Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [73]
Kahless shook his head in wonder. Whose hall was this? How had he gotten here? And who were these warriors?
Suddenly, he noticed that someone was standing next to him. Expecting a threat, he whirled.
But it wasn’t a threat. A cry stifled in Kahless’s throat.
Reaching out, he touched the side of Kellein’s face with infinite gentleness.
“How … ?” he stumbled, drinking in the sight of her.
Kellein grasped his hand and placed it against her breast. He could feel herjinaq amulet.
“Do not ask how,” she told him. “Nor when, nor where, nor why. Only trust that I am who I seem I am, and that we have a pitifully short time to be together.”
He drew her closer. “Kellein … I wish I … if only …”
She shook her head. “You did not fail me, Kahless, son of Kanjis. I was meant to perish along with the rest of Vathraq’s people. There is nothing you could have done about it.”
He couldn’t accept that. “But if I had turned down your father’s invitation, if I had kept riding-was
“The same thing would have happened,” Kellein insisted, “albeit it in a different way. We were meant to find this place.”
Kahless looked around and realized where he was. He swallowed hard. Until now, it had only been a legend to him, a tale told to children around the fire. Now it was wonderfully, painfully real.
“Enough of me,” his betrothed said. “I need to speak of you, Kahless. Soon, you will leave this place, because you do not belong here. And when you return to the world, there is something you must do.”
He looked around at the warriors seated on the benches, and he began to see among them faces that he recognized-faces of men who fought beside him on the frontier. And also, the faces of those who had fought against him.
Finally, he turned to Kellein again. Her hair was black I I as a kraw za s wing and her eyes were green as the sea. She looked every bit as strong and defiant as the day he saw her in the river.
Idon’t want to go anywhere,” he told her. “I want to stay.”
Her eyes flashed. “No, Kahless. You must go back. You have come a long way toward tearing down the tyrant Molor, but there is yet much to do.”
“Molor means nothing to me,” he declared. “The rebellion means nothing, except for my promise to Morath. I would give it all up in a moment to have you with me again.”
Even before Kellein spoke, he knew the truth of the matter. “That is not possible,” she said. “At least, not now.
You have a destiny to take hold of-and in their hearts, all who follow you know that. But to succeed in your quest, you will need a sword.”
Kahless shrugged. “There are plenty of swords in the world.”
She grasped his arm. “No. This one is different. It will be a friend to you in battle. It will make you unbeatable.”
Kahless wanted to laugh, to tell her that a sword was no better than the warrior who wielded it. But he could see his Kellein was not in a joking mood.
“Listen carefully,” she told him.
Kellein gave him directions on how to make the sword.
First, he had to take a lock of his hair and dip it in the hot blood of the Kri’stak Volcano. Then he had to cool the thing in the waters of Lake Lusor. Finally, he had to twist it just so.
“Only then,” she said, “will you have the kind of weapon you need to overthrow the tyrant.” She squeezed his hand harder than ever. “Only then will you achieve a victory unequaled in the history of the world.”
Kahless moved his fingers into the softness of her hair.
He didn’t want to be talking with her about swords and tyrants. He wanted to tell her how much he ached for her still, how he would never forget what she meant to him.
But before he could utter a word, Kellein faded like smoke on the wind. And before he knew it, he held nothing in his hands but empty air.
He would have bellowed then like a wounded minnhor, making the rafters ring with his agony, except someone had leaped off one of the benches and was approaching