Testing His Wings

Notes: This story is a sequel to the "The Icarus Reversal", a massive crossover which is nevertheless listed in the non-crossover Power Rangers section of this site, with Justin Stewart as a character.

If you haven't read the prior work, you're going to be completely lost; please seek it out now and see if it interests you enough for you to finish it. For those who have already read the "The Icarus Reversal", enjoy, and I'd love some feedback!

Finally, to all four of you who voted in my poll in favor of a sequel, I hope this tale lives up to your expectations.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

The swords clashed together less than two inches from Justin Stewart's face. The fourteen year-old backpedaled, furiously blinking away the perspiration which had run down into his eyes. His adversary followed up at once, giving him no time to rest or regroup.

His arm burning with fatigue, Justin struggled to block the powerful slashes and thrusts of the opposing blade. He still hadn't completely adapted to the different balance and weight of his current weapon, and after walking for most of the day his energy levels were low. The former Ranger's opponent, by contrast, still seemed fresh and was taking full advantage of his longer reach, greater skill, and Justin's current weaknesses. It was all the adolescent could do to keep up his defenses, much less generate any form of offense.

He was losing, and his mind raced frantically for a way to change that. He considered and discarded several stratagems, each one either something he was too tired to do properly or something he'd already tried.

The inevitable end at least came with merciful swiftness. Falling for a feint to the left, Justin was unable to stop his opponent's sword as it twisted back and plunged toward his chest. The tip stopped an instant before it would have touched the teenager's rough shirt. It remained there for a single second before being withdrawn.

Panting slightly Justin lowered his own weapon and glanced up at his sparring partner. Solan's beyond shoulder-length blond hair framed his happily flushed countenance. He wore a wild grin and his blue eyes were bright with excitement; he never looked as vibrant and alive as he did when he'd been fighting. This time Justin was relieved to find no sign of guilt in his friend's expression.

Relaxing from his battle stance the taller boy brought up and sheathed his sword in a single fluid movement. Justin did the same, returning the weapon to a scabbard hanging at his left hip rather than on his back.

"Better that time," Solan noted approvingly. "You're not fully comfortable with your sword yet, though, and you still need to improve your footwork. Do you want me to show you?" he asked.

There wasn't any condescension or gloating in his voice, Justin reflected; only the confident assessment of an expert and an earnest desire to help. It made what he had to say considerably easier to take.

Or perhaps he was simply getting used to being beaten by the twelve year-old. He had yet to discover a single physical activity in which he could come close to besting the Grecian boy, in spite of his age advantage. Even in a village game very much like soccer, his favorite sport, he had been thoroughly owned by his friend. Conscious though he was of Solan's artificial enhancement, Justin still found his own inability to compete frustrating. It actually made him feel a rueful sympathy for some of the Angel Grove High students he'd met in his freshman year, the ones who'd seemed bothered by having him in their class.

At the time, desperately wishing he could fit in, he hadn't been able to understand what their problem was; now he thought he did. It wasn't based on anything rational, but was instead a matter of pure emotion. In short, it was fundamentally unsettling to be surpassed by someone who was years younger than you were. It made you feel inadequate, inferior, much more so than if it had been a peer who'd outperformed you. You felt genuinely threatened, regardless of how ridiculous that feeling might be. Of course in this case he had much more reason to feel threatened by Solan's physical prowess than his classmates had ever had to feel menaced by his mental acuity.

Shaking his head in conscious rejection of that bitter, unfair thought, Justin turned the gesture into an answer to his friend's question.

"No, I'm beat," he explained. "Go ahead with the rest of your routine; you can show me tomorrow."

Nodding in acknowledgement the heavily-muscled preteen turned and walked over to a nearby tree with a sturdy branch about seven feet up the trunk. Leaping upward he seized hold of it and began a series of brisk one-armed pull-ups. Justin sat down at the base of another tree and shut his eyes. This wasn't his day for exercise, so he could rest a bit before getting started on his own work.

They'd made relatively good time today, the former Ranger thought. At this rate they should make it to Eion tomorrow and from there hopefully reach Athens by ship in under a week. They had both agreed on the city-state as their most logical destination; information about the situation in much of the rest of Greece could be found there and they could get a good idea of where Solan was most needed. Visiting this center of learning would also serve Justin's goal.

