Tempus, p.2
Tempus, page 2
I wanted to be pissed at him, but every sense I was getting off the man was one of contrition. I didn’t want to trust either of them, but at the same time, I also wanted to see what would happen. A trauma counselor would probably rip me a new one for letting this happen, but… well… I was there and a counselor wasn’t.
I glanced to the daughter and quirked up an eyebrow in silent question. She nodded.
“Fine. I’ll allow it. But if she looks like she’s afraid for even a split second, I’ll rip your son’s head from his shoulders. Do you understand?”
Granted, watching me rip off some kid’s head probably wouldn’t help the daughter, either… but again… not a counselor.
The young man jerked a choppy nod and walked over until he stood about five feet in front of the daughter, right at the edge of the raised section where I sat. He surprised more than just me by dropping to both knees and bowing his head.
“Nicole, I do not have the words to express how sorry I am that I lost control. I was firmly in the wrong, and if I had it to do over again, I’d walk away and punch a tree. My actions were not representative of who I feel am and especially not who I want to be. One day… when I’ve found some way to forgive myself, I may ask your forgiveness.”
He kept his head bowed as he stood and returned to his father’s side.
Well, now… I wasn’t expecting that at all, and from their expressions, neither were the woman and her daughter.
For several moments, the woman’s jaw worked, seemingly to speak but without making any sound. Eventually, she figured it out.
“Consul… I… well, I don’t know where to go from here. Do you still wish to hear my daughter speak?”
I shook my head. “No. I think everyone knows who stands in the wrong at this point. Will you accept my decision in this matter?”
“Of course, sir.”
I looked to the man and his son. “And you?”
His son couldn’t hide the fear simmering beneath his outward demeanor, but he nodded ‘yes’ along with his father.
“Right, then. I have to say that I am very pleased you stood up… well, knelt… and owned what you did. I agree you would’ve been far better off punching a tree, but everyone makes mistakes. As long as that’s what this was, a singular mistake that does not repeat itself. To that end, Lyssa will contact you with details of an anger counselor. You will keep however many appointments the counselor deems appropriate, and you will instruct the counselor to provide limited details to Lyssa or myself. By ‘limited details,’ I mean details like the fact that an appointment happened, how often you have appointments, if you ever miss an appointment, and what progress if any you’re making. I don’t want all the sordid details. Frankly, your life is none of my business. But if you ever cross my path again because of something like this, you will not find me so understanding. Is anything I’ve said unclear?”
Both the man and the son shook their heads. The man stepped forward, wringing his hands. “Thank you, Consul. I feared I was bringing my boy to his death today.”
“I understand.”
I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t have killed the boy. I’d like to think that I would not have, but at the same time, I felt a very fundamental rage that he had the nerve to lay hands on a woman in anger, especially a weaker shifter than him.
After a couple heartbeats of silence, I nodded and clapped my hands once in lieu of banging the gavel I didn’t have. “Let’s consider this matter closed. What’s next?”
3
I want to say the situation with the young bear shifter and the young avian shifter was the worst of the Shifter Council meeting. It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
But…
Man, do I love Lyssa. After another couple hours—plus or minus—it took her about three heartbeats to see my attention span—not to mention my give-a-damn—was winding down in a hurry. She promptly stood and tabled everything until next month’s audience. A couple people tried to argue, but when faced with the prospect of me deciding based on who annoyed me less—not even considering anything like… oh… the facts—people seemed much more onboard with tabling the remaining agenda.
Before the Council could try to involve me in whatever remained on their regular agenda, I beat feet and called the Magi field office Vicki finally pushed through for Precious. The Magi who opened the portal to take us home was a rather fetching young lady who always seemed to have a shy smile for me. Vicki swore up, down, and sideways that she didn’t choose any of the Magi who staffed the field office, but somehow, they were almost all attractive young ladies about my age.
Odd how that happens…
A weight I didn’t realize I carried vanished from my shoulders the moment I stood on Main Street in Precious once again. I hated… no. I despised—even loathed—the Shifter Council politics with a passion, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hide that and act civil when they wanted to delve into all the ‘courtly intrigues’ and crap. I wasn’t sure what that meant for my relationship with Lyssa in the long run, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. I didn’t want my resentment for the Consul bullshit to translate onto her in any way. That wouldn’t be fair, in the first place. And in the second… well… I told her a while back that I forgave her for frog-marching me into a role I never wanted; I can’t say I forgive someone for something and still harbor resentment toward said person.
Yeah… it was a mess. But it was my mess, and I’d figure it out somehow.
Moira was another mess that needed figuring out. After all these weeks, she was fine with my ladies, but the second I entered the room—even if she wasn’t facing my way—she’d freeze like a rabbit around a wolf. I didn’t know how to break through her fear—or perhaps terror—of Miles to get her to see that I wasn’t him. Honestly… I’d lay a very sizable wager that even Miles wasn’t the man who fought in the Faerie War with our Primogenitor ancestors anymore. But good luck getting her to see that.
Heh… Moira was a problem for another day.
