He slammed his fists into the door behind him. “All the time. Why can’t I just live my life, here and now? Why do I have to see so much?”
She held her hands out to him, and he came and took them. There was so much she still didn’t understand, but at that moment it didn’t seem to matter. She kissed his hands, then brought them to her cheek, savoring the touch of his skin. “I’m here, Gaven,” she murmured. “Here and now.”
CHAPTER 36
Gaven did his best to recount his travels from the cold Lhazaar coast to Q’barra, to the City of the Dead in Aerenal, to Darguun, and then north from Korranberg on the lightning rail. Some parts were hard to tell, particularly the parts where Senya played an important role in the story. Other parts were hard to remember-his confrontation with the Sentinel Marshals on the lightning rail, for example, was confused in his memory with the dreams that had haunted him.
Whenever he started to lose focus, though, Rienne was there. At the beginning of his tale, in particular, it was hard to mention his dreams and visions without starting to slip into them, but her touch always brought him back. She asked gentle questions that clarified her understanding and sometimes helped him refine his own. Finally, she asked the question that struck to the heart of the situation he was in.
“So Vaskar is trying to become a god, and Haldren wants to be king of a reunited Galifar. What do you want?”
He frowned. Why should that be such a difficult question to answer?
“I’m still trying to figure that out,” he said. “When I left Vathirond, I thought I knew what I was doing. I decided I wouldn’t accept a destiny that somebody else had placed on me, that I would forge my own destiny.”
His thoughts went back to the night outside of Vathirond, alone with the Heart of Khyber. The dragon’s words had stirred something in him-a sense of purpose, the idea of choosing a purpose. But the purpose he’d chosen, pursuing Vaskar into the Mournland, had led him down paths he didn’t want to take. He had felt as though he were still pursuing the dragon’s purpose, not his own.
Rienne drew him out of his reverie. “Can you say more about that?” she asked. “Who was trying to place a destiny on you?”
“Everyone. The lords of the dragonmarked houses and the Sentinel Marshals had decided that my destiny was to rot in Dreadhold. Haldren and Vaskar had the idea that I would be the accessory to their greatness, like some kind of seer that validates their dreams by declaring them the fulfillment of the Prophecy. And then even when I thought I was choosing my own course, the dragon in the shard still seemed to be foisting his destiny on me, trying to make me finish what he couldn’t. I didn’t want any of those things.”
“To forge your own destiny,” Rienne mused. “That’s heady stuff, Gaven-the sort of thing that legends are made of.”
“I know. That’s what bothers me. Before all this happened, I never really thought of myself as a person of destiny. I failed the Test of Siberys, and figured I’d live my life as a minor player on the stage of the drama of the dragonmarked houses.” He had wanted to fail the Test of Siberys-precisely because his father expected the opposite. Arnoth had dearly hoped Gaven would manifest a dragonmark and carry on his work in House Lyrandar.
“It seems Siberys herself chose you for a greater destiny than that,” Rienne said, reaching up to trace her finger along his dragonmark.
“Perhaps,” Gaven said. “Although I feel more like I stumbled onto a different stage when I found that nightshard, and I’m trying to fumble my way through a play I don’t know.”
“So to forge your own destiny means taking control of the play. Becoming both player and playwright.”
“Mm.” Gaven nodded. “Heady stuff, as you said.”
“So what did you think you were doing when you left Vathirond?”
“I thought I would be Vaskar’s nemesis-and Haldren’s, too. I thought I would be the agent of the Sovereign Host, punishing their pride and bringing their plans to ruin. So I went to the Sky Caves of Thieren Kor thinking that I had to stop Vaskar from gaining the knowledge there.”
Vaskar hadn’t gained the knowledge of the Sky Caves. But was that Gaven’s doing, or Vaskar’s own failure? He hadn’t even seen Vaskar until he’d been in the Sky Caves for days, walking the paths and exploring the Prophecy. Why hadn’t Vaskar gained the same understanding-and the same power-that he had?
Again Rienne prompted him out of his silence. “That seems like a worthwhile goal.”
“Yes. The thing that worries me…” He trailed off again.
What worries me, he thought, is that I might become a god.
“The thing that worries me,” he said, “is that the only way I could stop Vaskar was by claiming the knowledge of the Sky Caves for myself. I set out to become his nemesis, but ended up playing the part of the Storm Dragon in his place.”
Rienne’s brow furrowed. “The Storm Dragon… Gaven, what about these storms? The lightning rail near Starilaskur, the Morning Zephyr-I’ve never seen a Lyrandar heir throw that kind of power around. Even the tales of other heirs of Siberys don’t say anything about storms like those.”
All these storms, he thought. And not just the disastrous ones-rainy weather had followed him across the Five Nations. Wind swept around him in his anger. Lightning blasted his foes. He had the power of the Storm Dragon, whether he wanted it or not.
Did he have a choice about how to use it? Or was the script already written, just waiting for him to play his part through to the final act?
“It seems I’ve been cast in a role I wouldn’t have chosen,” he said.
“So turn it into the role you do want.”
“How do I do that?”
Rienne got to her feet and held out a hand to him. “Why don’t you begin by deciding where we’re going next?”
He took her hand and walked behind her out of their room and out to the inn’s stables, pondering her question. They were in Breland, somewhere near the border with Thrane. He had very little idea where Haldren or Vaskar were, though he guessed that Haldren would be in Aundair. The lord general had kept his plans to himself, for the most part-Gaven knew Haldren’s ultimate goal, but nothing of how he hoped to achieve it. As for Vaskar, Gaven had told him what he had to do to reach his goal. “On a field of battle where dragons clash in the skies, the earth opens and the Crystal Spire emerges.” Vaskar would seek to bring that about.
The thought of chasing Haldren and Vaskar all around creation made him feel tired, especially when he thought about the people who were chasing him at the same time.
Rienne pressed a coin into the stable boy’s hand and led the magebred mare onto the street. Gaven stopped in his tracks. “Darkness take my destiny,” he said. “I’ve been away for twenty-six years. I want to go home.”
Rienne turned to him, eyes wide. “Do you think that’s wise?”
He waited while she swung into the saddle, then climbed up behind her. “Wise? No, probably not. I’m an excoriate and a fugitive, so going back to the primary enclave of House Lyrandar in all Khorvaire is not wise.”
“But at least it’s a city of Khoravar, like us,” she said. “Our race won’t make us stand out the way it would in, say, Korranberg.”
“And we know the ways of the house,” Gaven added. “We can lie low there pretty easily.” He swallowed hard. “Rienne, do you think my father would see me?”
“Of course he would. Oh, Gaven, he never believed the charges against you. Why, if I had told him I was going to look for you, he would have insisted on coming along.”
Gaven gave a laugh that was half sob. “You’ve seen him recently?”
“It’s been a few months, but we’ve been in fairly regular contact. I need to tell you, though, he’s not in the best health.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mostly he’s getting old. He was still walking around when I saw him last, but he moved pretty slowly.”
