CHAPTER VI


RISING FROM THE RUINS




      Throughout the remaining hours of the night they sat together and Trajan Schurell the 
Elder told his son the tale of the Great Devolution which had devastated Lumentor and all lands 
around, and changed the face of the Earth, his attempts with a handful of Adherents to flee the 
wrath of the Terra-Purists, his breach into Evening Star through an IsoMén Equation which he 
had designed along the lines of Starglory's Peregrination Energy, the love for his Dama Vereina, 
the separation from his only son, his return to Lumentor in the company of Vereina, his Dama's 
demise and the subsequently long wait. 

	Interwoven within his story was also the story of his Other Self, stubbornly fashioning a 
life of his own without a memory, arriving back on Earth three Iucari-Tres Cycles later, refusing 
to believe in the truth of his origin and in the necessity of Reintegration, leaving Lumentor in 
fury to continue pursuing a path of fame and violence for himself.  

	Thus, an astonished Krystan found them at the first flush of dawn, still talking, the Elder 
uncloaked and in high spirits, the son visibly exhausted, which prompted Krystan to order the 
son back to bed.  

	"Krystan," Lord Schurell said, "I am reborn, I can sing again.  With a few simple words 
my son has lifted the bitter swamp from my heart."

	"My lord, your son has such amazing strength and clarity of sight.  How I yearn to be 
reunited with my own son.  To see the light of love and admiration in his eyes as I see it in 
Trajan's.  I often wonder whom Adilar takes after, me or Norielle.  And you yourself should take 
a rest now."

	"He and my son are cousin-brothers and they might very well be alike. And yes, I should 
rest but I can't sleep.  I will take an early morning walk."

	As Lord Schurell walked into the palace gardens, Krystan returned to the alcove to wake 
up Trajan and fed him another bowlful of the usual viscous medication after which he let his 
patient drift into another session of pleasant dreaming.

* * *

	Blinking his eyes at the high ceiling Trajan lay awake.  The curtains of the alcove had 
been drawn along half the length of the bed and from behind him at his right side the sickly 
twilight seeped through the door of the veranda.  He had no notion what the time could be but 
presumed many hours had passed since he set his eyes upon the mutilated face and frame of his 
father, and knew he could never stop loving the Lord.  

	His fever was gone and his head no longer throbbed with needles as Trajan tried to lift 
himself up from the pillows.  He nearly keeled over with dizziness as he swung his legs from 
under the blanket to the marble-panelled floor, but he gritted his teeth, despairingly clutching the 
hard sides of the bed. What the scruts has Krystan been feeding him?  It's potent enough to knock 
out a wisur bull.  Standing up gingerly he took a few tentative steps out of the alcove into the 
centre of the chambers.  The chambers were vacant and after a curious exploration around the 
mantelpiece and cabinet he found his clothes draped across the back of one of the chairs that 
stood along the long table. 

	Trajan had to wrestle momentarily with assaults of sickness as he put his clothes on, and 
then his boots.  Clenching his fists he steadied himself, hoping at the same time no one would 
come into the room and prevent him from going where he wanted to go.  This was a venture he 
preferred doing alone: to see the IsoMén Equation in the cellars where it was stored, so his father 
told him.  

	Long ages seemed to have passed since he dared to open and use the channels of his 
Noetic Transmittance.  Closing his eyes he allowed his Oracles to roam Lumentor.  The ancient 
Oval City, once gleaming as a sapphire lake under sunshine, lay crushed amidst jagged rock, 
black scoriae and grey ashes beneath the twilight.  Lumentor, the tower in the heart, still raised a 
shoulder, unbending into the yellow sky, but the remainder of its body was a valley of glass, 
wood and stone fragments warped and twisted into the hideousness of a madman's 
hallucination.  Beyond, smaze and smog, as far as his sight could reach; the forest of crooked 
trees and thorny undergrowth, the abysses of steam, the hosts of tormented Unliving. 

