Children of the Dawn (44 page)

“Oh,” Tor said with a sigh. “I can do that, if you tell me what he needs.”

…
He needs to know who Gaia really was
…

Tor groaned.

…
I forgave you long ago, but our son will never be free unless you tell him
…

“But he will hate me. He might kill me.”

…
I
would not blame him. You must take that chance
…

“I can’t, Ashan. I love him too much.”

…
You must
because
you love him…

Tor knew she was right.

“Kai El,” Tor said in the morning, “when you hear what I have to say, I fear you will hate me. If you kill me, I will understand,
and forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you for pretending to be dead, for making me grieve. What could be worse than that?”

Tor took a deep breath.

“You and Gaia shared the same blood. She was your sister, not your soulmate.”

Kai El reeled as if he’d been punctured with a spear.

“I don’t believe you! You’re crazy!”

“It’s true. Gaia and Tahna are my daughters.”

His son slumped to the floor of the cave.

“Oh, Amotkan… ” he moaned.

Tor didn’t go to him. He had inflicted this pain. His arms would only make it worse.

The explosion of rage he expected never came. Kai El listened silently, never looking in his eyes, as Tor told the story of
how he’d been young and stupid and become Tsilka’s lover. He hadn’t known about the twins until the tribes met at the Great
River. He couldn’t tell Ashan, no matter how he wanted to. He forced Tsilka to keep the secret. And the twins grew up never
knowing that they had a father.

Finally Kai El spoke. His voice was bitter.

“And I grew up and fell in love with my own sister. We laughed at ancient laws, played with the wrath of spirits, without
ever knowing what we were doing. How could you not tell me then?”

“I was too weak,” Tor said. “I prayed that something would stop it.”

Kai El’s eyes flashed.

“Gaia’s death stopped it. Did you pray for that?”

“No, son, no. I loved her. You have to believe that. I loved all of you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me. That’s
the reason I never told you.”

Without another word, Kai El took his things and left.

As I did to him,
thought the bereft old man, much more alone now than he’d been before.

I
HAVE LOST
G
AIA TWICE
,
K
AI
E
L THOUGHT, TRAVELING
again toward Shahala lands.
First her beautiful living self. Now my memories of what we were to each other.

Don’t believe it, Kai El. Tor is a crazy old man.

He tried to think of his father that way—wandering off, living by himself, getting crazier all the time, until one day he
thought up this story, and blurted it out to the first person he saw, who happened to be his son.

Kai El had wild ideas of going to Teahra Village and choking the truth out of Rattlesnake Woman. But no—he never wanted to
see that place again.

His heart knew the truth. Disbelief was an attempt to hide from the pain of loss. Only nineteen summers, Kai El knew the ways
of grief.
First you don’t believe it, then you want to kill, then you want to die. Then you move forward, and find that it has stayed
behind.

He wanted to hate Tor, to blame him for every hurt ever suffered. But it didn’t work. Tor had been a good father, at least
to him. Kai El’s life had been good, until Gaia died.

He certainly couldn’t blame his father for that—unless he blamed
Tor’s blood
for giving her courage to sacrifice her life for others—the very blood that flowed in Kai El’s own body.

What could he blame his father for? Being human?

Tor regretted his mistakes. He had suffered for them, and
he wasn’t done suffering. What could be worse than dying alone?

Days away from Ehr’s cave, Kai El stood on a hilltop.

“I forgive you, Father,” he shouted.

Maybe Tor would sense it.

Kai El’s feelings about Gaia were not so clear. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known. If it was so wrong to love your
sister, why wasn’t there some way to tell? He searched every memory of her for the thing that might have told him, but there
was nothing. He searched memories of Tahna, his
other
sister, and there was nothing there either.

Feelings of shame tried to creep up in him…
you held your sister in your arms, kissed her, dreamed of making love.

“No,” he told himself.’ ’Ignorance made us innocent. How could what we did have been wrong? She was the purest creature Amotkan
ever sent to the world. She was incapable of wrong.”

Kai El vowed to allow nothing to spoil the memory of their love.

