by Kevin Gordon
could have easily read her mind, but he restrained himself, purposefully pulling back and ignoring her mind, soon after they first met. She turned to him, and put a hand on his.
“I love you.”
It was too much for Graid. He broke down, and sobbed, and she held him close to her breast. He kissed her, long and hard. It was then that Graid knew what to do.
“Come with me.”
“Now?” she asked, tugging at him, trying to cajole him back into bed.
“Yes, now.”
They dressed quickly and ran outside into the cold, early morning as the sun rose over the hills, blanketing the valley with a welcome warmth. They ran through the village, as farmers tended their fields, and shopkeepers left their homes to begin another roa. They ran to the nearby graveyard, Graid stopping in front of Nijil’s marker.
“What are you doing?” she asked, growing frightened.
Graid extended his arm, holding his hand open, facing outwards. The ground beneath was pushed aside, as a hole formed. The casket that lay under was revealed, and Graid mentally lifted it up and onto the ground.
“You can’t?” she asked, incredulously.
Graid opened the lid, and inside lay the body of Nijil. Her eyes closed, her dress neatly arranged, she looked as if she was pretending to sleep, as if she might burst out in a smile at any moment. A few tears fell down Chelie’s face, remembering the life that was once within her.
“What are you doing?”
Graid knelt down, then froze over Nijil’s body, unable to move, feeling time stood still.
^What are you doing, Kal-Alçon?^ another mind cast to him.
The Kal-Durrell . . .
^Why do you concern yourselves with this?^ he demanded.
^You were not created to be a Kal, Graid. You were created to be a servant of the people.^
^And I am serving them. Now, more than ever!^
^They will worship you, idolize you, if you do this.^
^And yet you would stand idly by while I kill others?^ he asked, a pleading tone to his thoughts. ^I know my mistake, and seek only to correct it.^
^Death is the doorway, the passage through which should not be undone lightly.^
He nodded, struggling under their combined mental weight. ^I know that, I feel that. And yet, I cannot let those I killed capriciously, or let die out of arrogance or fear, remain so. Let me correct these mistakes. This girl, and one other.^ In his mind, he dropped to his knees, prostrate before them. ^Please . . .^ he begged, tears running down his face. The Kal-Durrell were silent, for what seemed to be an eternity to him.
^We shall allow you to do this. Understand though, that this is the only time we will allow you to do this. There may come a time when someone of great importance to you dies. You will need to accept it, and move on.^
Graid thought of a future he could not see, one which the Kal-Durrell seemed to know of.
^All I can do is live in the present, do what’s right in the present,^ he cast, confidently. ^When the future comes, I will accept it, and hope I gain some wisdom from it.^
^You are learning, Graid.^
^One . . . one more question, please.^
^Go on.^
^There is so much different about this timeline. Is this what is to be?^ he asked.
^You will discover the answer to that in time. But that is not the question you want to ask, is it?^
^No.^ Graid halted for a moment, more than a little scared. ^Am I to die? I look down, at this small girl’s body, whose life was taken away in an instant. And now, I wonder, is that what will happen to me?^
^All mortals must perish,^ replied the Kal-Durrell. ^Such is the cycle of life. Does it matter if it is in two cas, or two hundred? If one has lived life with honor, and vigor, then death is no longer to be feared. What would you long for, Graid? You no longer have dreams of power, of ruling over Rell and Novan. You understand what must happen, for our people to flourish. You have seen more of this universe than any other being in existence. You know what it is to love, not only a woman, but a whole people. Put this fear of death behind you, gentle one, and embrace the myriad aspects of your destiny. It is only once you surrender yourself to the present, that you will have any hope of success. All our future depends on you, Graid, in ways you cannot yet comprehend.^
With that, the warmth was gone. Graid never felt so alone in his life. There was a clarity in his mind, the likes of which he had never felt before. For a moment, all that was Graid, was Graid.
This is how it must feel to take lleldin.
And then, it all came back. He felt he could move again, could feel Chelie’s warm breath close to him. He focused back on the present, on the duty before him. Graid’s face drew quiet, and remote, his eyes closing. He spread his hand over Nijil’s body, over her heart, then over her head. He opened his eyes, and lifted Nijil’s head in his hand, drawing her up.
