The stars

Why change

After walking for no more than five minutes, the woodland opens out into a clearing and Mandalee declares that they have arrived.

Releasing her hold on Daelen’s arm, she at last removes her mask so he can see her face. A face that appears about ten years older than when he last saw her an hour ago.

“You're from the future!” Daelen realises. “You're a future M–.” He catches himself. “A future version of the woman I know.”

Mandalee pulls a face.

“That is a very crude description, Daelen. The reality has to do with the true nature of Time and its relative spatial dimensions, but I can't tell you about that.”

“Why not?”

“You're not ready for it. Your entire home plane of existence isn’t ready for it yet.”

“Are you really so advanced in your time?” Daelen breathes in awe, trying to imagine a future where the knowledge of mere mortals might surpass that of his people. It’s hard for him to imagine how such a thing is possible.

“Yes,” Mandalee agrees, “as a matter of fact, we are. In some ways, at least.”

“If you are so advanced, how come you need help from someone as primitive and backward as me?”

“Now, now, Daelen. Be nice,” Mandalee chides him gently. “Sorry,” Daelen apologises. “That was uncalled for, wasn't it?” “Yes, actually, it was. To answer the essence of your question,

though...well, for now, let's just say the danger we face is unique to your own experience. Will you help us?”

Daelen gazes around the clearing in which he is standing. It surely reminds him of Catriona’s Meadow, except he knows it’s entirely the wrong world for that. He feels there’s something else about it, something strange – it’s been nagging him since he first entered, but he can’t put his finger on what it is. That’s making him irritable and stubborn.

“In case you've forgotten your history, I'm in the middle of something important right now.”

“Not from my perspective, you're not,” Mandalee counters. “Look, if you help us and we succeed, I shall return you but a moment after we left, and you can get back to fighting Kullos. It won't affect you in any way.”

“And if we fail?” Daelen asks, fearing the answer he knows is coming.

“If we fail, my friend, nothing you do here will matter.”

“It doesn't seem like I have much choice,” the shadow warrior grumbles.

“Of course you have a choice,” Mandalee counters. “But within the parameters of who you are, I agree – there’s no other you could make.”

“You've changed,” Daelen observes.

The assassin shrugs. “Happens to the best of us, dear.”

He couldn't have failed to notice how evasive she is, and there’s a casual flippancy in her voice that the Mandalee he knows would never have used. The Mandalee he knows is a throw-caution-to-the-wind young woman who often uses ‘get very drunk, armed to the teeth and go for it’ as the way to catch her mark. What Daelen doesn’t know is that for so long, she has been the White Guardian, not the White Assassin and that has led her to adapt.

Living outside Time, she has aged no more than ten years in the traditional sense, due to accumulated days within the Timestream. Even so, one day, a few years ago, when I asked her how she was truly feeling, she admitted to me, “I feel old.”

As an immortal, gentle reader, I am beginning to understand what she meant.

After she has assisted me with this Illegal Time Intervention, she has vowed to resign from the Guardianship, both in protest at the others’ refusal to act and, as she put it, “Because it’s time,” which is a strange concept for one who lives outside Time, but I could see the sense of it.

Take it from one who knows: Timelessness is wearying.

If all goes well, Mandalee will return to the timestream to live out the rest of her natural human life. It is my hope and my prayer that she will recapture her youth and rejoin the hunt. When I project that possible future, the early signs are promising. Her feline friend Shyleen's coat seems to already have a new glossy golden sheen to it, as well.

Yes, no doubt her resignation is the best thing for her, even though I know it means I will lose her as I have lost everyone else.

As I have said, I am not merely Timeless; I am immortal. I just wonder, gentle reader: how exactly does one resign from immortality?

Accepting her plea for help, Daelen says, “Alright, are you going to open the portal, or shall I?”

“Portal?” Mandalee looks amused.

“Yes, you know, to travel to your time.”

“Portal?” she repeats, laughing despite the seriousness of the

situation. “My goodness, how quaint! I'm almost tempted to let you do it, just for the experience, but now is not the time for such crude techniques. We don't use portals anymore, my friend.”

“Then how do we get to your time?”

With a smile, she replies, “We're already here.”

“That's why this place feels strange! I've walked through this

forest so many times, and I don't remember ever noticing this place before.”

“That's because it doesn't exist,” Mandalee explains.

“You mean, it doesn't exist in my time?”

“It doesn't exist in any time.”

“Then, where are we?” Daelen looks confused. “I mean, this

ground we're standing on, where is it?”

Mandalee sighs; exasperated. “It's nowhere! I told you – it doesn't

exist!”

Poor Mandalee. It’s like trying to explain the Origin of the

Universe to a baby. Daelen is simply not sufficiently developed to cope with it. So many of what are considered the most basic root concepts are beyond anything the shadow warrior has had to deal with, and Mandalee has neither the time nor the patience to take him through nursery education.

Trying to rationalise it, Daelen asks, “Are you saying this glade is an illusion?”

“Oh no, it's real; it just doesn’t exist. Look, it all comes down to the manipulation of spatial dynamics and dimensional harmonics to annexe a section of spacetime. This place is special because it’s Timeless, but similar annexes are routinely created. It’s simple enough – delicate and intricate, but not hard. Any other questions?”

“Just one, about Time travel: you act as if it's commonplace.”

“It is,” she replies.

“Since when?”

“For the Guardians, from their creation – it’s a natural

consequence of existing out of Time. For the members of the Higher Council, over a century. For your average wizards, druids and clerics, about half that time. Then in recent years, basic observation-only Time travel has been available to all for recreation, vacations and study.”

“That’s impossible!” Daelen insists. He’s obviously finding it very hard to adjust to a world that has left him behind. “I would have noticed! Where are all these travellers from the future? Why aren’t they all over the place? Why haven't I met any, apart from you?”

“Oh, the arrogance!” Mandalee rolls her eyes. “I had almost forgotten that about you. I often used to wonder if the real reason you left your plane of existence was that your ego grew too large and it just sort of spilt out like an overfilled bathtub. The reason you haven't met any other Time travellers is that, except for the Guardians, nobody has ever gone back this far.”

“Why not?”

“Because, my dear shadow warrior, you're just not interesting enough yet. Now, if you're quite finished, it's time for us to join a friend of mine so she can explain the current situation. She is looking forward to seeing you.”

With that, the White Guardian flies into the air, leaving Daelen little choice but to follow meekly behind.