Tempus, p.1
Tempus, page 1
TEMPUS
THE PRIMOGENITOR SAGA
BOOK FOUR
ROBERT M. KERNS
Copyright © 2024 by Robert M. Kerns
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means--electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise--without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any place (terrestrial, exta-solar, extra-dimensional, or other) or person (human, Magi, shifter, fae, sapient undead, or other) is unintended and purely coincidental.
Published by Knightsfall Press
PO Box 280
Mineral Wells, WV 26150
ABOUT THIS BOOK
A final sacrifice. War averted. The world changed forever.
The impending Second Faerie War looms large in Vicki’s and Wyatt’s worries. The shifters are on-side and awaiting the clarion call to act.
The Magi? Not so much…
Then, Miles takes matters into his own hands, and the world will never be the same.
1
The armchair was ancient, much like its owner. Miles wasn’t sure how many times the chair had been restored over the centuries, but he suspected that very little of the original item remained. It was a wingback chair of the type artisans originally made to face fireplaces. The latest restoration saw it upholstered in royal blue with a damask pattern embroidered in gold. To anyone of the modern age, that pattern would bear an eerie similarity to the modern Dara version of a Celtic knot.
The chair occupied pride of place in the sitting room that had hosted his conversation with Wyatt when they discussed the first Faerie War. He wasn’t sure if a child of the modern world would find Avalon as homey and welcoming as he did. All-stone construction. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting everything from his years with Arthur and his family life, to his recollections of the Faerie War. Rugs on the floors were set to break up the lines and monotony of the plain gray.
Miles leaned back in the chair, letting his head rest against the high back. There were days he felt every second of his nearly fifteen-hundred years. A rueful chuckle escaped his control. In truth, there were weeks and months he felt his age and then some. He was proud of his accomplishments and his family… especially his family. He treasured his granddaughter, Maeve, and her grandchildren in turn. Admittedly, he wasn’t quite sure where her son went so wrong. No one he’d ever claim as family would treat a child like that… individual… and his wife had treated Wyatt, and more than once, he had talked himself down from locating them for a chat. It was only because of his respect and love for Maeve that he hadn’t.
A new thought brought a smile to his expression. While he hadn’t spoken to his great-grandson over how he and his wife rejected Wyatt, he had dealt with the organization that dared abduct Vicki. It no longer existed. Doing so required more work and time than he had expected, but in the end, he’d been successful. And he was glad… both that they would never again threaten anyone and that he, himself, had seen to it.
The files on the organization that he’d demanded from Wyatt and his sister were still at Avalon, probably in his map room. He hadn’t looked at them since completing that distasteful task. Yes… he had promised Wyatt and Vicki he’d return them, but with the organization no more, the pressure to do so wasn’t significant. Plus, if the Magi Assembly tried to use it as an excuse to harass Vicki, he in turn would have an excuse to lay down the law once more. He had founded the Magi Assembly more centuries ago than he liked to consider, and the thought of tearing it down bothered him not at all. Especially if they felt they had any right to accost his direct blood descendant.
His eyes moved to the tapestry depicting the Faerie War that he’d commissioned upon his return. Memories surfaced from the deep recesses of his mind, all unbidden. Even all these years later, he still remembered much of that ghastly conflict as if he had returned to his ‘proper’ time, just the other day. And the Faerie had not been complacent across all the long years.
Oh, no.
The Faerie were many things. But complacent was not one of them.
The intervening weeks since he’d first told Wyatt of that ages-old war had changed his mind. He’d told Wyatt that the coming conflict was his and Vicki’s to fight, that he had no interest in revealing himself and participating in a second war. He still had no interest in the world at large knowing him for who he truly was, and the more he had considered it, he wasn’t all that keen on the world at large knowing people like Vicki and Wyatt existed. There were far more humans than Magi or shifters, and he honestly feared for their safety, especially if they revealed themselves as a new global threat emerged. It seemed far too likely that the average person would lump shifters and Magi in with the Faerie and fight to exterminate them all.
No… that would not happen as long as he drew breath.
He pushed himself to stand and strode across the sitting room, giving the bell pull a solid yank as he walked through the door.
His butler or majordomo—or whatever term one wanted to apply to the person who handled all his affairs in the modern world—arrived at his side before Miles had traveled eight feet from the sitting room.
“You rang, sir?”
“Yes, Thomas, thank you. Contact my solicitor, if you please. I need to make some modifications to my estate.”
Thomas nodded once, then gave him a concerned sideways glance. “Of course, sir. Please forgive me for asking, but is everything well?”
Miles smiled softly as he lifted a hand to clasp his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, yes, Thomas… everything is as it should be.”
“Very good, sir. I shall step out to Britain and make that appointment. Do you have any appointments that are not on your schedule?”
“No, lad. I have some research that will keep me in the library until you tell me it’s time to visit the solicitor.”
