Clan and Crown (41 page)

Clajak’s reality slammed into slow
motion. The words his Imdiko and aide spoke came with crawling
hideousness, creeping inch by inch to infect his ears ... his heart
... his soul.

There has been an
accident.

The shuttle
crashed...

Everyone but Zarl and
Narpok ... killed.

He probably won’t make
it.

The Dramok prince tried to absorb the
alien words, the warped statements that turned the daylight black.
As their meaning became clear, they did not shed light. Instead,
the darkness grew, eclipsing every shred of
illumination.

Clajak wasn’t sure how he managed to
make his jaw work or his lips to form words. His whole body felt
disconnected. Everything had gone numb except for the dagger edge
of pain slowly shredding him from heart to gut.

Clajak wasn’t even sure he was the one
who spoke. He couldn’t feel himself doing so. His throat, his mouth
... nothing involved with speech felt in use. Yet the words seemed
to belong to him. “My mother. You forgot to say my mother
lives.”

He waited for them to correct the
omission. Egilka tightened his grip on Clajak. He sobbed. He did
not say the needed words. Korkla’s lips pressed together. He too
refused to say what Clajak’s ears screamed for.

Rage at their silence burst from his
throat. “My mother lives! Damn you, my mother lives! Say
it!”

Korkla shook his head, his eyes
filling. “I’m sorry, my prince. Empress Irdis did not survive. She
is dead.”

With that, the last light in Clajak’s
world snuffed out. He felt as if the earth beneath him gave way,
that a pit yawned beneath him. He fell and fell and fell, the drop
taking his breath away. The dagger that had been slicing through
him now bludgeoned his gut, rending and tearing, dragging entrails
out in painful chunks. He bent double, the pain drawing a soundless
scream from his yawning mouth.

Not Irdis. Not his mother. Not his
angel. No. No.

No.

How long Clajak plunged through the
bowels of sightless gloom, how long he twisted under the jagged
edge of the blade in his guts, he had no idea. The hell seemed to
last an eternity. He thought when he came out of it he would be
aged and on the point of death himself. He’d return ready to join
his mother on the other side of the line that separated mortal from
forever.

Yet as the world around his still
living body faded back into existence, Clajak discovered he sat on
the seating cushion of his office. Egilka still clung to him, and
the Dramok could feel the firm hold of his clanmate. Korkla’s face
had grown no older, hovering before him and maintaining calm
despite the pain in his eyes.

The aide’s voice was there too, shaking
with grief just as it had when it had delivered those awful words.
Now the statements were all nonsense, mere noises strung together
to create a confusing hum of noise. “Clajak, I cannot even begin to
feel your sorrow. I am so sorry. I know this is beyond hell for you
right now, but you must try to be strong.”

Egilka’s tear-drenched voice rang loud.
“Strong? How can you expect that of him? He’s a Dramok, but he’s
not made of stone, Korkla! Do you have any idea what Irdis was to
him?”

“Half of his world, with you the other
half. The two of you are his everything. I know perfectly well this
is an absolute cataclysm. Even so, Clajak is the Crown Prince. As
such, drowning in grief is not a privilege he gets to
enjoy.”

Korkla leaned close to Clajak, as if to
penetrate the darkness that wanted to close in on him once more.
“But forget the Empire for the moment, my prince. Think of your
surviving parents. Tidro needs you. Yuder is on his way home and
will be here within the hour. They must have a Dramok’s guidance
right now. They need their son to help them steer through the
horror of losing their Matara and perhaps their Dramok.”

Clajak’s stunned mind groped for any
scrap of sanity it could find. It sifted through the muddle and
noise that made it impossible to think.

He came up with one small shred of
hope. He clung to it.

“Zarl lives.” The words were gasped
like oxygen.

Korkla nodded. “For now. The word from
Joshada is that he must be brought back to Kalquor in order to be
saved by our superior medicine.”

New terrors crowded in, their ugly
forms distracting Clajak from the most awful realization that Irdis
was gone. He welcomed them, letting dread of a different sort take
him away from facing life without his mother.

