Tales of Downfall and Rebirth
Page 65
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That night they camped once more at the old tourney grounds.
No one seemed very eager to go to bed when the meal was done. Deor understood. They all feared bad dreams.
“It was my fault—” Thora said suddenly as the captain added another stick of wood to the fire. “I was so angry about the thralls, and you didn’t seem to care. I never thought—”
“Nor did I. I should have told you we would not be making any deals with Guildengard,” Captain Feldman replied, “but I did not think the man capable of such treachery.”
The past few days had aged him, too. “After dealing with the Armingers, how could anyone take small fry like Morgruen and Orsa seriously? And I think the Cutters were so far off the scale it desensitized us for anything less profound. But this—we should have learned from Norman Arminger that men don’t need alien devils to turn them to evil. A little tin-pot dictator in isolation can be corrupted all on his own.”
Deor frowned, trying to see if the glitter in Thora’s eyes came from tears. When the captain turned to one of his men with a comment about the ship, she got to her feet.
“I’m going to take a walk.”
“I’ll come with you.” He was painfully aware that once the Ark was repaired she would be gone.
As the moon rose, the trees stretched a tracery of interlace against the midnight blue of the sky. From time to time something scuttled through the undergrowth. Farther off he heard the cry of a hunting owl.
“Don’t torment yourself,” he said after a while. “You freed the thralls. I couldn’t even strike a blow.”
“You may have been tied up, but you were doing something! I felt the chill when you galdored the runes!” she answered indignantly.
Deor sighed. “I don’t know what I did or how. But my father died trying to protect me, and that’s all anyone will remember once I get home.”
Thora turned suddenly. “Then come to Montival! We’ll find someone to teach you even if we have to go all the way to that seeress King Artos met in Norrheim.” She stopped, then suddenly grasped his shoulders and kissed him.
Her lips were cool and friendly. He hugged her back, hoping he would feel something more, but after a moment she stepped away and sighed.
“Deor—have you ever kissed a girl before?”
“Not really. Unless you count Orsa—” He shuddered.
“Have you kissed a boy?”
“Yes . . .” He had always known the direction of his desires. “I thought it might be different, with you.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” Thora shook her head. “Just my luck. I’ve spent a year avoiding advances and the first time I find someone I like, he likes boys!”
“Thora . . .” His spirit strained to reach her as his body had fought his bonds. “I can’t be your lover, but . . . I would give my life for you.”
She stroked the tumbled hair back from his brow.
“Then come with me! Be my brother, my comrade. Valkyrie and vitki—we’ll be invincible! There’s a world out there, my friend—waiting to be seen!”
Suddenly it all came flooding back—his connection with the wights of stream and rock and tree, the blessing of the guardian who watched over this land—and Thora’s spirit, burning like a tiny sun. He had feared to leave Mist Hills, but a world waited.
“Soul-sister!” he breathed, and some last barrier disappeared and set him free.
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