The Way Back (Champions of the Crystal Book 4)

Chapter 8: Memories

All strategy starts with observation. The thought was there in her mind without any summoning, and she couldn't identify its source. It sounded like something Haaron, or perhaps Rayland, might have said, but she had no memory of either of them doing so. Still, it made sense. She tried to observe the door in detail. It was made of some kind of beaten metal, copper perhaps. While some doors in the palace were made of wood, the ones below ground level tended to be metal. Both were probably equally scarce here, Sabrina thought. But if it had been wood, she could have set it on fire with the torch. What could she do to a metal door?

Look around, she thought impatiently, and then frowned. It was almost as if someone else were in her mind, nudging her along while she dithered in confusion. Don't think, just do.

Sabrina obediently turned, took the torch from its holder, and began exploring. There were tables, crude shelves holding various sinister-looking instruments, and two gurney-like structures with restraining devices at the corners. She shivered. Must be a lab of some kind.

A memory came to her: Mara saying that the bottommost laboratory was one of the places she found most unpleasant, and Varla sharply rejecting the suggestion that Sabrina and Scotty be sent there. What is she hiding down here?

She went further into the shadowy end of the long, narrow room and found a small alcove behind the laboratory area. There was a rumpled pile of bedding there, a few dirty plates, and a datapad that was thoroughly out of place on Stanos. Sabrina looked around, then knelt to see if she could activate the device. Its display interface was in the Wayfarer language, confirming what she guessed from the mechanism down with the creature: someone from Homeworld was involved in this. She had thought perhaps it was the observers under duress, but this living space, which had been made comfortable to an extent, argued for a volunteer.

Worse and worse. Homeworld operatives cooperating with Varla, Ford gone, Ilyanan dead, and Lndor almost dead. I wonder where Scotty is, and Aurora? Has Tirqwin had any luck bringing Mara's memory back? What an utter disaster this mission has been. Sabrina sighed, letting the datapad fall back to the dirty floor and trying to think what to do next.

Get yourself out of there, her mind said. Deprive Varla's creature of its sustenance.

But it'll just drain Lndor faster if I do that. Besides, I don't see a way out of here, she argued. And I don't think the creature will lose its ability to drain me just because I leave this room.

"Great," she sighed aloud. "Now I'm arguing with myself. Just what I need, a split personality who's as clueless as I am."

A low chuckle made her hair lift, a chill of fear prickling along her spine. "Who's there?" she challenged, standing up and peering at the shadows of the room.

A slight scraping sound made her whirl to face the back of the sleeping alcove. The wall was vanishing! No, she realized in the next moment, it was just that part of it was opening away from her.

Sabrina could feel her heartbeat race; the fear reaction scattered her thoughts even further, pushing the rational voice in her mind too far away to be heard. A flare of recognition shot through her as the figure emerged, but her mind couldn't make the connection to her memory clearly enough for identification. "W-who are you?" she demanded shakily.

The man, dressed in a plain brown cloak clearly of Stanosian origin, tilted his head and regarded her, one eyebrow sharply raised. His narrowed eyes, she saw, were Wayfarer gray, his hair a nondescript brown shot through with gray, combining with his lined face to give an impression of age. He seemed about to speak; then he thought better of it, shrugged, and aimed a hand weapon at her.

"Wait, please—" Sabrina began, stumbling back a step, as the energy burst enveloped her.

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"I don't like it here," Mara whispered, clinging to Tirqwin's arm as they crept through the dark, chilly hallways of the palace, the little android Rudolf trailing them in vigilant silence.

Tirqwin stifled his impatience and covered her hand with his own, squeezing gently. "I know. You must be brave now, Mara my dear. There is something evil here. That is what you feel. But you can defeat it. I know the strength within you, and it is enough. You must believe that."

"I will try," she said.

He looked down at her face, pale in the dim moonlight, her eyes glittering up at him wide and worried, and felt a surge of emotion so mixed he could hardly identify it. His wife was a strong, determined woman fully in control of herself and events around her, and it had been a long time since she had depended on him for any significant guidance. And she had never relied on him to give her courage; she had always had a little too much of that, he thought ruefully. He could not remember a time when she had seemed more helpless, more vulnerable, except perhaps when they first met. And then it had been Sabrina who had taken the initiative to comfort and encourage the frightened young girl, suddenly released from a century of isolated captivity.

Tirqwin remembered with a creeping sense of guilt how relieved he had been to push Mara's emotional needs off on Sabrina—the beginning, he now saw, of a long pattern. Sabrina had always been there to help carry their burdens. The Regency had only been the last and most horrific. They had lived ninety-two years without her since, raised a family, and rebuilt Praxatillus—though Mara had done most of the last two, he admitted. But even through Sabrina's absence, there had been comfort in knowing she was safely on Earth, available in a crisis. To contemplate her final loss made him go cold with terror. He would do anything to prevent it. Sabrina had risked her life enough times for them both; they owed it to her to do the same.

But, he realized, if Sabrina were in his place, she would first give her attention to Mara's needs, no matter what the urgency. She would know what to say to calm Mara's fear somehow.

"Mara—" he began, then stopped.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly, hopefully.

"I need to tell you—it will not mean anything to you without your memory, I suppose, but...I would not have missed being married to you for anything. Whatever happens, that will always be true. I know I have not always seemed to be comfortable with it, or enjoy it, but it has meant a great deal to me. You have meant a great deal to me. And," he added, with a wry chuckle, "as irritating as I found it when you barged into my mind uninvited at the beginning, I miss your presence in our link quite dreadfully. I..." He broke off and shook his head. "It is so hard to put these things into words. I have never had to say them. You have always just known, from my mind. Some part of you still does know, I hope."

"It sounds so wonderful when you speak of it," Mara said softly, her eyes shining with tears. "To never be alone.... Why can I not remember such a beautiful thing as our love must have been?"

"I do not know," Tirqwin replied. "But you will, Mara. Whatever has happened is only temporary, perhaps only while you are cut off from the Great Crystal. You will get it all back."

Mara sighed and looked away. After a few moments, she turned to face him again, biting her lower lip. "I want it back now. Will you...will you try? To come into my mind?"

"Are you sure?" Tirqwin asked gently. "You did not want me there earlier."

"I am sure." She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I want my memory back. This may be the way. I want to try."

He bent and kissed her forehead. "Very well. Try to relax, Mara. I am not a stranger; I am just another part of you."

"Like my memories that I've lost," she whispered.

"No, because you haven't lost me. You never will." He put his hands on her temples and closed his eyes. Mara shuddered once, then stood quietly, watching his expression as he tried to re-establish their link and wondering how long it would take—and what they would do if it didn't work.