Yet in the end, after listening to interminable talk, Thork stood and declared: “Assault me no more with your arguments, for I would have no such clatterous cacophony assailing mine ears. Half goes unto the Harlingar, can we find a way to give it to them. So I have said; so shall it be.” And at these words all the Counsellors assented, for Thork had invoked the DelfLord’s decree.
As Thork walked back to his chamber, once again his mind stood before a dark cave leading into the Dragonslair holt of Black Kalgalath.
Thork, should you fall in battle and should I survive, I here and now renew my pledge to you: I will do all within my power to stop this mistaken War between our two Folk, I will share and share alike all Dracongield between Jord and Kachar, and make whatever amends are appropriate, cancelling all debt. .
My Lady, this pledge between us need not be renewed here and now, for it exists within each of us forever. . whether or no it is said aloud again. Yet would it please you to hear the words, then I do so swear once more.
I do so swear once more.
I do so swear once more. .
Thork went to seek out his mother, Sien, ready at last to speak to her of Elyn.
CHAPTER 46
Fall, 3E1603
[The Present]
It took nearly three weeks for Thork to tell his dam the full tale-starting from when he first met Elyn in the Khalian Mire, until that fateful day in Dragonslair-bits here, pieces there, for each time he spoke, it was as if the telling made it happen all over again, and he was soon overcome with anguish and could not continue. Sien would sit quietly, saying but little, her soft words signifying that she understood. At times, Thork would resume the tale; at other times, he would leave. Yet always he returned, taking up from where he had last left off, as if no time had elapsed between. And so, as the days passed, in fits and starts Thork managed to tell her the whole of it, until the story was done.
And when it was finished, then it was Sien who came to be with him, for although the tale was told, she knew that her son’s heart was yet filled with anguish, and that he would not rest until this, too, had been spoken of. And so, she would sit with him and listen to his words, saying little unless asked, while his heart bled.
There came a day when they sat together in the throne room-Thork upon the chair of state, his dam, Sien, sitting among her veils upon the side steps of the dais-speaking softly, Thork’s words gentle, remembering:
“There was a time, Mother, when defeating the Jordians and regaining the trove occupied all my thoughts. And when Black Kalgalath stood in the way of that goal, I set out to defeat him as well. Yet little did I know that along the way, I would lose a treasure beyond calculation.
“-Her eyes held the starlight. . did I tell you?”
Sien nodded, saying nought.
“I did not tell her that I loved her.” Tears stood in Thork’s eyes.
His dam’s eyes glistered as well. “Fear not, my son, for if you loved her, then she knew. . she knew.”
Thork’s words fell to but a whisper: “That she loved me, I deem was so. . ” his mind flashing back:
Ah, Thork, what I am trying to say is that I do not want this to end.
“She pulled me from the swamp and changed my life forever. .
“Seven months we strode the land, arguing, disagreeing, agreeing, enduring-battling all comers. .”
… mayhap we should take to the road as sellswords. .
“. . nearly dying more times than I can count, yet somehow, by skill or chance, surviving. . until. .”
Would you fight to the death for that which you love. .
“Mother, she made a deliberate target of herself, so that I. .”
. . In a cause surely hopeless … for that which you love?. .
“When she lived, then it was that I too was truly alive; but now my heart is slain, Mother, and I am dying inside.
“Mother, I am in such pain. I loved Elyn so very much-”
“A Human?” A voice sneered out from the shadows near the door, Bolk stepping forward, his face filled with scorn.
Thork’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of the throne, his scars flaring crimson with rage. Yet Bolk did not heed these signs, and instead strode inward, his voice brimming with contempt:
“Heed me, Thork, for even the simplest of children know this, yet I will put it in terms that even you can understand: Consider the swallow and the swift: the swallow ever building, the swift ever flying, at times living on the same cliff, but never in the same nest, following Adon’s everlasting laws, never mixing their blood.
“We are like unto them, Châkka and Humans, and never should our bloods mix.”
“Bah!” spat Thork. “Who are you to say what Adon intends? Are we not all children of Elwydd, Humans and Châkka alike?”
“So this is why you have turned your back upon your own Kind! You love a Human!” thundered Bolk. “You are a blind fool and a blasphemer, Thork, but even a fool should know that Châkka blood must remain pure! To mix it with another race, to mix it with that of a Human, to mix it with that of the Princess of the Riders would be an abomination!”
“Yaahhh!” Thork exploded from the throne and leapt upon Bolk, whelming the redheaded Châk back, hurling him to the stone floor of the chamber, his hands clutching Bolk by the throat, throttling him. Bolk smashed at Thork’s face, beating him with fists, then grabbed Thork’s wrists in an attempt to pull the strangling hands away. Mightily Bolk strained, his eyes bulging, his breath choked off, yet Thork was maddened beyond reason, and could not be dislodged. Bolk’s legs thrashed, his heels striking the floor, his feet drumming then jerking spasmodically, his struggles weakening as Thork suffocated him.
Yet of a sudden it was not Bolk’s blackening features that Thork saw in his clutch, but instead those of his brother Baran, of his sire Brak, of his grandsire Delp, of all Châkka reaching hindward into the timeless past, down through the ages unto First Durek himself, and then beyond to where Thork found his own face staring back at him. And then Thork knew: knew that Bolk was no more or less than any other Châk, knew that Bolk was but merely the result of his shaping in youth, as Thork, himself, once had been.
Thork loosed his grip from upon Bolk’s throat, the redheaded Châk slack, unconscious, but breathing again now the clench was gone.
His features pale, his hands trembling, Thork stood and turned to his dam, who still sat upon the steps to the throne. “Mother-”
“He named you the blind fool, my son, but it is he and his ilk who cannot see. Yet I am pleased that you stayed your hand.” Sien’s heart was pounding, and inside she was weak with distress; yet she had not cried out, had not interfered, for from the very beginning the Châkia had known of the deep-running passions of the Châkka, of their tempers and their loves, and did not attempt to hinder their dark wrath. Gathering her strength, Sien stood and moved toward the door, her veils drifting about her. “I will fetch a healer.”