The important thing was that I was home and away from the Shifter Council. I could relax until the next ginormous ball of ugly reared its head, because let’s face it. No one ever called me these days just to say ‘hi.’
And they didn’t call me for the small, easy pitches, either.
Miles smiled as he leaned back in his chair and considered the space around him. He sat at the drafting table in his work room. Unlike modern drafting tables, many would not think it different than a traditional table. The work surface wasn’t angled, and it was about twice the size of its more recent counterparts. But Miles didn’t care.
Both the chair and the drafting table were ancient handcrafted pieces, made of solid English oak that dated back to the Elizabethan era if not before. He kept them in a light stain that highlighted the beautiful grain of the wood with a protective layer atop that. Even then, he’d also layered in magical protections to reduce—if not outright eliminate—decay.
He loved this room. He loved the scrolls and tomes, not to mention the collected journals and notebooks he had filled over the centuries. If there was one room in all of Avalon that truly felt like ‘home’ to him, this was it.
His focus returned to the papers and tomes in front of him, and he nodded to himself. Yes… it was time to prepare the last major work he’d ever do. Many would regret that or fight it with all their might, but those people had not accumulated his years or his fatigue.
Not physical fatigue… no. Emotional and mental fatigue. There was a special kind of strain that came with outliving not only your loved ones but everyone around you. The craftsman who made this table and most of the furniture in the room died a hundred years or so before the Renaissance reached Britain; Miles still remembered him fondly and regretted the man’s passing. Everywhere he looked—especially when he left Avalon—carried echoes and memories.
Memories both good and bad.
No. As much as he enjoyed Maeve and her family, his time was long since passed, and it was time to go gently into that good night.
He picked up his notes and skimmed them. He knew precisely where he left off in his preparations and what was left to do. The fact that he’d done half of his intention once before made that part much, much easier. But as he sat there holding the pages, he realized there was something far more important he needed to do.
He laid the papers back on the table and stood, leaving the room without a backward glance or thought. The few people who staffed Avalon for him—less than a handful, really—never even touched the door to his workroom, so he did not worry anyone would bother or ‘tidy’ the items on the table.
A simple portal delivered him to the residence of his granddaughter and her husband. Despite its relative grandeur, it was a warm, welcoming place he knew well. The sculpted lawn, the well-tended flowerbeds, the garden out back that grew most of their spell and alchemy components… this place was as close to a second home to him as he’d ever have.
He stopped at the front door and rung the bell.
Not more than ninety seconds later, the door opened to reveal Maeve. At first, a smile brightened her expression, but when she saw who the ‘guest’ was, she frowned her confusion.
“Miles? Why on Earth would you ring the bell, dearie?”
“It felt appropriate, lass.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Would ye and yer man have some time for me?”
Maeve smiled again. “Of course. Please… come in and be welcome.”
She led him past the sitting room they used for guests and through the house to the great room that was their private, family-only space. Large, comfortable sofas and chairs occupied the space, along with a decorative fireplace along one wall. A grand staircase wound up around one wall of the room, becoming a balcony that overlooked the great room as it ran along the second floor before continuing to the upper floors. All of the walls were either of light wood paneling or calm, neutral earth tones.
She gestured for him to take a seat as she walked to a small panel on the far wall. She pressed her hand to it and spoke in a normal-volume voice.
“Connor, love, Miles is here and would like a word with us.”
“Of course, Maeve. I’ll be right there.”
A very short time later, Connor came downstairs and crossed to Miles, extending his hand. “Miles, good to see you.”
Miles stood as Connor approached and gave him a respectable handshake. “Connor, good to see ye, lad. How fare ye?”
“Quite well, thank you.” A small smile crossed his expression. “You know… aside from you… I cannot recall the last person who called me ‘lad.’”
Miles chuckled as three of them found their seats. “Well, everyone’s naught but a lad to me, I’m afraid.”
He watched Connor and Maeve share a glance, knowing full well that they only knew him as Miles the groundskeeper. He also knew they were both closer to nine hundred than eight, so they were only a little beyond half his age.
“So, what can we do for you?” Maeve asked, stepping into the silence before it could become awkward.
Miles grinned as he released the iron-tight control he normally kept on his power’s aura while traveling on Earth and mentally grinned as both Connor’s and Maeve’s eyes widened. “The time has come to put my affairs in order, Granddaughter, and I would like to speak with you about my intentions to avoid any hurt feelings.”
Connor and Maeve both shared another quick look before Maeve spoke. “You mean I’ve paid my grandfather—the Merlin of legend—a groundskeeper’s wage to weed the flowers and tend the garden these long years? Why didn’t ye say something?”
By the end, her control slipped, allowing the accent of her childhood to take over her voice.
“Lass, if I had wanted ye to know who I was, I would’ve told ye. I was here to watch yer grandchildren grow up… mostly. I’m so very proud of what ye’ve done with yer life, Maeve. Yer mother—bless her—would be so proud of ye.”
Maeve blinked her eyes to hold back the excess moisture that threatened to escape. Connor reached over and took her hand in his, and she glanced at him with a soft smile. Then, she turned back to Miles. “Why are ye announcing yerself after all this time?”
