On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [115]
Decisions made. Opportunities missed. Roads not taken.
And then an image of his son’s face swam into his head, and emotions came crashing down on Tahmu. His knees gave way and he fell to the sand and wept, wept for all the poor choices, the lack of faith, the turning away instead of opening. Wept for his son’s misplaced passion; wept for his daughter, the unknowing instrument of her brother’s death.
Oh my boy, you were the best of us. I am sorry I was not there for you. I’m sorry at my lack of faith, in myself and in you. And now it’s too late.
Sounds reached his ears and he realized that someone had awakened. Halid’s corpse had no doubt been discovered. It was time to return and explain.
His body felt heavy, stiff. But as he walked slowly back to the now-awakened encampment, something resembling clarity formed in his mind.
Perhaps there was, after all, something he could do to honor his dead son.
The advisor stood and surveyed the troops. It would be fanciful to say their solid, well-trained ranks advanced as far as the eye could see, but it was almost accurate. There were thousands of them, at any rate. Their number swelled daily as they conscripted their prisoners from various lands. Fear might not be the best motivator that had ever been conceived, but it served for now. He nodded to the general, indicating his approval.
Horns blew and the troops cheered as their Emperor advanced. It was strange, thought the advisor as he regarded his young lord. The Emperor always looked out of place when he was not indoors. He seemed to gather strength from the shadowed, musty rooms, seeming larger and more intimidating.
But he was the Emperor, and he commanded this magnificent army, and that army had already conquered two lands. If he looked slighter in the sunlight, it was no one’s concern. Certainly not his advisor’s.
The Emperor rode a magnificent white stallion. It blew andsnorted, pink nostrils flaring, and champed at its golden bit. The Emperor sat straight on his steed, the jeweled crown he wore catching the light and almost blinding the advisor.
The Emperor waited patiently for the cheers to die down. When he spoke, his voice carried much farther than it had any right to, and the advisor felt a chill run down his spine. Just when he was ready to dismiss the Emperor, he did something like this to remind all gathered of his tremendous power.
“We stand poised on the precipice of yet another victory,” he intoned. “Two countries have already fallen before our standard. Arukan must follow. Its people are scattered, and our raids over the mountains have been fruitful indeed. Though a barrier, the mountains are not impossible for our army to cross. We will find these isolated clans and sweep across their desert landscape like a sandstorm. Their pathetic weapons are no match for ours; their warriors pale in comparison to you, my army. We will take their women and goods, settle their lands, and continue to move until this world knows no place that does not fly my standard. I, your Emperor, will ride with you on this glorious moment in our land’s history. Arukan will fall!”
“Arukan will fall!” came the cry, uttered with fervor from several thousand male voices. Another chorus of cheers welled up, and the Emperor, looking down at the sea of men in armor from his perch higher on the mountains they were all about to cross, smiled slightly and waved.
The advisor’s gray eyes flickered from the Emperor to the animal huddled at the stallion’s feet. The ki-lyn’s golden chain, so thin and yet apparently so unbreakable, went around its slender neck and arced upward to the Emperor’s waist, where it was securely fastened.
As he regarded it, it craned its neck to look up at its master. Its blue eyes welled with tears and it sighed, deeply.
And as the tears rolled down the soft, golden-brown fur of its face, they turned to diamonds in the sand.