Date: Wed, 17 Jul 2002 12:20:31 -0700
From: Dan Kirk <kirkjr2@cox.net>
Subject: Mists of Fate: Shapers War 10

Shapers War Chapter 10
Victory & Defeat


"Everything is wonderful Now" - Everclear

When he'd left the ship, J'Stan had focused on going to his son, Tyler.  He
was surprised when he appeared in the Great Hall of his own manor near the
outback instead of the Shaper capital.  What caused the spike of worry in
him though was the fact that the Hall was full of people.

In over five thousand years of life, he'd never gotten used to the sight of
people who had suddenly become refugees.  Now the comfortable room where
he'd held court for the last year was packed with people.  Families from
aged grandparents to newborn babes filled the room.  A quick estimate put
the number near twelve thousand, not even a fourth of the people from the
surrounding villages.

Guards from the border crossing moved among the refugees, distributing food
and water, providing medical attention as needed.  Still, that haunted look
filled their eyes, and J'Stan shuddered.  He had a responsibility for these
people, not just his son.  He plastered a faint smile and a look of
confidence on his face as he moved through the crowd towards the center of
the room.

A faint mental brush confirmed D'vad had arrived in the Shaper capital and
was seeing to matters there.  As J'Stan moved through the crowd here, he
could see the looks on people's faces changed when they saw him.  The
hubbub of noise from thousands of people changed into a murmur as his name
was repeated throughout the crowd.

"Lord Justin!  Thank the Lords, we're saved!"

"See, there's the Lord Justin, he'll fix things.  No more need for crying."

Those and many more comments made their way to his ears.  Around him people
reached out to touch him.  Quick thoughts from him wiped weariness from
them, healed some of the injuries they'd suffered so far.  The feelings in
the room shifted from worry, pain, and tension to something more promising.
With so many people in such tight quarters, the changes in emotions were
palpable to him, and to the other gifted who stood in the middle of the
room.

As people cleared a path for him, he reached the middle of the room and the
people there a lot faster.  A golden blur rushed down the path that had
been cleared when he got close.  J'Stan braced himself and welcomed his son
into his arms.  Between the relaxing of the people in the crowded room, and
having his son in his room, J'Stan himself relaxed quite a bit as he
entered the small circle of gifted in the middle of the room.

"Belson, what the hell's going on?" J'Stan asked the Lord who had been a
good friend over the last year.

"You tell me, Justin," Belson gasped.  He was relaxing a little, but his
face still held a sheen of sweat as he stared up through the skylight.
J'Stan followed the man's gaze to look at a blue-gray mist being held back
by a milky-white barrier.  He lowered his gaze and took in the slight forms
of Barstie and Jasin.  A chuckle rose in him as he realized the two must
have come into their powers during the crisis.

"Too much to explain verbally.  Open up to link with me," J'Stan told the
man, not sure of what the reaction would be to the news he brought.  He
felt Belson opening his mind and sent the memories of the last few hours
through, full and unedited.  He could feel Barstie and Jasin in the link,
receiving the memories as well.  All three of them turned a ghostly white,
and a quick glance upwards showed the barrier being beaten downward.
Strength flowed from J'Stan into the link, strengthening the barrier while
the three were somewhat distracted.

"You're not going to kill us?" Belson said, voice quaking.

"Did you do anything that I think would deserve it?" J'Stan asked quietly.

"I didn't reveal the deception to you..." Belson said softly.

"Irrelevant.  Those directly responsible have been punished.  For now I
just want to save as many people as we can, seal the mists off again, and
then worry about what we're going to do," J'Stan told him.

"Fine.  As senior Lord of the Council, I recognize your authority and
leadership in this crisis, J'Stan of Ackeland.  Will you help us, please?"

"Of course, friend.  Tell me how widespread the mist is," J'Stan told the
man, removing himself from the link as the three of them refocused enough
of their strength to support it.

"Very.  Nearly all the lands in the Southern Alliance have been affected.
Early word was that the Shapers' Republic is being hit hard too.  No word
on Ackeland," Belson said.  It seemed that with the change in emotions from
the crowd, holding the barrier up was proving to be easier.

"How is that possible?  I only know of 3 rifts created by people.  I
thought time travel was banned by everyone, so no more would be created."

"Officially it was, unofficially, well, you're from the old world.  How
many governments in the old world played with massive weapons, worried that
someone else would be?" Belson asked.

"Too many, and now it's coming home to roost," J'Stan said with a sigh.
"How long do you think you can hold this?"

"We were about to break before you showed up.  Now, it seems easier for
some reason."

"The people," Barstie said, his voice distracted.  He was still brand new
to this, what they were doing required most of his concentration.

"They changed their attitude, it helps.  I think two of us can do it now,"
Jasin added.

"Try it," J'Stan ordered.  He felt Belson pull out of the link.  For a
moment the shield wavered, but the two former pages steadied it quickly.
J'Stan let them feel his approval before turning to Belson.

"What about the capital?  The Palace?" J'Stan asked.

"Gone.  We barely got out of there in time with the Palace staff and some
of the people from the city.  I knew that there was only one hole here, but
more by the capital.  I figured that we could make a better stand here,"
Belson said, sitting on the stone floor and resting from the strain of the
last few hours.

"What about the rest of the Lords from the fleet?" was J'Stan's next
question.

"I sent them in teams of two to cover most of the outlying areas," Belson
explained.  "Try to protect as many of the cities as we can."

"Good defensive thinking, but not enough.  It may take a while to repair
all the holes that have been torn open.  We need to consolidate as much as
possible.  I want you to go to the closest area where you sent the other
Lords.  Teleport all the people they've saved here.  When they are safe
here, those Lords will join here and take turns keeping the barrier up,"
J'Stan said, a plan starting to gel in his head.

"So that way we can rotate, people won't get tired," Belson said, nodding.