Once more he began to think of finding a new tribe.
And maybe,
he thought with a lump in his throat,
a new mate.
If Gaia was not his soulmate, then his soulmate was still out there somewhere, waiting for him, looking for him.

Kai El found the home of his ancestors. He’d left the Valley of Grandmothers as a small child, but he remembered the mountains
on one side, the sweeping plains on the other, where they said herds of horses once grazed. After exploring for several days,
he came upon a group of sunken places in the ground—all that remained of the village called Anutash. It was a strange, beautiful,
lonely place: full of memories that were not his; of almost-heard laughter and weeping; of spirits.

That night, as he slept where his ancestors had once thrived, the Spirit of Ashan brought Kai El and Tahna together in a dream.

He dreamed that he entered a hut where Tahna was sitting.

“My brother?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I was worried. You’ve been gone too long.”

“I had things to do.”

In the dream, Kai El loved Tahna. It was like they’d been brother and sister forever.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, sounding relieved. “I need you. These people are losing everything they had.”

“I’m only here to visit. Surely you and Tenka make one good Moonkeeper.”

“Tenka’s dead. My mother killed her. My mother died too.”

“So it’s true. I dreamed it was so.”

The dreamworld started coming apart. Kai El floated upward.

“Come back,” Tahna said. “I need you, brother.”

“Good-bye, sister.”

“Please, Kai El. I need you.”

That his sister might need him was not enough.

The Spirit of Ashan took her dreaming son to Teahra Village in a different time. From the sky, he saw burning huts, bloody
ground, bodies of men. He saw women and little ones hiding in the cliffs.

Elia came into the dream.

“It wasn’t a slave raid,” he said. “They did it to each other. The peace that began when I died ended because you wouldn’t
come back.”

Kai El was horrified.

“Things are different,” Elia said. “Ashan was the last who could talk to the people. Tahna has done a good job, but she has
no magic. Without magic, men need a man to control them. He must be stronger, smarter and braver than any. You were that man.”

Kai El tried to fly away from the dream, from the smoking village, from Elia’s accusations. But he was stuck.

Elia said, “It was meant to be. You, with the Shahala blood of Tor and Ashan. Tahna, with the blood of Tor and her grandfather,
the Tlikit chief.

“You and Tahna should have led these people. The chiefs who were brother and sister… you would have become legend.

“And what you see down there would not have happened.”

Kai El awoke with certain knowledge: He was going home.

K
AI
E
L HEADED BACK TOWARD
T
EAHRA
V
ILLAGE
, with the dream of fiery destruction putting speed in his gait. The young man didn’t know how he would save his people, but
he knew that he was the only one who could.

He took time to see his father on the way. What good was forgiveness if the one forgiven never knew?

On a fine spring afternoon, he found Tor in the hidden cave. Hunched by a small fire, he looked
old.

“Hello, Father.”

Tor got to his feet.

“You came back,” he said, wonder lifting his voice. “She said you would.”

Kai El went to him with open arms.

“How could I not come back? I love you.”

Tears sparkled in Tor’s eyes. “I love you, too, son.”

They held each other. The grip of Tor’s skinny arms was weak. He trembled. Kai El felt the bones in his back, sensing feebleness
in his entire being.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you, son. I never tried to hurt you.”

Kai El patted his back.

“I understand. I forgive you.”

Speaking the words felt like laying down a huge stone carried for too long.

Tor slumped against him in relief. Then he backed away,
sniffling, wiping his face. He put his hands on Kai El’s shoulders.

“As a man, I am a pebble, and you are a boulder.”

“You mean you’re a piece of sand, and I’m a mountain,” Kai El said, laughing. Tor laughed with him, and once they started,
it was hard to stop.

“It’s too warm in here,” Kai El said. It was also dark and musty, but he didn’t mention that. “Let’s go out. It’s a fine day.”

Tor went through the waterfall, with his head covered by a stiff piece of leather. Kai El followed, letting the cold water
hit him—remembering how as a little one, he seldom took time to cover his head.

