by Kevin Gordon
corrected a mistake.”
Ilahon crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you and Chelie are in love?”
Graid smiled. “I suppose we are.”
“I’ll bet you would love to sit next to her, and talk about what she did as a child, what her favorite sweet was, who her first crush was on?”
“I suppose so,” said Graid dreamily.
“And I’ll bet you would love to pass the time of roa, talking about how the rocks are different on this side of the village than on the other, or how this wood would be better for building than that, wouldn’t you?”
“If it meant being in her company, I would talk about the most mundane things, just to hear her voice, to see that smile I know is only for me.” Graid glanced sideways at Ilahon. “Is there a point to these questions?”
“Maybe you remember earlier, how frustrated you were at the simpleness of the village?”
Graid smiled. “Yes, I guess I was frustrated.”
“And now, you, the great Kal-Alçon, defender of a whole world, second only to the Kal-Durrell, take joy in watching a child bounce a ball.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied, cherishing the warmth in his heart and soul. Ilahon placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Remember this time. Things are simpler out here, in the wide open spaces. There is no political intrigue, no life and death decisions to be made. It doesn’t make their life any less relevant, or valuable. For it is that simplicity that you fight for, it is for that child’s innocence that a million soldiers would die to keep secure. For when you are here, and you feel as though you belong, you wouldn’t want to leave for anything. Quite a temptation, isn’t it?”
Graid looked over at Nijil, who was tired for a moment, and sat next to Chelie. Nijil rest her head on Chelie’s lap, and Chelie stroked her black hair gently, singing in a low, sweet voice. Graid thought of a future where he would sit with them, and stroke Chelie’s hair, and sing to both of them.
“Very tempting.”
“No more decisions, no more expectations,” whispered Ilahon in a low voice. “No one to hide your powers from, no one to strike fear into.”
“Why are you doing this?” asked Graid, turning to face him.
“Temptation comes in all forms, Graid. It comes as sweetly as this, and as sick and self-destructive as what you have experienced. You have come a long way, and will still have much temptation to face. If you succeed, you would sacrifice your very existence, and you know that, and it is one of the only things that scares you.”
“Yes, it does.”
Nijil had jumped up again, running in circles, bouncing her ball, throwing it high in the air as Chelie lay back and watched.
“To fight temptation, you must keep those you value close to your heart,” continued Ilahon. “But most of all, Graid, you must keep yourself close. You must learn to love yourself, as you have learned to love others.”
“It is, difficult.”
Ilahon started to walk away. “I’m sure it is. Before the end, it must be done . . .”
As he disappeared into the trees, the thought of him faded in Graid’s mind. Graid walked over to Chelie, and sat with her, taking turns throwing the ball to Nijil, loving every mroa.
Over the next few roas, Graid spent every droa speaking with the villagers, hearing their concerns, allaying their fears. He spent a great deal of time with Wejholl, and both soon had a clearer understanding of each other. Wejholl saw Graid for the first time not just as a weapon, as a machine to be ordered and told what to do, but as an individual, as someone with needs and desires, feelings and emotions. He apologized for the way Graid was brought up, and was overjoyed to see he had found some peace. Graid, through talking with him and the villagers, understood more of their struggles, saw the life that was behind them. To him, each soul appeared as an iceberg, needfully hiding its bulk under the murky depths, only to be revealed to one who is trusted and cherished. And he grew to be immensely grateful that he was that person for so many.
He spent the late roas and nights with Chelie, falling more and more in love with her. He opened more of himself to her, and she to him. Many times he openly sobbed in her arms, and never did he feel ashamed or weak, for she had strength within her he could not believe. As the time drew near for Graid to depart, they sat again on the ravine, overlooking the valley. He thought her the picture of strength, while he felt utterly devastated at needing to leave her behind.
“I wish I could come with you.”
“As do I,” he said, holding her tightly for the umpteenth time.
“Do you think you will be successful this time?”