The genius teen had deliberated long and hard about how best to spread his knowledge among the people of this land. The idea of telling the truth had been considered and almost immediately dismissed; without any evidence of his alternate world future he'd be thought mad. He could always pose as a prophet, but the idea of such cruel deception made him extremely uncomfortable. Yes, it would be for the people's good, but that didn't make it right. He couldn't advance his ends through evil means, or else what would separate him from "Archon"? The god had justified his lies to the Warrior Prince on the grounds that they were done for Solan's benefit and Justin was not about to follow in those footsteps.

He had finally concluded that the best way to spread his knowledge was to impart it to those already respected for their intellect: philosophers. Once they had accepted what he had to say they could disseminate it to the rest of the people.

The process would unfortunately be a lengthy one; he had fully mastered neither spoken nor written Greek, and he needed to be fluent in both if he wanted to be taken seriously. Then, too, it would certainly help in his initial approach if he could talk with his chosen philosophers about their writings, which first required being able to fully read and comprehend those writings. Finally he had to organize and prioritize the vast mass of information he wanted to impart. It was frustrating to contemplate how long all of this would take, but he couldn't simply dump his 20th century learning on everyone and expect them to believe it; he needed to operate through the existing intellectual system.

Rising Justin strode over to where their backpacks lay and retrieved his flint, steel and a torch. Plunging the shaft of the torch into the soft soil at the edge of the woods, he tried to light it with the flint and steel, succeeding on his seventh strike. With the problem of the day's fading light remedied, he returned the rock and metal to his backpack and detached his bedroll from the bottom, unrolling it near the torch. Then he took out one of the vocabulary-building sheets Sasparion had given him as a parting gift and settled down on his primitive sleeping bag. After finishing with training and sparring he usually studied his speech and literacy while Solan continued practicing and exercising. There was really nothing else for him to do during those time periods, and giving his mind something to occupy itself with kept him from brooding.

Justin's initial realization that he was trapped in this dimension had left him mired in complete despair. His eventual reconciliation with Solan, however, had given him a friend again and their subsequent conversation had provided him with a new goal for his life, a new purpose. With Solan's steadfast support and the motivation of his mission he had managed to break out of the near-suicidal depression surrounding him.

That didn't mean he was anywhere near back to normal. He'd lost his entire world, along with everyone he'd known there, and the agonizing awareness of that fact was always with him. Emotionally speaking each day remained a struggle to keep his head above water, to avoid tumbling anew into the black pit he'd crawled out from. Beginning their journey today had made him feel better than he had at any time since his arrival, but he didn't trust his mood to last. Better to engage his mind than allow it to wander down inevitably painful paths.

Darkness had long since fully fallen when the former Ranger at last put the parchment down and rubbed at his eyes. He whispered aloud all of the new words he'd studied, checking his pronunciation and making sure he had committed them to memory. While doing so his gaze inevitably strayed to the figure at the very edge of the light. He couldn't make out any details, but he could hear his companion's labored breathing and see Solan doing push-up after push-up.

Two months ago, when he had resumed karate practice and begun learning Solan's style of unarmed combat, he'd been a little resentful of how hard his friend had pushed him. Easy for Solan to be the unyielding taskmaster! Look at how physically superior and skilled "Archon" had made him, all without the slightest effort on his part! How could he understand the difficulty of learning and building yourself up the natural way?

This conviction had persisted until he'd first observed one of Solan's own training and exercise sessions; merely watching it had left him feeling worn out! It became apparent then that, if anything, the young Warrior Prince had been going easy on him.

The twelve year-old had first executed a dozen sword and close combat drills. Then he practiced throwing his chakram twenty-five times with each hand. Lastly came the conditioning; through performing seemingly innumerable push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and back-flips Solan worked himself to the very edge of exhaustion, straining to reach and extend his body's limits. When he finished he was drenched in perspiration, unsteady on his feet and appeared to be on the literal verge of collapse.

Unsure what to do, Justin had anxiously asked, "Solan, are you all right?"

A jerky nod had been his answer, accompanied a few seconds later by the whispered words, "I'm fine. I'll feel better after I bathe in the lake."