	Near the portals of the Grand Hall he saw the dented Zippercraft and close by, Krystan 
and Irwain bickering with one another and attempting to put some semblance of navigability into 
the craft.  Krystan, the cousin who had fostered him for only such a short time and who was now 
caring for him with such endearing attention; his One Father, the Handsome Corpus, who with 
such poignant forcefulness claimed him as son and for whom he harboured ambivalent feelings 
of respect and aggravation, and also affection, the One side of the Father who had borne him to 
safety.  Farther away, at the rear, in a once luscious garden now choked with hard, brown 
shrubbery and tangles of nettleweed, Assiya and his Other Father, the Brilliant Spirit, lovingly 
tending to the grave of Vereina, his Mother, the father who had suffered so much pain for so 
long in such loneliness, the Other Side of the Father whom he had come to love most deeply. 

	Time was short.  Trajan envisioned them all barging into the room and restraining him, by 
force possibly, from entering the cellars of Lumentor.  The IsoMén Equation.  Once more he 
instructed the Oracles to guide him to its location: a throbbing, restless Globe of Light, like a Star 
Essence.  Outside in the corridor an exit opened on his left which descended down a winding 
stairwell.  The deeper he went down the colder the air became and the feebler the light that 
slanted down from the corridor.   Probing along the banisters of the stairs Trajan magnified the 
power of his Oracles.  

	Starglory had left him, but traces of it had remained and integrated into his being for all 
eternity.  The frequencies of his Oracles picked up the pulses of the IsoMén Equation at the end 
of a passage, which from the foot of the stairwell wound further into darkness.  Two massive 
doors opened as he stood in a grand hall beneath the palatial upper floors of Lumentor and 
before him the brilliance of a globe glittered and beat like a silver heart into Nowhere, into 
Somewhere.  

	Iucari-Tres was at the end beyond!  Never so strong had he felt the tugs of Home.  One 
step into the globe and he was back where he belonged.  The longing was so painful he could feel 
the warm tears pricking behind his eyes but his face remained dry: his task had not finished.  

	Here in the Cellars the Ceremony of Conception had been performed.  Father and Son 
locked in spiritual joining when a young Peregrinator would rise as the conception of a new breed 
with the mightiest Starlight of all in his custody.  Assassins breaking in with guns, grenades and 
flame throwers, maiming and slaying a people who had only wanted to do good and were 
misguided by their intentions.  His Father burnt, his Grandfather lying in a pool of blood.  The 
terrible fury of the Core when it saw its Old Custodian slain and the New One near death; its 
agony when it exploded from the hands of the assassins, tore out half of the Essence of its 
intended Host, fled into space and wept death on Aberon.  

	He stretched out a hand with the palm upwards, spread his fingers and felt the cool drafts 
of the Cellars like spirits of his murdered family.  Like his Grandfather long ago, he made a vow: 
It shall never happen again!  Each world must make its own choice.

	He resolutely turned his back to the beckoning globe and climbed up the stairs.  He was 
panting and sweating by the time he reached the corridor of the residential levels.  Reentering the 
room he observed it was still empty.  He needed to rest but suppressing feelings of weakness he 
walked to the open veranda.

	Leaning against the balustrade with arms folded across his chest Trajan thought of his 
friends he had left behind, and his Oracles crossed the spaces and boundaries of the Smaze, far 
into Geosphere D'Or and farther still into Vespar.  The situation was desperate.  D'Or was a 
continent on fire, Merinburg reeling under continued shelling, the woodlands along the northern 
frontiers had been all but taken and the streets of Okrane were flooded and the sewers clogged 
with gore. 

	The little courageous team of the Fly Corps was spearheading the defence; their losses 
were heavy too but for one downed craft another would leap into the air.  Artillery and missile 
units had been deployed along the slopes of the valley to defend the Fly Bay against waves of 
suicidal Gliders whose bodies were accumulating on banks and brinks of the hills.  

	He could not resist the pull to Dissociate.  "I am coming," Trajan whispered.  "My 
friends, my Love, I am coming."  

	A voice broke through the waves of his thoughts:  "Don't do it, Trajan.  Wait for me, 
please wait for me. I am coming to you, son!"

	Trajan turned as a storm of quarrelling voices spiralled up the stairs. 

* * *

	Throughout the day Irwain frantically tried to establish radio contact with Okrane but the 
density of the Smaze appeared to distort the frequency modulations.  The Zippercraft had 
regained partial Parsplit drive which would enable him at least to lift the craft off the ground and 
fly back to Okrane.  Landing safely was a problem which he had to figure out while in flight but 
momentarily he considered himself able and ready to undertake the return trip to the Royal 
Capital.  

