 Raymond Fice, Rift War Saga, Volume 4, A Darkness at Sethanon, Chapter 16, Creation. Macross opened his eyes. The sorcerer had entered a trance within minutes of discovering that they were in the time trap and had been motionless since. After watching him for several hours, Pug and Thomas had grown bored and turned their attention to other matters. They had tried to discover all they could about the garden, but as it was a mixture of alien and plant life, much of what they saw was difficult to understand. After what seemed days of exploration, the sorcerer hadn't stirred and they had resigned themselves to waiting. I think I've thought of a solution, Macross said, stretching. How long have been in the trance? Thomas, who sat nearby on a large rock, said, I estimate about a week. Pug moved from where he had been observing at rye side and said, oh, it could be more. It's hard to tell. Macross blinked and stood up. Moving through time backwards does make it somewhat academic, I'll admit. But I had no idea I'd been contemplating so long. Pug said, you haven't given us much idea of what is going on here. I tried several things to discover what is occurring about us and have only gained the little notion of how this time trap works. What have you learned about the trap? Pug's brow furrowed. It appears the spell was designed to reverse time in a field about us. As long as we're in that field, we are subject to its effects and cannot change it. We carried along with the garden, moving at a leisurely pace backwards through the time stream. Frustration showed clearly in his tone. Macross, we've plenty of fruit and nuts, but Raiath is hungry. She has managed to get by on some of the small game around us and even has managed to eat some nuts. But she can't go on this way much longer. In a short time she'll have hunted out the game and then she'll begin to starve. Macross looked over to where the golden dragon lay in a dose to conserve energy. Well, we must get out of here then, by all means. How? said Thomas. It will be difficult, but I expect you two will be up to it. He managed to smile, returning to something of the confidence he had exuded when both had known him before. Any trap has some weakness, even something as simple as a rock dropping from above has a design flaw it can miss. I think I found a flaw in this trap. Pug said it would prove refreshing. I thought of a dozen things to do if I were outside the field of this trap. Raiath has tried to take me outside and we've failed, and I can't think of a thing to do from the inside to fight our flight back through time. The trick, dear pug, is not to fight the flight backwards through time, but to accelerate it. We must travel faster and faster, moving at rates undreamt of. Thomas said, to what ends? We move back further from the conflict. What do we gain? Like Milambar of the assembly, Macro said, using pug's serani name. If we go back far enough, pug said nothing for a while, then understanding began to draw. We go back to the beginning of time, and before, when time had no meaning, pug said, is this possible? Macro shrugged. I don't know, but as I can't think of anything else to try unwilling, I'll need your help. I have the knowledge, but not the power. Pug said, tell me what to do. Macro's motion to him to sit, and sat opposite him. Thomas stood behind his friend, observing with interest. Macro's reached out and placed his hands upon pug's head. Let my knowledge come into you. Pug felt his mind filled with images, and the universe as he knew it, shuttered. Only once before has he known the sense of panoramic awareness. That time he stood upon the tower of testing, when he entered the ranks of the great ones. A more mature, more knowledgeable observer watched this time, and understood so much more of what he sees. The cemetery, the order, the stunning magnificence that spin about him, all tied together in some plan beyond his ability to perceive. He stands in awe. He casts his awareness about, and again is astonished at the wonders of the universe about him. Now he again swims between the stars, again perceiving the mystic lines of force that bind together all things in the universe. He detects a tugging on those lines, and sees something striving to enter this universe from another. It is foul, a cancerous thing that threatens the order of all that is. It is a darkness, a blotting out, it is the enemy, but it is weak and cautious. He ponders his nature as it falls away from his understanding. He is moving backward in time. He observes the garden. He can see himself sitting before the sorcerer, his boyhood friend behind. He knows what he must do. The flow of time about the garden is stately, moving at rhythms matching the normal rhythm of space and time about him, but reciprocal in flow, for each passing second, a second in the garden flows backwards. He reaches out, his mind finding the key to the time flow, as real to the touch of his spirit being as a stone to his hand. He caresses it and feels the beat of the universe, the secret of the illusory dimension. He sees and he knows, he understands and manipulates the flow, and now for each second of passing time in the universe, two seconds passes in the garden. He feels a calm joy, for he has just accomplished something that only recently he would have judged beyond the ability of any mortal magician. He puts aside his pride and concentrates on the task at hand. Again he manipulates, and for each true second, four now flow about Thomas Macros and himself. Again and again and again, he duplicates his feet, and now