Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [86]
"Does it?" Vell asked.
"I wondered at first how it was meant to," she admitted. "It frustrated me. I thought this was a weakness. I thought I was supposed to understand. I struggled to grasp the meaning, the reason this True Name was for me. I probed deep, contemplated many questions. There are moments when I seemed on the verge of understanding, but it always lay just outside my grasp. Then I had an epiphany. I realized that the struggle for understanding held more meaning than the name ever could." She smiled with a serenity that Vell admired and envied.
"So what name is it?"
"I can't tell!" she laughed. Vell was thoroughly disarmed. "A lady must keep some secrets for herself."
"That's all I wanted to know," said Vell.
"If I had secrets of the heart?" asked Kellin. "Be assured, I do."
"I am glad of that," Vell answered, a smile on his face. It filled him with confidence that perhaps, when all of this was settled, another world might be opened up for him.
But the pressure inside his mind could not be ignored. It was growing stronger with each step closer to the Star Mounts. Gods, he thought. I would not be here if it wasn't for my affliction, the Thunderbeast inside.
He placed his hand on the side of his head, trying to weigh his thoughts.
It's leading me around, he thought.
CHAPTER 15
Sungar's world was a blur as two guards tossed him back into his cell. He'd had another session of Kiev's ministrations. They grew more brutal each time, Sungar was convinced, and now his body was raw and torn as never before. Falling limply on the hard cell floor, he heard one of the attendants say, "Sweet dreams, chief." Then Sungar drifted away on the pain.
A hand reached out to grasp his. When he opened his eyes, Sungar found himself staring into the craggy, bearded face of King Gundar.
He was not lying in the prison cell in Llorkh, but on a warm, grassy field, with an open sky sprawling above him. His wounds were gone-not healed, but gone-as if they had never been. Gundar's familiar, smiling face, so strong and so benevolent, beamed down on him. This was not Gundar as he lay dying in Llorkh, but the vibrant man Sungar had fought beside so many times, now decked in mail as if newly returned from their victorious raid on Raven Rock.
"Arise, Chieftain of the Thunderbeasts," Gundar said.
Sungar accepted his hand and pulled himself to his feet. He could see the Spine of the World towering in the distance and knew that he was just south of the Lurkwood. Open spaces, a clear sky-he drank in all of those things he had feared he would never see again. But this place was strangely unreal: the colors more vivid, the rose-colored sky so much closer to the ground. Sungar wondered whether he was receiving a vision, or if he was hallucinating. One would be a true gift from Uthgar, the other the meaningless babble of a crippled mind.
"I fear I am chief no longer," said Sungar. "Perhaps I was never meant to be."
"I chose you," Gundar said. "All of my sons were dead. On my deathbed, I named you my successor-not Keirkrad, nor any other."
"And by doing so, you confirmed my decision to withdraw from Grunwald."
Gundar shrugged. "Our people thrived in Grunwald in some senses, but in others, we festered. Perhaps a return to nomad ways was wise."
"I strive to make all of my decisions wise," said Sungar. "But my decisions have brought us here. Our tribe is in ruins, and I am nothing but a prisoner. They must have been a fool's decisions. I misled our people."
"Do not be so certain," the old chief said. Sungar saw that Gundar held the battle-axe. Better it be in Gundar's grasp than a hobgoblin's. "It is possible to make no mistake, and yet fail."
"What would you have done?" asked Sungar. "I've asked myself that a thousand times. That day, in the Fallen Lands. I can't deny that I felt satisfaction as I threw the axe." He reached toward the phantasmal battle-axe and rested his hand on its blade. "The civilized mage thought himself better