Thomas nodded once and walked back the way they had come.
Entering the library always filled Miles with a feeling of peace and contentment. At his heart, he was very much the scholar, and he felt his collection was more expansive and inclusive than any other to be found on Earth. Avalon had even expanded the library a number of times as the collection grew.
Standing in the doorway, the room looked like nothing other than a multi-story space that—for the most part—contained only bookcases filled to the brim with tomes, scrolls, and all manner of written works… even including many modern paperbacks and hardcovers. Light, without apparent source, illuminated the library as the door opened, and it would never dim as long as someone occupied the room.
Miles knew his destination long before he arrived, and went straight to the section that held his collection on the Magi arts. He gave into temptation and walked the aisles of his favorite section, running a fingertip along spines both young and old. At last, his purpose asserted itself, and he walked to one specific volume.
Tempus Enchantatem
Looking at it for the first time in uncounted decades—perhaps even centuries—he felt a flutter in the pit of his stomach. He knew the modern, Anglicized world would pronounce the second word of the title with the ‘ch’ sounding like ‘chair,’ but he also knew that the proper pronunciation was to have the ‘ch’ sound like a ‘k.’
For the briefest moment, his hand trembled as he reached for the tome. The knowledge contained within had nearly killed him during his ‘young and dumb’ years—as Wyatt would say—and a part of him still slipped toward fear of it.
Many times, he had considered this course. This tome contained knowledge far more dangerous than anything developed by the modern world. Always before, he had talked himself out of it. But … there were Faerie scouts on Earth. That changed everything.
He tucked Tempus Enchantatem under his arm and went in search of a second tome. Against all academic propriety of its day, this one was originally written in English. Middle English, to be sure, but that was still technically English.
On The Manipulation of Planes and Planar Boundaries
Miles carried both substantial tomes to the work table that dominated the center of the main floor and placed them in a chair. Then he walked to one end of the table and grasped the end of the paper roll mounted to the underside. The roll was wide enough for the paper to cover the tabletop perfectly—no wider—and he pulled it across the table and secured it at the opposite end with an elastic strap.
He retrieved the two tomes—grimoires, in truth—from the chair where they waited and placed them within reach as he sat. He withdrew a stylus and capped ink pot from a drawer at his right hand and settled in to design what would be the last and greatest work of power in his life.
2
The meeting hall used by the Shifter Council resembled an auditorium or theatre or large lecture hall in many ways. Several rows of stadium seating wrapped around a space with a raised portion that held a lectern to be used by whoever held the floor. There were two doors, one that opened onto the raised section and a second at the end of an aisle that neatly bisected the stadium seating.
On the whole, it was a very welcoming space… except when two councilors stood almost nose-to-nose shouting at each other at the top of their lungs, like what was currently happening. One of them was a petite woman who looked barely old enough to drink with the cutest button nose; in truth, she was almost as old as my grandparents and was one of the more powerful shifters on the Council hands-down. If I interpreted my senses right, she was some kind of bird
The other shouter was a stout fellow, not much taller than the lady. He fairly reeked of bear shifter, and I thought he was maybe a Kodiak or perhaps a grizzly. Except Hank—the proprietor of the general store back in Precious—was a grizzly shifter, and this guy didn’t smell anything like him.
I leaned close to Lyssa and pitched my voice just enough for her to hear. “Do I really need to be here for this?”
“Yes, Wyatt.” Lyssa’s voice wasn’t quite an exasperated sigh, but it was close. “You know very well that this is the designated day for councilors or alphas to bring matters to you for adjudication or judgment as Consul.”
I fought the urge to purse my lips in full view of the Shifter Council. “Yes, I know that… but doesn’t that mean they’re supposed to… oh, I don’t know… let me actually speak? They’ve been shouting at each other for the better part of twenty minutes, and I’m not all that certain I even remember what they’re shouting about.”
“You’re not alone,” Karleen opined from my right, her voice almost a growl. “I’m getting really tired of this. They either need to fight this out or shut the hell up.”
Yeah… Karleen had always been a bit on the direct side of conflict resolution… but… she wasn’t wrong. I stood from my seat and took a couple steps, clapping my hands to get their attention.
The shouting match continued unabated.
Right, then. I put two fingers in my mouth and cut loose with the shrillest, loudest whistle I could manage.
No joy.
Fine. I was so fed up that I didn’t even bat an eye as I touched that part of my mind that was no longer human. An explosion of fabric and scraps of my shoes heralded the arrival of my thousand-pound furry self, and my full-throated roar rattled the windows.
Oddly enough, that got through to them.
I shifted back to human and glared at the two councilors. “Look… if I have to throw one of you out of here to get the other’s side of your disagreement, I am happy to do that. And at this point, I’m not all that certain I’ll throw you out the door. One of you is going to tell me your side of this while the other is silent and respectful, and then, the other can speak while the first is silent and respectful. If either one of you raises your voice in this hall again, I will shred you both and let your inheritors settle whatever this is. Do you understand?”
