Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,259

him that, in the end, I stood tall for what was right, for Eriador free?”

Katerin eyed Luthien intently as the moments slipped past, realizing that her love was in a terrible dilemma at that moment, a crossroad that might well determine the path of his life. Here he was, facing Gahris once more, with one, and only one, chance to forgive his father. Gahris needed that forgiveness, Katerin knew, but Luthien needed it more.

Without saying a word, Luthien drew out Blind-Striker and lay it on the bed, across Gahris’s legs.

“My son,” Gahris said again, staring at the family sword, his eyes filling with tears.

“It is the sword of family Bedwyr,” Luthien said. “The sword of the rightful eorl, Gahris Bedwyr. The sword of my father.”

Katerin turned away and wiped her eyes; Luthien had passed perhaps his greatest test.

“You will take my place when I am gone?” Gahris asked hopefully.

As much as he wanted to comfort his father, Luthien couldn’t commit to that. “I must return to Caer MacDonald,” he said. “My place now is beside King Brind’Amour.”

Gahris seemed disappointed for just a moment, but then he nodded his acceptance. “Then you take the sword,” he said, his voice stronger than it had been since Luthien had entered the room, stronger than it had been in many days.

“It is your—” Luthien began to protest.

“It is mine to give,” Gahris interrupted. “To you, my chosen heir. Your gift of forgiveness has been given and accepted, and now you accept from me the family sword, now and forever. This business with Greensparrow is not finished, and you will find more use for Blind-Striker than I, and better use. Strike hard for family Bedwyr, my son. Strike hard for Eriador!”

Luthien reverently lifted the sword from the bed and replaced it in its scabbard. The verbal outburst had cost Gahris much energy, and so Luthien bade his father rest and took his leave, promising to return after he had cleaned up from the road and taken a meal.

He kept his promise and spent the bulk of the night with his father, talking of the good times, not the bad, and of the past, not the future.

Gahris Bedwyr, eorl of Bedwydrin, died peacefully, just before the dawn. Arrangements had already been made, and the very next night the proud man was set adrift in a small boat, into the Dorsal Sea that was so important to the lives of all in Dun Varna. No successor was immediately named; rather, Luthien appointed a steward, a trusted family friend, for as he had explained to his father, Luthien could not remain in Dun Varna. Bigger issues called out to him from Caer MacDonald; his place was with Brind’Amour, his friend, his king.

Luthien and Katerin left Dun Varna the very next day, both of them wondering if they would ever again look upon the place.

Katerin noticed the change in Luthien immediately. He slept well and rode alert and straight as they made their way back to the south, to Diamondgate and then to the mainland.

Katerin worried about him for a long while, seeing that he was not grieving for his loss. She couldn’t understand this at first—when she had lost her own father, to a storm on the Avon, she had cried for a fortnight. Luthien, though, had shed few tears, had stoically placed his hand on his father’s chest as Gahris lay in the small boat and had pushed it away, as if he had pushed Gahris from his mind.

Gradually, Katerin came to realize the truth, and she was glad. Luthien wasn’t grieving now because he had already grieved for Gahris, on that occasion when the young man had been forced to flee the law of Bedwydrin. To Luthien, Gahris, or the man he had thought Gahris to be, had died on the day the young Bedwyr learned the truth about his brother Ethan and about his father’s cowardice. Then, when Katerin had arrived in Caer MacDonald, bearing Blind-Striker and news that Bedwydrin was in open revolt against Greensparrow, Luthien’s father had come alive once more.

Luthien, Katerin now realized, had viewed it all as a second chance, borrowed time, a proper way to bid farewell to the redeemed Gahris. Luthien’s grieving had been long finished by the time he knelt by his dying father’s bed. Now his cinnamon eyes no longer seemed full of pain. Gahris had made his peace, and so had his son.

CHAPTER 4

GYBI

PROCTOR BYLLEWYN STOOD solemnly on the sloping parapet of the Gybi monastery, staring