"You don't have to wear yourself out like that! You're going to get hurt," Justin had warned him.

"No, I do have to!" the twelve year-old had insisted with sudden passion. "In my memories sessions like this are how I got to where I am now. I need to do this to maintain myself and my skills."

Upon hearing these Justin had flashed back to the final moments of his augmented strength, two years ago. He had plaintively expressed to T.J. the dreams he'd harbored, how he wanted to break records and win medals. The Red Ranger had replied, "Justin, listen to me. When you get big, you'll train hard! Then it will really be you winning those medals."

Solan hadn't reached his current level of physical development and expertise on his own merits; like Justin's super-strength, he had been given those benefits by an outside force. One could argue then that this wasn't truly "him", anymore than the little Hercules he had been had really been Justin. No one, however, could dispute the fact that Solan was working very, very hard to keep what he had been given.

Impressed and somewhat abashed by his friend's unyielding determination and stoic toughness, Justin had picked up the pace of his own efforts. In fact he thought he was in better shape now than before his abduction. He was also thinner, maybe too much so; he had yet to adjust to the food here, and he was sure that both he and Solan needed more protein in their diet to properly fuel their physical growth. When they reached Eion he'd see what he could do about that.

Glancing back down at his sheet Justin resumed his studying while Solan continued to tortuously force his broad, muscled frame up and down. So the early evening passed for the two child prodigies, each one busily engaged in utilizing and honing his respective gift.

Justin finished up before Solan did and spent the remainder of his time in meditation. Completing that as well he stripped down and covered himself with his blanket. The twelve year-old walked slowly over to his pack and took out a woolen cloth which he used to wipe away his perspiration. Justin knew the preteen preferred to soak after a workout, but there didn't seem to be any lakes or rivers in the immediate area. Spartan as life in the Centaur village had been, being on the road was clearly going to mean adapting to a new level of primitive.

As Justin contemplated that depressing prospect, Solan spread his own bedroll on the ground, removed his boots and stripped off his cross-belts, laying them carefully atop his backpack. Then he extinguished the torch by smothering the flame with dirt.

"Good night, Justin," he offered as he stretched out on his bedroll.

"Sweet dreams," the former Ranger replied.

Before they left Justin had wondered if they should sleep in shifts, taking turns keeping watch, but Sasparion had assured him that would be a waste of time and energy. There were no wild animals that would threaten them and bandits were very unlikely to come upon them in the night; they tended to be asleep then like everyone else.

The news had come as a relief, since he hadn't been looking forward to getting only a few hours sleep at a time or silently staring out into the darkness for long stretches, with nothing to do and no one to talk to.

There was one thing here worth staring at in the evening, though, and Justin turned his eyes upward to admire the shining tapestry of the night sky. After his friends had gone into space to search for Zordon he had frequently found himself gazing up at the stars, wondering which one they were nearest to at the time and fervently hoping they were okay. His brief reunion with them, courtesy of Storm Blaster, had eased his fears for their safety, but he had nonetheless continued searching the heavens. Doing so now served as both a comfort and a reminder of how far away he was from his Earth. This world had the same constellations he'd come to know, but the stars themselves appeared brighter and more numerous than they'd ever been at home. They also seemed more beautiful, maybe because he knew they were utterly outside of his reach.

Rolling over onto his left side, Justin curled up under his blanket and quietly went to sleep.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

The morning's light on his face quickly roused Solan from his slumber. Sitting up he yawned and stretched extensively, deliberately working out any kinks from last night. His tanned skin gleamed like burnished copper in the bright sunshine, though the chill in the fall air brought out a rash of goosebumps on his flesh.

Standing up he slipped his boots back on and donned his cross-belts again. As always the weight of his sword in his back scabbard and his chakram on his belt filled him with an odd sense of . . . completion. It was as though his weapons were a part of him. Did all warriors feel this way? He'd have to ask Justin about that.

No, no he wouldn't. Not when all of Justin's weapons had been lost; not when the teenager possessed only a centaur-forged sword which he was still getting used to.

The twelve year-old sighed, his good mood momentarily eclipsed. It was hard for him to catch in advance words which might upset Justin, especially since directness was part of his nature. At least he'd managed it this time, so he wouldn't hurt his friend during their first full morning on the road.

