Shifting Stars by Gary Stringer (best fiction books of all time txt) 📗

*****

Lying is generally frowned upon by White Clerics, but I’m sure all the gods of goodness will forgive Aunt Mandalee for her taking sweet revenge for how the shadow warrior had acted so superior and condescending when they first met. Surely, in that context, no-one could blame her for this harmless bit of fun.

I’m sure, gentle reader, you will have noticed, that she used the phrase ‘observation-only.’ That’s because the real answer to Daelen’s question is that the magic used for mass-market Time travel necessarily makes the visitors completely invisible and incorporeal to the natives of that time. Only the Guardians and I have Interactive Time travel, which is why only Mandalee could visit Daelen in this way and enlist his much-needed help.

Now that he’s agreed, I can get on with my story, secure in the knowledge that my plans are in motion, metaphorically speaking. Literally speaking, nothing is in motion, because I’m keeping my house frozen in what I suppose one might call a bubble of Time.

In another quirk of my unique magio-physiology, I can create a Time travel dead zone around me, which I can extend to those nearby. That’s how I’m holding the Black and Red Guardians captive in my room, so they can’t interfere with what Mandalee is doing. Effectively, I have changed the Time settings to ‘observation only’ so that I can see and relate a first-hand account of what happened in what one might crudely call the past. The two Guardians can’t stop me, because – and I say this without conceit – they’re not powerful enough without the ‘Power of Three.’ And, before you say anything, yes, I know that’s a cliché, and no, they don’t really call it that. I just say it to wind them up and prick their egos a bit.

Nevertheless, the point still stands: The Guardians are greater than the sum of their parts, which is why it’s so sad to see them divided like this. It is my hope that the story I write will convince them, the Council, and you, gentle reader, that I am doing the right thing.

‘Who keeps me in check?’ you may ask.

Why, Aunt Mandalee, of course! If ever I am on the receiving end of one of her Looks of Disappointment, I am completely powerless. No magic required. And failing her, there’s always Shyleen. You might not know it to see the leopard as she is now, curled up by my fire and beginning to purr, but trust me: that is one cat you don’t want to cross!

In case you haven’t guessed, the ‘friend’ Mandalee is bringing Daelen to see, is me. I suppose it was easier for her to go with the word ‘friend’ rather than ‘immortal daughter from your future, a product of a relationship you never even got to have and who, if things go wrong between you and Catriona before they’re supposed to go wrong, might never exist, but no pressure.’

It will be strange to meet him, when for nearly a thousand years I’ve believed I would never have a chance to know him.

But my special relationship with Time is relevant for another reason. Even though from an external frame of reference, the pair will be here any moment, I still have as much time as I need to write this story. I know it’s weird, but as Mandalee so eloquently put it: The explanation has to do with the true nature of Time and its relative spatial dimensions, but I can't tell you about that because you’re not ready for it.

No offence.

Actually, I am doing you a favour by not telling you how it works; I know exactly how it works, and the whole thing makes my head hurt. I wouldn’t want to inflict that on all my innocent readers, so in short, it’s best to stick with the image of a bubble in Time.

Now, I think it’s high time I gave you some much-needed perspective on my mother, Catriona, and my two Aunts, Mandalee and Dreya. The people who made me who I am and the world what it is. To do that, I must take us back to the beginning…

…Or, at least, an earlier part of the middle.

Chapter 2

The world of Tempestria was well-named, for the sky, both day and night, was dominated by a perpetual vortex of swirling energy. The shape and pattern were continually shifting, and its intensity seemed to wax and wane according to some vast cosmic cycle, but even at its lowest ebb, it was far from what anyone could describe as ‘calm.’ Of course, in those days, no-one in this world considered this unusual or strange. After all, they knew of no other worlds with which to compare theirs. To the people of Tempestria, this was simply the nature of reality.

Now and then a group would spring up, claiming that the world had not always been so and that it had once had another name entirely. Depending on prevailing social attitudes, the response to these individuals ranged from polite sympathy for their delusional state through to, I’m sorry to say, gentle reader, persecution and violence.

Catriona was born to parents who many considered mismatched. Her father, Gabrian, was one of the long-lived Faery who was as rooted to his sun-drenched Quarthonian forest as any oak tree. Like many Faery, he grew uncomfortable if he strayed too far from his forest home. The one time he visited a human city, he became seriously ill. While not as ancient as many of the Quarthonian trees, at almost two hundred years old, he was considered middle-aged. Gabrian was a druid mage, a healer in the community, while Catriona’s mother, Velena Redfletching, was a fierce warrior. Equally adept at hunting both animals and people, she was well-known for the battle frenzy that would come upon her when she felt threatened. This greatly enhanced her speed, strength and focus, to the point where nothing could sway, divert or