“Arise, my child!”
In moments, color rushed through her body, her chest rose and fell slowly at first, but faster and stronger as the mroas went by. She opened her eyes, as the sky burst into brilliance with the full sunrise.
“I . . . am alive!” she exclaimed, struggling to move again. Chelie reached down, and lifted her out of the coffin, her heart pounding fiercely as she hugged and kissed her sister.
“How?”
“You know all about me, Chelie. This is who I am.” He turned, searching for another coffin. “There is another wrong I must put right.”
Chelie kept her sister close, unwilling to let her go lest she pass away again. She ran into the village, yelling for all to come see. In moments, a crowd gathered around Graid, as he knelt before the marker of Wejholl. He did the same, pushing aside the soil, mentally pulling up the coffin till it sat before him. It opened, and the body of Wejholl lay before him. The old, wizened face of the Alçon was drawn and serious, his flesh withered.
“I’m so sorry, my learned friend. I give back what was wrongfully taken away.”
Graid knelt down, his eyes open, concentrating on the body before him. A reddish glow emanated from his hands, as a strain could be seen on his face. He put his full hand on Wejholl’s chest.
“Awaken, sleeper! You still have services to perform, a people to tend to!”
The crowd looked on with stunned eyes, as his color returned to Wejholl’s body, breath to his ample frame. His body pulsed as the flesh filled with water and air again, as blood flowed through his veins, as his heart beat once more to the master’s rhythm. Wejholl’s eyes opened, and he groggily sat up, to cheers and jubilation from all around. He turned and looked around, stunned to be among the living again.
“I . . . was dead?”
“No more, my friend.” Graid lifted him out of the coffin. “I am so sorry. I have brought you back, for your service is still needed among your people. Will you forgive me?”
Wejholl looked on this still youthful man, just past being a boy, whom he knew only by his arrogance. He now appeared humble, and repentant. His heart melted inside him, the contaminant of his office faded away, and he remembered what his life was like before he was on the council.
“If forgiveness is what you want, then I am happy to give it.”
Graid embraced Wejholl tightly, squeezing his body hard. And Wejholl embraced him, tears running down the deep wrinkles under his eyes. He knelt, holding Graid’s hand.
“Something wonderful has happened.” The others knelt with him. “Kal-Alçon, I thank you for the gift of my life. I see humility where once I saw arrogance. I see faith, where once I saw heresy. I don’t know what happened to you, but I offer my life to you again, and pledge all my strength to fulfill your dreams. I shall never shirk from your side, never forsake you no matter what trials you may face. This, I pledge, with my life.”
“Wejholl, stand, for here I am merely a man.” He pulled him up. “We shall face the future together, not just you, and me, but all the people of Rell! What began with Arciss and the Trint-Averil shall flourish
throughout our world, for where once was death, life shall reign! Where once hate,” he pulled Chelie close, “love shall rule. There is still much to be done, many battles to fight, and many may perish in the face of our enemies. But we shall stand together, united, for I am your Kal-Alçon, and you are my family!”
Graid spent much of the roa and night with the villagers, speaking to them with his own face, speaking of the mysteries of Kal and the Kal-Durrell, of Novan and its people, of some portions of his life. The next roa, he went to see Chelie. He found her sitting on the steps of her house, sitting with her legs bent under her, a tired smile on her face. Nijil ran about in front of her, bouncing a small red ball, throwing it back and forth to Chelie. He stood there for a while, unseen by both of them. She looks as if she’s been up all night, he thought. Nijil jumped about like her heart was on fire, bouncing as though gravity had no hold on her. Graid saw she was just bouncing a ball, but she laughed and giggled as if it was the most wonderful thing to do. Chelie sat there, tired out, laughing at how much fun she was having. Graid felt a presence next to him.
“Good morning, Graid.”
“Good morning Ilahon!” he cried, totally surprised. Ilahon motioned him to keep quiet, so they wouldn’t attract Chelie’s attention.
“Watching the fruits of your labor?” he whispered, drawing close to Graid.
Graid looked on, marveling at the joy such a small child brought not only to Chelie, but to Graid, who was used to doing more and more decadent things to feel a trace of joy.
“I merely