"We can also have more people in the link, make the shield bigger, hold
more people," J'Stan said.  "I'll back the young men up while you're gone.
At least until we get more gifted here.  I'll also get Kel started on
getting things ready to hold more people."

"Agreed, then.  I'll get started. Should I contact you before transporting
people?  Where should we put `em?" Belson asked.

"How many do you think you can handle at one time?"

"Not more than a thousand or so," Belson answered.

"I'll have Kel cordon off the south end of the hall.  Contact me before the
first batch get sent, and I'll send you the image as it's set up."

"Will do," Belson said as he winked out.

J'Stan turned to Kel, who'd followed him into the center of the room.
Mentally, he told Barstie and Jasin to yell if they ran into trouble.  He
took his chief assistant by the arm and started giving instructions. He
barely noticed the weight of the young boy he held in his left arm, who was
now looking around the room with a big smile, hand resting on J'Stan's
neck.

"Move these people throughout the manor.  Pitch any furniture not
absolutely necessary.  Have the kitchen staff start preparing food, basic
stuff.  Anyone gets hungry, they get food to eat.  Belson is going to be
bringing in more Lords, and more people.  We need to fit as many as
possible in here.  Rope off the south end of the hall for new arrivals.
Also make sure kitchen staff keep one of each type of food stock.  Don't
let them use the last of anything.  It's easier for us to replicate
something if we have a sample in our hands.  Otherwise we'll run out of
food fast."

"What about the injured and sick?" Kel asked, his head nodding and eidetic
memory guaranteeing that J'Stan's instructions were being recorded.

"I'll start healing them now.  When we get more gifted here, we'll assign
some of them to treat the injured."

"Aye, m'lord," Kel said and the man took off, motioning to staff and guards
to converge on him.  J'Stan ascended the dais, one of the few clear spots
in the room.  Moments later, he could see the people in the room shifting a
little as the guards started clearing the south end of the hall.

"People, may I have your attention, please," J'Stan said into the crowd.
His voice boomed, enhanced, so that everyone, no matter where they were in
the manor, could hear him.  Instantly a silence descended on the room, only
the ragged sounds of breathing audible.

"Thank you.  I am sorry that we have found ourselves in the position we are
at the moment.  If it was possible to change the outcome of the recent
battles, I would.  Unfortunately, the mist you see outside is the result of
the gifted trying to change the past.  I will not further risk our planet
by adding to it."

"What is it, m'lord?" a voice hollered.

"The mist?  I don't know.  It is deadly, consuming everything organic,
alive, that it touches.  It hungers for consuming life.  Only the gifted
can hold it back, and only the strongest of us can close the holes through
which it enters our world."

"Who set them off?" another voice shouted

"That doesn't matter now.  The person who did it is dead," J'Stan said,
praying that they'd let it drop.

"For now, we need to focus on our survival," J'Stan continued quickly.
"The gifted can do it, but we need your help.  We are going to consolidate
all the survivors from across the Alliance here.  That way it takes fewer
of the gifted to keep up the shields.  Those gifted that aren't needed to
keep you safe here will either be assigned to helping the injured or palace
staff or will be assigned to work with me."

"What will you be doing, m'lord?" another voice asked.

"Closing the holes that allow the mist into our world." J'Stan told them,
his voice firm.

"What can we do?" the first voice asked.

"Several things.  Help the palace staff and guards. If they ask you to go
somewhere, follow them.  Keep your families together.  If someone is hurt,
make sure staff or guards know.  Above all, keep your confidence up.
Believe it or not, your faith in us helps."

"Aye! We have faith in ya!" a particularly gnarled looking older man
shouted from near the front.  "If you say you're gonna do it, Lord Justin,
we have faith in ya."

"I'm glad to hear that, Jasper," J'Stan laughed, recognizing the
man. "Young Barstie and Jasin over there served me back at the palace and
are doing a great job keeping us safe here right now.  If they can do it by
themselves, with all of you being supportive and confident in them, then
we'll be fine while I work on fixing things.  I see Kel standing over
there, ready to move some of you to other parts of the palace.  Remember,
stay calm, have confidence.  We'll fix things for you.  You have my word on
that."

Cheers filled the room, much to his amazement.  Public speaking was never
J'Stan's strong point, but the feelings of confidence from the crowd buoyed
him.  Strange, in five thousand years he'd never quite been in this type of
situation before, and he was now learning something new about their gifts.
It seemed that a crowd of people could affect the abilities of the gifted
to some extent.

He shook off that train of thought as Tyler took that moment to put his
hand right into J'Stan's mouth.  J'Stan smiled, pretending to eat his son's
hands while he sat down on the chair that occupied the middle of the dais.
The next few minutes passed in quiet happiness for him, the pain of the
last hours, the enormity of the task ahead disappeared while he played with
his son in a few moments of pure innocence.  He barely noticed the smiles
of those people near the dais, and the way that parents would reach towards
their own kids as they saw him playing with Tyler.

He was noticing that the murmur of worry and pain was slowly being leached
from the room, replaced with the laughter of children.  He also noticed
platters of food making their way around the room and some order being
established as people were led out in groups of families.  He also noticed
Tyler's governess had made her way to the stage just as Belson made mental
contact from wherever he was.  J'Stan sent an image of the now-cleared
southern half of the Hall.

Moments later, over a thousand people appeared in the cordoned area.
Belson stood at the back of the group and waited until the guards had led
all the people out of the staging area.  He mentally informed J'Stan that
the Lords at this site had not been as successful in getting people
gathered together.  There would only be a few more trips.  J'Stan
acknowledged the message and gave Kel some attention as the man had set up
an infirmary and was asking for his help in getting some people healed.
Tyler went to play with his nurse for a bit while J'Stan saw to that task.