“Zarl can’t die. He can’t leave me in
charge. I’m not ready. I need – I need—”

Clajak stopped talking. He couldn’t put
into words what he needed, most of all the desperate demand for the
mother who had always guided him so gently to his better
nature.

Clajak shied away from thinking of her.
He couldn’t stand it. Better to focus on the other horrors now
before him, the lesser evils that wanted to enter his life. Better
to face the dawning knowledge that though he was not a child, he
was still not the man Korkla was telling him he needed to be. He
was not the man to take the place of Zarl. He was not the man to
guide an Empire. Not even close.

He couldn’t do this. Not irresponsible
Clajak. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Egilka had gotten himself under
control, no longer weeping over the loss and pain of what had
happened. He hugged Clajak even closer than before, kissing his
cheeks and forehead, murmuring soft sounds of comfort.

“I’m here, my love. You have me, and I
will help you through this. Look at me, Clajak. I’m
here.”

Clajak turned to him. He looked into
the face of his Imdiko, the man he had loved for so long. The only
light keeping the darkness back, the one reason it had given up its
hold on Clajak. The only reason Clajak was not lost now. If
anything ever happened to Egilka—

Clajak screamed, a howl of crushing
despair over what had been and what could be taken away. He grabbed
hold of Egilka, clinging desperately to the man he loved, the only
one left to keep him from drowning in the rising black tide of
anguish.

Chapter 20

It was half an hour before Clajak
claimed enough equilibrium to leave his office and seek out Tidro.
He knew where to look since his father’s aide Slea had been comming
Korkla every few minutes, begging for Clajak to come.

Clajak entered the reception area of
Irdis’ chambers. His heart thudded hard at the prospect of going
into the room where he had last spoken to his mother. He had the
notion that perhaps when he walked in he would find himself
transported back in time, able to do their final parting over
again.

I will tell her she and Zarl
must not go to Joshada, that the trip is destined for tragedy. I
will talk her out of it. If she insists, I will go with her. I will
find a way to keep the shuttle from crashing. If I can’t – if I
can’t, then at least I won’t have to go on living with this
pain
.

I was supposed to be there
with her. I was supposed to be there.

Irdis’ aide had scheduled his days off
to coincide with her trip. It was Tidro’s aide Imdiko Slea who
waited for Clajak, Egilka, and Korkla. Nearly as old as the Imdiko
emperor, Slea’s wrinkled face was drawn in despair. Seeing Clajak
eased his grief only a little.

“Thank the Mother of All. My prince, I
am so very sorry for your loss.”

Clajak barely heard him. Over Slea’s
shoulder, he could see Tidro in Irdis’ chambers, clutching her
purple ceremonial robe to his breast. He sat in a crumpled heap on
the floor, hugging the bit of fabric as he rocked and
sobbed.

Korkla’s words to be strong for his
fathers echoed dimly in Clajak’s ears. Though he felt as weak as a
newborn, remembering his aide’s counsel gave the prince the
strength to go to his agonized father. He knelt before Tidro and
gathered the stricken man in his arms. Irdis’ robe rustled between
them.

Tidro clutched at Clajak much as the
younger man had done with Egilka only minutes ago. The elder
royal’s anguished cry rang in the otherwise silent room.

“My son! How can this be? How can my
mate, my love be gone? No! Ancestors, no!”

For a few moments, Tidro could say
nothing else. He wailed with sorrow. As he did so, Clajak nearly
gave himself over to tears as well.

How could Irdis be dead? It seemed
impossible when her perfume wafted from her robe, bathing Clajak in
her scent. Unthinkable when she smiled from so many still vids that
surrounded him, here a young woman just clanned, there a new mother
beaming at her baby son, and still another of her from last year
laughing lightheartedly with her clan.

She was everywhere, especially in
Clajak’s head and heart. She could not be gone.

Tidro found the ability to speak again.
He voiced his continuing heartbreak. “And Zarl? How will we go on
without my Dramok if he dies too? Oh, Mother of All, how can this
be happening?”