Both of the shouters nodded, meek as church mice, as Gabrielle dropped a duffle at my feet. I’m not sure what it said about my opinion of the Shifter Council that I figured I’d have to shift a couple times and be too pissed off to remove my clothes first. I opened the duffle and retrieved one of the five sets of clothes, then got dressed. I returned to my seat, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck to try to get rid of some of the tension, before I nodded once.
“Okay. One of you, start talking.”
The woman took a step forward. “Consul, I—”
The supposed bear shifter didn’t seem to appreciate her taking the lead, and he reached out as if he meant to grab her shoulder as a glower darkened his expression. When his hand was still almost a full foot from the woman’s shoulder, I shot to my feet and matched his glower with a glare of my own.
“Stop right there. If you even brush a fingertip against her shoulder, I will rip off that arm and shove it up your ass. Since you’ve proven you’re incapable of following instructions, you have one chance to walk out under your own power before you end up on the sidewalk outside with shards of glass in your face. I will summon you when I’m ready.”
I watched him clench his jaw and waited. There was no doubt in my mind I’d end up with his blood on my claws in the next five minutes… heh… maybe the next five seconds.
But he surprised me.
With a growl, he pivoted on his heel and stomped to the door between the stadium seating. At least he was smart enough to not slam it as he left.
I returned to my seat and met the woman’s eyes. “Please, forgive me for interrupting you. Continue.”
“Well, sir… it’s as I was saying. That man’s brute of a son cornered my daughter and beat her bloody. Even with shifter healing and all the food she needed or wanted, it took her five days before she felt steady enough to leave her bed. Before, I would’ve handled this myself… but doing so would’ve started a feud at best, as my friends and allies side with me, and his friends and allies side with him. It wouldn’t be the first time a war broke out within shifter society over something like this. Goodness knows, we’ve gone to war with each other over far less.”
I nodded. Something that still baffled me was the general pugnaciousness of shifters as a whole. Even I seemed far too ready to settle matters with violence, and I didn’t like that. “How old is your daughter?”
“She’s nineteen.”
“Do you know how old the son is?”
“Not for certain, but somewhere around twenty-five… I think.”
So, still inside the ‘young and stupid’ years, then. I fought the urge to scoff. I was afraid I knew exactly what was at the root of this, and I didn’t like it. It was so damned tempting to just decide I knew what happened… but… I couldn’t do that. Besides, it wasn’t right. Just because I liked women and felt an almost-overwhelming urge to protect them didn’t mean I should automatically side with the daughter. There was always the chance that she’d started something she didn’t want to finish. I felt that chance was very, very slim, but it wouldn’t be fair to deny the possibility.
“Is your daughter here? Can I hear her side of this straight from her?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, she’s waiting in my office.”
“Would you mind getting her, please? Oh… and you might want to use this door behind me.”
An embarrassed smile flashed across her expression as she nodded and complied with my request.
I turned to Karleen. “Would you mind stepping outside and making sure the idiot knows I’ll want to hear from his son, please? Not right now… it’s still her turn, but I don’t want to wait for him to track down the boy.”
Karleen nodded and pushed herself to her feet. “You’re just sending me because there’s no chance he could take me, bear or not.”
I chuckled. “You’re not wrong, sweetheart. I would rip off his head and spit down his throat if he even scratched Gabrielle or Lyssa. Well, I’d do the same if he scratched you, but I figure I’d have to get in line.”
“Damn right, you would… and you’re assuming I’d leave him alive for you in the first place.”
She gave me a parting smirk and wink before she sauntered across the room and through the door the man had used. I closed my eyes and focused on my hearing, but I didn’t hear anything that sounded like a fight or raised voices. I hoped he’d taken the time to cool off. Whether or not his son was in the wrong, his conduct thus far was no way to act, councilor or not. Karleen soon stepped back through the door and returned to her seat.
“Everything go okay?”
She nodded. “I’m no Smilodon, but no one in their right mind starts a fight with me. Besides, he’s cooled off a lot. He said a couple things that made me think he might be siding with the woman, now that he’s had time to think it over.”
“That’s… interesting. Kinda makes a person think there’s more than a grain of truth to the daughter’s story, which is good. I’m sorry the daughter had to survive what she apparently has, but I don’t like people lying to get others in trouble. That just pisses me off right down to the ground.”
A short time later, the woman returned with her daughter, and she wasn’t more than halfway to the edge of the tiered seating when the far door opened, and the man led a younger man, who could only be his son, into the room. I watched the girl tense and look away, and I was about two heartbeats from shifting hybrid and getting my claws bloody when the man raised his hands in the classic ‘surrender’ gesture.
“Please, Consul, forgive me. I know I was to wait until your summons, but my son has something to say with both your permission and your supervision.”