Nearly half a day later, J'Stan sat in his chair on the dais, a sleeping
Tyler in his lap.  The Hall was crowded again, as was every last nook and
cranny of the manor house.  The influx of more Lords had allowed the
barrier to be pushed back further, revealing the remains of outlying
buildings.  Everything organic had been consumed, but Lords working
together had prepared the newly reclaimed buildings for incoming refugees.

Kel had more than proved his worth over the past day.  The man had
organized, with no preparation, a massive relief and relocation effort for
thousands of refugees.  The latest estimate was eighty thousand people.
Everyone was crammed together, but an upbeat mood seemed to be holding, at
least in the Great Hall.

Surrounding J'Stan were the Lords who had survived.  Most of them had not.
There were barely thirty people sharing the dais with him.  Of the thirty,
four now held the barrier against the mists.  All of them had linked with
J'Stan, long enough to learn of events, and the breaking of the block that
had been placed on him.

"So are we all agreed? If you dissent, speak up now," Belson finished the
discussion.  A murmur of approbation filtered through the Lords standing on
the dais.  A barrier prevented their words from filtering to the crowd
below the dais, but did not prevent the people from seeing them.

"Hearing no dissent, it is official," Belson said after a moment, letting
the sound barrier dissipate, voice ringing throughout the chamber and he
turned to face J'Stan who was still sitting in the chair.  People
throughout the Hall jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"The Council of Lords does hereby acknowledge J'Stan, also known as Justin
Ackeman, as High Lord.  To him do we pledge our allegiance," Belson
continued in a ringing tone.  Simultaneously, all the surviving Lords went
to one knee in homage.

J'Stan rose from his chair, lifting Tyler to his shoulder as he did.  His
free hand motioned the Lords to rise as he scanned the crowd of people.
His name had caused confusion among the people, and he felt it needed
dealing with immediately.

"The past is the past.  Much of what you were told about J'Stan, about me,
was wrong.  Although I was virtually a prisoner of some members of the
Council for the past year, I have come to love this land, and you people,
as much as any I have ever known.  Over the next few days we will be
working to seal the holes opened by the recent conflicts.

"Until we have done so, it is not safe outside the protection being drawn
by members of the Lords Council.  A team of four Lords shall be on duty
around the clock to assist you and make you as comfortable as we possibly
can.  Please, support them in their efforts."

As he finished, old Jasper made his way to the foot of the dais and bowed
low to J'Stan.  A nod from J'Stan encouraged him to walk up the short
flight of steps until he stood even with him.  A thought from J'Stan made
the man's voice carry over the entire Hall.

"M'lord," Jasper began, jumping a little at hearing his voice boom over the
crowd. "I be speaking for most of the people who lived here before the
mists came.  We know you, sir.  One of us overhead the Lords talking to
that Shaper fella when you first got here.  We knew then who you really
were.  Since then, you've done nothing but right by us.  We'll follow you
anywhere."

"Thank you for those words, Jasper.  They mean a lot to me," J'Stan told
the man, clasping his arm in the current form of a handshake.  "Now, I and
ten other Lords are going to meet with our allies in the Shapers' Republic.
From there we will coordinate the closings of the holes.  Twenty Lords will
remain here, making sure you are all protected.  If more help is needed,
they will always be able to get a hold of me.

"I beg of you, while we are away working, support those Lords who remain.
They will need your support.  Kel, my chief assistant, will see to your
needs and all will do their best to end this as soon as possible.  Stay
calm, stay alert, and have faith."  As he finished, J'Stan gave a silent
mental signal and disappeared with his ten selected Lords.

***

Funny how, thousands of years later, the pad for teleporting was the exact
same as he remembered it.  The courtyard was a different matter.  Like his
Great Hall, it was packed with people, refugees from the city outside the
gates, yet it somehow seemed bigger than before.  A quick count left him
thinking that almost ten thousand people could fit in here, and the
platform was now a catapult's throw away from the main doors of the
Shapers' castle.

Above them, a golden dome shimmered, holding back what he knew would be the
same mists outside.  On the wall of the castle in front of them, eight
Shapers stood, obviously the holders of the golden shield.  J'Stan led his
group through the crowd and up the steps to the main entrance of the
castle.  The guard at the door waved them through immediately.

The entrance hall was different than he remembered, larger, more open.  To
his surprise, there were several hundred people inside, all appearing to be
praying.  A servant in livery waved at them and J'Stan followed the man
down a side passage.  Several turns and passageways later, he was let into
a conference room.

D'vad rose from his place at the head of the table and greeted J'Stan with
a hug. J'Stan's party were motioned to take seats at the table, where about
six other Shapers were still sitting.  D'vad escorted J'Stan to the head of
the table, where two seats were waiting for them.

"I've already informed the Shapers' Council of the recent, ah, changes.
How is the Southern Alliance holding up?" D'vad said when they were all
seated.

"Not well," J'Stan said heavily.  "The mists struck us hard.  We've got
about eighty thousand survivors, thirty gifted.  I've brought a third of
our surviving gifted with me. Everyone else has been transported to my
manor house. Easier to defend one location."

"Is that all?" a shocked Shaper down the table whispered.

"Yes, that's all," J'Stan stated flatly.  "Out of nearly sixty million,
less than a hundred thousand survive.  What about you?"

"A little better off, but then we've always had more gifted," the same
Shaper said.

"We've got about eight hundred thousand survivors scattered over twenty
locations.  Teams of six Shapers are defending each one," D'vad explained
in more detail.  "Of course, that is out of several hundred million people.
There are also about 200 Shapers total surviving.  We lost a lot in the
battle, and even more to surprise when the mist appeared."

"So, how many can you spare to seal the holes?" J'Stan asked.

"Forty," D'vad said firmly.

"How many people do you think it will take per hole?" J'Stan mused.