	Krystan had rendered him assistance, though only halfheartedly and was even less 
enthusiastic when Irwain made the suggestion that Okrane, and Vespar, would greatly benefit 
from his knowledge as a Lord Laris.  "There," Krystan said, "you finally admit who I really am, 
and you must also know that all Peregrinators have renounced intervention.  Whatever happens 
to Vespar, to the whole world, I am powerless."  

	"Not so powerless, since you have made a cosy place for yourself in the Smaze," Irwain 
retorted sharply.  "Why then, if you are so callously indifferent to the plight of millions, are you 
still here?"  

	"You know that one final thing needs to be done before all Lords Laris can leave this 
Sphere forever, including you, Irwain.  Your place is not here, it never was."

	"I am leaving Lumentor!" Irwain blurted out savagely.  "But I am not leaving Vespar.  If 
this means utter damnation then so be it!  If I were not so worried about his wellbeing, I would 
take Trajan with me too."  

	Krystan shook his head in grim disbelief.  "How blind and bullheaded you are, you a 
Lord Laris!  You are mad, Irwain.  The shock of severance and the hurl across time and space 
have tainted your mind."

	Irwain smiled with bitterness.  "You are right in that respect, Krystan: I am mad.  Not 
knowing what I am has made me mad throughout stages of my life but I have known peace.  
When I finally met Trajan there was a peace I cannot describe.  How he rebelled against me, yet 
he yielded to me as his father!  No more arguments!  I will say my farewell to my son and tell 
him to wait until I return to take him back.  He will wait and he will be with me always."  

	Irwain turned and stormed away through the portals of Lumentor, the ruined majesty of 
the grand hall and up the staircase, with Krystan coming behind, loudly protesting.  Bursting into 
the room at the same time, they discovered with shock the alcove was empty, the curtains pushed 
to a side, the blanket thrown away from the bed.  

	As they stood for a moment numb with consternation. Trajan appeared on the threshold 
of the veranda, fully clothed, pale with resolve, his eyes glimmering with grey clouds and purple 
skies.  

	"Father," he addressed Irwain, stepping into the room and stretching his arm towards 
him, "you wish to know how the war fares.  Shut your eyes, feel my thoughts.  Do you see what 
I see?" 

	Closing his eyes Irwain was seized with sudden spasms of anguish and fierceness. 
"Vespar is on the brink of defeat! Ah, my people who have suffered and whom I have come to 
love, I am too late to help you."

	"No!" Trajan said as an aura blossomed around his frame.  "It is not too late.  I am, we 
are, going to help them." 

	"Wait, my son!" Lord Schurell called out, as he ran into the room. The hood had fallen 
upon his shoulders and the Lord's dark-grey eyes gazed upon the eyes of his son.  "Following 
your instinct is not enough.  You have never used your powers of thought transmittance this way.  
You have to leave your emotions behind, your heart must be clear of darker sentiments and you 
must establish a link with the basic forces of your existence.  You can only guide, not enforce.  
Guidance is your strength, not vengeance.  A guardian you must be, Trajan, a guardian who has 
power and wisdom and inspire men with those qualities to end the bloodshed quickly!" 

	"He can't do it!" Krystan cried out in dismay.  "He is too weak, unlearned and untested 
in the secrets of Transient Dissociation and he doesn't have an Essence!" 

	"Yes, he can!" Lord Schurell uttered triumphantly. "He is the Conception of a new breed 
of Peregrinators

	"But I can't do it alone," Trajan said and his eyes blurring in a shimmer sought out 
Irwain's, his hand still reaching out to him, "My Lar Irwain, take the right step." 

	"What do you mean, Trajan!" Irwain rasped out.

	Trajan stretched his other hand to Lord Schurell, "You know deep in your heart what I 
mean.  Both of you are one and the same essence once.  Starglory is gone from me but something 
still remains.  Take my hands and do the right thing."

	"Listen to him!" Krystan, "both of you, listen to your son!  Trajan, I will lend you the aid 
of Starwind since traces of Starglory are not enough."

	"Krystan," Lord Schurell admonished, "it is not wise to leave you without a Core 
Essence." 

