat as if a thrust generator propelled him. “What about Semylyn? Is she not your rightful heir? How could the Warder appoint a Sun Dweller who knows nothing of our people?”

“You have asked what is surely on everyone’s mind, Troyak. I, as her father, am just as concerned as you and all the others around this table.”

Omree moved his hand in a semi-circle, encompassing the seated council members. “The Warder’s answer to that question remains somewhat vague — The glory of Atlantis will rise with a son of the sun.”

“I don’t understand any of that,” Troyak spoke.

Omree shook his head. “At the moment, neither do I.”

Xerell cleared his throat and gestured for his son to retake his seat. “As First Defender, I suggest we delay the awakening of the second Sun Dweller until we’ve had time to deal with this situation.”

“I agree!” Troyak said, his lips dipping into a deep frown.

The council agreed, and the meeting ended. Members filed out, leaving Omree, Xerell, and Troyak behind.

Omree spoke first, questioning Troyak. “Have you experienced any troubling symptoms since bonding?”

“Not any I can’t handle,” Troyak answered curtly.

“What do you mean? What haven’t you told us?” Xerell questioned his son.

“I’m not sure what it is. Apparently, I don’t have to worry about keeping physical contact, but…”

“But what?” Xerell placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and tightened his fingers as if he could squeeze answers from him.

Troyak’s face reddened. “It’s crazy. Why should I feel like I have to check on her? It’s only been a day. The compulsion is twisting like a knife in my gut.”

“As soon as we finish here,” Omree paused as if changing his thought, “return to Alexandria. We must take every precaution. Immediately report any changes you experience to your father. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Guardian.” Troyak conceded.

“Xerell, How are we proceeding with parental notification?”

“As you instructed, I have given notifications to both fathers. Since they are single parents, there are only two to deal with,” answered Xerell.

“Alright, let’s go forward. We have no time to waste. Let’s get Troyak back to Alexandria before either of them experiences any setbacks and check on Semylyn and Jag again.”

Semylyn sat on the side of the gurney and waited patiently as the Med Lab attendant removed the last of the monitors attached to her arm. Her head still ached somewhat, but she felt almost normal, her strength and mind clarity seemingly unaffected by the events of the last three days.

A rustling sound from the corner of the room drew her attention to the boy that shifted in his seat while staring daggers at her.

This is where it begins. Duty, responsibility, and commitment merged to strengthen her uncertainty and mushy emotions. Somehow, she would affect an amicable relationship with him, one that would allow her to use his abilities for the good of Sitnalta. As for a more personal relationship, judging by his cold eyes, he was even less accepting of his position than she was. His continual glare spoke of fiery anger and resentment. She’d never felt the need to protect herself from such emotions. At least, as the pending High Guardian, she’d have the authority necessary to temper his reactions.

Her father, who’d been standing by her side since she’d awakened, took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Can they be safely moved from the lab?” He asked the lab attendant.

“Yes, Guardian. We would recommend a couple more days of curtailed activity, but they are both showing normal bio-functions and should experience no further problems.”

“Good.” Omree sighed. Turning toward Jag, he continued. “We have prepared your quarters, Guardian. We have also secured the area to ensure your privacy. Semylyn will begin your orientation training tomorrow. Be assured. You are in no danger and all your questions will be answered as quickly as possible.”

Semylyn watched the fire in Jag’s eyes grow brighter. His lack of response to her father’s words elevated her nervousness.

“Semylyn,” her father’s attention again focused on her face. “There has been a development that you need to be aware of.” He cleared his throat and began again. “The Warder has changed the Guardian succession. The proof is inextricably apparent as to the Warder’s choice.”

“What are you saying? There has never been a deviation of succession in Sitnalta.” Semylyn shook her head in denial.

“During the bonding, the Bracelets of Jatar became one in substance with all four of you. However, Jag’s bracelet now carries an insignia that was not there before the bonding. The symbol of the High Guardian is clear and the Warder has confirmed this appointment.”

She gasped, realizing a shiver of panic. Her head jerked around to stare at the person who now held considerable control over her as High Guardian and bonded mate. Under his steady scrutiny, she couldn’t think. She gulped hard while stinging tears slipped down her cheeks. With a moan of distress, she closed her eyes, shutting out the person responsible for her fear and bitterness.

Nothing in her life, in Sitnalta, in the majesty and hope of Atlantis, could ever be the same again. She’d lost her city, her heritage, and her dearest love because of a Sun-Dweller who was not equal to any of them. Feelings of betrayal and abandonment tore at her with the frenzy of an attacking shark.

She looked toward Jag, and as soon as her eyes met his, he took control. He walked straight to her and grasped her left arm and aligned their two bracelets. The familiar stinging energy locked her down like a magnet.

“I know you can understand me inside that head of yours,” irritation coated his every word. “I don’t need a drama queen on my hands right now, so get a grip on yourself. Whatever you think you’ve lost doesn’t compare to what you took from me or forced me to take from you.”

I don’t know how I know, but I’m very sure that at this moment I can destroy this place and us with it. So don’t go off the deep end on me because, like it or not, somehow, you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from doing that right now!

What you people know, or think you know, isn’t complete. The Triple Rising can’t be accomplished until you destroy the Defalcator.”

Jag broke the connection between the bracelets and pushed her away from him.

Guardian. Who are you referring to as the Defalcator? The Warder’s voice entered his thoughts.

Jag visibly smirked. “I knew that would get your attention. So the all-knowing Warder of Sitnalta doesn’t know everything after all…

In what sense do you speak of a defalcator? No such designation appears in Sitnalta’s archives.

“Exactly what I’m talking about, Ward. I can’t give you an answer, but you better start using that supercomputer brain of yours and check every fact you process because I can sense another presence in Sitnalta and it’s not friendly.”

Chronicle One: The Guardian is complete. Chronicle Two: The Gathering is coming…

To be continued…