Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business Thom & Nura's Story

'lo all...

After quite a period of lurking about in BITS, I've finally decided to take the plunge and post a narrative rather than a picture for a change.

The following tale is a work in progress, and refers to an on-line rpg that I play Thom in. It's based on the Superboy's Legion Elseworlds tale from Davis & Farmer. As such, my tale doesn't fit any established continuity, and may seem a bit odd.

Some points before I post the first bit.
Thom and Nura have been lost in time after a temporal accident involving Waverider in the 30th century. They've been searching for a way home, but haven't had any success yet. Nura is practically the same as she appears in the comics, but my version of Thom is a very serious young man, dedicated to an order on Xanthu called the Star Knights. When younger he was drugged by the Xanthuan government who feared a childhood tantrum could see Thom rip apart the planet with his gravity powers, and Thom still experiences mental and physical deficiencies on account of that childhood trauma. He was starting to work through them with the help of Legionnaire Saturn Girl when the accident took place.

Enough forewording... Lemme know what you think of the first part!



(PS where's the Dream Girl graemlin? )

PART 1 - WANDERINGS

The Metropolis skyline dropped away behind them, gravity surrendering its grip upon the time-lost pair flying slowly away from the coast.

"What now?"

The question drew Thom Kallor back from his vigilant, yet somehow detached survey of the horizon, and he turned his gaze downward to meet the sky-blue eyes of his beautiful passenger, Nura Nal. He sighed, filling his mighty lungs with an unlikely gust of sea air carried from above the calm waters of Hob's Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Ahead, dark thunderclouds marred the horizon, their purplish tint and the haze beneath promising a cruel downpour upon those unlucky enough to be caught in the streets of the Big Apricot in the hours to come.

"There shall be other ways. Perhaps Kara - the Superwoman - knows of other avenues we can investigate. Our recent visit to the SteelWorks may have proved fruitless, but I am sure that your gift shall lead us to the correct path."

Nura sniffed, her perfect nose crinkling with amusement. "Oh? You're leaving all the hard work to me, then?"

Thom stiffened in mortification, unconsciously tightening his grip slightly upon Nura's shapely form, whom he carried protectively in his arms. "Of course not," he stammered, but further protestations were cut short by the gentle press of Nura's lips upon his.

"Silly boy," she breathed a moment later. "How long shall it take you to learn when I'm joking?"

Thom's face, already a-flush with ardour, reddened further in embarrassment. His serious tone drained the possible humour in his reply. "You are the Seer... I would not presume to offer a impose upon your domain."

"Thom." Nura shook her head lightly. "We shall have to find where you buried that sense of humour of yours. But firstly..."

"Yes, m'lady?"

"Could you perhaps hold on just a little less tightly?"

Nura drew in a deep breath as Thom quickly released Nura from his cradled arms, allowing her to float alongside him. The star-borne control over gravity that allowed Thom to propel himself and his paramour skyward held Nura safely yet softly at Thom's side and his calloused hand grasped her delicate one as they flew onward. Below them, the mainland boroughs of Metropolis slowly melted into scattered towns and farmlets that reminded each of their respective homeworlds in ways, yet appeared nothing as they would in the pairs' home time. In that far-distant future, one thousand years away, Metropolis' gleaming skyways and towering arcologies would dominate the countryside where neat roadways now delineated peaceful New England farms and villages. Automobiles rumbled their way between towns that would be serviced by skyborne vehicles, and the air held a sharp, metallic tang that had little to do with the approaching storm, one that would be purged (along with the unsound environmental practices that helped spawn it) in the intervening years. Nura stared with unease at the thunderheads looming on the western horizon, lightning flashes mirrored in eyes that matched the skies to their backs.

"Thom, I know that in your travels, you became accustomed to all manner of conditions," She paused, letting him nod in assent. "But if you get my hair and clothes sopping wet flying through a thunderstorm, we are going to have a problem."

Thom smiled as they continued westward toward the purple and black hued horizon, a small sniff denoting a rare moment of humour, but a chance tilt of his head towards Nura's gravely furrowed brow brought the moment to an sudden end.