	"There is another Core," Trajan said, "under a burial mound by a tree in the canyon of the 
Acier Shield.  It is still alive."  

	"Stargenta!"  Lord Schurell breathed, "the Essence of Lady Artgen who came with me 
but died of her wounds."  He resolutely turned to face Irwain.  "Let's do it.  Let's do it now!"

	"Am I really you?" Irwain said with spasms of emotion writhing through his face.  "This 
repugnant block of deformed flesh, are you Me, dissociated?  How is it possible that as a Lord 
Laris you were unable to dissociate yourself with more finesse?"

	"We were not dissociated, you and I.  Transient Dissociation can only be achieved with 
the clearest of minds, and we were torn asunder by the hands of greed and violence, who wanted 
to murder us and tear the Core from our being.  As Starglory ripped itself from the assassins it 
took also one part of me: you.  And we have existed thus, like two curses on separate plains.  
You have to accept it as the only truth." 

	"Trajan, you accept this as the only truth?"

	"Yes, My Lar Irwain, my father, do it for me."

	Irwain stepped forward and grasped Trajan's hand.  At the same time as Trajan pressed 
Irwain's hand to his brow, Lord Schurell grasped Trajan's other hand and from Krystan there 
issued a stream of shining light.  The moment the three of them were linked, the light beam 
struck them and the vast chambers blazed with the blue-white violence and radiance of newborn 
suns.  The yellow edges of twilight and mist outside were dashed with an iridescent sheen of 
silver-green as the fiery eruption spilled onto the veranda.  The shaft bloomed into a globe of 
almost unbearable glory and in its heart two shapes were joining, coming towards each other like 
brothers meeting on a road, spilling into each other's arms in an embrace of bonding, melting into 
one another like two eclipsing stars, consolidating in One.  The One retracted the brilliant beams 
like a vortex sea drawing waters from sky, clouds and rivers, and when the light disappeared, the 
ancient shadows of Lumentor fell once again upon the chambers with a heavy sigh.  

* * *

	Lord Schurell looked upon Krystan and Assiya with a face where traces of his past ordeal 
were still apparent from the lines around his sensitive mouth and in the grave expression of his 
wide, dark-grey eyes but he was unmarked and his body was filled with strength.  Authoritative 
he was, but wise, strong and gentle at the same time; power and mercy blending into a tower of 
supremacy.  Of Trajan there only remained a silhouette of luminance, suspended in midair.

	"Assiya," spoke Lord Schurell with a stern, yet strangely melodious voice, "despite so 
many hardships you have remained loyal to my cause.  You have carried the torch of Adherent 
faith through years of darkness and persecution.  I thank you, there is hope yet for this Sphere 
but the Lords Laris, and the Peregrinators, can no longer interfere.  To continue or not, to 
advance or not, to live or not, to become like us or not, it is your choice."

	"My Lord," Assiya spoke, "my task is ended, the choices lie with the Seedlings.  But my 
heart is overflowing with joy to see you once more Whole as One."

	"Krystan," the Lord said, "you have also accomplished your task.  Starwind will stay 
with me as I go and lend guidance to my son.  Return to Iucari-Tres and claim Stargenta.  I thank 
you for your long, unwavering support at my side.  We will never see each other again in our 
present essence until your Time of Ascent Peregrination arrives, if you choose to go that way.  
You might also choose to share the finitude of your Dama, as my father, Lord Filimon, did.  And 
there is Trajan, he will come back, he is still young and has to be taught many things.  Be at his 
side, always, dear cousin.  My son is my memory and my everlasting spirit."

	"Dear cousin," Krystan said, "I will do as you wish."

	Lord Schurell nodded and smiled.  He summoned a shield of blue light which covered his 
whole frame, and the shield tapered into a shaft, a blade of radiance which streaked out the door 
into the twilight of the Smaze. 

	In the fallow twilight trickling into the chambers once again Krystan walked to the 
veranda and peered into the waves of thickening mist.  A rustle at his sight indicated Assiya had 
joined him.  With his Core given he could only use his thoughts and he saw scenes of horrendous 
savagery unfolding before his mind.  The battle zones were splashed with images of corpses and 
gore, broken limbs, bludgeoned heads; the screams of rage and pain issuing from defenders and 
attackers alike filled the air around woods, fields and cities.

