Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Science-Fiction,
adventure,
Fantasy,
Space Opera,
Dragons,
Life on other planets,
Adventure stories,
Space colonies,
Pern (Imaginary Place)
he held it in his hand. It felt special, full of power. Satisfied, he went out of the room, returned the glow to its basket, and left the wherhold, heading toward the nearby stream.
In the stream he bathed his find and carefully chipped out a small piece of quartz crystal from the main mass. It was just big enough to hold, but it seemed to vibrate with power as he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. This will be me, he thought to himself, small and powerful.
Intrigued now, Kindan scanned the streambed and the banks looking for any other rock or pebble that called to him. He was not surprised to find a nice sliver of yellow citrine, which he cleaned and pocketed. He had learned from Mikal during one of the ex-dragonrider’s days at the Harper Hall that citrine helped to keep one cheerful and manifest goals, just as white quartz was good at manifesting power and concentrating intentions. Armed with these, Kindan felt he could not lose.
He walked slowly back to the camp, pausing to touch the bark of a tree, check for the sign of animals, inhale deeply of the scents on the air, feeling more at peace and focused than he had since he’d first arrived at the Harper Hall over a Turn before.
He could do this. He could meet Vaxoram and win. But his good feelings faded as he realized one thing: He could not blind the older apprentice to win, any more than he could kill him. It wasn’t that Kindan didn’t believe he had the ability now, nor that he wasn’t willing to do either deed if there was no other way—it was that he realized that winning by those means would be a hollow victory, would leave Vaxoram so utterly defeated that the older boy would have no chance to redeem his honor.
Kindan had to find another way.
He spent the rest of the day in an uneasy, thoughtful silence.
He returned to the wherhold that evening and was grateful to be offered his meal in silence. Even the youngsters were quiet, their chattering voices stilled. Kindan felt guilty about that for a moment, then caught the eyes of one of the smaller girls and saw that she was regarding him solemnly, sharing his silence in a kind and compassionate way. He smiled at her and she smiled back, her eyes shining brightly. Then, as though that were too loud, she schooled her expression to be serious and brought a finger to her lips. Kindan nodded. He held her eyes for a long while. She looked away first, toward her mother, and Kindan found himself following her gaze, to her mother’s eyes. He continued, wordlessly expressing his gratitude to every member of the small hold. When the meal was complete, Arella led him once more to the massage table and, in silence, massaged his muscles until he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“Kindan,” Mikal’s soft voice roused him slowly into consciousness.
Kindan opened his eyes.
“This is the seventh day,” Mikal said, his tone neutral.
“I’m ready.”
“You only think you are,” Mikal told him. “You have one more thing to do.”
Kindan sat up and looked at the ex-dragonrider expectantly.
“You must discover ten things to live for,” Mikal told him quietly. Kindan opened his mouth, but Mikal silenced him with an upraised hand. “First, we will eat.”
It seemed that the whole of the wherhold had gathered for breakfast. The children, including the solemn girl of the previous night, were bright-eyed and loud in the way of all children. The adults were also animated, and even sometimes coarse in their language. They laughed frequently; Kindan found himself smiling a lot.
When they finished, Mikal led him off to their practice area and indicated that Kindan should sit.
“Well, what have you discovered so far?” Mikal asked.
“To live for?” Kindan repeated, partly to buy time. Mikal nodded. “I want to live for my fire-lizard egg.”
Mikal nodded and held up a finger.
“I want to live for Nonala and Kelsa,” Kindan said.
“What does that mean?” Mikal asked.
“I want to protect
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