"At least ten.  The last one we sealed a century ago took eight of us.
Each time it seemed to take more and more," the same Shaper said.

"Well, that gives us five teams.  How many holes do we have to seal?"

"Last count between Shaper and Southern Alliance had thirty-three of them,"
D'vad said slowly.

"What about Ackeland?"

"Only two that we know of," D'vad said, a slight grin on his face.

"Why don't we try to get their help, then?" J'Stan asked quietly.

"We don't need their stinking help!" the same Shaper snarled, slapping the
table.

"What is your name?" J'Stan asked coldly.

"K'fel," the man replied.

"K'fel, they are just as much in danger as we are.  If they can help us, it
brings us closer together, improves our chance at succeeding, and maybe can
help end this pointless bickering that led to it happening in the first
place.  What good will not asking for help do?"

"You're just saying that because you are one of them and want to undermine
everything..."

"No!" J'Stan shouted, interrupting the man.  "I haven't been a Guardian for
over five thousand years, and do not even know any of them.  The one I did
know left Earth over a year ago.  I am the High Lord of the Southern
Alliance.  Do not mistake that again."

"Still, what good can they do?" K'fel muttered.

"I seem to remember them doing pretty damn good against us during the
recent fighting.  They are strong, well trained, and capable of providing
good assistance.  You telling me that would not be a help?" J'Stan said
angrily.

"If you insist, but who's going to contact them?" K'fel gave in.

"I will.  D'vad, why don't you pick out the teams while I'm gone, make sure
they are all familiar with how to seal the rift," J'Stan asked his old
friend, then added on a private mental level, `Make sure the teams are
mixed, no all-Shaper or all-Lord teams.  Leave room for Guardians, too.  We
need to get them used to working together.'

`You mean to change things even more while saving the world, eh?' D'vad
responded the same way, his mind voice full of irony.

`Change is the only constant,' J'Stan quoted as he disappeared.

He realized just how true those words were when he reappeared in what was
left of New Phoenix.  Intellectually, he had known that the city had been
razed to the ground thousands of years ago, then rebuilt.  What he saw,
though, bore little resemblance to the New Phoenix he remembered fondly.

It was also a good thing he always kept his defenses up, too.  A splash of
energy hit him in the back as he stared at the concrete buildings
surrounding him, and the reddish dome that had been erected, sometimes
through parts of the buildings.  He turned to the source of the splash and
realized the poor kid was probably just reacting to seeing someone appear
in the green and brown of the Lords Council.

"Calm down, boy," J'Stan told the young man who was attacking him.  The boy
looked exhausted, great circles under his eyes, and the white and brown
uniform he wore was tattered.

"Who are you?" the boy shouted.

"J'Stan," was the simple answer, and J'Stan chose that moment to change his
clothing into the brown and white uniform he'd worn thousands of years.

"But, but..." the boy started to stutter.  J'Stan walked towards him, put
his arm around the boy's shoulder, and started moving him towards the large
building nearby.

"Why don't you take me to whoever is in charge?" J'Stan murmured
softly. The boy just nodded and pointed towards the building they were
already headed for. The streets here were also packed with people who made
room for the two men, but not nearly as packed as either the Shaper or
Alliance havens.  That worried J'Stan, worried him a lot.

The boy was sobbing quietly into J'Stan's shoulder as they walked now.  It
seemed his first impression was right, the kid was no older than Barstie or
Jasin, and the experiences of the last few days must have been overwhelming
for him.  As they reached the largish gray building, J'Stan mentally urged
the boy into sleep and handed him to one of the two Guardians standing at
the entrance.

Neither of the two Guardians recognized him, and he surely didn't recognize
them.  Although the one took the boy, they both were on guard and
challenged him immediately.

"I am J'Stan," he answered their challenge simply.

"Prepare to die, traitor!" the one who was unencumbered shouted, going into
a fighting stance.

"Enough of that," J'Stan snapped, irritated.  A wave of his hand slammed
the Guardian into the wall, cracking it.  The unconscious Guardian slid
down to land in a heap.  J'Stan turned towards the other.  "I'm not here to
fight, or to debate issues right now.  I'm here to talk.  Who's in charge
here?"

"He's inside, sir," the lone Guardian said, putting his burden down to
check on his fallen colleague.

"He should wake up in a moment.  Make sure he keeps his opinions to himself
till I'm ready to leave.  If he still wants to fight then, I'll scatter his
atoms across the stars for him."

"And if he doesn't want to fight?" the Guardian asked.

"Then there's no fight," J'Stan said as he entered the doorway.  The
hallway was lit by torches, giving the building a primitive feel.  He
followed the hallway until he came to a largish room that was filled with
fifteen men sitting around another table.

"You're getting soft in your old age," a man who had his back to J'Stan
said.  The voice was familiar and he placed it after a moment's thought.

"B'rel!" J'Stan shouted with happiness.  The man turned and smiled at
J'Stan.  The smile was strained, but still there.  J'Stan rushed across the
intervening space and embraced his friend.  He could feel the distrust
rolling off of B'rel, and knew he'd have to do something about that.

So he lowered his barriers to B'rel completely, let his old friend in his
mind to read what he would of recent events.  B'rel saw this happening and
reached out with his own mind, sharing what he'd been doing since they last
parted on a mountainside over a year ago.

B'rel had said he was going to explore the universe, but hadn't made it
past Jupiter.  Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd stopped in
the orbit of Europa.  It was as he'd remembered it...almost.  The blue-gray
swirling mist had seemed less...intense, but more hungry.

He was studying that mist, and the holes they poured out of for a while.
He was on the verge of understanding something important when the mists
started swarming.  In moments it was obvious the mists were shrinking,
disappearing.  The pattern of flows indicated they were being pulled back
into the holes, going somewhere awful fast.  He could almost feel something
like glee emanating from it...anticipation of a feast.