“I don’t know. When I confronted Mal, and Mal stated it was merely a means to an end, something about that stayed with me. I have felt smaller, the more I open my eyes and mind to the world around me. There are forces at work, unknown to me, and I feel these diversions, that never happened before, will mean something in the end.”
“You have said that many times, ‘in the end.’ You don’t believe you will live, do you?” she asked softly. Graid focused hard on her, forming words that gave him great dread and fear. “No, I don’t.”
She looked on his face for a moment, outwardly calm, but masking such torment. She embraced him, and him her.
“I feel so much stronger when I am with you. There is faith and hope in my soul, when you hold me.”
She smiled. “How many women did you say you have been with?”
“Too many, too many . . .”
“I was joking,” she said, pushing him playfully.
“I know! I have never felt ashamed of my promiscuity. But with you, I do. I would have given anything to have been pure with you, to have only known you.”
“One should never be ashamed of their past. Sometimes, I think you hate yourself.”
“I did, and probably still do,” answered Graid slowly. “But lately, I find more to live for, more to appreciate about life.”
Chelie looked into his eyes, and saw only love and peace. More than anything, she wanted to live with him, be with him, be the foundation for his strength, and the sounding board for his sorrows. She had been mulling over a question, which she now resolutely posed.
“Graid, would you join with me?”
“What?” he cried, shocked.
“I want to share my mind with you, now, and forever after.”
“But, you know I am leaving, and may never come back!” he exclaimed, at once overjoyed and dismayed. “You would be alone, and not even I know if our mental link would stretch across the dimensional divide. You may see me do things. . . . unpleasant to you. I must return to a world locked in a bitter war, one that will consume all in its influence.”
“I know, and I don’t care,” she said pleadingly, holding his hands in hers. “If I can give you even the smallest iota of strength, and comfort, then I will do it without hesitation.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you love me, and will never give up hope in yourself, or in our people.”
Graid drew her close, and kissed her until the sun set low in the sky, and the night blanketed their embrace.
A great farewell was given for Graid and Wejholl as people from surrounding villages had already heard of the miracle of Graid. Every man and woman brought all manner of foodstuffs, from delicious roasted meats and roots, to subtly spiced cakes and cookies. Drink flowed as easily as the words between them, as Wejholl told many a story of Graid’s childhood, much to the Kal-Alçon’s chagrin and Chelie’s delight. And even in his discomfort Graid felt great joy, for when he looked in Wejholl’s eyes he saw the love of a brother, and when he looked in Chelie’s laughing eyes, he saw the love of the divine. At the end of the roa’s festivities, Graid joined with Chelie, in a small ceremony to which only a few were made aware. Around them stood Chelie’s brother, Nijil, Xiow, and a few of Chelie’s friends, with Ilahon being conspicuously absent, thought Graid barely noticed. A sub-Alçon presided over the ceremony, nervously
, for he knew whom he was joining. And as the words were done and they stood finally as one, his mind eternally open to hers, and hers to him, Graid could feel the benevolent gaze of not only the Kal-Durrell, but of Kal as well, radiating joy and happiness from the sky above. And as the evening turned to morning, and Wejholl and Graid made their sad farewells, a few even walked with them to the base of the mountains, overjoyed to be in their presence. Chelie was the last to leave, holding onto Graid’s hands, looking in his eyes, tasting his lips. She turned quickly and left, hiding her tears, yet warmed by the mental bond between herself and Graid.
Graid and Wejholl departed slowly, taking in the sights as they walked, letting silence flow between them as often as words. It was a difficult climb for Wejholl, as he only made the trek into the Ult mountains when he was of younger mind and body. But he was determined to experience life again and do as Graid had done—reconnect with a world he had forgotten since his duties as Alçon consumed and changed him.
“What was it like?” asked Graid, as they walked along a plateau before the mountains.
“What do you mean?”
“Death.”
Wejholl was silent for a moment, as they moved out of sight of Vujora, beginning the long ascent up the mountain. The midroa sun took the chill from the air, and for a while, all was pleasant.
“Don’t you know? You brought me back.”
“I did something that was more instinctual, than known,” replied Graid. “I am only beginning to understand the limit of