On the road! Just thinking of the phrase was enough to restore Solan's spirits. Difficult as it was to believe, they had finally begun their journey and the sheer excitement kindled by that knowledge refused to go away. Justin felt it too, he was sure of it; his friend had looked as happy yesterday as he'd ever seen the older boy.

Whistling cheerily he extracted their breakfast from his backpack along with his water-skin. Justin muttered something in his sleep and rolled over. Over the past few months the teenager had gradually grown accustomed to the Grecian schedule of sleeping and rising, but he didn't exactly spring out of bed at the start of each new day.

"Justin," the preteen called out softly. "Justin, it's time to get up!" He knew he could safely touch Justin to awaken the Ranger, but since the reverse certainly wasn't true he tried to avoid doing so. "Rise and shine!" he called out, a saying he had picked up from his friend.

With a moan Justin sat up, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"Did you sleep well?" the Prince of Warriors enquired, somewhat anxiously, as his friend got dressed. It had been Justin's first time sleeping outside and his dreams had often been troubled since he arrived in this world. Being a light sleeper Solan would have reacted to a cry or sob, but Justin could have had a nightmare without giving vent to either.

"Yeah, I was fine. You?"

"Like Morpheus himself blessed me," Solan assured him, continuing to lay out their breakfast between them. Reaching out Justin snagged one of the pieces of bread dipped in wine and bit it in half. Solan did likewise and for the next few minutes the only sounds were those of hungry boys eating their fill.

Accomplishing that goal had grown markedly more difficult for Solan than it used to be. Since his change his appetite had increased considerably. Not to the level of a centaur of course, but still quite a jump. He had told Justin and his friend had said something about his metabolism and beginning puberty and his body needing more tinder. The essence seemed to be that it was something he would have to get used to and nothing for him to worry about.

Once they'd finished breakfast the Grecian boy was quick to repack his water-skin and roll up his bedding. He brought his backpack into place and looked over to see Justin still sitting on a bedroll and staring at him.

"Eager for us to be on our way?" the fourteen year-old asked dryly.

"Yes!" Solan answered. "Aren't you? Don't you want to reach Athens as quickly as we can so we can discover what awaits us there? So we can learn who you should talk to and find out who needs our help?"

To his gratification a small smile spread across Justin's face in response to his questions.

"Yes, I do want that," the older boy replied, standing and starting to roll up his bedroll. He tied it to the bottom of his backpack with the straps dangling there and lifted the combination onto his shoulders. "Let's go!"

The two set off again along the road, Solan in the lead. Although his pack was much larger and heavier than the one carried by his companion, he again had to make a conscious effort to slow his pace to match Justin's. He'd first realized the necessity for this yesterday, when the teenager had proven unable to keep up with him. They had also been forced to stop for longer and more numerous rest breaks than the young prince would have preferred.

The slower than expected progress was frustrating and he had been genuinely irritated at being forced to walk at less than his usual speed. It had almost made him feel confined, an exceedingly unpleasant sensation which was already starting to return.

He had decided not to mention any of this to Justin. Telling the teenager would only make him feel bad and there wasn't anything he could do about it; he was already going as fast as he could. He simply didn't have the energy or endurance Solan did, and so there was little choice but to accept this minor annoyance.

As they walked he was glad to note that Justin was continuing to appreciate the natural scenery visible from the road. Whenever something about his world could please his friend, Solan counted it as a victory.

Late in the morning, as the wilderness gave way to farms, they began encountering fellow travelers. The first were a pair of men in their twenties, similar enough in features to be brothers, heading the opposite way along this narrow tract of a road. They rode in a fine chariot, pulled by two handsome, chestnut-brown horses. Solan had stepped aside to let them pass, glancing back to see that Justin did likewise, before raising his hand and calling out a greeting. The man holding the reins looked at him and then immediately lashed the horses. They sped up from a canter to a gallop and the chariot thundered past both boys.

Having never traveled outside of his village before, he had little knowledge about or understanding of the standards of behavior in the rest of Greece; he knew only what was accepted and customary among the Centaurs. His judgment might thus be undermined by his ignorance (and spending so much time with Justin had made it painfully clear just how ignorant he was), but this action nonetheless struck him as inexcusably rude.