for each hour that the universe ages, they flee backwards more than a day. Again and it is two days, four days, then more than a week. Thrice more and they move at better than a month for each true hour. Again and again and again, and soon they pass a year for each hour. He pauses and sends forth his awareness. His mind soars across the cosmos like an eagle upon the wing, speeding between stars like the mighty bird of prey gliding past the peaks of the great towers. He spies the hot and green tinted star that is so familiar to him, and for a brief instant understands. He is upon Kilowan, discovering the lost lore of the elder. A year and more back in time have they moved. As fast as the time to think, he turns his consciousness to his personal here and now. Again he manipulates the time flow, and now it is two years per hour. Again four, eight, sixteen, again he pauses in regards to the universe. The stars revolve in ordinary fashion, hurling through a cosmos so vast that their blinding speed appears little more than a crawl. But they move in odd pattern, their motion inverted, their travels reversed. He considers and again works upon the time frame. He is now master of this practice, possessing abilities to dwarf the wildest ambitions of even the most arrogant member of the assembly. He is now certain of his own nature, so much more than he had thought, and he manipulates the time flow with ease. A wild thought passes through him. This is to be like a god. But in years of training surge up with the warning, beware pride. Remember you are but a mortal, and the first duty is to serve the empire. His teachers at the assembly did their job well. He ignores the intoxication of this power, discovering his wall, the perfect center of his being, and again manipulates the time flow. A year passes in reverse for each second in the true universe. Then and again he works his skills upon the time trap of the enemy, accelerating it beyond the expectations of those who fashioned it. Now a decade passes for each second. He knows he lives before the time of his birth. In the time it takes to draw breath, he has passed back before the time when Duke Borek's grandfather invaded Cridey. He works another pass of time, and now the kingdom is only half his future size, with the holdings of Baron Von Darkmore marking its western boundary. Twice more he accelerates the time factor, and the nations of his lifetime are little more than villages, people by simpler folks than those who will give rise to nations. Again and again he works his magic. In the universe rocks, the very fabric of reality is rent. Energies impossible to phantom explode about him, violent beyond his ability to apprehend, and he. Pugged, open his eyes. He felt a strange dislocation about him, and for a moment his vision blurred. Thomas came to stand beside him and said, are you alright? Pugged blinked and said, something out there changed. Thomas looked skyward. There is something happening. Macros regarded the heavens, odd patterns and energies whirled madly across the filament while stars wobbled in the course. If we watch, we'll see things calm down in time. We're seeing this from back to front, remember, seeing what Pugged asked. Thomas answered, the chaos wars. There was a hunted look in his eyes, as if something in what occurred touched him deeply in a place he had not expected. But his face remained a mask while he watched the mad skies above. Macros nodded, standing up. He pointed heavenward, see, even now we are passing into an epoch before the chaos wars. The days of the mad gods rage, the time of star death, and whatever other colourful names, myths and lore have conjured up for that period. Pugged closed his eyes and felt his mind cold and numb, his head throbbing with a dull ache. Macros said, it appears we are moving at a rate of three, four hundred years a second in reverse time. Pugged nodded. So for every three seconds, about a millennia passes, he calculated, that's a good start. Start. Question Pugged, how fast need we move? By my calculation, billions of years, at a thousand years per second, we'll get back to the beginning in our lifetime, but just barely, we need better. Pugged nodded, clearly fatigued, but he closed his eyes, Thomas looked skyward. The stars could now be seen to move, though given their vast distances, it was still a slow movement, but even seeing this much motion was disquieting, then their movement seemed to accelerate, and soon it was noticeably faster, then Pugged was again with them. I've created a second spell within the structure of the trap, each minute the rate will double without my intervention. We're now moving at a rate in excess of two thousand years per second, in a minute it will be four, then eight, sixteen, and so forth. Macros' expression was one of approval, good, that gives us a few hours. Thomas said, I think it's time for some questions then. Macros smiled, his dark eyes piercing, and he said, what you mean is you think it's time for some answers. Thomas said, yes, that is exactly what I mean. Years ago you coursed me into betraying the Surani Peace Treaty, and on that night you told me you were the author of my current existence. You said you gave me all, everywhere I look, I see signs of your handiwork, I would know more Macros. Macros sat again, well then, as we have some time to spend, why not? We are reaching a point in this unfolding drama where knowledge will no longer hurt you. What would you know? He looked from Thomas to Pug, Pug glanced at his friend, then looked hard at the sorcerer. Who are you?