	Combat fumes encapsulated the whole of D'Or like a storm of ash and cinders.  The 
battle was stalemated along a narrow strip of demarcation separating the coastal rims from the 
hinterland.  The mighty commander on his horse the colour of night was still there, hammering 
the enemy with blows upon blows. More troops poured into enemy fortifications like columns of 
wasps and ants and with equal fierceness they struck back at the counterstriking defenders.  

	It seemed as if Carlomon was emptying all his resources and manpower of the whole 
Setting Continent into the war front.  At the far north, along the borders with the Dominion, 
Vesparan troops, exhausted by the continuous pounding of gliders were retreating from the 
woods with their backs against Okrane.  In Okrane itself conditions were grim but not as 
desperate.  The citizens had set up barricades all across the boulevards and avenues of the capital 
and spun nets across lines of treetops making a city-wide network of interjoining spider webbing 
which had effectively stopped the Gliders' assault.

	Merinburg was thrown into a sea of flames.  Many of the lofty spires of the Chine 
Residence had been decapitated by furious shelling; the walls were no longer gleaming and 
silvery white but flayed and tarnished by soot and smoke.  Scores of wounded soldiers and 
civilians were lying in burning streets as there were not enough personnel to come to their aid.  

	"So much misery and pain," Krystan said, "can we allow this to continue?"  

	"No," Assiya said softly at his side and her voice sounded like the sigh of a dying wind, 
"but this war must be fought.  It is not a war between one people against another, but between 
different values.  In the midst of blood and suffering a new breed will be tempered, new 
traditions formed, new values discovered.  The Lords Laris are correct when they decided not to 
interfere because the species themselves must choose how to live and how to die.  Their 
intervention had only postponed this Final Reckoning and it is being played out again.  A 
Reckoning not to decide if the unerring deserves everlasting happiness and the erring eternal 
damnation:  this is a false justice.  There can be no everlasting happiness without the hope of 
redemption for all.

	"Intolerance and hatred will still be there but a guiding light is shining in this Reckoning, 
giving humanity the strength to temper themselves on their own, and a glimpse of possible 
elevated consciousness in the future.  But the battle will be long and hard and the Seedlings are 
young and immature.  We can only hope they choose Life and not Extinction.  And I am tired."

	"Go and lie down, Assiya," Krystan gently persuaded. "This day is filled with strain, 
wonder and emotion.  I myself feel quite overwhelmed by it, and so must you." 

	"I am content!" Assiya said with a warm smile.  "I have seen My Lord resurrected and 
for a while I was his son's nurse.  Young Trajan, who sought my comfort as if I was his mother, 
when he was alone and no one could understand the inner struggle he has to go through, 
unguided by no one but his own strength.  He is a seedling too, but of another world, of a race 
that have succeeded!  What more can an Adherent of the Lords Laris ask for, except peace at 
long last."

	As Assiya retreated into the room Krystan once more let his eyes roam over the misty 
agony of the Smaze.  Darker silhouettes tumbled amidst the rolling folds of fog.  He had seen 
those before, the shades of the Unliving but never so close to the structures of Lumentor.  Some 
new development had driven them towards the centre in droves of squirming shadows.  Floating 
banners of Smaze suddenly seemed to congeal into clouds of moisture.  Astonished he swept a 
finger over the balustrade and it came off wet.  

	The fog was condensing into dew which had never occurred before in the Smaze.  The 
temperature which had so far been warm during days and cooler at nights seemed to fluctuate 
between summer heat and autumn chill.  Krystan withdrew into the room. 

	"Something odd is happening to the Smaze," he said, closing the door of the veranda.  
"We'd better stay inside." 

	He proceeded to close all the windows and the door which opened on the veranda.  He 
did not draw the curtains as he wanted to have a view on the Smaze should unexpected events 
occur, the possibility of an attack on Lumentor.  	His eyes caught sight of Assiya who sat 
huddled on her knees with bowed head, as if she had fallen asleep, right there in front of Trajan's 
luminescent silhouette.  He lightly touched her shoulder to rouse her, then his hand stayed.  
Bending low over the hanging head, the smiling old face, with deep sadness Krystan closed the 
eyes of Assiya who had breathed her last beneath Trajan's luminance.