Continuing onward they shortly came upon another man, walking toward them alongside a cart pulled by a donkey. His skin was very darkly tanned by the sun, his face weathered, and his clothes were rough wool. His hair was beginning to gray and his hand on the donkey's bridle was not altogether steady as he drew level with them on their right.

Again Solan called out his greeting and the man hesitated long seconds before returning it. He pulled at his donkey to urge it forward as Solan halted and asked him, "Where are you bound?"

He assumed the answer was one of the nearby farms, and thus asked the question more as a polite beginning to a conversation than anything else. He would have liked to talk to this man about Eion and what they could expect there, but the response foreclosed that possibility.

"What business is it of yours?" the old man challenged from the other side of his donkey. His tone was defiant, though there was a quaver beneath it.

Solan was growing weary of this inexplicable rudeness. The Centaurs had always courteously received travelers; were things really that different in other communities? If so devoting his life to the protection of his fellow Greeks was going to be a less fulfilling quest than he had thought.

Justin slid halfway in front of him and took over the conversation.

"No business of ours," the teenager admitted soothingly, his arms spread and empty palms held open. "We are travelers on our way to Athens. We hoped to find a ship to take us there in Eion. You have come from Eion?"

The man licked his lips and turned back toward them, having by now passed them. "Yes, I came from Eion. You might find passage on a merchant ship there." With that said he turned back around and hurried on his way.

They watched him go in silence, along with the donkey and the empty cart.

"I didn't know people outside my village were so unfriendly," Solan grumbled.

Justin glanced at him sharply. "Unfriendly?" he echoed, sounding as if he didn't understand.

"Why else would they treat travelers so?" the twelve year-old demanded indignantly.

"You mean you think he and the charioteers acted that way because-" Justin's question ended abruptly as without warning he burst out laughing.

Solan started, genuinely afraid for an instant, but this wasn't the exhausted, bitter laughter Justin had given vent to in the arena. It was true laughter, such as he'd never in this world heard from his friend. The sound gladdened his heart, though he had a sinking suspicion that the joke was somehow on him.

He waited for Justin to explain, but the Ranger continued to chortle. Folding his muscular arms over his deep chest, he arched an eyebrow and asked, "What's so funny?"

To his chagrin Justin took one look at him and began laughing even harder!

"That's it!" he sputtered, pointing with his right hand. "That's it exactly!" The teenager was literally bent double from the force of his mirth now, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Resisting with some effort the urge to shake his friend, Solan ground his teeth in frustration. He wanted to know what was going on! Then, too, he didn't like being laughed at, not even by Justin.

Gradually the Ranger's laughter lessened and petered out, though he still had one arm slung around his no doubt aching midsection. His eyes were dancing when he looked up at Solan, and the sight helped to quell the younger, bigger boy's disgruntlement.

"The men in the chariot looked wealthy, right?" Justin asked.

Though he didn't understand why it should matter one way or the other, Solan nodded in agreement. Growing up with centaurs had taught him a lot about horses, and the two pulling the chariot had appeared to be fine specimens in the prime of their lives, animals of considerable value. The chariot itself had also obviously been had at no small price.

"Next we met the man coming from Eion with the empty cart. He didn't look like he had a lot of money, but he could have sold what was in that cart at the city, couldn't he?"

"Yes," the Grecian concurred, still unable to see a point to any of this.

"So they all came along this road and saw you coming the other way," Justin went on. Though his mouth was still turned up at the corners, there was sympathy in the fourteen year-old's voice as he finished his explanation. "Solan, they were afraid you were going to rob them."

For several seconds Solan could only gape at Justin as his incredulity warred with his outrage. "Why would they think that?" he finally asked, in a tone which was equal parts plaintive and angry.

"Look at yourself!" Justin urged. "You're wearing cross-belts with a sword sheathed at your back and a chakram hanging from your belt. Were any of the men we saw armed? Do ordinary Grecians go around carrying weapons? Then there's the way you move, and even how you stand!"

"What's wrong with how I move and stand?" Solan cried.

"Your body language screams that you're a warrior, and you're sure as hell built like one! Add that to your clothes and weapons and the end result is pretty intimidating. A lot of people are going to assume you're a predator, someone they should fear."

