Authors: Tracy St. John
Actually, Egilka had wanted Bevau to
come. There was nothing the Nobek could do for them, nothing that
Korkla and the emperors’ aides weren’t already seeing to. Still,
Egilka would have taken some comfort in having the soldier there.
Perhaps Bevau could have snapped Clajak out of the strange
disconnection the Dramok suffered from. But Bevau had duties, and
Egilka felt it was wrong to ask him to drop them simply because his
presence might have made him feel better.
The Nobek’s deep voice had been
soothing. “Let me know if I should come. If there is anything at
all I can offer to get you two through this, you have only to
ask.”
It had taken all of Egilka’s control to
not break down and beg the commander to fly to them at once.
Instead he thanked Bevau again and promised to let him know if
anything developed.
We need him,
the Imdiko thought. It was funny how true the
notion felt.
We need not just a Nobek, but
Bevau specifically. We need him now and forever.
He reminded himself that he was caught
up in misery and worry at that moment. Good decisions could not be
made with so much anguish happening. Of course he wanted to pursue
Bevau as a candidate for clanning ... but the idea of wanting to
have him as a clanmate right here and now was borne of the ongoing
heartache and an undetermined future.
A blinking light in the distant black
sky at the mouth of the landing bay brought Egilka out of his
ruminations about Bevau. Next to him, Clajak shuddered and then
stiffened. He’d seen it too.
The flashing red light grew brighter
and larger. In less than a minute, the shuttle bearing the remains
of those killed in the crash swooped into the bay. It landed, its
struts tapping down to the smooth floor beneath it. The shuttle
settled and the humming engines switched off. A series of steps ran
down from one side and a hatch opened over them.
The coroner’s assistants and Royal
Guards looked to Clajak rather than converging on the shuttle to
claim its contents. Egilka looked at his Dramok too.
Clajak’s eyes had cleared once more. He
stared at the shuttle as he took a step forward. Then another step.
Then the next and more, each faster than the last until he was
running up the shuttle steps and bursting through the opening.
Worried over what the prince might do, Egilka was right on his
heels the whole way.
Clajak’s hectic gaze darted over the
five covered bodies lying in a row on the floor: Pwaldur’s clan,
the pilot who had flown the ill-fated trip, and Clajak’s mother.
With the heavy tarp-like coverings, it was impossible to tell who
was who.
Clajak turned to the shuttle’s
attendant, a young-looking man who backed away from the Dramok’s
intense glare. “Where is she? Which one of these is my
mother?”
The pilot came out of the cockpit.
Assessing his tongue-tied crewman, he addressed Clajak. “My prince,
perhaps it would be best if you waited for—”
“WHERE IS MY MOTHER?” Clajak roared.
Egilka’s ears rang in protest at the bellow.
Now both shuttle crewmen were too
terrified to answer. Egilka stepped forward, putting a restraining
hand on Clajak’s arm. His clan leader’s entire body
shook.
“He needs to see her,” Egilka said in
his most reasonable tone. “Which of these is Empress
Irdis?”
It was the attendant who pointed to the
nearest body. Clajak turned on his heel and went to it.
He knelt next to the covered form. His
hand shook as he gathered the thick fabric and slowly tugged it
down to reveal Irdis’ face.
Little had been done to clean up her
injuries. Yuder would need to see her as she had been when her life
ended. Only the blood that must have covered the empress’ ashen
face had been wiped away. A terrible gash ran across her forehead
and down one cheek. The black hair framing her face was still
matted with blood, now dried to a brownish hue. Her throat and the
little bit of her chest that Clajak had uncovered showed more
blood, thick crusting streaks that had come from other injuries.
Egilka thought he could see a jagged bit of collar bone peeking out
from her flesh. His hand flew to his mouth, clapping over it to
stop the agonized scream that wanted to come.
Clajak shook all over, the motion
violent as he stared into the face of his mother. Despite the
damage, Irdis wore the same expression she had in life: calm
patience, as if waiting with assurance for the clouds to break on a
stormy day so that the sun could shine through. The devastation of
death made her appear more beautiful than ever to Egilka’s weeping
eyes.
