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27: The Prince
"He's alive..." Garen's world had just been sent reeling again when he had, only moments ago, seen a friend he had thought long dead. As he flew the scout ship out to where Deuel, Frakken, and the other young man were waiting for them, he couldn't help but wonder, "How...?"
"Are we there yet?" Constance's sleepy voice interrupted his train of thought. "And where's Deuel?"
"We've finally met up with his friends. He's with them, waiting for us." Garen replied over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the dark terrain and the glowing instruments in front of him. "And yes, we're almost there."
Dara slipped into the co-pilot's seat. Leaning closer to him, she said in a low voice, so as not to alert her daughter, "Garen, you seem... odd. Did something happen out there?"
Without changing the expression on his face he nodded just the slightest bit.
"What was it?" Dara persisted.
"I don't really want to talk about it." he replied. "Just need some time to sort it out."
"Oh..." Dara pulled away from him, feeling a bit snubbed, but realizing that he just needed some space, "Alright."
Without another word she returned to her seat beside her daughter.
As soon as she sat down, Constance leaned over to her mother and asked in a whisper, "Is he okay?"
"No, neshamah sheli... But he will be." she patted her daughter's knee.
The girl shrugged, not letting such adult concerns cloud her still-innocent world.
The inside of the ship remained silent from that point until they reached a clearing where, to Constance's delight, they landed.
Garen popped the ship's canopy.
Constance was the first one out of the ship, followed by Dara, then, finally, by Garen.
They were all where Garen had left them: Frakken – somehow miraculously here – was still sitting on the log Krenshaw had helped him down onto; Deuel had reappeared and was standing near the other young man, "Masterson" Wolf had called him. He looked somehow familiar and his surname "Turov" somehow didn't fit him.
Suddenly another memory leapt to the forefront of the lieutenant's mind, sending him into momentary, numbed silence:
"Majesty! No! Do not do this!" young Garen Krenshaw shouted to his queen as she turned to go.
"Do not fear for me." Talonka called back, "I will be alright in the end."
Garen watched in horror as his sovereign walked away and into the Bolar command center, surrounded by a dozen of the pasty-skinned enemy soldiers.
As the enemy's leader had promised, Garen was allowed to leave safely, along with Wolf, Dommel, and the handful of others who hadn't yet been slaughtered by the Bolars.
Soon, they were all transported to Admiral Talan's ship –
There Garen's memory came to a dead halt. "You!" he pointed animatedly at Masterson, then looked at Wolf and exclaimed, "Can't you see it?!"
"See what, Garen?" Frakken sighed. "It's rather dark out he –"
"The Admiral!" Garen insisted. "You've been staring at this one's face for who knows how long and you haven't seen it?!"
Dara and Constance stood back from the exchange, not understanding anything that was going on.
Desslok was ill at ease with the topic now being discussed, but he gave nothing away, carefully keeping his face utterly blank.
Masterson did the same, though it was clear to the prince that Talan was also uncomfortable with the sudden discussion.
"Seen what?!" Frakken asked more insistently, hoping Garen would take the hint and actually elaborate.
Instead of answering Wolf's question, Garen marched straight up to Masterson, looked him in the eye and asked, "Who are you really, Masterson Turov?"
There was a long silence, Desslok, Wolf, Dara and Constance watching the exchange with various levels of discomfort.
When Masterson didn't answer, Garen continued in a less aggressive tone, "Your face... you... remind me of a dear friend of mine... His name is... Raymond –"
"Talan." Masterson finished.
"Yes." Garen replied strangely. "That's right."
Suddenly, from his log, Wolf said, "Krenshaw, please tell me I'm not seeing this."
"You're his son." Garen stated. "He never told us your name, but you've inherited his face."
"Great..." Wolf sighed, "Just great... I'll never live this one down."
"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Dara suddenly interrupted the moment, her arms folded across her chest and her face just a bit less than stern.