They climbed down mossy rocks edging the waterfall, and sat by the shallow pool on a piece of downed wood. The splashing water
laughed. There was a magic glow to the place. Kai El had happy memories of being here with the grandfather Ehr, feeding the
wolf, the lynx, chipmunks, and birds who were Ehr’s only company before Ashan and Kai El came. He wondered if the animals
were coming again now that Tor had returned, then realized that feeding animals was not the kind of thing his father would
do.

“You are right,” Tor said. “The sunshine feels good.”

Kai El sighed. “I love this place.”

“So do I.” Tor put his hand on his son’s arm. “To have you here, to have your love… that makes it perfect.”

“I believe love is the best thing to have,” Kai El said. “If someone loves you—even someone who has died—you are never really
alone.”

Then he picked up a pebble, tossed it in the pool, and watched the water ripple away.

“I can’t stay here,” he said. “I’m going home to take my place with Tahna and lead the tribe.”

Kai El expected Tor to argue, maybe even plead with him to stay. At least, he expected to have to explain why.

But Tor said, “I know. She told me.”

“So my mother talks to you?”

Tor nodded. “I don’t hear her in my ears, but in my thoughts. I feel her in the air, and within me. It’s my life’s greatest
comfort.”

’I’m glad,” Kai El said, remembering the time after Ashan’s death, when Tor closed in on himself so tightly that her spirit
couldn’t get in if she tried.

Kai El said, “She comes to me in dreams. She has, since she became a spirit. She showed me that I must go home to Teahra.”

“I’m proud of you, son. You always do the right thing. It’s your mother’s blood in you.”

“And I am proud of you.”

Tor shook his head. “I’m just a man who made too many mistakes. I don’t deserve your pride.”

“But you do. You are a legend among our people, talked about around the nightfire. Tor, the warrior who spoke the language
of horses. Tor, the man with far-seeing eyes who brought us to the Great River.”

Tor was pleased.

“A legend,” he said. “I’m glad they don’t remember me by how I was at the end.”

“They remember you with love.”

Kai El tossed another pebble in the pool.

“I want you to come home with me.”

“Oh, no,” Tor said with a laugh. “I’m not leaving.”

“Tsilka won’t be there to torment you. She’s dead. I dreamed it.”

“That’s not it.” Tor waved his arm. “This is my home.”

“But you’ll need people to help you when you get too old to do things for yourself. I want to be there for you. It’s my right
as your son.”

Tor was firm. “Save your arguing. Spend a day with me, then go and do what you must.”

“But, Father—”

“Did Ehr leave when he got old?”

“Well, no.”

“I have everything I need. I will never leave the Home Cave.
She
likes it. I know it sounds strange, but we are happy, your mother and I. Even though I don’t see her, she comes from time
to time. I am happy here, Kai El. And more now that you have brought me the gift of your forgiveness. I like the way people
remember me. I don’t want them to watch
me become a doddering old man. That’s no image for a legend.”

Kai El knew that he had lost. Sighing, he said, “Yes, I see what you mean.”

Sunshine sparkled on the water. He watched trout hatchlings swimming at the edge of the pool in the shade of a clump of grass.

“What should I tell people?” he asked.

“Tell them nothing. Let them believe I am dead.”

“What about Tahna?”

Tor sighed. “You must tell her about me. She has the right to know who she truly is.”

“She might want to see you.”

“She might want to
kill
me,” Tor said. “I hope not. I would rather die here alone and in peace. But if she wants to, you’ll have to bring her.”

Father and son spent two days together—sad, sweet days, rich with love. They talked about small things, important things,
and things they’d never talked about before, knowing it was likely to be the last time they’d be together in this life.

They talked about
ifs.

How would things be different if Tor in his youth had not broken the dreaming tabu, and made the man-eaters come, and with
them the Time of Sorrows that tried hard to destroy the people?

What if Tor had not kidnapped Ashan? Or left her to seek his pleasure with another woman, then left that one with two unclaimed
little ones? What if he’d had the courage to admit his mistakes long ago?