"I am really going to have to teach you when I'm joking. But for now, can we please go somewhere sunny?"

Thom's eyes widened with understanding, and the pair swooped abruptly to the left, before cutting a path over the sparkling Atlantic waters to the east.



The charity of a sympathetic café-owner, whose jargon-laden French challenged the normally reliable linguistic abilities of the pairs' translation devices, had garnished them with pastries and frosted glasses of thick iced coffee. The owners' tale of a trip to lands abroad where he found himself in a similar position seemed straightforward, but the dramatic conclusion, seemingly involving the benevolent interruption of a troupe of midget wrestlers left them doubting the capabilities of their translators.

Nura sipped her coffee, savouring a dollop of cream, and gazed out over the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Their flight had taken them across the silent depths of the Atlantic, where both had been surprised to discover a shallow sea sparkling where their Omnicom had informed them that there could be found a stately rainforest. Fascinated by the discrepancy between that before them, and that described in their palm-sized data-store, the pair followed the sandy coast for a time, marvelling at the sights of early 21st century Spain and France, before a the rumbling of Nura's belly suggested a break in the travel. Their landing, in a city they later learned was entitled Nice, proved fortunate both in the views afforded of the sea, and the hospitality of the locals. She licked her lips free of froth and broke the peaceful silence that both had fallen into.

"When I was very small, my mother had a saying. 'Visions are like sunny days; wishing for them makes them come sooner nor faster.'" She took another sip. "But here is the sunny day, and yet," She paused, looking and those frolicking in the morning sun. "No vision to lead us onward."

Thom nodded. "And the kindness of strangers shall not sustain us forever. Time we either contacted Kara, and request the usage of her resources, or attempt some stratagem of our own. A message left for the Legion to discover, or some indication of our presence in this era."

"But that golden fellow - Waverider, his name was, I believe - he spoke of some form of restriction upon travel through time, or at least back to the period that we left. Who knows what could be happening to the Legion in our absence... and whether any message that we leave will reach them after one thousand years?"

Thom pushed his chair back slightly and picked a flake of the golden coating from his largely untouched pastry.

"Considering that a sea of this size could disappear between now and then, any message would have to be substantial to survive the passage of time. Perhaps we should consider something in space?"

Nura waved her hand at Thom dismissively. "Of course you'd say that. Any excuse for a starflight." She smiled. "And what kind of message wouldn't just float away or be sucked into a star?"

Thom blinked. "Or a black hole..."

"Exactly! We should leave a message with Kara and her Justice League, and-" She stopped, noticing Thom's faraway stare. "What are you thinking of?"

Before he could answer, Nura's mouth opened in a surprised circle, and her eyes widened. Thom tensed.

"Waverider!"

"Where?" Thom stood from the table, looking about with narrowed eyes, and casting forth his gravity sense in a search for the distinctive energy pattern of the enigmatic time-traveller. Both had encountered Waverider for the first time only hours previously, according to their point of view, even though the meeting was not due to take place for one thousand years. At the conclusion of that fateful meeting, Thom and Nura had been hurled one thousand years into the past, with no way of returning home. Their comrades, the youthful heroes and heroines of the Legion of Super-Heroes, had presumably been left safely in the year 3003.

Nura took Thom by the hand gently. "Sit down. You'll make a scene. I didn't mean he was here," She waved at the café and beachfront, "I meant he was here," the last was said with a tap at her temple. She smiled impishly. "I had a vision. This time at least I'll be on a level footing with that temporal troublemaker."

Thom sat slowly. "What did you see? Is he coming?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Thom waited, his unspoken query hanging pregnant in the air.

Nura continued, rather than force the question. "He'll be here shortly. You'll have time to finish that pastry."

Thom avoided her reproachful glance at his lean, somewhat gaunt frame, and took a bite of the pastry, emitting a hail of flakes that dusted the surfaces of both their cups. Nura blinked, unperturbed.

