Realm of Light (36 page)

It was Beva’s
face, stern and unloving. The cold gray eyes gradually grew more animated, more
alive, more aware. They focused on Caelan, and recognition filled them.

“My son,” Beva’s
voice said.

I am not your
son!
Caelan wanted to shout. Instead, he forced back the quarrelsome words.

“Father,” he said.

“You have come,
seeking knowledge.”

“I have come, to
save a life.”

“I do not live,”
Beva said, wavering for a moment. “I do not heal.”

“Give me the
knowledge,” Caelan asked.

Beva stared at him
a long, long while. “My knowledge was offered to you when I lived. You refused
it.”

“I know.”

“I gave you many
chances, my son. You were my only son, my one hope of living on, of seeing my
skills continue. You refused me.”

“Yes.”

“I am spirit now.
I am
severed.”

“I—I need you.”
Caelan had to struggle over a lump in his throat to say the words. Since the
Choven had told him the truth, he had felt nothing for Beva. Now he had to beg,
and it came hard. “I need the knowledge to save this man.”

“You refused all
knowledge. You were disrobed. You would not be taught.”

“Not by the
masters of Rieschelhold, no,” Caelan said through his teeth.

“Not by me. You
refused the purging after the wind spirits mauled you. Would you refuse it
again?”

Caelan sank to his
knees, unable to hold Albain any longer. The man was growing so heavy. Caelan’s
arms were trembling from fatigue, or perhaps from fear.

His mouth was too
dry. He had to swallow twice before he could answer Beva’s question. “I—I will
not refuse.”

To be purged was
to have his mind ripped from him, sifted through by a master healer such as
Beva, and replaced. Many who were purged never regained their sanity. Those who
survived were forever changed. They became slower of wit, duller of spirit.
Beva’s intention to purge his own son had been the final straw that drove
Caelan to run away from home. He had never forgiven his father for wanting to
do such a thing to him, and now Beva’s spirit still clung to that same
horrifying goal.

“Come closer, Caelan,”
Beva’s spirit said to him.

Caelan tried, but
he could not lift Albain from the ground. The old man lay ashen and limp in his
arms.

“I can’t come to
you,” Caelan said. “You must come to me.”

Beva’s face
wavered and vanished, only to reappear much closer. Caelan found himself
breathing too hard and fast. He could barely maintain
severance,
yet he
knew without control he would be lost.

“Help this man,”
Caelan said desperately. “Give me the knowledge to heal him.”

“What did I tell
you once about
severance
?” Beva asked.

Caelan struggled
to think. His wits wanted to flee like rats from water. “You said it is the
taking away. You take away disease or injury. You bring the void, and wellness
fills it.”

“Yes. You
remembered well.”

“How do I bring
wellness to this man?” Caelan asked. He prayed that Beva’s spirit would become
interested in Albain’s injuries, that the old compassion would take over.
Healing others was like an addiction for him. Never had he refused to help
anyone. Even if he ultimately lost a patient, it was not for lack of trying.

“Look at this man,
Father. Tell me what to do.”

“Will you take the
purging, my son?”

Caelan sighed. “I
said that I would.”

“Will you take it
now?”

“No. The man must
be healed first.”

“If you will be
purged, I will give you the knowledge you request.”

It seemed they had
made the bargain twice already, but Caelan nodded again. “Yes. I agree to your
terms. We heal this man, and then I am yours.”

Beva came even
closer until his disembodied face hovered right over Caelan. “I must enter you.
You will take my spirit. You will accept me. You will become me.”

“Sevaisin,”
Caelan whispered, dry-mouthed.

“The way it was
intended, not the idle sharing you have done.”

Caelan felt the
sting of Beva’s criticism and sighed. Even his father’s spirit had to lecture
him about something.

“From birth you
were difficult,” Beva continued. “You always had to do things your way. I could
show you nothing. You resisted training, resisted the ways of harmony. You were
too much
their
creation, and not enough mine. They gave me my son, but
you looked like me, nothing more. You were not me. You had not my abilities.
You had not my qualities. You had none of my dreams, none of my direction. You
were useless to me!