Horror had filled B'rel as he realized where the mists might be going.  He
turned and headed home, past the wreck of the Trepidation, moving as fast
as he could.  He made the trip faster than he thought possible, but still
not soon enough.

Over half of Ackeland had been devoured already, and many Guardians lost
early in the struggle.  He'd taken command easily, the Guardians were in
such disarray at that point they would have listened to almost any voice
that sounded confident.  By the time a coordinated defense had been
arranged, most of Ackeland was dead.  New Phoenix housed all the survivors,
a few hundred thousand people and seventy Guardians.

They both finished reviewing each other's memories at the same time.  The
look of horror on B'rel's face told his impression of recent events.
J'Stan looked around him as the names of the men in the room filled his
mind from B'rel's memories.

"I shouldn't have left you two," B'rel whispered.  "This is all my fault.
You both were too soon out of the aegis to think properly.  I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself for our actions, or the actions of other people,"
J'Stan said.  "Instead let's set things as right as we can."

"Agreed on the last part, at least," B'rel said with a slight chuckle.  He
always did like disagreeing with his one-time teacher.

"Ok, how many Guardians do you think are needed to hold New Phoenix?"
J'Stan asked him.

"At least forty total," B'rel said.  "Ten on the shield at one time, and
more to help keep the people calm."

"That many?"  J'Stan said aloud.  "The Shapers seem to be able to do a
better job with less people."

"They have people worshipping them," S'teras, one of the senior Guardians
here said.

"I know," J'Stan said, sighing a little.  It looked like he was about to
lose an argument he had felt very strongly about for a long time.

"The people of Ackeland don't worship us," F'nol, another Guardian, said.

"As well they shouldn't!" B'rel said heatedly, looking to J'Stan, waiting
for the outrage he expected.  They'd always been on the same side in this
issue.

"B'rel, times change," J'Stan said softly, head hanging low.  "There's
something about the people having faith in us, even worshipping us, that
makes us stronger.  Look at the memories I just shared with you.  The
difference made at my manor, the strength flowing into the Shapers from the
people inside their castle praying to them.  I don't like it, but it's
useful...and necessary now.  We need every hand possible to shut the holes
that are letting the mists in."

"Just how do you plan to get the people of Ackeland to bend heads to
Guardians?" B'rel asked sharply.  "We haven't exactly encouraged blind
faith in leaders in this society."

"How else does one start something like this?" J'Stan said.  "The
miraculous return of an icon.  Guess I'll have to do it.  Promise me this,
gentlemen.  When the mists are sealed back up, the worship will end.  It
may be necessary now, but I'm not going to see us worshipped like gods for
all eternity."

"As you order, we will follow," every Guardian in the room, except B'rel,
said as one.  J'Stan didn't know if he liked that or not. Nevertheless, he
needed more gifted if his plan to seal the rifts was going to work, and he
needed the participation of Guardians in this if the successful unification
of the world was to happen afterwards.

Outside, the reddish dome was flickering as the mists outside added more
pressure, trying to get through to the people below.  Many of the people
who had survived so far were looking up at the great dome, wondering how
long the Guardians would be able to keep it up, and what was to happen now.
Despair was growing more and more palpable each passing hour.

It was those people who were looking up that first saw the great, shining
figure appear over the concrete spire of the Guardians' Tower.  Easily five
times the size of a normal man, the mannish figure was dressed in the
ancient style of a Guardian's uniform.  Short blond hair framed a handsome
face, and piercing blue eyes shone as he looked down at the people crowding
the streets of the protected part of the city.

"People of Ackeland, I have returned!"  J'Stan's voice boomed over them.
Those who didn't see him appear now stared up into the sky at him.  Voices
bubbled out of the streets, exclaiming shock, and hope.  They'd been told
that while Adam Morgan had returned, J'Stan had been lost.  This figure
could only be J'Stan!

"The Mists of Fate have been unleashed on us by those who would rather see
us perish than live free.  Those who unleashed the Mists upon us are now
dead, but their handiwork remains.  I have met with the leadership of the
Southern Alliance and the Shapers' Republic.  By ourselves, none of us have
the strength to undo the damage caused by the Mists, to seal them back up.
Only by focusing the abilities of Guardians, Shapers, and Lords together
can our planet be saved."

"But we need your help.  We need your...faith, your support, your prayers.
We have been gifted with the ability to save this planet, but we cannot do
it alone.  We need your help."  A mental nudge of the right person, an
amplification of their voice.

"But how, great one?" a voice from among the crowd called out, heard by
all. "How do we do this?"

"See these Guardians?" J'Stan said, pointing with a hand towards a team of
five Guardians standing below him.  "They are holding this shield above me,
protecting us from the Mists.  Think of them, have confidence in them, send
them your thoughts of support.  Obey any command they give.  That is
enough."

He could feel the change in the attitude of the crowd, and let his form
disappear with a flash.  He didn't like what he'd just done, but it was
necessary.  Now he could take an additional twenty gifted with him.  He
needed them, all of them.

"Mists of Fate?" B'rel asked him when he reappeared in the conference room.

"It sounded suitably ominous, don't you think?" J'Stan said, laughing a
little to try diffusing some of the tension he felt.

"You always had a flair for the dramatic," B'rel responded.  "Now, I've got
the people ready, sixty of us go with you.  Give the word."

"Mister B'rel, the word is given," J'Stan laughed a little, the words
bringing back memories of a happier time, a starship pulling out of orbit
long ago.  Instead though, he focused his mind on the transport pad of the
Shaper castle and led his sixty Guardians there to join the others.

***

"So, we got another twenty Shapers." D'vad told J'Stan a few hours later.
J'Stan was once more back in the robe of a Lord, the golden coronet of High
Lord on his head.  D'vad led the Shapers, B'rel the Guardians, so he took
the Lords.