"And before Waverider joins us, I believe I shall have just enough time to investigate exactly how I manage to persuade our host to extend his charity to fresh cup of this delicious beverage."

Their eyes met, and for once Thom's embarrassed flush was a mere accompaniment to the smile they both shared.



In retrospect, Thom found one of the most disturbing elements of Waverider's contact with the time-lost Legionnaires not to be the time-traveller himself, or his appearance, or the information he had to impart. It was the people surrounding the meeting, but not their garb, or manner, or even their presence.

It was their eyes.

As Nura had foretold, Waverider appeared shortly afterward, as the noon sun sent the beachgoers fleeing for shade and suntan lotion as their tastes demanded. A dazzling spray of colour preceded his arrival, and the golden-skinned figure of Waverider somehow receded into view, bending the laws of time, perspective, and motion with his arrival. The busy café froze into immobility with his arrival, save for the wary Legionnaires. Waiters stood with delicate plumes of water frozen in arcs toward waiting patrons' glasses, passers-by caught in the simple act of walking seemed to balance precariously on heel or toe, and the rumbling crash of the ocean and chatter of those around was curtailed suddenly, replaced with a sub-audible hum from all directions. And everywhere, the eyes of those nearby were frozen in place, along with their bodies and minds. When Waverider's arrival had caught them with open eyes, or with eyes fully closed, Thom found no fault, but the somnambulistic stare of those who had been caught in mid-blink unnerved him. Their visage suggested a drugged, listless air that Thom recoiled mentally from, remembering the soma in which he soaked in his youth. He dragged his attention back to the conversation, which had become rather confusing.

"You're here to tell us that we any message we leave-"

"-will be erased by the ravages of time."

"And if we try to return to the point we left-"

"-your efforts will end in failure, as there has been erected-"

"A temporal barrier, yes. I think you're about to say that."

"-a temporal barrier, which will prevent your arrival."

"But you're going to say something about Thom, and a time loop of some sort?"

"There is indeed a casual discontinuity centred upon this young
mans' timeline. Events must progress-"

"In order for the loop to be closed. Of course."

The Seer and the Linear Man each paused for a moment, both in full cognisance of the others' knowledge of the entire, as yet unspoken, conversation, yet entrapped by the mundanity of actually having to carry it out. Thom stood at the side, watching the cool battle of wills, until both opened their mouths almost simultaneously.

"I suppose I'd better let you finish," said Nura, atop Waverider's simple "Yes." She sat down, calmly crossed her legs, and sipped at the remnants of her drink. At her nod, and Thom's powerless shrug, Waverider delivered his message. Towards the end, Thom interjected with a polite cough.

"My apologies, but I must speak my mind. It would seem, and pardon my bluntness, rather churlish to visit us only to command that we discontinue our efforts to return home, when it is clear that that task would be a simple for one of your powers." Thom tensed, ready for action, but Waverider's answer was as measured as the rest of his words had been.

"I act not only to direct you from unnecessary disappointment, but work to repair a temporal loop that has exists for some thousand years - the next thousand years. There are many such loops, and my responsibilities require me to seek their closure whenever possible, even should it require my direct intervention rather than a manipulation of 'background' causality."

"Seek not to deflect responsibility to a higher cause, when you're obviously-" Thom paused, as Nura raised a calming hand, alarmed at Thom's rising anger. She knew he possessed levels of blind rage that could prove potentially fatal to those around him; his lapse into contractions was a clear warning sign that his patience was waning.

"He means what he says, Thom. Let's trust him on this one. All he's saying is that we can't go back to when we left, and we can't leave a message. We're not trapped here." She smiled, hoping to mollify the Xanthuan Legionnaire, and was relieved to see he allowed Waverider to continue, albeit apparently under silent protest.

Waverider nodded once, the crackling mane of energy that covered his head throwing motes of light to the air. "All that is required is that certain events take place before your return can be effected. Once these events have come to pass, your return shall be a certainty."

"And how long may these tasks take?" said Thom, although the sudden knot in his stomach, and the image of a weighty tome, and a blade of utter darkness preceding a monolith of the same null shade that rose to haunt his mind anticipated his own unpleasant suspicions.