“I wanted a second
child, a second son. But they tricked me again with Lea. What use was a
daughter? She could not follow in my footsteps. Your mother never knew the
truth, but it ate at me. It was a canker in me, which was rubbed raw every time
you disobeyed me. I wanted to leave you in the woods to die, to be taken back
to
them,
but I couldn’t do it. I wanted you so much. You were my son, my
straight-shouldered, beautiful son. I had so much hope for you. Why did you not
feel anything for me?”

Caelan stared at
Beva, feeling the spirit’s anguish. His own torment rose in him. For the last
time, he tried to make Beva understand. “If you had just let me be myself,” he
said softly, feeling his eyes sting. “I loved you, Father. I wanted to please
you, but I couldn’t be something I wasn’t.”

“But now you have
come to me. You have changed,” Beva said with satisfaction, as though he had
won. “You will be what I want. You will become me, and I shall live on to
continue my work.”

Caelan bowed his
head. That was the price. It had always been the price, even when he had not
understood what truly lay beneath their animosity. Now he would pay it. Beva
was finally going to win.

Caelan’s arms
slackened around Albain, and he closed his eyes. He felt a coldness upon his
face, like a clammy mist. The coldness filled his body, making him shiver. He
fought it a moment, not wanting this, fearing he would never be able to come
back, and yet he had promised. It was for Albain. It was for Elandra. He forced
away his fear, and let the presence enter, joining with him.

He shuddered once
and felt cold and hollow inside. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking
down at Albain as though from very far away. His mind grew very clear and
detached. He recognized Albain, but the man’s identity did not matter.

The injuries
needed immediate attention. There was much blood pooled around the internal
organs.

His hands reached
down and down and down until at last they touched Albain. He let the healing
pass through him, restoring the balance and harmony of the body’s natural
functions. The crushed bones mended. The damaged organs grew stronger. The
bruising faded. The blood seeped forth from the tissues.

All the pain and
damage left Albain and entered him. His body jerked back in agony, absorbing
it, becoming it, conquering it. Then all became still and calm.

Caelan drew breath
after a moment, daring to risk the return of that terrible pain. But the pain
was gone, already fading as though it had never been. He looked down for
Albain, but the man had vanished, and Caelan felt no more contact with him.

Instead, he felt
his father entwined around and through him. Rebellion returned, and he wanted
to fling his father’s presence away. But Beva clung tightly.

“You promised,” he
whispered through Caelan’s mind.

Caelan remembered
what honor meant, and he forced his rebellion away. Shivering, he opened
himself and let his father take over.

Beva’s cold
presence flowed down through his body, chilling him, then it seemed to vanish.

Caelan waited, but
nothing else happened. Would he know when Beva took over his soul? Would he
ever be aware of it?

Opening his eyes
after a moment, Caelan blinked and once again found himself in the grove of
trees. The wind had stopped blowing, and there was only silence. No life, no
movement, no sound.

A trail stretched
before him. Without knowing why, he followed it to the bank of a stream.

The water flowed
swift and deep. If he crossed it, he would have to swim.

While he
hesitated, he heard a sound behind him.

It was only one of
the trees swaying.

Caelan relaxed,
then frowned and looked at the tree again. It moved, its branches rustling and
swaying, but no wind blew.

He turned around
to face it, conscious of the water at his back, as though to corner him.

“You are not in
danger,” a voice said to him.

It sounded
familiar, but he could not place it.

He looked around
wildly, but saw no one.

More of the trees
were moving now. They seemed to close in on him, yet they did not uproot
themselves from the earth. He felt ripples and currents of energy in the air.
The air shimmered as though with a rainbow.