The three men sat in a small office high in the central tower of the
Shapers' castle.  Huge bay windows had once looked over mountain spires and
distant ocean waters.  Now nothing but a golden shield could be seen,
holding the mists back.

"That lets us get at 13 holes at one time." J'Stan thought aloud.  "These
projections you gave me show thirty holes.  Ok, each team seals two of `em,
and we release all but four to go after the last group.  Sound good?"

"Yes." Both D'vad and B'rel said at the same time.  They'd all be leading
separate teams, so were coordinating strategy now.  The next few minutes
were spent selecting the targets for each team and deciding which four
would handle the last few once the others were done.

"So, we ready?" J'Stan asked his two old friends.

"Yup, time to save the world again," D'vad said with a wry grin on his
face.

 "Is it always like this?" B'rel asked with a half grin.  "I've been a part
of a few `end-of-the-world' situations, but this is my first full-bore
apocalypse."

"Let's see, it's our third when you boil it down.  The Event where we
became what we are today, the cataclysm from J'Stan here and Bjorn
fighting, and now this.  Maybe this time we'll be able to rebuild the world
a little better," D'vad said.

"I've been thinking about that," J'Stan said, a little uneasily.  "When
this is over, we need to set things up so that we remove as many of the
reasons for war as we can.  We've got a chance here to do it.  With all
three of us in leadership roles over the three different ruling groups, we
can combine them.  There's not going to be much left, and we can probably
convince everyone of the need to combine our resources."

"Sounds like what Bjorn tried to do," D'vad said cautiously, eyeing his old
friend closely.

"One major difference, I'm not trying to rule the world.  The gifted can't
be in charge, we need to let the people rule themselves, and have the
gifted act in some type of supporting role."

"Most of these kids won't accept that," B'rel warned.

"We just got to think of a way to sell them on it," J'Stan said shortly.

"And what will you do?" D'vad asked, his eyes intent on J'Stan's.

"Same thing you will, join my love," J'Stan answered quietly.

"No!" B'rel said sharply.  "We need you both."

"Now, yes.  After the holes are sealed, it'll be better if we leave.  Don't
worry, we won't go immediately, just after a century or so.  I seem to
remember that less than a year ago you felt the same, B'rel," J'Stan told
his old student.

"A century, huh?  After Tyler's gone?" D'vad asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, after he's grown and gone," J'Stan said, not wanting to think about
that day.  "Let's go."

Minutes later, the three of them stood before a hundred and thirty of their
fellow gifted.  They had been formed up into their teams, with the various
team leaders standing in front.  J'Stan and his two friends would actually
be leading full teams, becoming eleventh members of each.  Since those
three teams would have an extra person, they were assigned the most
difficult targets to seal.  Nervousness filled the air as J'Stan looked at
the collection of men, and two women, in Shaper blue, Lord browns & greens,
and Guardian browns.

"We have a difficult task ahead of us, my friends," he told them,
extemporizing a speech for the occasion.  "Difficult, but not impossible.
Yesterday many of us faced each other as enemies.  Today we will work side
by side to overcome something that threatens all of us. Work hard, work
steady in the hours to come, and realize the potential we have when we work
together instead of against each other. I am confident in your abilities,
and look forward to seeing all of you when we are done."

No wild cheers met his speech, but some nodding heads and grim smiles made
him feel a little more comfortable.  He separated from D'vad and B'rel to
meet the team he would be leading.  The Shaper who was senior of the team
members bowed his head to J'Stan.

"We are ready to serve, m'lord," the Shaper, S'ton, nearly chanted.

J'Stan looked at him for a moment, suppressing the biting comment that
popped into his head.  The lad was probably a little bit scared.
Hellfires, he was scared himself.  Ok, just a little.  More like stage
fright than actual fear.

"We'll need to be linked, working as a team," J'Stan told the ten people
looking at him.  His group had one of the two female Shapers in it. Oddly,
she reminded him a little of his dead daughter, Erika.

"Not, not permanently?" one of the Guardians stuttered.  Four Guardians,
four Shapers, and two Lords comprised this team.

"Of course not permanently," J'Stan said, keeping from sneering by a hair.
"Open yourself up, and stand ready for my touch."

He could tell as they complied, and he drew each of them into a light
linking.  It was very similar to bonding, but on a lighter level, without
the permanent attachments.  While linked, they could feel each other's
feelings, see some memories, and hear each other's thoughts.  It also made
their combined will stronger.

Once he had all ten of them linked to him, he spun six of them off into a
secondary link, giving Marsha (the female Shaper), control of that
sub-group.  She was the best of the group when it came to shielding.  A
fortunate side effect of the link was that he knew them on a very intimate
level through it, and they knew his reasons for his actions.

The sub-group broke off from the main link, but were still attached to him
through Marsha.  He could feel them, with Marsha acting like a filter in
both directions.  Skillfully, she led her sub-group in forming a shielded
location for J'Stan's group to teleport to.  Through her, he could `see'
the shield forming, and knew when it was safe to jump.

He teleported into the shielded area, not forgetting to bring the four
members of his team with him.  Marsha brought her group in a moment later,
and he was immediately glad she did.  The silver-golden light of her shield
started flaring as soon as the first of them appeared.  Beyond it, the
mists had somehow sensed their arrival and were struggling against the
barrier.

Through the link with Marsha, J'Stan could feel her group struggling to
hold onto the shield.  It was not going well.  This hole they stood near
was the first one, the one through which more of the mist was flowing than
any other.  It was the one he had first made, to save his first loves.  In
moments, it became apparent that Marsha was not going to be able to hold
the shield, much less perform the intricate maneuver required to get closer
to the hole.

The others, through the link, grew agitated as all of this ran through
J'Stan's mind.  He clamped down before they could panic, and spun off one
of the Guardians to Marsha's group.  With the addition of N'than, Marsha
seemed to steady the shield against the agitated onslaught.  Moments later,
her face covered with sweat, she gave J'Stan the mental nod that she was
ready.

