Seven Sorcerers(127)
Dahrima swallowed. She rose to her feet and squared her shoulders. “I will abide by your decision, whatever it may be.”
He will pardon me, but I can no longer serve him.
My vow was broken on the coast of the High Realms.
“Then here is my judgment upon you,” said Vireon. His eyes locked hers in a steel-bright grip. “I judge that you are loyal and fearless and valiant. A great warrior, a keen hunter, and a born leader of Giants. My fiercest ally, and my best friend. And the most beautiful of all the Uduri.”
Dahrima could find no words. The waterfall’s roar filled her ears, and the sun’s heat filled her face in the dim cool of evening.
Vireon took her hands into his own.
“I grant you pardon for the price of a kiss,” he said. “If you will allow it.”
She could not move, but her limbs trembled. A flurry of red and golden leaves fell about them as the wind caressed the high branches. At last she nodded.
The beating of her heart drowned the waterfall’s song, and his kiss was gentle. She opened her eyes, and his face was still so very close to hers. Uduri were known for choosing their mates with violent passion, yet this tenderness was a new discovery. Now she was the one being chosen. This was not the way of Giants, but of course Vireon was half human. Therein lay his greatness, and his worthiness to rule both races.
“The King of Men and Giants needs a Queen,” said Vireon. “I would have you, Dahrima.”
She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms about herself. Once again she felt naked before him, although still fully clothed.
“It cannot be,” she said. “I bear the Curse of Omagh. Do you forget this? A King must have heirs, and I can give you none.”
Vireon walked around to find her face again. “I do not care about that,” he said. “I never asked to be King of Udurum. It was my duty when Tadarus died and my mother abdicated. Then again, when Angrid died, another kingship was forced upon me. When the Long-Arm’s son has grown of age, I will give him the Udvorg crown. As for Udurum, I am bound by no laws but my own, and I will have no other wife. I will rule alone, and still childless, should you refuse me. You have followed me across a continent. Do not abandon me now to loneliness.”
Dahrima looked into the blue of his eyes and saw truth glistening there.
She fell into his arms as he fell into hers.
Together they made a new song to rival the harmony of falling waters.
The marriage ceremony was held in the great hall of Vod’s palace, where Men and Giants gathered to see Dahrima replace her old vow with a new one.
Lyrilan came from Uurz with a coterie of green-cloaked noblemen; Vaazhia the Lizardess came with him, arm in arm, a splendor of jewels and gold upon her limbs. Khama the Feathered Serpent arrived alone in his cloak and headdress of crimson plumage.
Vireon’s sister brought their mother Shaira home by ship and carriage all the way from Yaskatha. Shaira declared her joy at Vireon’s choice. Alua had been a stranger to Shaira, but Dahrima was a long-trusted friend and guardian. The wife of Vod had lost none of her wits as she had grown older. At the banquet it was Shaira who professed the irony of Vireon’s path: Vod was born a Giant but took the form of a Man to win Shaira; Vireon was born in the shape of a Man but took the form of a Giant to win Dahrima. There was much laughter as this observation made the rounds between heavy-laden tables and found its way into the crowded streets.
Two weeks of festivities marked the joining of Vireon and Dahrima. When it was done the visiting dignitaries returned south to resume the business of their own kingdoms. The repelled Armada of Zyung had left a great, unfinished temple-palace in the Sharrian valley. Vireon dispatched a company of Uduru and Udvorg to demolish the abandoned edifice. They hauled blocks of its pale stone back to Udurum for use in public works. From that stone the city’s best sculptors crafted effigies of Iardu, Tyro, and Undutu to stand along the Avenue of Idols beside those of Vod and Tadarus.
A contingent of Udvorg brought the son of Angrid south to meet with Vireon. The boy’s name was Olgrid, and he was eleven years old. He stood tall as a Man already, but still a third the height of a full-grown Giant. Some of the Udvorg had taken to calling him “Olgrid the Arrow” in honor of his great skill with a hunting bow. Vireon spoke with Olgrid regarding Angrid’s bravery and wisdom; the two went on many Long Hunts together. Dahrima saw Vireon begin to think of the blue-skin lad as his own son, and she did as well.
Dahrima found happiness in Vireon’s house and in his arms. Yet often she woke late in the night, lying next to him in their great bed, and caressed her flat stomach. She had heard the whispers of palace attendants and advisors; they all spoke of Vireon’s lack of an heir. Surely Olgrid, Son of Angrid, would return north when he came of age to wear the Udvorg crown. Udurum would need a new King on that far distant day when Vireon were to pass from the living world. The people of Udurum did not understand that sorcerers were immortal and could not truly die. Yet this misunderstanding did not comfort Dahrima. She thought of her barren womb as an abiding lack within herself. Vireon might be immortal, but she was not. So she dreamed of a child born from their honest love.