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Chapter 26. Fate |
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abane had never felt more alone in his life than he did at that moment. With the exception of his mother and little sister, everyone he cared about was gone. Teleri was so lost in her own grief that what little she had left over was barely enough to console Sabina. Mabane watched them now, his mother pale and dull as she sat in the rocking chair gazing off into the distance as Sabina fussed at her breast. Mabane had thought everything would be alright. That was what Pendaran was always telling him. They had their island and home, good company and good cheer in the evenings. Sometimes Pendaran would even let him stay up with the adults and watch them dance and sing until the lyrics grew too lewd and the drink flowed too freely. Then he would send himself off to bed at his parents’ behest. If the nightmares were bad, Mabane would wake up to find Pendaran sitting at his bedside gently nudging him awake. He was embarrassed that he still wanted to be held like a child at such times but Pendaran seemed not to mind and never reproached him for it. Mog was gone, and Lemony, too. He even missed his uncle; at least he missed the Murdi he had known before he had become hateful and cold. Mabane struggled with his desire to both love and despise Morisedd. Teleri, of course, had not told him what Morisedd had done, but Mabane knew. He overheard it in the gossip of the servants and had pieced together the tale from the rawness of his mother’s grief. Sitting there in the little parlor that lay between his room and his parents’ room, he wondered what would happen if he rose and left. Would Teleri even notice, lost as she was to grief? Biting his lip, he moved quietly to his feet and walked past her, making hardly a sound as he opened the door and gazed out into the narrow corridor beyond their rooms. He fought back his tears when she continued to stare into space and said nothing. He closed the door behind him and bit his knuckle to stifle a sob. No one was there for him. He hurried past servants and then the laborers working on the outside of the building. Under the scaffolding and past the tents, he seemed invisible as he headed toward the small postern set in the wall that overlooked the sea. A cool salty breeze breathed upon him as he walked sadly toward the beach where his nightmares had begun. For a time he stood upon the pale swathe of sand and watched the waves lap softly against the shore. “Aramathxes, I command you to come to me,” he shouted at the sea, his voice thin and plaintive despite his best efforts to sound like a powerful magician. In his desperation he paced the beach, searching the horizon for some sign of the spirit. Seaweed entangled the jagged clumps of stone in the shallows and sea foam curled around them. Everything was as perfectly normal and nothing answered his call. “I need your help,” he pleaded now, “I don’t know what to do.” “Child, do not call upon powers you cannot control nor comprehend,” said a gentle voice behind him. He whirled around to face it, his hair standing on end. In the shadow of the trees that lay above the beach he saw a vaguely equine shape and shimmer of scales. Mabane recognized the ki’rin, his fear falling away to be replaced by shame. Its forest dark eyes were gentle as it moved noiselessly toward him. Its warm breath smelled of loam as it rolled over him. Instinctively he dropped to one knee and honored it with a bow. “I sensed your need,” the creature said, “Why are you so sad, little one?” Mabane was overwhelmed with tears and gratitude, his joy at seeing the beautiful creature matched only by the grief he felt for all that he had lost. The beast nuzzled him sweetly with its strange scaly snout, the four elemental realms each a part of its form. Fish and fowl combined with horse and the sparkle of fire danced in its depthless gaze. But it was spirit that bound it on this plane, an indomitable life force that dwelt at the foundation of all things. “My father,” he stammered at last, “I need him… please find him.” The ki’rin chortled sadly and lowered its head. “I cannot help him. His fate is for the gods to decide.” “No,” Mabane cried, “Take me to him, please.” The ki’rin gazed back into the depths of the forest and he knew its answer even before it spoke. “Dear Child, I am sworn to protect you. I would not take you there even were it possible. I can but console you, little one.” The ki’rin knelt slowly, lowering itself to the ground so that he could curl against it, his bastion against a storm of grief. Pendaran was gone. He had felt the insufferable emptiness of his departure and fought to deny it. The nightmares had fled as well leaving him with an insurmountable void of sorrow. He clung to the beast, his arms encircling its powerful neck and its silken mane growing damp with his tears. An animal cry emerged from his throat. He could not go on and for the first time he wanted to die rather than feel the pain of his broken heart. “Do not wish for death before your time,” the ki’rin said sadly, “Your pain will pass, as do all things beneath the stars.” “But he’s gone,” Mabane wept, the truth lodging in his heart like a dagger, “I need him. He is my master.” The ki’rin keened softly, the fluting songs of birds mingling with its eternal cry. Without words it revealed to him the sorrow that dwelt at the heart of life, the truth of life’s frailty and brevity. Then, at the nadir of his grief he perceived a brightness that was enduring, joy and union melding into golden light. For an instant he felt his bond to Pendaran renewed and understood they were connected forever by love. |