"They shall take-"

"-as long as they require," interrupted Nura, perfect features creasing with annoyance. "Thanks. We could've worked that out on our own. I think we have everything except the bit about-" She paused, unwilling to enter into another conversational round of precognitive against temporal manipulator.

"You should travel north, into the mountains. There you will find a hidden valley, long overlooked by those in the surrounding territory." Waverider continued for a short period, ending with a curt shared farewell. When he was gone, Nura never realised Thom's relieved sigh has less to do with the Linear Man's departure than the simple fact that those about had returned to regular motion, unaware of the events that had transpired, and, most importantly from Thom's perspective, commenced blinking normally.



-----PART 1 ENDS-----

Very good SB, very good indeed! When will we see more more more of this?

Nice!

Tah all...

I planned to put a finish to the end of Part 2 last night, but returned home to find I had no power.

So... probably after the weekend.

Looking forward to it!

Right here!

Here's the next bit. I've not yet posted this as part of the game that it appears in as I'm not sure about some of the stuff I planned to put in. But it's fine for a (strange) bit of fan-fic; just remember that it's a Knight's Tale rather than a true SF Comic story...

PART 2 - THE VALLEY

"We're not getting anywhere this way. Let's set down somewhere for a moment."

Following Nura's suggestion, Thom coasted earthward, touching ground near a small mountain stream. He lowered Nura gently to the gravel-strewn earth alongside the stream, mindful that she not lose her footing in the treacherous conditions. He knelt to the stream and drank the chilly spring water from his hand, noting the mineral tang apparently shared by both Earthly and Xanthuan mountain waters. With a sigh, he straightened to face Nura.

"I knew we could trust that golden-skinned time bandit little. There is aught in these highlands save sure-footed wildlife and the birth-ice of the lowland waterways." Thom waved his hand across the panorama to the west, where the stream at their feet formed one of the myriad headwaters of a substantial river and valley system that lead into a peaceful republic the Legionnaires had learned was known as France. The view, while spectacular, compared little with the one both had shared only moments earlier from the air, and Thom looked back to Nura unaffected by the panorama. "If people live in these hills, it is on lower ground, or over the watershed to the east." Eastwards lay craggy peaks wreathed with ice and rime, where an aerial survey earlier in the day had revealed skiers enjoying the wintry surrounds, their gaudy cold-weather garb reminding the pair of the of rainbow of colour presented by the uniforms in a group assembly of the entire Legion, one thousand years away. Only the protection afforded by the pairs' form-fitting, transparent bodysuits - known pragmatically in the 30th century as transuits - had allowed their passes over the ski-fields; the air, while well within the environmental limits suggested for transuit use, was dangerously cool at higher altitudes for unprotected ventures.

Nura sniffed her disagreement. "From what Waverider indicated, those who dwell in the valley share more in common with those on our comrade Xao's adopted home of Sorcerer's World than they do with the rest of the denizens of this one." She paused, musing. "He mentioned that some of them were the inhabitants of Sorcerer's World, which I found odd, considering it has not been settled in this time." She shook her head and continued. "I suspect that their home, as well as being well-hidden, would be protected quite efficiently from the elements." Xao Jin, the Legionnaire known as DragonMage, bent reality to his will with his understanding of magical arts; according to Waverider, so too did those in the valley they sought.

"Magic." Thom grunted his disapproval. "Xao may be a reasonable - if sharp-tongued - fellow, but magic... How can you trust to something like-?"

"Magic. Doctors." The tone of Nura's interruption was even, but stern. "Are there any other sections of the community you find fault with? My very sister studies on the same world as Xao, and some would consider my talent quite mystical - shall Seers soon be added to your list of offenders?" Nura smiled to temper her words, but Thom turned away in a cloud of shame and righteous affront.

