Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [66]
Edronh seemed to be mulling it over. After a while, he spoke in a voice thick with emotion.
“I have only one other son, my friend. I could not bear to lose him as I lost Rannuf.”
Kahless eyed him sternly. Perhaps it was not enough to distill the pain of Molor’s victims. Perhaps he needed something more.
And instinctively, he seemed to know what that something would be.
“Then you will lose more than your sons,” he told Edronh. “You will lose everything.”
Edonh shook his head. “Everything?” he echoed.
“Everything that matters,” the outlaw explained. “The day we met, Edronh-you remember it?”
The other man said he did. “As if it were yesterday.”
“You spoke to me of honor that day-the honor a warrior may accord another warrior, whom he has come to respect. But there is another kind of honor, my friend.
It is the kind a man must seek in himself-a love of virtue he must not abandon, no matter the consequences-or else admit to the world he is less than a man.”
Edronh’s features hardened, as if he had been challenged. “I am a man, Kahless. I have never been anything less.”
“Then fight,” the outlaw spat. “Fight for your honor, your dignity. Fight to make this land free of Molor’s tyranny.”
Edronh grunted. “Brave words, Kahless. But I fear to take part in a halfhearted venture-one which would spur Molor to even greater atrocities.”
The outlaw nodded. “I understand. And I swear to you, we will finish what we start, or I am not the son of Kanjis.
I will not lay down my sword until the tyrant is dead-or I am.”
Edronh measured the size of Kahless’s convictionand found it sufficient. He clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“I will not lay down my sword either, then,” he promised. “From this day on, I fight at your side. And so do all those who ride with me.”
Kahless smiled. “I want more than that, Edronh. I want you and your men to go out as messengers-to speak with everyone you know, every hearth you can find. Tell them I am gathering an army to march against Molor in the tyrant’s own stronghold. Tell them I am doing this for the sake of their honor.” His smile widened. “And tell them they will never have a chance like this again.”
Edronh smiled too, though the flames of the funeral pyre turned his eyes to molten gold. “I will do it. You have my word.”
Kahless could almost hear the pounding of the blacksmith’s hammer as he forged the first link in his chain of rebellion. But it was only one link, he had to remind himself. He would need an entire chain before he could challenge the likes of Molor.
Feeling someone’s stare on the back of his neck, he turned. Morath was looking at him. The younger man seemed pleased.
Kahless nodded at him. It had begun.
The Modern Age Unlike his captain, Riker had never been to the Klingon Homeworld. But he was familiar enough with Worfs holodeck programs to know which cavern he was standing in.
It was called DIS jajlo’, literally “dawn cave.” He didn’t know how it had gotten that name, since the shaft of light that came from above was only visible in midday.
At least, that was true of the real DIS jajlo’, back on Q’onoS. In this program, for all he knew, the shaft of light never moved.
Right now, nothing else was moving either. With a single command, he had frozen Alexander’s Klingon adversary in place. And the boy himself was so focused on the first officer, he might as well have been frozen too.
Well, thought Riker, I seemed to have piqued his interest. Now it’s time to follow through.
“Anbojytsu,” he said, “is a martial art form back on Earth-a one-on-one confrontation, much like the one you’re involved in now.” He raised his chin to indicate the Klingon warrior. “Of course, there are some differences. In anbojytsu, you wear a padded suit and your weapon is a stick three meters long. On one end of the stick, there’s a proximity detector. You need