With J'Stan in the lead, and the rest of his group and Marsha's sub-group
following tightly together, they moved towards the hole.  In J'Stan's mind,
he could feel the mists growing stronger in their assault on the shield,
and the flow coming out of the hole.  After a few moments, they reached the
edge of the hole, and Marsha began the next phase.

The silver-golden shield rippled inward a little where it brushed the edge
of the hole.  J'Stan could feel Marsha warp the shield so that the mists,
still flowing through the hole, were diverted up and away, while the hole
itself was allowed inside the shield.  Now it was J'Stan's turn.

Combining his will with the three others linked to him, he took up the
mental needle and thread he had used to seal this hole before.  Mentally
set, he grabbed a hold of the edges and set the needle and thread.  With a
loud grunt, he `pushed' against the hole, trying to seal it.

Every time he'd done this in the past, there had been some resistance.  He
had even come close to failing, and on Europa had failed without the help
he had now.  Nothing prepared him for what happened this time though.

A mental scream tore through them all, coming from the hole!  Half the
people in the link collapsed to their knees, uselessly clasping hands over
their ears.  At the same time, the shield diverting the flow of mist from
the hole bulged inwards.  Before J'Stan could do more than look at the
bulging shield, a tendril of mist broke through, shattering droplets of the
silver-golden shield over the group.

Whipping like a snake, a tendril of blue-gray mist shot through the hole,
and focused on Marsha.  A blast of power from J'Stan dissolved the mist
before it could reach her.  She turned her head towards J'Stan and smiled
her thanks, just as another tendril shot through.

This time it dodged J'Stan's blast of power and struck through Marsha's
back.  The smile was still on her face as her eyes widened in shock, and
the link nearly shattered as she was ripped from it.  Her body slid to the
ground as J'Stan blasted the tendril into oblivion and the link stabilized
as he reintegrated her group into the main group.  Moments later the
stability of the link was further shattered when more holes pierced through
the shield.

J'Stan focused his attention on rebuilding the shield.  The weak points
were buttressed before any more tendrils made it through.  The group he led
clustered around him, fear on their faces resonating through the bond.  His
confidence focused and spread through the link, calming his group.

Holding the shield now, J'Stan could feel the Mist outside.  It was not the
same anymore, it was almost alive, hungering for his flesh.  He could
almost taste the malevolence, the hatred, the hunger of it.  There was also
something more there, something more...

The blow that shattered his shield came directly through the hole, and was
so strong that he was blown back into the group of men.  He pushed forward,
off of them, and focused his attention on the portion of the shield in
front of the hole.  His hands were thrust out as he poured power into
reinforcing the shield.

It held.

But while his attention was focused ahead, he missed the small hole made
behind him.  Through that hole a small tendril made its way inside the
shield and focused on him.  J'Stan's first clue was a cry of alarm from
behind.  He spun around in time to see the tendril of Mist reach out
towards him.

Pain! Pain rocked through J'Stan as the tendril hit him.  For the first
time in thousands of years, physical pain struck him.  He could feel the
tendril of mist eating at him. Not just his physical form, but at his
essence, whatever intangible thing it was that made him alive.  His soul
shrieked as it felt the cold fingers of death touching it at last.

It was that feeling of imminent death which rallied J'Stan's last defenses.
Deep within a part of him that refused death, was scared of death, clawed
back against the cold attacker, pushing it back.  His vision cleared, and
he found himself floating in that familiar void.

A faint shimmering of blue-gray light played out in front of him, as he
floated in the void.  It coalesced into a form that made his heart catch in
his throat.  Adam stood there, the fifteen year old raven-haired youth he
first met after his fight with Bjorn had nearly destroyed humanity the
first time.  That gentle smile of his lit his young face up as J'Stan
floated there, heart pounding and tears flowing from his eyes.

"My love," Adam's gentle voice wafted through him. The figure raised his
hand, outstretched for J'Stan.  "It's time.  We're waiting for you.  Come
to us."

Behind Adam appeared two more forms.  Short blond hair capped the beautiful
faces of Jason and Curtis.  They were wearing the cammie pants and green
t-shirts he remembered so well.  They too were smiling, now standing on
either side of Adam, arms outstretched to him.  It was too much.

Pain, misery, tiredness all washed through him.  A groan escaped him as he
took that fateful first step towards the three loves of his life.  It was
time, he was just too damn tired of it all.  Just as he closed the gap, and
his hands were about to touch theirs, a golden blur thrust itself between
them, and small arms wrapped themselves around a startled J'Stan's neck.

"You promised!" Tyler's young voice echoed through the void, pain and
abandonment ringing loudly.  "You promised to stay.  You said you not leave
me!"

"I know, love.  I know.  I'm not going anywhere," J'Stan said to his son.
He caressed the boy's hair, staring at the beckoning faces of his lost
loves. Without thinking, he stepped back, away from the past.

Rage filled all three faces the moment he did.  Their forms wavered and
turned into the blue-gray mist he knew all too well.  The tendrils of mist
roared as they reached out towards him, him and Tyler.  Rage flowed from
him, obliterating the tendrils and the mist floating where his three loves
had appeared.  The void shattered at his shout of pure anger.

His surroundings returned and he found himself back where he had been.
Tyler was still in his arms, whimpering in fear.  The tendril of mist that
had reached him floated to the ground as ash.  It only took a moment to
realize that the shield was still failing, and the link was gone.  He
broadcast a command to the group with him and they all disappeared
simultaneously.

***

Once the hall would have been crowded if all the gifted on Earth had stood
in it.  Now the great table that Shapers had met around for thousands of
years was nearly empty.  Less than eighty men sat there now, and J'Stan was
at the head, with D'vad and B'rel next to him.  Tyler sat in J'Stan's lap,
quietly playing with his father's hand.