"Thanks for telling me," the preteen replied numbly. Turning in the direction of Eion he began walking again, more swiftly than before, while inwardly trying to come to terms with this distressing new information. During the last couple days of the tournament he'd taken a vicious satisfaction in sowing terror among those who had once so frightened him. It had seemed a fitting revenge and had made him feel proud and powerful. In Justin's case those feelings had turned to shame when he had realized how badly he'd misjudged the Ranger.

The Centaurs had greeted him with fear upon his return, but that was because as far as they knew, he'd come back from the dead! He'd appreciated how their emotions had kept them from questioning his story, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. In fact it had been decidedly uncomfortable to see those he'd known all his life regard him with awe and trepidation.

And of course he had no desire to for the average Grecian to be afraid of him. He had hoped to eventually be looked on as one of Greece's protectors, a symbol of hope and safety, like the Rangers in Justin's world or like Hercules. The thought that his mere appearance would kindle fright in those he wished to help was profoundly disheartening, but it was not something he could dispute; Justin had spoken with too much force and certitude for him to doubt his friend's conclusion.

The Warrior Prince came to a sudden stop, barely hearing Justin's question about whether he was okay. A terrible possibility had occurred to him, one he didn't even wish to speak aloud. Yet keeping silent wouldn't make it go away, and he would have no peace until he knew the truth. Looking down he met Justin's concerned gaze and asked the question.

"Justin, are you still afraid of me?"

Initially the teenager appeared thunderstruck; then his entire facial expression went blank. Solan stood still as a statue, never taking his eyes from Justin's face. His stomach churned unpleasantly as the period of silence stretched on and on. He shouldn't have gone into this. He should have left well enough alone! Except that he couldn't. This was an answer he had to have, because it went to the root of everything between them.

There were several things he wanted from Justin. He desperately craved the older boy's companionship and friendship. He desired Justin's approval and he longed to know he had the Ranger's respect. He even dreamed of one day winning the fourteen year-old's admiration. The one thing he didn't want from Justin, however, was fear. Gods above, he didn't want Justin to be afraid of him!

If Justin was still fearful of him then Solan could never have anything he had hoped for from the teenager. Friends didn't feel badly toward one another and Justin's continued fear would prove their friendship to be fatally flawed.

"I've seen what you're capable of, Solan," Justin said in a quiet tone which only increased the twelve year-old's dread. "I had to fight you more than once, and every time you stomped me."

"You nearly killed me in the tournament, and you still could. I've sparred with you enough to know I couldn't stop you from taking my life if you wanted it. Hand-to-hand or sword, you'd win either way."

The Prince of Warriors began to tremble ever so slightly as Justin's cool, dispassionate words figuratively flayed him.

"I don't fear you, though, because I trust you! I trust that you're my friend and that you'd never deliberately hurt me again. I trust you."

Relieved beyond measure by what he'd heard Solan's entire body relaxed and he let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding since Justin started speaking. He'd needed that confirmation, needed to know for sure that Justin didn't still see him as a possible threat. His own fear on that score had been laid to rest by his friend's words.

"It's strangers who will be afraid of you, Solan; not those who know you," Justin gently concluded.

Solan could only nod sharply, not willing to risk his voice's steadiness. Justin seemed to understand and turned to resume walking along the road. Solan fell in beside him.

"I don't want to cause fear in others," the Grecian boy admitted. "Do you think I should wear different clothing?"

He hated the very idea, as his cross-belts were comfortable and didn't impair his movement in any way. Still, it if was what was needed . . .

The brown-haired boy shook his head in reply. "You could try that, but I don't think changing your clothes alone will make much difference. It'll be less of an issue when we reach the city; people will feel safer there than on the road. And you should probably try smiling more. Smiling helps put people at ease. Don't do it when we're talking to the captain of the ship we decide to take, though."

"Why not?"

"Because we have to negotiate a price with him and we'll probably get a better deal if you act all cold and scary."

Surprised and offended he turned to regard his friend, only to see Justin grinning mischievously at him.

Recognizing the joke and still slightly giddy with relief and the release of tension, Solan did something he wouldn't have dreamed of doing even five minutes ago: he reached over and with one hard shove sent the smaller boy sprawling into the dirt.