Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,258

the isle to the village of Hale.

Those had been good times in Dun Varna.

But then Aubrey had come, along with Avonese, the perfumed whore who had ordered the death of Garth Rogar, Luthien’s dear friend. The two had opened Luthien’s eyes to Eriador’s subjugation, to the truth of the supposed Avonese nobility. Those pretentious fops had forced Luthien to spill his first blood—that of a cyclopian guard—and to take to the road as a fugitive.

“I wonder if Avonese remains in chains,” Luthien remarked, though he had meant to keep the thought private.

“Eorl Gahris sent her south,” Katerin replied. “At least, that is what one of the deckhands on the ferry told me.”

Luthien’s eyes widened with shock. Had his father freed the woman, the wretch who had caused the death of his dear friend? For an instant, the young Bedwyr despised Gahris again, as vividly as he had when he learned that Gahris, in an act of pure cowardice, had sent his older brother, Ethan, off to war to die because he feared that Ethan would cause trouble with Greensparrow’s henchmen.

“In chains?” Luthien dared to ask, and he prayed that this was the case.

Katerin sensed his sudden anxiety. “In a box,” she replied. “It seems that Lady Avonese did not fare well in the dungeon of Dun Varna.”

“There are no dungeons in Dun Varna,” Luthien protested.

“Your father made one especially for her,” Katerin said.

Luthien was satisfied with that answer, and yet it was with mixed emotions that he entered Dun Varna and rode the red limestone and cobblestone streets to the grand entrance of House Bedwyr.

He and Katerin were met at the door by other reminders of their past, men and women they had not seen in more than a year, men and women both smiling and grim, glad for the young Bedwyr’s return, and yet saddened that it should be on such an occasion as this.

Gahris’s condition had worsened, Luthien was informed, and when the young Bedwyr went up to the room, he found his father sunk deep into the cushions of a large and soft bed.

The man’s cinnamon eyes had lost their luster, Luthien realized as soon as he moved near to Gahris. His thick shock of silvery-white hair had yellowed, as had his wind-creased face, a face that had weathered countless hours under the Bedwydrin sun. The once-corded muscles on Gahris Bedwyr’s arms had slackened, and his chest had sunk, making his shoulders seem even broader, though not so strong. Gahris was a tall man, three inches above Luthien and as tall as Luthien’s older brother, Ethan.

“My son,” Gahris whispered, and his face brightened for just a moment.

“What are you doing in bed?” Luthien asked. “There is so much to be done. A new kingdom to raise.”

“One that will be better than the time of Greensparrow,” Gahris replied, his voice barely a whisper. “And better than what was before Greensparrow. I know it will be so, because my son will play a hand in its formation.” As he spoke, he lifted his arm and took Luthien by the hand. The old man’s grip remained surprisingly strong, lending Luthien some hope.

“Katerin is with me,” Luthien said, and turned to motion Katerin to the bedside. She drifted over, and the eorl’s face brightened again, verily beamed.

“I had hoped to live to see my grandchildren,” Gahris said, bringing more of a blush from Luthien than from Katerin. “But you will tell them about me.”

Luthien started to protest that admission that Gahris was dying, but Katerin spoke first. “I will tell them,” she promised firmly. “I will tell them of the eorl of Bedwydrin, whose people loved him, and who rid the isle of wretched cyclopians!”

Luthien looked back and forth between the two as Katerin spoke, and realized that any protests he might make would be obviously false and discomforting. At that moment, the young man had to admit the truth to himself: his father was dying.

“Will you tell them of Gahris the Coward?” the old man asked. He managed a small chortle. “How I bent to the will of Greensparrow,” he scolded. “And Ethan . . . ah, my dear Ethan. Have you heard anything . . . ?”

The question fell away as Gahris looked upon Luthien’s grim expression, learning from that face that Ethan was truly gone to him, that Luthien had not found his brother.

“If ever you see him,” Gahris went on, his voice even softer, “will you tell him of the end of my life? Will you tell