Clajak fell over her, his arms circling
her head to cradle her as she had so often done for him as a child.
There were no sounds of sobs though his shoulders jerked with the
force of them. Instead, his voice was a continuous moan of “I’m
sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, oh please forgive me, I’m so very
sorry—” that went on like a flood.
Egilka waved the crew out. From the
hatch, the Imdiko signaled to the Royal Guards and coroner’s
assistants outside the shuttle to wait. He shut the hatch, giving
his Dramok this last time with Irdis to vent his grief. He remained
inside with Clajak and the bodies of the dead.
The Imdiko wouldn’t leave Clajak, but
he did turn his back to give his clanmate some measure of privacy
to pour out his loss. Egilka wept his own tears, both for the
passing of so many people and for his Dramok’s pain.
It was a full hour before Clajak
allowed the coroner’s office to take Irdis’ body off the shuttle.
Just when he thought he’d sicked up the worst of the agony of
facing her death, a new round of grief slammed into his guts. At
last he was drained, his body feeling like an empty
husk.
He was aware of Egilka staying nearby
the entire time, his clanmate’s silent but welcome presence the
only beacon of warmth left to him. More than ever, Clajak felt
gratitude for his sensible, responsible Imdiko whose calm was a
refuge from the storm. He needed that reminder that all was not
lost.
The darkness that had beckoned the
Dramok ever since he’d heard of his mother’s death disappeared. It
no longer offered a way out. Clajak was all too aware of his
surroundings, of the matters that lay ahead of him. The only way
now was through, though the path promised to be full of
wretchedness.
Egilka, you must not leave
me. I can be strong again, but not alone, not right now. Nothing
can happen to you or anyone else I love.
The tattered remains of
Clajak’s pride kept him from shouting the words.
No one else, I cannot lose anyone else.
When at last Clajak was able to let
Irdis go ... when he recognized the woman who he’d loved above all
others was no longer present in the body she had used ... he
covered her sweet face again. He stumbled to his feet, swaying
unsteadily for a moment until Egilka’s hand caught his
elbow.
“I’m all right,” he told his Imdiko.
“We can take her along now.”
The relief in Egilka’s face gave Clajak
something new to feel guilt over. He’d worried his Imdiko too much
as he’d wallowed in grief, as he’d wavered between rejoining the
world and escaping it. He grabbed Egilka and held him
close.
“Don’t you dare leave me,” he whispered
in Egilka’s ear.
“I’ll always be here,” his clanmate
promised, holding him as tightly.
The procession of coroner’s attendants,
Royal Guards, Clajak, Egilka, and Irdis’ body was silent from the
shuttle to the morgue. Clajak watched the covered form on the hover
stretcher disappear into the silent room where the body would be
kept until the arrangements for its final interment were
made.
“Let’s see if there is any news on
Zarl,” he said to Egilka.
They went to the surgical wing of the
hospital. In the waiting room they found Yuder pacing, occasionally
comming someone to check on various matters. Tidro for the most
part sat talking with his aide Slea and Zarl’s aide Krus. Krus was
fairly new to his position. He’d replaced Zarl’s longtime assistant
Dramok Rajhir, who now sat on the territorial governor’s advisory
board.
Tidro gave the princes a tired but
hopeful smile as they walked past the Royal Guards stationed at the
room’s entrance. He greeted them both as sons with the back of his
hand pressed to their cheeks in turn. “Last word was that Zarl
remains stable during the surgery. There are many repairs to make
with hours to go yet, so you should not feel obligated to
remain.”
“We will stay,” Clajak said. After
seeing the shell that had once held his mother, he was eager to be
there when Zarl opened his eyes.
“My Matara?” Tidro’s voice was
hesitant, as if he feared hearing what Clajak might say.
“It was only her body,” the prince
said. Sadness rose within him once more, but it didn’t swamp him.
“The physical remains were broken and bloodied. Even so, she was
still as beautiful as ever.” His voice caught and then firmed.