“Your father’s
spirit is only memory, Caelan,” the voice said. “Beva is no longer flesh. He
cannot hurt you. He cannot possess you. Only his memories remain. Only his
intentions. Only his knowledge. That is all. His spirit believes it has
redeemed you into itself and is content. Beva will no longer haunt your dreams.
Peace can be restored.”

Caelan looked
around again, unable to tell where the voice was coming from. “I don’t
understand,” he said.

“In time, more
wisdom will come to you. For now, we thank you for having made peace with your
father. There can be harmony once more within the spirit world.”

“Am I in the
spirit world now?”

“No. You are
between.”

Caelan frowned,
struggling to understand. “Have I much more to learn?”

“Much.”

“How will I learn?
What am I to do?”

“Live,” the voice
said. “Follow your path of life. Stay in the truth.”

Caelan stared at
the trees and felt like a child talking to some- one very old and very wise.
Was he in the presence of the gods of light?

“No, Caelan. Calm
your thoughts. It is time for you to return.”

“How?” he asked
eagerly. “Don’t I end
severance?”

“You are beyond
your own reach,” the voice replied. “You cannot return from this grove by
yourself. Even your gifts are not that powerful. Beva drew you here. Now we
must send you back.”

Caelan lifted his
chin, trying to be accepting, although his mind was chaotic with thoughts and
questions. “What must I do?”

“Enter the water,”
the voice said. “Do not fear it. It is warm and the current is gentle. Drink
the water, then let yourself slip beneath the surface.”

Caelan waited a
moment, then frowned. “Is that all?”

“Be at peace,” the
voice replied. “You have done well. Trust in your return.”

He looked at the
stream flowing past him. The water was clear and clean. He could not see the
bottom. It made no sense, but he did as he was told.

Sliding into the
water, he found it warm and pleasant as the voice had said it would be. The
current was strong, however, and he clung instinctively to the bank, resisting
it.

But after a
moment, he realized what he was doing was futile. There had been no
explanation, but did he need one here where obviously nothing was as it seemed?
Why did he care where the current took him, as long as it was back to where he
belonged?

He lowered his
face to the water and sipped it. The taste was pure. Realizing he was thirsty,
he drank long and deeply, then released the bank and allowed the current to
carry him along. He thought of trust. He thought of faith. Words he had sworn
by all his life without ever having to really put them to the test. But no
matter how strong he was, no matter how brave, he was still only a man. He
could not do everything himself.

“Another lesson,”
he murmured wryly to himself.

After a moment, he
drew in a deep breath and slid below the surface.

Elandra waited for
two hours, while night closed around the palace and servants came on silent
feet to light the lamps. The guards changed, and still she heard no sound from
within her father’s room. She paced slowly around the antechamber while the
minutes dragged by. What could Caelan be doing? What was taking so long?

Again and again
she was filled with the urge to rush inside, but she restrained herself. She
had given her promise to Caelan. She would keep it.

Her father’s
jinja
was as restless as she. It scratched incessantly at the doors, no
matter how many times she shooed it away.

“You must be
still,” she told it. “Hush. No noise.”

The
jinja
tilted its small green face up to hers and sighed. “I guard sleep. I watch.”

“Yes, but you must
do so out here.”

The
jinja
shook its head fretfully. “Too far away. No good.”

She knew better
than to touch it. “You must be patient. Soon you can go back inside, but not
now.”

The
jinja
sighed heavily and sank down on its haunches by the door.

Satisfied, Elandra
turned and went to gaze out the window. The rain had stopped, and the night lay
heavy and still save for the sound of water running through the stone gutters.
In the distance she could hear the hunting cough of panthers and the shrill death
screams of their prey.

The sound of the
opening door made her whirl around in relief.

But it was not
Caelan who emerged. Instead, she saw the
jinja
darting inside.

“No!”

Exasperated, she
ran after it, but the
jinja
was too quick. In a rapid blur of unnatural
speed, it darted here and there around the room, finally coming to a halt at
the foot of Albain’s bed. The lamp had burned out. Elandra could see only by
the light that shone inside from behind her.