A twinge of panic twisted in Clajak’s
gut. This time it did not dim the devastation as it had before. It
joined with it instead, turning the terrible tragedy of Irdis’
passing into a many-headed monster, intent on demolishing
Clajak.

It was more a desperate prayer than
conviction when the prince said, “Zarl will live. He knows we need
him. He will not leave us, not now. He cannot. He must
not.”

Slea wrung knotty-knuckled hands. “My
prince, the reports are not good. Emperor Zarl should have not
survived in the first place. We cannot dare to hope he
will—”

“Zarl will live!”

Whatever emotion filled Clajak’s face
shut Slea up. The Imdiko aide bowed his head and continued to wring
his hands.

Egilka knelt next to Clajak. Past the
first assault of grief, Egilka looked Tidro over with a calm eye.
He turned to Slea. “Call for a doctor to attend to Emperor Tidro.
He needs to be monitored while he absorbs this shock. Right,
Clajak?”

Clajak gave him a confused look. It
wasn’t their place to make decisions for Tidro. That was up to Zarl
... but Zarl was not here and incapacitated. Yuder had not yet
arrived. Irdis was gone.

Clajak shook his head, trying to jar
coherence into the muddle that had taken over his brain. It was his
and Egilka’s place now to look after Tidro. Until Yuder arrived,
they were the caretakers of the grief-stricken Imdiko
emperor.

Belatedly, he jerked a nod. “Yes. Slea,
you must send for a physician to see to my father.”

Clajak was faltering. He knew that. He
wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t making the needed decisions
quickly. He couldn’t see all that needed to be done, much less act
on such duties.

It was proof that Clajak was not ready
to assume responsibility for the Empire. Zarl had to survive. He
had to because Clajak could not. Kalquor would crumble with the
Crown Prince at its head.

Egilka grabbed the Dramok’s chin and
made Clajak look at him. His quiet voice spoke with reassurance.
“You are Tidro’s strength. And I am your strength. Remember
that.”

Korkla’s hand was on Clajak’s shoulder
again. “I am here for you too, my prince. You are not alone in
this.”

Words. Mere words with no meaning
behind them. His beloved and his friend meant them, but Clajak had
never felt more alone. Nor had he ever felt so weak, so
useless.

He was nothing, a mere playboy who had
played at being prince. Now that the time had come to rise to his
place as a ruler, Clajak faced the fact that he would fail. He
would fail his Imdiko, his family, and his Empire.

The day went on. Long minutes somehow
turned to hours. Tidro was seen by the doctor, who determined the
emperor needed to fight his way through grief in the present, not
be sedated to inevitably face it later. Feeling more lost with
every passing second, Clajak accompanied everyone to the Imperial
home. He paced the common room, vaguely aware of the others around
him. Tidro stopped crying to sit in stunned silence. His doctor and
Slea sat close, watching him. Egilka moved to and fro, bringing
drinks and food no one wanted. Korkla occasionally left the common
room to talk on his personal com. He came back and tried to speak
to Clajak, but the prince could not make out anything his aide
said.

The dark pit he’d fallen into before
was back, just a step away. Clajak looked into the abyss and
thought of how it didn’t seem so bad after all. In fact, the
blackness promised comfort. Escape. Clajak wondered why he’d feared
it. He wondered why he didn’t just step out and let himself
fall.

Afternoon arrived, and a new face came
with it. Yuder walked in, his expression pained and yet still bold,
the old fierceness not dampened despite his losses. Clajak snapped
back to himself. It was as if the Nobek’s essence of strength
somehow transmitted itself to his son. Clajak stepped back from the
abyss, though not without a longing look into its soothing
void.

Yuder spared Clajak a glance before
going straight to Tidro. In that quick look was an acknowledgement
of their shared loss, an understanding that both had suffered a
pain like no other. Then Yuder gathered Tidro in his arms, holding
the newly weeping Imdiko and smoothing his hand over his clanmate’s
long white hair.