"Fine. I admit to being merely nervous of magic, as would any sensible sentient. But doctors... You know what they did to me on Xanthu." Thom's hands clenched into fists. "You know what their medicines," he spat out the word, "did to me. If not for Imra-"

Nura cut off Thom's words, moving lightly across the scoria to his side. "I know. I'm sorry." She stroked his arm gently, feeling his repressed shudder of fury. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Of course." He sighed deeply, and his swift return to calm stoicism distressed Nura almost as much as the results of her failed joke had.

"Maybe we should keep looking. It shall be dark soon, and while you can navigate just as easily in the darkness as light using your 'gravity sense', I don't relish the thought of-"

"Of course!" Thom's satisfied interjection was accompanied by a faint smile. "These valley-wizards - however they style themselves - they will still leave evidence of their art upon the weave of space itself. Should their hidden valley be a figment of illusion, their dwellings will still bend space by dint of their very presence, betraying them to one possessed of senses such as mine. If they pass to and fro by means of a dimensional gate of some sort, the gate itself should appear to mine eyes as would a StarGate, or wormhole." He nodded to himself curtly, pleased that a course of action had presented itself. Ever since his earliest years, the same Xanthuan doctors that had sedated Thom to ensure a childish tantrum would not threaten their world had tutored him in stellar astronomy, astrophysics, and unified field theory, saturating him with the knowledge they believed he would require to control his innate gift to manipulate the forces of gravity. They determined at an early age that Thom possessed senses beyond the base five of most sentients, processing sensations that enabled him to visualise not only the universal interplay of light and matter, but the very shadows cast upon reality by the presence of matter itself. Colour and shade gave way to a single hued vista where all matter appeared as both itself and the distortion it caused upon the gentle curve of space-time. Using this inner sense, Thom hoped to pierce the secret of the hidden valley and find the way home spoken of by Waverider.

Nura smiled encouragingly, yet she harboured doubts as to Thom's ability to locate the wizards' valley. She knew, through association with her sorcerous sister Mysa and her tutors, that some enchantments would be capable of clouding even Thom's piercing gravitic senses. Rather than cast a pall over her lovers' rare optimism, she nodded.

"Then let us continue. With resolve such as yours, we shall surely be dining at a wizards' table before sunset."

Thom's brow furrowed slightly at that, but he gathered her into his arms as gently as always, and the world dropped away below them.

Wayne, great to see you contributing! Great story so far, we need more!

Great stuff!

I'll just jump into my Time Bubble and write a slab more last week.

Thanx for the kind words (high praise indeed coming from the Master of Security!); when I get a moment I'll put an end to Part Three and a start to Part Four.

I can't believe this was on Page two!!!

SB, you're fans have to ask, is there more coming soon?

Now that I've got internet access connected at home (just a coupla days ago!)... you can be sure of that.

Soon!

Or rather, now...

PART 3 – THE PRIZE

The sounds of battle drew Thom from detached observation to keen attention. He swung around amidst wisps of ephemeral mountain clouds, his arc a mirror of the curvature of the earth below. Ahead, a snow-capped massif blocked his view, but the mental image presented by his piercing gravitic senses, against which mere matter was transparent, agreed with the sounds funnelled to his ears through clear alpine air by steep-walled valleys to either side of the mountain. The ringing sounds of metal upon metal and piercing cries borne of anger and despair shocked him into immediate action, and he dove steeply along the flank of the looming peak.

For two days, Thom had wandered, aloof and uninvolved in the events carried out far below. His slow meanderings above the European Alps had carried him little distance from the hidden valley and lost love, compared to that which he could have achieved through his comet-spawned talents. The detached, disinterested air that settled upon him returned him spiritually to the darkest days in his life, those after he had left the comfortable womb afforded by membership in the teenaged Amazers of Xanthu, and before he had found relative peace as a member of the Superboy’s Legion of Super-Heroes. In those peripatetic years of itinerant wanderings, Thom had roved the lawless planets of the galactic Rim, helping those in need, unconsciously refining a largely forgotten code of knightly ethics, sustained only by the light of stars and haunting visions of a silver-haired beauty seen only in visions, but never in the flesh. That beauty, her name later revealed as Nura Nal – pre-eminent seer of the mystical world of Naltor, and galactic media darling known with adoration as the Dream Girl – was now as inaccessible to Thom as she had been in that time of wandering, and a wordless sorrow had settled upon his mind. He went without physical nourishment as he had then, the light of the sun and the gravity of Earth nourishing him in body, if not soul.

