Shiva
"Father?" The lad's jaw dropped when he saw who stood before him ... "Rokilon." The call of "ho, the camp!" had come so unexpectedly and the footsteps had not ceased to approach despite Beau's shouted, "Halt!" The voice had spoken again and with a rolling chuckle, soft, quiet, so like his own, it had promised no harm. Now it deepened in sudden irritation.
"Don't call me that," the figure said, moving into the light of the fire at last. "I am not your father, only his likeness. His vengence. 'Shiva' I call myself. If you must name me, name me that. Destroyer of worlds ... and all that once was good in one beautiful woman."
"How could you leave her like that?" There it was said. For years Beau had wanted to ask this man that question. Yet... he was not that man he claimed. Not Rokilon who'd destroyed one world and let a madman destroy another -- but not the third. Not RhyDin, though the madman had tried. Perhaps he could be of help in finding this other Mad One.
"I had no choice," The man who was Rok and yet not Rok said.
Beau had never seen an image of his father; but this wasn't what he'd expected. He'd expected someone older. Someone different. The face he looked into, save for the scar, was his own and hadn't aged. Whereas Kerbouchard had. "No choice? You could have stayed. Maybe you're not him but you could have taken his place; been a father, been her husband."
"Shiva" shook his head. "Do you really think I didn't try? Have you looked at your mother? My trying should be evident in her to this day ... " He waved a hand, dismissing the sentries that approached. How could they possibly hurt Rokilon's vengence? Was he not the very sword that had toppled worlds ...?
Beau looked to the men who had joined him and shook his head. "Keep watch, but stand at a distance. This is private."
"I may be the stuff of dreams, but I hunger. Will you share your fire?"
Beau nodded, "Of course. There is much I want to know. How can you even exist if you're not Rokilon?"
Shiva nodded identically, and held up a hand to forestall more questions. "There is much I have to tell you, but first ...?"
"Forgive me," Beau said, his manners restored. "Sit by the fire, partake. Castellan! Food and wine!"
| to other tales | main | previous | next |
Important: If you've enjoyed this, please read this--Copyright: 1997