Miles pursed his lips for a moment, then took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. “I’m putting my affairs in order, and I wanted to discuss my decisions with you. I doubt I’ll be around for much longer, Maeve, and I wouldn’t have ye hurt or blindsided when my solicitor announces my directives.”
“Ye won’t… I don’t understand. Ye’ve lived this long. Why not longer?”
Another sigh. “Has Vicki discussed the Faerie War with you?”
“Aye, and how there is another coming. Their scouts are already here, she said. She’s been trying to get the Assembly to send representatives to a joint shifter-Magi war council, but the daft fools are playing turf games and arguing against including the shifters.”
“Oh, those fools. It is just as well that I have decided to act. From the sounds of it, they would preclude the necessary preparations until the Faerie are marching through rifts, and by then, it would be far too late.”
Maeve frowned. “Act? Forgive me, but what could one man—even if that man is you—do to prevent an inter-planar war?”
Miles sat silent for a long moment, staring at the floor. Part of him didn’t want to tell them. Didn’t want them to know he probably wouldn’t survive what he was about to attempt. But he didn’t feel like he could discuss his will without them understanding why it would come into effect so soon. He almost sighed a third time, then lifted his head to make eye contact with his granddaughter.
“I have it within my power to seal the planar boundaries. I am not confident I will survive doing it, but I can guarantee that it will work and forever prevent the Faerie from invading this world.”
Maeve jerked a hand to cover her mouth as she gasped, her expression stricken. “Grandfather, no. I just got ye back. I’d rather not lose ye so soon.”
“Would ye have yer grandchildren lead a defense they have been prevented from preparing? Would ye risk their lives far more than is necessary because the Magi Assembly is a pack of hidebound fools who care more about their own power and petty fiefdoms than making any true progress for the world? Besides, me girl, I’ve already lived several full lifetimes. There comes a point when it’s far better to go out making the best difference ye can, than remaining and seeing what new low the people of the world can reach.”
“Then… I can’t talk ye out of it?”
Miles shook his head. “I have already made my preparations. I saved this discussion for last, because I knew it would not be easy.”
“Do you know what effect—if any—your course of action will have on the Magi talents?” Connor asked.
“Ach… I wish I did, lad. I believe it will only prevent the Faerie from invading this plane. That is my goal. If I am wrong in my preparations, it will prevent all cross-planar traffic, including the summoning some Magi entertain themselves with. Other than that, the Magi shouldn’t notice any difference.”
Connor nodded his understanding and acceptance. “Thank you for your answer.”
“Lad, ye’ve made my granddaughter a very happy woman. I’d claim ye as my grandson without a second thought. Yer welcome to ask me anything ye’d like.”
“If we can’t talk ye out of it, what are these directives you wanted to discuss?” Maeve asked.
“By all rights, I should leave everything to you. You are my closest relative. I have decided to leave most of it to Vicki with a handful of things to Wyatt.”
Maeve and Connor shared another look as they each nodded. She replied, “Aye… it makes sense. We’re pretty set here, and we’ve made a good life for ourselves. Vicki… well… I doubt she will ever be far from Wyatt, but she would have far more time to enjoy your legacy than I will. Besides, I already have all me memories of ye. I wish we had more time.”
“I know. I regret not telling you who I was sooner, but… in all truth… I wanted to avoid Magi entanglements. A person can’t swing a dead cat without hitting someone who’s far too ready to natter on about the great Merlin. You know as well as I do that I’m no hero and not deserving of their worship. And… after a time, it grates on a person. They see the legends and not the man.”
Maeve nodded. “Aye. That they do. For what it’s worth, I agree with and support your decision regarding your last directives. I know Vicki will use yer legacy well and—what’s more—respect it.”
“Thank ye, Maeve. That means a lot to me.”
Miles made to stand, and Maeve looked at him with faint hope coloring her expression.
“Would ye have time for some tea before ye go? I’m not trying to keep ye overlong, but I won’t lie about wanting as much time with ye as ye’ll let me have.”
Miles considered the question. Yes… he hadn’t been honest with Maeve when he told her all his preparations were complete. He hadn’t wanted to give her false hope that she could talk him out of his plans. But at the same time, he had no reason to believe the Faerie would kick off their invasion in the next month, let alone next week or that day. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some time with his favorite grandchild.
4
Miles returned to Avalon after several hours with his granddaughter and her husband. If there was anything to the afterlife, he hoped he’d be able to check on them from time to time… or at least know how they fared. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have the answer to that question until it was too late to do anything about it. But as he had told Maeve, he was tired of living. He was tired of watching what the people were doing to their home—the planet.
It was time for him to move on.
He made a quick visit to Thomas, informing him that he would be implementing his solution to the Faerie problem. Thomas knew just as well as Miles that the old man was unlikely to survive sealing off Earth’s plane from the Faerie. If their suspicions did indeed prove true, Thomas would inform the solicitor to enact the measures Miles had laid out the week before.