The last few days had been hectic. Upon his return to the Shaper castle,
J'Stan had learned that the failure of his team was actually the least
devastating.  Half of the teams they had sent out did not return.  Only
D'vad's and B'rel's teams had suffered less than half casualties.  J'Stan's
team was the only one that had less than three deaths.  To make matters
worse, contact had been lost with three of the enclaves being held by
Shapers, and all the remaining havens were under increasing pressure from
the Mists.

The hunger of the Mists seemed to have grown in size and proportion.  More
of the few surviving havens for humanity were about to fall.  A quick
discussion among the leading survivors of the attempt to seal off the Mists
resulted in the evacuation of all the remaining area to this, the only
location capable of holding over a million people.  The evacuation had been
arduous on all of them, and thousands had died when mistakes were made.

Now the surviving gifted were meeting to find a solution.  Outside this one
room, everywhere they went, people were crowded.  Food was growing more and
more scarce, and the danger of riots was very real.  The mood inside the
room was desperate and growing worse.  J'Stan himself stared at the table,
occasionally reacting to something from his son.  Thousands of years of
experience, of fighting, of striving, and it all came to this.  For now,
all eighty-three surviving gifted were linked together, each holding part
of the shield in place.  A temporary solution while they sought a more
permanent one.

The sound of the doors at the end of the hallway opening broke everyone out
of their reveries.  J'Stan recognized his old chief aide, Kel.  Kel was
flanked by a man and a woman.  The man, J'Stan learned through the link
with the surviving Guardians, was a non-gifted member of the Ackeland
Council.  Its leader in fact.  Through the linked Shapers, J'Stan
recognized the woman as a leading member of the Guilds in the Shapers'
Republic.  Together, the three of them walked along the table in silence
until they stood before J'Stan.  As one, all three went to one knee, heads
bowed.  Kel was the first to look up.

"M'lord," he began gently.  "I know you do not like genuflections, but we
do it out of respect for all you have done in the last few days."

"We would all be dead if not for your leadership," the woman, Jana
Limestal, said.

"We come to beg of you to hear us out," the other man, Hiram Arnass, added.

"I'm more than happy to listen," J'Stan said after a moment, taken aback
for a moment as he realized how he'd excluded the non-gifted.  "I should
have had you here days ago."

"There was little we could have done to help, except to organize our people
and keep them calm while you used your powers to save us," Hiram said, his
voice almost reverent.

"Still..." J'Stan began, then let his voice drop off as Kel looked him in
the eyes.

"M'lord, I like to think that I've come to know you fairly well," Kel said,
continuing when J'Stan nodded.  "Of all the Lords I've known, you are the
one who has taken their duty to the people most seriously.  You truly do
believe that it is your duty to use your powers to help us.

"Over the last day, we've had the chance to talk to various Lords, Shapers,
and Guardians.  We understand that the attempt to seal the holes, the
rifts, failed.  We understand that you have all tried your best, and are
even now looking for a way to end this, and that is where the problems are.

"Why though?  Maybe we don't need to seal the holes, just keep them from
getting in, maybe make the shield bigger so that there's more room for
farming.  So long as you can keep people safe, you will have more time to
find a solution to the Mists."

As Kel finished, J'Stan leaned back, rubbing Tyler's back while he thought.
Tyler chose that moment to jump down and go over to Kel, smiling at the
familiar man.  Kel responded by giving Tyler the hug he looked like he
wanted.

"You expect us to have ten or more of us doing nothing but keep a shield
going?" asked a Guardian further down the table.

"Look at us now, we are holding it fine, and it's not taking all of our
concentration." a Shaper retorted.

"I understand that it helps..um..when we give you our..uh..confidence," Kel
said, hunting for words that wouldn't make J'Stan flinch.

"You mean pray to us," one of the more haughty Shapers made clear.

"We are not GODS!" D'vad shouted, slapping the table.

"But it doesn't change the fact that they are both right," J'Stan said with
a heavy sigh.  "And Bjorn was right as well.  Shapers is a more fitting
term than Guardian or Lord for what we do.  We shape the world around us,
and now our mistakes have come home to roost."

"What are you saying?" B'rel asked.

"It is time we, including me, accept the reality of our situation, and our
responsibilities," J'Stan said, rising and walking over to pick Tyler
up. "We are not going to solve the problem of the Mists in the next few
days.  I think it's going to take years of study.

"We can't expect a million men, women, and children to live cheek to jowl
for that time.  Worse, we can't keep the shield up, or expand it, without
their...prayers.  However it is that it works, it helps us, and makes us
stronger.  Right now we need every edge we can get."

"You mean this?" B'rel asked rhetorically.

"Yes, I do.  But there's even more," J'Stan continued, turning to look at
the people sitting at the table.  "Over the millennia, those of us who are
gifted have more often than not sought to rule over the ungifted.  That
ends now.  We see what that has brought us, just look outside this room.

"From today on, we serve the people.  One thing about Gods that most people
don't think about: When people pray to their God, have faith in their God;
it is the God's responsibility to care for them, to answer those prayers.
A God is only as strong as the faith of his worshippers.  If we are to
assume that role, we assume that responsibility.  We will not tell the
people what to do in their daily lives, we will not make laws for people to
live by.

"We will keep the Mists back," D'vad said, nodding slowly.

"We will make the soil fertile, and provide seed for farming," B'rel added.

"We'll play our role, and let people live their lives without us telling
them what to do," J'Stan finished.  The link let him know there was no need
to call for a vote.

"What do we call this new land, then?" B'rel asked, half whimsically.  All
eyes turned to J'Stan, waiting for him to pick a name.  He looked down into
the eyes of his son and smiled.

"Tylera"