Masterson sighed, then, smiling just the slightest bit, he turned to Dara, "Your traveling companion is... correct." he began, "I am the son of Admiral Raymond Talan."
"Admiral Talan... The one who sent you that message?" Dara asked Garen.
Krenshaw nodded, his face suddenly looking sad again.
"My father," Masterson continued, "was at Rea Atid. He rescued the survivors of the massacre on Jirel that day."
"That day the world ended..." Garen whispered and Wolf made a sound of wordless agreement.
"I... kept my name a secret," Talan said, "until I could determine true character and trustworthiness of the ones whose company I was in."
"I can't say I blame you." Frakken interjected. "But what does that mean for us now? Why is Raymond Talan's son wandering around in the wilderness?" Wolf snorted, "And who is he?!" he pointed at Desslok. "Because I just don't believe that he's some random person you met up with along the way and decided to bring along. Your father would have taught you better than that."
The clearing was quiet except for some crickets chirping.
The silence grew more and more awkward until Constance piped up, "So where's the prince you were talking about, Deuel?"
All eyes shot to the little girl, standing innocently with her hands clasped behind her back, smiling at the two young men and three adults who seemed to have almost forgotten she was there. Then all but Masterson's eyes turned to look at Desslok.
"Perhaps... we had better get back to the camp before we talk about... that particular subject." Masterson offered.
After about five silent seconds, Wolf said, "You know what? I think I've had about enough excitement for now. I agree with Tur – Talan on this. Let's just get back to camp. We can talk about... whatever else is going on here when we get back."
"Very well." Garen nodded reluctantly. "Dara," Krenshaw looked over at the woman, "go ahead and get back in." he looked at the girl, "and take Connie with you."
"Alright..." Dara looked at Garen oddly but did as he asked.
Once the mother and daughter were out of earshot, Garen left Masterson and Desslok to help Wolf up off of his perch, and while he did so he whispered to Frakken, "What in the universe is going on here? Don't tell me you've never suspected anything about those two."
"I have." Frakken admitted, "But it never seemed important enough to challenge them. They proved long ago that they were on our side. That was all that mattered at the time."
"Well, it's not all that matters to me."Garen hissed, "We all know that no one is beyond suspicion – not even our own family."
"Snap out of it, Krenshaw!" Frakken hissed back, "You've let that day shape every part of your life. Just stop!"
The words hit Krenshaw like well-aimed bricks. Frakken was right; Rea Atid had wounded him more deeply than he could ever express to anyone – even to those who had been right there beside him. Something deep within him had snapped that day, and he had never really recovered from it.
"She died like a lamb on that bloody altar in the Temple in Rapha'owr..."
"Garen, stop it." Wolf demanded.
"She gave up her life for someone who didn't even know what was happeni – "
"Garen!" Wolf socked Krenshaw in the jaw, sending the lieutenant to the ground and Wolf into the dirt too, his bad knee unable to support him without Garen's help.
Masterson and Desslok watched the exchange escalate, but they knew better than to interfere. Even when the two old friends hit the ground, they didn't divert from their path back to the ship, instead, they took their seats as pilot and copilot and simply watched as the strange confrontation went on.
Garen got up out of the dirt, the familiar spooked look spread across his face again.
"Garen, don't do this again." Wolf petitioned. "Don't go back to that. It wasn't your fault or anyone else's except that cursed shêd-wielder."
The lieutenant fell back down onto his knees. Clutching this head with both hands, he tried hard to escape the memories that came flooding back in. But the harder he tried, the more they intruded.
"Come back to reality, Krenshaw!" Frakken snapped. "Reliving it will only make you die over and over again. You've got to let this go once and for all."
"I know..." said Garen in a hoarse whisper, "But I... just... can't." he moaned with inner pain, "I can't stop remembering..."
For a minute the only sound was Garen's bewailment of the past. Then, suddenly, Frakken began to speak.
