Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight

by Mercedes Lackey

  Kullen nodded, agreeing with his wife’s words, though his expression was much more grave. “Darian, we are so proud of you that there are just no words in any language to tell you how much. When we lost you, we carried around a hole in our hearts for years. Even with what we were going through up here, we thought of you, or rather—we thought of you as we last knew you. When we were separated, our only influence on you was what we’d taught you already, and we hoped that you remembered. We wish we could have been with you, all that time you were under Justyn’s care, but fate did not have it so. We loved you then, and as for who you have become—we do not love you any less.”

  Kelvren rumbled deep in his throat, not quite a growl, but close. He was reacting to the stitching, not what was being said, but it made a strange counterpoint to the discussion. At least the most delicate part—the eyelid cut—had been completed first. Wintersky limped by, conversing with Raven’s Chief, and glanced in at the tableau briefly. They both seemed to surmise in the same instant what was going on between Darian and his parents, and drifted off discreetly after no more than a short wave.

  Kullen shifted his weight off of his crippled leg. “Son—who and what you have become, we could not have given you. You are a wonder to us, and to all of Raven, too. You’ll be spoken of here for a long time—Darian, the Hunters’ Son, the Owl Knight, the Shaman of the Earth-mother who can call up fountains and crack stone with a thought, to defend the people—and more stories yet to come.”

  Darian looked from his mother to his father, and even though he tried to soften the blow of his words, he couldn’t. They still carried a hint of bitterness. “I didn’t come this far to become a tribal hero. I came here for you.”

  “We know, son, we know,” Daralie spoke, and then she paused when Kelvren flinched strongly, biting hard enough into his gag they could all hear the bedroll’s stitches popping. She resumed a few seconds later, filling the uncomfortable silence of the moment. “All of you will be welcome back here, I hope you know that. But—before we even came here to talk to you, we knew what the outcome would be. We haven’t survived this long without knowing how to listen to our hearts, and—we can’t go back to Valdemar with you. We also know that you can’t stay here with us.”

  Darian’s jaw set and his muscles were visibly tense, but that was nothing compared to what Keisha sensed from him. He was angry, disappointed, frustrated—upset at a very deep level over this news, yet—there was an undercurrent of relief, as well. Keisha sensed that inside, this was one of the end results that her lover secretly wanted. She sensed an undercurrent of—

  Relief? Happiness at—freedom?

  Kelvren growled, jarring her attention back to the task of stitching the wound. Darian straightened his shirt, and replied.

  “Mother. Father. When you were gone, I had only feelings of fear and abandonment. I also had myself, and one more thing. I had my memories of you.”

  Darian’s eyes clouded in introspection. “In a way, this entire journey was not coming back to you, it was a way of confirming that my memories were real—that even though I remembered that you loved me, I wanted to be sure of it. When you go from childhood to manhood, everything changes, until you’re not even sure that the very things that made you were real. Now that we’re reunited, we have found that it was real. Then. But then is not now. Now, we are new people, and we love each other all over again, in a new way.”

  Darian is good at this. Maybe he learned it from Firesong, or maybe Silverfox—how to pick the right thing to say, to soothe and support the listener so the meaning of what is said doesn’t crush them. He has the heart of a Healer, that is for sure. That may be why I love him so much.

  Kullen nodded, his arms crossed loosely, listening to Darian intently. Daralie rested against her husband’s shoulder, squeezing his nearest hand slightly—something very natural between them, Keisha could tell, and long-practiced.

  I wonder if, when we are that age—may we live so long—we will be that easy with each other, that comfortable. Kullen just lists to the side, already knowing that Daralie will be there. They do not have “powers” like Empathy and Healing, these Gifts, but just look at them. Being in love is enough.

  “You have a new home now, and so do I. Mine is far away from here, but your hearts will always be my home. My heart will always be your home. I have to return to my work in Valdemar and the Vales, with the woman that I love.”

  Darian looked at Keisha with an expression that showed no doubt in that statement at all.

  Another moment, and Darian looked back to his parents. “I love you both, so much.”

  “We love you, too, Darian,” Daralie half-whispered. “We are so proud of you. And what you have done for this tribe is—”

  Darian smiled a little and shook his head, holding up one hand. “—is done lovingly, for no charge, price or demand. It was done for the principle, for the honor, and for you.”

  Kullen grunted, and nodded once, in acknowledgment. Kuari hooted softly, as if answering, then twisted his head to receive a slow scratching from Darian while his bondmate collected his thoughts.

  Darian took a deep breath. “Personally, though I need you to do something for me.”

  Darian clasped his hands in front of him, and despite his own bandages he stood perfectly straight up and strong. “You have children now, my brothers and sisters who I’d never met before and, honestly—who I just don’t know. I may never know them. We are siblings by blood, but not by culture, except for one vital link.”

  “The link is you, and your knowledge ... the things that you can teach them. Teach them that their oldest brother is a Knight of Valdemar, and that he is a Hawkbrother, and teach them what those things mean. Teach them that his friends of many tribes, cultures and species came here to defend Raven, and them. Teach them that they can live, and love, and actually fulfill the kinds of duties and risks and grand adventures that you used to tell me about in hero stories when I was just your little boy, Mother. Teach them that it isn’t beyond their reach, that they can be brave, and travel, and learn amazing things, and do what is compassionate at whatever cost, Father. Teach them for me, because I cannot be here to do it myself.”

  Daralie wept, and Kullen’s eyes looked near to crying as well. Keisha held her breath, and as she knotted the last stitch of Kelvren’s wound, a teardrop from her own eyes fell on the blotting pad.

  Epilogue

  “No,” Keisha said adamantly, and Ayshen’s face fell. “No flower arches, no procession from the village, and especially no ceremonial dance. I hate those rigid dances—too much structure. I feel like I’m spellcasting, not celebrating, when I’m stuck in one of those things.”

  Ayshen looked to Darian for support, and Darian shook his head. “We’re all agreed on this, old friend,” he said with sympathy. “You got your chance to drag me through all the ceremonies you wanted last spring. We want a small and private ceremony, a modest celebration, and that’s that.”

  “No fireworks,” Steelmind put in. “No invitations to every Vale within flying distance. No canopies carried by hovering gryphons.”

  “You can invite the tervardi to come sing, though,” Darian added thoughtfully, and Ayshen’s snout lifted a little.

  “Couldn’t we manage to combine it with the Harvest Faire?” he asked hopefully. “Think what a fabulous celebration that would make! And with all of the symbology of the coming fertility, and new births the next spring!”

  Keisha and Darian exchanged a glance. “I don’t suppose the Tayledras are familiar with the concept of elopement, are they?” she whispered, as Ayshen launched into another set of grandiose plans.

  He laughed and held her closer, and she snuggled into his embrace without a shadow of doubt coming between them. “Maybe we ought to consider introducing it to them,” he whispered back, and she stifled a laugh against his shoulder.

  Ayshen glared at them. “This is your future I am planning! Aren’t you paying attention?” he asked irritably.
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br />   All four of them exchanged a look, and burst out in helpless laughter.

  “Ayshen, my friend,” Steelmind chuckled, “Gods and spirits laugh their loudest when a mortal makes plans, and doubly so when they make plans for another.”

  Reluctantly, Ayshen backed down, sitting back on his tail. “It is true that weddings are not so much for the ones being wed, as for their loved ones. I suppose that after all that has happened, you just want peace.”

  Darian hugged Keisha’s shoulder, and confided, “Just about now, some time alone together sounds very, very appealing.”