“Matara Irdis of Clan Zarl was no longer there in any way. She has
gone on to join my other ancestors, where we will all meet with her
again someday.”
But not right
now
, a small voice in his head
whispered.
No one else can leave
me.
Yuder had switched off his com at
Clajak and Egilka’s entrance. His expression tightened as Clajak
spoke of the condition of Irdis’ body. A fierce resolve came over
him and he stepped close to face Clajak.
“Some of us may meet my Matara sooner
than others,” he said. “We have to face the possibility that Zarl
will not leave the operating room alive. We must decide on how to
proceed.”
Both Tidro and Egilka inhaled sharply.
Clajak stared at Yuder, a spark of terror flashing bright. In its
wake came the more familiar rumblings of his temper. “Proceed? If
you speak of abdicating the throne in my favor, it is impossible. I
have not clanned a Nobek. A clan not comprised of the three male
breeds cannot hold the throne.”
As he said it, Clajak thought how wrong
it was for the Imperial Clan to go on without Irdis. With so few
females available however, the position of empress was deemed
nonessential in situations such as this.
It could not be denied that Clan Zarl
would be a shadow of its former self without its Matara. No one
could replace her, not that Clan Zarl would do such a thing. Who
among Clajak’s fathers could consider another woman after the
wonder that had been Irdis?
Yuder shook his head, but not in
negation. It was as if he was trying to clear it, trying to shake
the cobwebs loose so he could think. “I know that you and Egilka
cannot take the throne. However, should Zarl die—”
“He will not.” Clajak’s tone was
cold.
Tidro appeared at Yuder’s shoulder. His
worried face told the story Clajak didn’t want to hear. “You didn’t
get a good look at him when they brought him in, Clajak. His legs
were broken, his back, he was torn and twisted, his body left
crooked—”
Fresh tears leaked from the Imdiko’s
face. Yuder pulled Tidro close to his side. He whispered, “Easy, my
clanmate. There is much hope yet.”
The momentary tenderness vanished as
the Nobek emperor turned back to Clajak. “You must sit in Zarl’s
place until we know he is incapable of returning. And you must
decide on a Nobek.”
At the word ‘Nobek’ Clajak had a
fleeting thought of Bevau. A quick yearning tugged in his chest.
Then desperate anger filled the young Dramok.
He seethed at Yuder, “Are you so ready
to bury Zarl? To dismiss the fact that he stills breathes, that his
heart still beats?”
All at once Clajak and Yuder were nose
to nose while their Imdikos pulled at them. Ignoring Tidro’s plea
of “Now is not the time,” Yuder snapped, “You know Zarl is my
Dramok, the man I look to for leadership! I will never give up on
him, not until I look into his eyes to see the soul has fled! But I
am an emperor of Kalquor, and I must see to it the Empire does not
suffer for want of guidance. You will take your place,
Clajak.”
Another wash of terror doubled the
poison of Clajak’s fury. “Me? The same man you accuse of being
irresponsible? Selfish? Unable to look past my pleasures? And now
you think I am ready to lead the Empire? Tell me, my father, when
did I gain all this newfound maturity for such a
position?”
“You gain it because you must! There is
no other choice. When the throne is thrust upon you, you put
childishness aside and become a man, just as I did.”
Scornful laughter poured from Clajak’s
throat. “No. You’ve been right all this time. I’m not ready, not
even as a temporary measure. And if I did have a Nobek I still
wouldn’t take the throne.”
Yuder’s face purpled with anger. “You
cannot be selfish, not now! The Empire needs
continuity—”
“The Empire needs Zarl! It needs my
mother!” Clajak screamed, all notions of calm fleeing before his
father’s awful insistence. “And if it can’t have them, then the
Empire can cease to exist for all I care! Fuck Kalquor and what it
needs!”
Egilka shoved him away as Tidro pulled
Yuder back. The Imdiko emperor’s voice was high with desperation as
he pleaded, “Our son is devastated, my Nobek. Give him time to come
to terms with this.”