Streaking groundward, a coruscating halo bloomed about his brow, and even a sharp-eyed observer could be mistaken for thinking she saw a comet plunge to Earth. Not without reason was Thom known as the Starbolt among some of those he had assisted amidst the Rim Worlds, and the dark mood that had gripped him since his departure from Nura was suddenly banished, seared from his mind by the involuntary call to action inspired by the clash of blades. He swooped, as would a steeping falcon, and assessed the chaotic scene below with light-quick reflexes. Two groups of heavily armed warriors contended for supremacy before a gracefully turreted castle. As Thom soared past, the struggle on the castle lawn was displayed with stark simplicity. Dark-clad axemen clashed with foes in bold hues of red – the redshirts had been forced back towards the castle, and struggled to protect the broad stairway leading to the castle doors, not simply because it provided entry to the castle, but also to defend a proudly indignant maiden on the stair. Her dress was piped with gold to match her lustrous hair, and although she raised a hand to her forehead in despair, she seemed more inclined to remain with her charges amidst the fray than flee beyond the safety of the castle’s large oaken doors, currently wide open. As he passed overhead, Thom noted an apparent leader for the black-clad warriors. At their rear strutted a long-necked fellow in a feathered cap, who screamed orders into the fray with venom. Thom executed a tight wingover, selected his mark, and dove.

He landed on the frontline, catching a blade in a hand that could crush rock, and pushed it’s dark-shirted wielder back with contemptuous ease. Fear and confusion twisted his face as he scrabbled away from the stern-faced Xanthuan. The fallen warriors allies threw surprised looks Thom’s way, but were far to slow to prevent his swift seizure of control over the battlefield. With a curt wave of his hand, a wave of gravity hurled the attackers backward and pinned them to the grassy turf. As Thom strode forward through the fallen warriors, he heard the red-clad defenders give voice to angry cries and follow at a run. He quickly reached the formerly cocky leader of the band, who now cowered before the stern faced Legionnaire. Thom raised his hand, and the leader rose in apparent sympathy, as unseen bands of gravity tightened about him at Thom’s urging. The man’s cap fell from his head as he stammered piteously.

“W-w-what d-do you w-want? M-money?”

An almost sub-audible growl rose in Thom’s throat. “I would not take your tainted monies. What did you plan once you had taken this fortress as your own, blackguard?”

The captive faltered in confusion. “Taken it? B-but, this isn’t what it l-looks like! It’s all a mistake!”

Thom leaned forward grimly, ignoring the clamour about him. “Not even close to a creditable excuse, cur.” Thom raised his hand threateningly, but his next words were cut off.

“That will be quite enough, thank-you.” The translated Italian words shattered Thom’s focus on the man before him, and he turned in surprise to face the golden-haired lady of the house.
Her lips were pursed in a mixture of fear and indignation, and she pointed an imperious finger towards the Legionnaire. “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

Thom paused, assessing the situation around him. Warriors from the defending faction helped their earlier foes from the turf, sharing frightened and infuriated looks towards him. He spun about, his face now mirroring the confusion on the gravity-bound prisoner.

“I t-tried to tell you.”

Thom lowered the man to the earth and released his grip as the lady of the castle explained.

“It is but a play. A fancy we prepare for an upcoming Renaissance fair. No-one is in any harm.” She lowered her hands to her hips, staring Thom down. Her voice, clear and true, seemed to ring through the confusion in Thom’s mind, and he relaxed his tense pose.

“A performance?” His eyes swept across those he had hurled to the ground earlier, and their now annoyed features confirmed the lady’s words.
Realising Thom posed no immediate threat, they scowled at him and made a show of brushing stains and grass from their garb. Thom’s supposed allies smirked at their companions state, and the mob broke into smaller clots whose mutters and laughs brought an embarrassed flush to Thom’s face. He looked to the lady. “War for entertainment?”

