ZYGRADON (35 page)

"Just as there is not and never again will be anyone like you two," he
continued. He stared at a spot on the table just short of the place where the Zygradon
sat, glowing faintly, with a shifting rainbow nimbus all around it. That told Mrillis more
surely than anything that even the High Scholar of the Rey'kil could not see the
Zygradon.

"After each amazing thing you accomplished, Le'esha and I braced ourselves to
find you had reduced yourselves to something less than you were. Each time, you came
back stronger. The tests that do not kill us make us stronger," he said with a crooked
smile and a shake of his head. "Endor, I am sure, saw something unlike anything anyone
else saw or heard or felt. He suffers under a heavy burden of accusation and
disappointment." He sighed. "I admit, I am inclined to think that it was indeed the Estall's
will, perhaps a great blessing, that he was not part of the forming of the Zygradon. How
he weathers this disappointment will be a more sure sign of his true spirit and character,
than any great accomplishment ever could reveal."

"Do you think he killed those villagers?" Ceera whispered.

"I do not know, Little Star." He patted her hand where it rested on the table.
"The older I grow, the more sure I am that I know very little. When the Estall calls me
home to rest in the Eternal Bliss, I will have progressed to the point where I know that I
know nothing at all. And that will be the start of true wisdom." He chuckled when they
both exchanged exasperated looks. "Now, I hear that you can provide me a glimpse of
this marvel. Since I cannot see it unaided, you must help me."

The first time Ceera guided his hand to touch the bowl, Breylon gasped, went
pale and slumped in his chair.

"Music," he muttered, when Mrillis asked him what he experienced. "Music such
as I fear I will never hear again. And such light, like no light I have ever seen before. Not
light seen with the physical eyes, I do believe." He nodded, closed his eyes, took a deep
breath and stared at the spot where the Zygradon rested.

Mrillis and Ceera waited, watching their beloved teacher. Finally, Breylon
moved. He summoned up a crooked smile to bestow on them. Then he gripped the
arms of his chair, visibly bracing himself--and held out his hand, silently asking them to
give him another glimpse of the Zygradon.

"The perfumes of a thousand ages fill my lungs," he whispered, when they had
repeated the process four times and the silence after each attempt lasted longer. "Without
you acting as my window, I cannot sense it. However you worked it, you have done an
amazing thing. And a wise thing. How can our enemies steal the Zygradon and use it
against us if they cannot find it?"

The three stayed up late, talking and theorizing and wondering. Breylon
confirmed what they had observed and believed, but didn't trust their weary senses to
prove: the Zygradon did not interfere with the flow of power around them. They could
walk through the Threads as if there were no star-metal around to warp them. Yet when
he held the bowl in his hands, Mrillis felt the power waiting to be released. When he
closed his eyes, he could follow the patterns of the Threads. Just like in the vision from
his childhood, all the Threads in the world came to the bowl. They passed through and
became stronger and continued on throughout the World, and the Zygradon held them
in tight control, like the spider sitting in the center of its web.

They told Breylon how Mrillis had found Graddon. Now, only Ceera and the
High Scholar knew of the discovery and the answer to the mystery. No one else would
ever know. Breylon smiled, amused and awed by what his students had done so easily,
had known instinctively how to do.

"The Estall prepared you for this," he said, when they finished. "Through
Le'esha, through Graddon, through me, through all your teachers. Even through the nasty
tricks of your friends and fellow students when you were children. Is it a blessing or a
curse that I sense your tasks and labors and adventures have not ended at all?"

"Can we rest for a little while, at least?" Ceera said, her voice sharp with
exasperation despite the sparkle in her eyes.

"Yes, you will rest." The High Scholar looked back and forth between them,
sitting on either side of him at the long table. "I daresay you have earned some happiness
and peace, and I urge you to grasp it while you can. Only half the vision is fulfilled. The
bowl of healing--the sword of strength and protection."

"Swords are only used in war," Mrillis said, nodding. "When will we need to
make the sword?"

"Do not hurry to make the sword, or you will bring war on us too quickly. Do
not hesitate when the time comes," Breylon said softly, "or you may lose your chance to
bring peace. You will know when the time comes. Only be grateful that the time of the
sword is not now."

* * * *

Before the ending of all things worthwhile and strong, there will be three
drops of blood born to the bloody sword.
The daughters shall walk in light and be strong, but the son shall overstep
them.
One shall serve and one abominate and one will triumph.
One will sleep and one shall wait and one shall suffer.
They shall do so forever, and yet even to forever there is an
ending.
The blood drawn from the third shall open the doors and smooth the road
and waken the sleeper.
Protect the strong and vigilant, so that the three drops of blood may
come.
Though you look for the abomination, you will not find her until she has
destroyed innocence. Keep her from the blood drawn from the blood, or all is
lost.

END

Michelle Levigne has been a book addict since kindergarten, starting with Dr.
Seuss and graduating to the
Happy Hollisters
juvenile sleuth series, then an
abridged two-volume set of Rudyard Kipling found in her parents' bookshelf (fell in love
with Mowgli and Kim) before detouring through a flirtation with
Star Trek
in
fifth grade (who is better, Trek's Dr. McCoy or
X-Men
's Dr. McCoy?) before
being captured by the
Black Stallion
like all the other girls in her class. In junior
high, she fell captive to Greco-Roman mythology and found
The Odyssey
after
watching an old Kirk Douglas movie on rainy Sunday afternoon. (And some people still
believe her when she says she read it in the original Greek.) Then in senior high, the
addiction took over her life and she became a pusher--she started
writing
.

The
Zygradon
books, which are original to Uncial Press, have a firm
foundation in the Mary Stewart
Merlin
books (
The Crystal Cave, The
Hollow Hills, The Last Enchantment)
, which she discovered in college. During a
brief flirtation with fanzine publishing, influenced by a friend who wrote
Fantasy
Island
stories (yes, that long ago!), she wrote a
Fantasy Island
episode
where the daughter of King Arthur, awakened from an enchantment, became Mr.
Roarke's ward and came to the island to find Excalibur. When will the descendant of that
story show up in the
Zygradon
books? Be patient. There's a lot of history to
explore and enjoy.

Welcome to the
Zygradon
series, and many thanks to Uncial for
inviting me to join them at the beginning of this adventure.

We're going to have a lot of fun.

To learn about other universes and genres Michelle writes in, visit her Web site:
www.Mlevigne.com.

* * * *

Uncial Press brings you excellent electronic fiction and non-fiction. Put a world
of reading in your pocket.

www.uncialpress.com