When Rhadamanthus knocked the next morning he found her dressed, armed, ready to leave. She refused breakfast. If provisions were adequate she might eat something along the way.
“You're not angry anymore,” the elder observed. “You have every right to be."
“I had a dream last night,” she confessed. “More than a dream, really—a revelation.” She hesitated, gathering strength to say the words. “I killed Kregan, didn't I?"
He eyed her closely, and finally nodded. “You would not have learned that from any Chondite. It wasn't your fault. Kregan knew better than to try to interfere while you were waging mystic combat with strange and untested powers."
She bit her lip, hoping that pain would hide the deeper grief she felt. “He was concerned for me. I saw that in his mind, but I pushed him away. Only not with my hands. The magic did it. It hurled him headlong into that monolith. I wasn't aware; I didn't give him another thought."
Rhadamanthus didn't answer.
“That's why you want me to leave. Because I killed him."
“If you are responsible for his death, then you are also responsible for his elevation. No, child. You're not condemned for that. But Kregan knew better than to interfere, and he did so anyway. He loves you. That's why you have to go."
A glimmer of understanding came, yet she kept silent.
“With Aecus dead and Minos’ life uncertain, Chondos will need a new elder to continue the teachings."
She interrupted. “Can't they also return to life?"
“Aecus has no body to come back to, and Minos is a doubtful case; his last incarnation was especially difficult. In fact, I don't believe either of us will achieve another incarnation. And without elders to continue the brotherhoods our way of life will be lost."
“But how does my staying threaten your ways?"
“Like Aecus and Minos, I fear my time will soon be up. I don't fear death so long as Kregan lives to carry on. Yet, he loves you. That's why he tried to prevent your duel with the Dark Ones. Child, love is something a sorcerer can ill afford, and a Chondite elder can't afford it at all. It distorted his judgment once. I can't let it interfere with his duties to his people."
She regarded him blank-eyed, not quite convinced.
“The real problem,” he continued, “is that you're just not the kind of woman to be content with household chores and children. Something pulls your spirit, calls you to wander. You've just tasted adventure, and I can see in your eyes that you like it. Sooner or later, you would leave, and Kregan would follow without a thought for Chondos.” He drew a deep breath and met her gaze with complete calm. “I can't allow that. So you must leave before his memories awaken."
Her heart faltered. “He won't remember me?"
A subtle smile flickered on his lips. “How could any man forget you?” He made a short bow. “But by the time he does remember I hope the weight of his obligations will be too strong a bond to let him pursue you.
“For you see, despite everything I've just said, I have permitted myself to love. I love Chondos. And Chondos needs Kregan more than you do."
At last, she understood.
The Elder of the Black Arrow walked her down to the courtyard. Ashur stood waiting, laden with provisions and a saddlebag full of gold coins. The unicorn trumpeted a greeting. “Well, I've gained something from all this,” she said stroking the proud beast from crest to withers, touching Demonfang where it rode on her hip.
Rhadamanthus pushed her hand from the dagger. “Listen to an old man's warning, I beg you. Ashur is yours as long as he'll stay with you. But that thing's work is done. Get rid of it at your first opportunity. It means trouble if you keep it."
She glanced at the arcane blade, then at the scar its edge had left on her palm. “I'll consider it, my friend."
An odd contentment settled on her as she swung up into the saddle. It was a fair morning made for riding. A light breeze stirred; the sun was not too hot.
The elder accompanied her to the city's western gate, but he wore a disconsolate silence.
“How is Hafid,” she asked abruptly. “I meant to see him before I left. I wanted to apologize."
“A little bruised,” he admitted, “but otherwise all right. The worst damage was to his pride."
The streets were nearly empty at this hour of the morning. They arrived at the gates, passing only a few merchants on their way to set up shop in the great square. Amid the clank of chains and gears the gates ponderously opened.
“Where will you go?"
She shrugged. “Korkyra maybe. It's said the forests there are thick as Esgaria's, and the Calendi Sea at its storm-tossed wildest. Of all the things in my homeland, I think I've missed the sea and forest most."
Rhadamanthus reached for her hand, pressed it to his lips, then held it a lingering moment. A tremor passed through him, and like a spark it communicated to her.
She leaned down, kissed his cheek. “You know,” she whispered, “it's just as well that we end it this way."
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1983 by Robin W. Bailey
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-0907-5
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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