Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [131]
Caelan felt split inside, as though he were losing his reason. The coldness was more pervasive than any he’d ever felt before, as though he’d become frozen to the marrow. His consciousness was gone. What was he doing? Fighting? Dying? He was lost to everything except this moment before his father.
“Don’t make me a saint, boy,” Beva said. “I have touched evil and walked with it. I have dipped my hands in it. I have drunk from the shadow, then left it, returning to the light of reason and sanity, back to doing good for humanity, back to life and the saving of it.”
“No,” Caelan whispered, horrified. If it were true, that made his father’s cruelty even less understandable than before. “No, you can’t be telling the truth. If you did that, you would have understood me. You would know why I wanted to go my own way.”
“Your way is toward death. You stand there now, boy. Just as I warned you.”
“But I am here because of you!” Caelan cried. “You left us defenseless. You and your ideals—”
“No! Listen now and share my understanding!” Beva said sharply. “Share it, or you will die by the other’s hand. He is possessed by the taint of his own gods, and will not surrender to you. Why are you so fearful of my way, boy? Why do you close yourself against me?”
“Because you will not let me be who I am,” Caelan said.
“All men are the same!” Beva said. “You and I are the same. See it, Caelan. Understand the pattern of harmony.”
“No!”
“You walk now in the same darkness as I did. You must accept that, then leave it. Look into the darkness, Caelan, and admit that you like taking life. You like the power. You want it now. The craving grows inside you. Face it, boy! Admit it.”
Caelan was shaking. Horrified, he knew his father was speaking the truth. He did want it, the glory and strength, and yet he didn’t. The ultimate power, one life over another ... he could see a dark mist looming over him, gathering force around him and his father. He shivered and was afraid.
“You take, boy,” Beva said, drawing closer. “In healing, you take away pain and suffering. You take away disease. You take away madness and fits. You take away wrong intentions. You take what is necessary. You take the life force itself if it will help you. You take in order to work long hours without rest or food. You take in order to receive the deference and acclaim that is due you. You take in order to achieve your goals.”
“And what do you give?” Caelan asked softly.
“Give?” Beva said as though he did not know the word’s meaning. “There is no give. The pattern restores balance after you have taken. No void is left. If men with their foolish minds wish to say you have bestowed on them health or happiness or restoration or riches of the heart, that is their choice of sayings.”
Caelan could barely look at him. His fear kept growing like the dark mist, like the coldness spreading so deeply into his soul. “All your goodness is a lie,” Caelan said. “Like a piece of clothing you put on for the day.”
“In severance I take,” Beva said, unmoved. “If goodness restores order behind me, I will take the credit for it.”
“Why did you teach me differently?” Caelan asked in anguish. “When I was a boy, why did you pretend?”
“Why should I give you the truth?” Beva retorted. “Youdo not like it, now that you have it. Like all gifts, it is spurned. Truth should be earned. It should be sought. Yet have you not come seeking, by entering true severance at last? You seek me here. Will you remain blind?”
Frustration filled Caelan. He was left again, as in all his father’s lessons, derided and scorned, his failure to understand and agree like ashes at his feet. As always, Beva spoke truth and lies, so tangled together there was no dividing them.
“I did not come seeking you,” Caelan said bitterly.
Neva, fading in and out as the mist shaped itself around him, did not change expression. “But I am what you found. I am your guide into true severance.” He swept out his arm, where the darkness lay cold