"I swear and commit to maintain allegiance to the the sovereign nation of Gamilon, its laws, and its authorities, to accept upon myself unconditionally the discipline of the Gamilon Royal Navy, to obey all the orders and instructions given by authorized commanders,"
Suddenly, Garen's moaning subsided and he joined Wolf in finishing the oath they all had taken upon joining the GRN.
"and to devote all my energies, and even sacrifice my life, for the protection of the homeland and the liberty of my people.*"
With this, Krenshaw took a deep, steadying breath and, now back in the present, he hauled himself up off the ground. With a thankful glance, he helped Wolf back up as well and the two wordlessly walked to the ship and got in, renewed by the memory of the promise they and many others had made so many years ago.
It wasn't long before they set down very near the shack where Dommel, David, Zimring, Elisa, Deror and Juji were waiting.
The group exited in silence, Desslok turning the ship's cloaking field on once they were all out.
Without a word, they all walked into the shack.
"Turov! Deuel!" David Lysis exclaimed upon seeing them all come in. "Who've you got with you now?" the young man raised as eyebrow at Krenshaw, Dara, and especially Constance, "And what happened to you, Wolf?"
"Just a bit of a scuffle with the one who was tracking us." Wolf said, not bothering to explain. "And his name isn't 'Turov.'" he indicated Masterson with a tilt of his head. "Where are Dommel and Zimring? And Elisa?"
Just then the three in question came through the back door of the shack holding lanterns aloft to see by.
The shack was suitably lit, though not as bright as Wolf would have preferred for the conversation he was about to dive into with his brothers-in-law, sister, and Zimring.
"Well, that's no surprise." David rolled his eyes. "I thought that was a given."
Wolf narrowed his eyes at David, rather unhappy with the answer the younger man had given him.
"What was 'a given'?" Dommel asked.
"That 'Turov' isn't Masterson's real name." David replied.
"Oh." Dommel said, "Yes, Wolf, I thought you'd accepted that fact along with the rest of us – at least for the time being."
"It's 'Talan.'" Wolf stated, his words sending the entire room into silence.
Dommel in particular began to carefully study Masterson's face. Suddenly, something in his face lit up. "So it is." he said, seeming much happier than Garen or Wolf had been. "It seems your father has taught you well. I never suspected for a moment."
Masterson looked somewhat relieved that at least one person wasn't angry with him at the moment.
"Your father's a good man." Zimring suddenly appeared, "Worked with him on a few missions here and there in years passed." the hermit put in. "Seems ta' me though you've chosen some pretty odd company." he said, glancing at Desslok.
At this, Masterson almost laughed. The irony of it all was escalating with every turn in this continuing conversation.
"I'm just glad I didn't have to go out and find out myself who you really are." Elisa said. "I told you I would find out. And now I have."
Masterson nodded to her. "So you did."
It was this moment that Juji chose to run, squawking like a mad goose, through the main room of the shack, chasing something no one could see. And just as quickly as he'd come, the bird disappeared again.
The room was silent for a moment as the random event registered in everyone's minds, then a hearty chorus of laughter broke out, lasting almost half a minute and breaking the tension, at least until Constance spoke up.
"So where's the prince?" she asked again, sending the room into another, deeper silence.
Everyone looked at each other, not sure of what to say to the girl.
Then, finally, Desslok sighed heavily, knowing that this was finally the time to do this.
"I am the prince." the heir-apparent declared. "I am Desslok, Deun's younger brother, and the true heir to the throne of Gamilon."
Most of the ones in the room looked at Desslok, stunned.
Zimring harrumphed and challenged, "Ya gotta love it – one of 'em's Raymond Talan's son, and now the other one's claimin' to be a prince." the hermit stared defiantly at Desslok, "What proof do you have?"
The prince looked at the hermit, annoyed, took the lantern the older man was holding and held it up so that all could see where his dyed-brown hair was beginning to show lighter roots.
Zimring scoffed, "That's nothin'. Colored hair's not much to offer us. I meant real proof."
The prince stood motionless for a moment, then without a word he handed the lantern to Masterson. The young man held the light source out, knowing what was coming next.
