This had to be the strangest war ever fought. Surely "fought" couldn't be the right word. General Patton would have been strategically challenged. Churchill would have harrumphed a dubious, stoic harrumph. Genghis Khan would surely have ransacked a random village to indicate his disapproval. But there were no such witnesses to this strange scene.
You've probably heard the anti-war slogan "what if they threw a war, and nobody came". In this case it went more like this: "what if everybody came, but nobody waged a war"...well, not a conventional war with all of its outward signs of conflict, death and mayhem anyway. What a strange heroic ballad this one would make, to a backdrop of chirping crickets, no doubt. On this small, obscure rural property not too far from Reston, Virginia two factions waged...well, stood around in ominous clusters of being. Really, by all appearances it fell flat on its face against such modest dramatic comparisons as a protest rally or even a really good debate.
On a small rise just at the edge of the compound,
Serghan huddled with his compadres of the Wanderer 30th generation. Once in a while they made a few nervous animated gestures toward the newly restored Fourth Gate, but mostly they looked like a group that could have been waiting for a train.
On the other side of the compound swirled the Time Warrens, beings of wispy physical substance but profound knowledge and scope. The impression we got from
Ezrial was that they were collectively changing the very fabric of time. To the untrained eye, they could have been making a study of some nearby growing grass. Their grayish cloud-like appearance swayed gently. There appeared to be seven distinct gaseous masses in the cluster. Occasionally the shade of grey seemed to change in one or the other of them, though it could have been a trick of the light.
And in the center of the compound were the Wanderers of my clan and Ezrial, talking softly, being the neutral Sweden of this strange new world order.
"I can't believe you're being so calm. They're going to kill you Ezrial," I insisted, confused at his calm reaction.
"They are not killing me Miel. As they alter the past, my present will change...all of my experiences, my viewpoints will alter."
"They rob you of the essence of who you are," Tindar objected. "It sounds as heinous an act as any atrocity I can recall in human history."
"I will not suffer. I will simply transform into another way of being than you have known."
"Will you remember the past we will remember? Will our memories also be changed?" I wanted to know.
"This has not happened before. It is believed you will be aware, but I will not."
"We have to stop this," Ascher cringed.
"You cannot," Ezrial stated simply. "It is a shift that is happening outside of your awareness."
"Show me," Syha whispered so softly it was barely audible.
"Impossible."
"It is NOT happening outside of your awareness," Syha insisted. "You are able to view the changes to the Great Story.
"Yes."
"And you have participated in changing it with the Lyrii."
"Of course. I am Lyrii."
"But you are also half human," Syha insisted.
Ezrial nodded slowly. "That is so."
"Then show me," she repeated.
"You cannot. The Lyrii can immerse in such a way that Time washes over us and we are fluid...," his voice drifted off.
"Ezrial, we haven't much time," I urged.
He laughed so deeply I thought for a moment he might have gone mad under the stress. Serghan looked over at us, frowning for a moment. Even the Lyrii-clouds seemed to darken in disapproval.
"You are not Lyrii," Ezrial chuckled. "Our difference is never more apparent than when you say such a thing. The Lyrii have all the Time there is, was and ever shall be. I can no more give you the ability to craft and flow with the Great Story than I could grant you gills."
Syha was smiling. Ezrial raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Gills were an innovation bestowed by evolution. If the Lyrii decided it served the Great Story, I could have gills."
"Syha!" Tindar gasped.
"Don't worry, I don't really want gills Tindar," she laughed.
"You would be altered...it's the same awful fate Ezrial faces,"
Jerome spoke up.
"You don't want this," Ezrial insisted. "Besides, it would take many Lyrii to make such a change. They would never allow it."
"It could not go undetected?" Syha asked.
"Absolutely not," he affirmed.
"Good."
"What are you getting at?" Tindar asked, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.
"You have a marvellous instinct for a sting Tindar," Syha chuckled. I do have an idea that might shake things up in our favor."
"Do tell," he encouraged her.
"First of all, Ascher, go on over there and instruct our friend Serghan we want to dance again. I'd like to recreate that amazing energy we experienced back in the park when we first met them."
A little baffled, Ascher headed over to make the strange request.
"Now, I need to know everything you can tell me about the way the Lyrii group consciousness works Ezrial. I have my suspicions, with the odd feeling I get every time they've altered time around me. I had a strange disorienting sense of loss of my being."
"Yes, that's a good description...not disorienting perhaps, but I understand that 'loss of self' you mention," Ezrial warmed to the subject.
"Excellent, I need all the details of what you feel and experience at such times. What does the process look like in your mind's eye. How does it differ for you? I need to know all you can tell me."
"What are you scheming?" I nudged Syha. "Spill the beans."
"We need to use our unique talents to the best of our abilities," she answered slyly. "The Lyrii may be able to alter the fabric of Time, but they suck at dexterity and can't know the first thing about slight-of-hand."
"I don't get it," I admitted.
"For the first time ever, a human is going to collaborate on the Great Story, direct and in person. Hang on tight, it's going to be one hell of a ride."
To be continued...
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The Wheels Clan Chronicles
series ©2006-2007 by Jeff Beardwood.