She smiled in puzzlement, her nose crinkling in a way that somehow seemed familiar to the Xanthuan. “You certainly are a mystifying fellow, stranger. We practice for a fair to be held shortly. Stands will be erected to allow all to see the drama enacted on the very steps of the keep.” An introspective nod gave an inkling to some unknown conclusion, and she continued.. “It seems clear this is all a misunderstanding, and since there has been no harm, I will consider it no foul.” She looked to those gathered about and clapped her hands briskly. “That shall do for today. Make sure that all are gathered early tomorrow, as we have much to prepare. Thank you, everyone.”

She ended with a nod as the gathering dissolved, some of the participants sending sniffs and smirks Thom’s way. He blushed more as they left, and the lady continued.

“You seem ill at ease, sir. Do not the black looks given you distress you overly by those folk; most are actors with dangerously inflated self-opinions, and little other merit to support such a state. None certainly display your knack for swift action, if misguided, and dramatic entrance.” A wry smile preceded her next words. “Actors always hate to be upstaged.” She offered a well-manicured hand, and again Thom was struck by familiarity. “I am the Contessa d’Ardino.”

Thom’s self-imposed knightly manner and the Contessa’s strangely clear voice banished Thom’s confusion, and he took her hand and dipped into a deep bow to one knee. “I am Thom Fryd Kallor of Xanthu, Guardian of the Rim Worlds and member of the Legion of Super-Heroes. I apologise for my churlish behaviour, and the hastiness that lead to my thoughtless interruption of your preparations.”

One of the Contessa’s eyebrows raised at Thom’s introduction. “Rim Worlds? You are a visitor from another world?”

“Another world, and another time. We were brought here to what we consider the past by an accident.”

“We? Be you royalty as well as wandering hero?” She smiled with restraint.

The jest was lost on the Legionnaire. “Royalty? No… Far from it. A companion and I parted recently. She had access to a path home that I could not take advantage of, and until I find a similar way to return, I remain homeless and destitute; about as far from royalty as a man can be.” He sighed.

The Contessa relaxed somewhat. The swift and decisive warrior that had disarmed and cowed a crowd of men only moments earlier stood revelled as a confused young man, barely an adult, who sought only to find a way home. The reassuring manner that Thom would come to appreciate and respect came to the fore, and she laid a gentle hand on his forearm and smiled.

“You are obviously unfamiliar with Italian ‘royalty’.” She looked him seriously in the eye. “I am sure that there is little that could stop you in your search. Just be sure that the things you stop, require such.”

Thom nodded. “I will endeavour to be more careful in my dealings in this time. If there is anything I can do to make restitu-“

“Of course not. As I said, no harm was done, and some of those who were sent tumbling I feel deserved a taste of humility, and those that did not will take no offence at the mistake.”

Another nod. “Then perhaps I should take my leave.” He looked skyward. “I should rest before deciding further what options I have remaining.” He looked skyward.

The Contessa smiled in quiet wonder. “I expect you have a craft of some sort, to travel the stars?” When his brow registered confusion, she continued. “You looked up. Where would you rest if not aboard the vessel that brought you from these Rim Worlds you mentioned?”

“I planned to ascend to a high orbit, and then sleep as the world turned below.” He shrugged. “There is little to disturb my rest out there.”

“Float in space?” Her mouth fell open in surprise. “How will you protect yourself?”
Thom plucked at the transuit that fit snugly over his clothing, catching a fold between his fingers to show the Contessa. “I have an environmental protection suit. And my control over gravity allows he to tow a cloud of breathable atmosphere to surround me should it fail.” Another calm shrug. “I have done this many times before.”

“I shall hear nothing of the sort, young man. The very idea…” She shuddered. “You shall stay here for at least this evening. You look as though you could use a good meal, a bed that consists of more than a wisp of air, a solid roof over your head and earth beneath your feet. To float in the void protected by naught but plastic wrap.” She shook her head with twin distaste and dismay.