The prince slowly removed, first, his right glove – which he summarily handed to Masterson – and then his left. As soon as the second glove was off, a collective gasped spread around the room. The only two who didn't look surprised were Masterson and Constance.
Almost immediately Dommel, Garen and Wolf fell to their knees before the young man they come to know as "Deuel."
"Sire..." Zimring bowed his head in obeisance, then dropped to his knees as well, "Forgive me."
David, not really understanding the significance of what had just happened, followed the example of his brother and friends.
Only Constance, Dara, and Masterson were left standing before Desslok now.
"I... don't understand..." Dara said slowly, "Is that a scar of some sort?"
"No..." Garen answered. "He bears the same mark that... the Queen once did. This is her son."
Dara smiled, finally comprehending, and kneeling with the rest of the adults.
Constance, on the other hand, not adhering to proper adult political behaviors yet, walked over to Desslok and reached out her hand to touch the marking – just as she had done the night the prince had discovered Zimring's burned out cabin.
"I kinda thought you were the prince." the little girl said, looking up at Desslok, "So how're you gonna get your planet back?"
Struck by her candor, every adult in the room suddenly realized that this eleven-year-old had just asked the next logical question.
Desslok, unphased by the girl this time replied with confidence, "With help – yours," he looked at Constance, then out to the rest of the group, "and yours, and the help of anyone else who will join me in overthrowing my brother and taking back what he's stolen from me and from every one of you. He's taken my throne – but he's taken your freedom as well. He's silenced the entire planet; he's doomed out sister-world to death –"
At this, a tumult of righteous indignation arose from the group and Masterson looked at the prince, a horrified expression on his face.
"Yes, 'to death.'" the prince repeated, "He's released a virus on them that will kill them all unless we do something to stop it. And he's taken down all communication channels on Gamilon."
"He can't do that." Zimring protested.
"But he has." Desslok hissed, "And he won't stop doing whatever he thinks he must in order to obtain the power he's always wanted..." the prince took a breath before saying the cursed name, "the power of the Malha Guardiana and her spirit."
"But the Malha is dead." Dommel protested as they all finally rose to their feet.
"All the better for him." Desslok replied, "If the Malha is indeed dead, then the Spirit of Guardiana will seek out a new host. The line of Aurelia Guardiana was broken when... my mother chose not to claim that power as her own."
"Then who is to be the next Malha? Frakken asked.
"That, I do not know." Desslok replied, "But rest assured, it will be someone that shêd thinks it can manipulate. And, in keeping with its promise to the first Malha, it will seek out a suitable young woman to enslave."
"How did you come to know of the first Malha, Sire?" Elisa asked curiously.
"Through... a friend." Desslok replied vaguely.
"A well-informed friend." Dommel added, "No one I've ever heard of has been able to uncover that ancient tale. Only the Malha and her descendants were ever entrusted with that knowledge."
"Obviously your information is outdated." the prince quipped, leaving the group to wonder how he had come across such a valuable secret.
Desslok let them wonder.
"But," the prince changed the subject, "Getting back to the crisis at hand, we need an army. It needn't be large, but it must be solid." he looked at each of his group in turn, seeing in their faces the courageous hearts he had hoped to see. "We've a lot of work to do and a limited time in which to do it. Our army is spread throughout this wilderness. Let us gather them."
A chorus of hearty agreement warmed the small shack, kindling the new flame of revolution.
* The oath IDF soldiers take today when they join the Israeli Defense Force. The actual oath reads: "I swear and commit to maintain allegiance to the State of Israel, its laws, and its authorities, to accept upon myself unconditionally the discipline of the Israel Defense Forces, to obey all the orders and instructions given by authorized commanders, and to devote all my energies, and even sacrifice my life, for the protection of the homeland and the liberty of Israel."
It was originally written in 1948, upon the formation of the IDF and the establishment of the independent nation of Israel; this modified form is a reflection of that spirit of unity.