Thom raised a hand to object, but the Contessa continued, and he found it impossible to interrupt her words.

“This place has always been a retreat of sorts, for those with… special difficulties. I can see that you shoulder more than your share of burdens, not all of them relating to your current plight.” She stood with hands on hips, her cool gaze daring Thom to disagree.

He breathed slowly. The strange familiarities he saw in her bearing and features and her somehow commanding, yet still serene voice inspired his reply almost more than her words themselves. “Go on.”

“It has always been my family’s cause to assist those with problems that cannot be solved elsewhere. During the Renaissance, we assisted men and women of learning escape the turmoil in the Balkans and Levant to a nearby sanctuary.”
Thom nodded; she obviously had knowledge of the Hidden Valley nearby. He knew not of the places she named, but his recent visit to the Valley lent him enough understanding to allow her to continue unquestioned.

“We gave asylum to individuals who fled the cruelties of the Inquisition, those who fled the atrocities of the Fascists, and more recently, those whose singular aptitudes have made them feel as outcasts… homeless. I think this could be a good place for you, for a time.”

Thom shook his head slowly. “I am not sure what this place is, but I cannot impose upon your hospitality, nor can I tarry overlong-“

She shook her head and his words trailed off. “Signor Kallor. You wear your troubles like a coat for all to see. What if you do find a way to return to your home? What then?

“I will return for my lady, and then travel home.” His tone exhibited bafflement; for him, the course was simple, and he could not see the purpose in the question.

“Of course. And then you will return to guarding these Rim Worlds, or participating in your Foreign Legion of Heroes-“

“Legion of Super-Heroes.”

She waved away the correction. “The exact naming is not the issue. You will return to your Legion, and continue to be a hero? Saving lives and such, I expect?”

Thom shrugged. “I suppose,” he said slowly, wondering where she was leading.

“You think yourself ready to make decisions in a life or death situation, when only minutes ago you hurled aside a crowd of men like skittles, whose only failing was the desire to practice for a period play?”

Thom started to object, but thought better of
it; the Contessa was right. Thom had never been ready for action with the Legion of Super-Heroes. The scars wrought upon his mind and body by the doctors of Xanthu had never healed, for all the work done by Legion Medic Kent Shakespeare, his companion Nura, and Titanian telepath Imra Ardeen. Thom blinked in thought, his brow furrowing as he looked carefully upon the Contessa. Her proud manner and pale tresses, the name d’Ardino and her strange voice of command, all were features that Thom now realised he had found familiar because of the compelling similarity to traits displayed by Imra. Thom looked towards the sweeping butresses of the refined keep recently the backdrop of the actor’s fracas with his inescapable gravitic senses. Humanoid figures moved throughout the structure and in the gardens beyond. The movements of most of the figures seemed conventional from what Thom could discern from shape and density alone, but he found himself wishing that his talents gleaned more visual and aural impressions, for the forms of some of those within he found odd, disturbing. There were figures within with hardened bones, with organs and limbs replaced with machinery, figures with proportions that Thom found routine by 30th Century standards, yet he knew were extremely peculiar by those of the time. A figure whose skull housed a buzzing cloud of energy, another that hovered in place without assistance, one clinging to a wall near the rafters of a high-roofed hall. Thom turned in incredulity to the Contessa.

“What is this place?”

She smiled. “It is as I said. A sanctuary for those who have nowhere else to turn. I offer lodgings, food, security, but most of all, guidance.”

Thom swallowed as the Contessa continued.

“I think you need guidance, Thom.”

He sighed and hung his head slowly, but the Contessa stopped the descent with a gentle finger below his chin. She tilted his head backward until his eyes met hers.

“There is no shame in admission, only repression.” There seemed to be a subtle flash in her icy blue eyes, and she smiled. “But more of these serious words anon. For now,” she motioned with an expansive gesture to encompass the breadth of the elegant castle, ”Welcome to Prizè Manor.”

END OF PART THREE

This is wonderful Wayne! Can't wait to see more soon.

Vee