Alcandhor
a collection of three previously released short stories in the Gifts of the Elders series
by L.S. King
Copyright 2005 - 2015 L. S. King
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Alternate Path appeared in Deep Magic, July 2005
Bitter Storm appeared in Deep Magic, January 2004
Petition appeared in Residential Aliens, November 2010
crypt image courtesy of Whit Andrews
https://www.flickr.com/photos/whita/
Alternate Path
appeared in Deep Magic, July 2005
Alcandhor gulped as he entered the conclave chamber. The clan Chiefs sat at the table, their gazes fixed on him. What could they want with a mere stripling Ranger having thirteen years? He walked to the end of the table and faced them, his mind racing through possibilities of adventures and pranks, dismissing one then another. He had done nothing wrong, er, very wrong—at least, well, surely they would not call conclave for that, and anyway, that had been more Haladhon’s escapade than his.
“Alcandhor, we have brought you here as this concerns you,” Saldhor said.
With a nervous swallow, Alcandhor met his father’s eyes. “Aye, sir?”
Saldhor looked down with a sigh, as if he did not wish to speak. “Your brother wishes to be passed over as Thane and let heirship go to his son, if he has one. If not, Thaneship would go to you.”
His stomach lurching and falling to his feet, Alcandhor stared over at his brother Valdhor. For once, he seemed more humbled than arrogant.
“T-to me? But, but Valdhor is the one who has studied for it. He is a much better Ranger than I could ever be!”
“You would be undertaking the same studies as you continue your stripling Training in any event, Alcandhor, as do all Chiefs,” his uncle Lamadhel said. “Unfortunate events could land any one of us as Thane. You must be prepared.”
Alcandhor knew this, but Thaneship seemed safely far away with his brother standing between him and the Thane’s chair. He could not imagine Valdhor ever being killed. He was too good a Ranger. Even though young, he could best men much older than himself and had become a standard that the striplings strove for.
“But, why? Why is he giving it up?” Alcandhor asked. He thought of the recent incident where his brother had beaten Lantalan’s child. Many in their clan had expressed rage and demanded sanctions against Valdhor. “Is it because of Marcalan?”
“That is my business,” Valdhor said.
“It is Ranger business,” Saldhor said, turning to his elder son, “since it affects our whole clan. Do you wish to explain, or shall I?”
Valdhor grimaced, staring at the table. He licked his lips and said, “I do not feel I would be a good Thane. I. . .have not the temperament for it.”
Aye, ‘tis because of Marcalan. Alcandhor gritted his teeth, his anger rising. “‘Tis easier to give up Thaneship than try to control yourself and earn back respect?”
Valdhor stood, glaring at him. Exultation shot through Alcandhor at having goaded his brother for once as they locked eyes.
“Alcandhor! Valdhor!” Saldhor rose to his feet. “Enough! Sit down, Valdhor.”
Alcandhor’s brother sank into his chair, strong jaw set. Alcandhor bored into Valdhor’s grey eyes, unwilling to lose this battle. Valdhor finally looked down. Alcandhor drew in a breath at his victory, then his stomach turned as his father said, “It is recorded. Valdhor will retain his rank, and votes as a Chief, but is not in line for ascendancy to Thane. And as was previously discussed, despite his rank as Chief, he is given a bounds at the northwest boundary of Pashelon province. So be it.”
The pronouncement sank in as the Chiefs rose. Unless his brother sired a son, Alcandhor would be Thane someday. He trembled with fury. How dare Valdhor walk away from his duty to his clan and toss that heavy mantle off!
Valdhor met his eyes as he walked past him, a sneer of triumph on his face. Alcandhor clenched his fists, shaking. Wait until they were outside!
Once on the grounds, he grabbed Valdhor’s jerkin. “How dare you!”
His brother backhanded Alcandhor to the ground. “Lay not a hand on me.”
Alcandhor rose and dove headfirst at Valdhor, landing them both in the dirt. His brother not only had several years on him, but had a more muscular, heavy build and was a wicked fighter. Alcandhor did not care.
He punched Valdhor in the face. His brother’s fist rammed into his chin. His head snapped back, pain shooting through his jaw and neck. Valdhor grabbed Alcandhor by the jerkin and lifted him. Both hands free, Alcandhor quickly punched with alternating fists until his brother threw him to the side.
Alcandhor rolled up. He kicked to Valdhor’s stomach. Valdhor blocked and swung in with a counter-kick. Alcandhor rammed his forearms into his brother’s shin, then rained a combination of his own kicks. Valdhor swatted them aside.
Alcandhor ducked under a kick to the face and struck to Valdhor’s kidney. Valdhor spun and pain exploded in Alcandhor’s head and he tasted blood. He blocked a kick aimed at his face, then another. He missed blocking the next kick and doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of him.
He gasped, unable to draw a breath. He forced himself upright, wincing, to see his brother’s sneering face. He gulped in a breath and kicked at Valdhor’s face then his mid-section. Valdhor blocked both and threw a thrusting kick, knocking the wind out of him again.
Alcandhor struggled up. Valdhor’s foot flew forward. A crushing rush of pain smashed his face, and he fell back into blackness.
~:~
“Son, what would cause you to do something so foolish?”
Alcandhor turned his head and stared at out the window. His father would not understand. He would say he should have discipline and not let people control him. But he had not seen the smirk on Valdhor’s face.
“Valdhor is being disciplined for going beyond defense in stopping you, but you set yourself up for censure as well for attacking a Ranger.”
“I care not.”
Saldhor groaned. “If I thought it would help, I would crack your hard heads together. Why must you two be at odds?”
“He is the one who hates me,” Alcandhor shot over his shoulder.
“Do not exaggerate—or use such a harsh word.”
“‘Tis true!”
“Your brother is. . .aloof,” Saldhor said, “but he is not without feelings.”
Alcandhor snorted. “He has plenty of feelings. All of them negative.”
“Alcandhor!”
“I can sense. I know what he feels.”
“Enough.”
His father’s hand pulled on his shoulder but Alcandhor remained still, arms crossed, gazing across the grounds.
“Son, I know this is disappointing for you. That you had your own dreams. But remember, our clan is given to service, and that means sacrifice. You are not the first who has given up personal ambition. Nor will you be the last.”
“But ‘tis not fair!”
“Tell me where in the Law we have a guarantee of fairness in this life.”
Not mindful of the pain from the bruises, Alcandhor clenched his jaw, glowering at the cheerful birds singing in the trees near the window and the leaves rustling in the sunshine. Such a day should be overcast. Dark.
A young bird hopped along the ground, its father nearby, calling encouragement as it hunted for food. Alcandhor’s heart lightened and he turned to Saldhor. “He could marry. Have a son. Then I would
not be Thane.”
His father’s lips pressed into a line. “You cannot depend on that. You must prepare in any case.”
“But Rangers marry and have sons.”
“Not all Rangers marry. And not all those who do have sons.” Saldhor let his breath out in a slow exhale, his blue eyes boring into Alcandhor’s. “You must prepare to be Thane. You must study hard.”
The intensity of his father’s gaze caused a chill to crawl through his stomach. “You knew.”
Saldhor’s face grew bland, and Alcandhor knew he had hit the mark. His father used that face only to hide knowledge when he had foresight and felt he could not share it.
“You have always known. You pushed me into Ranger training when I wanted to be a law-keeper, saying I could do both. You pushed me to study the administrative laws, and have always urged me on in my fighting skills.”
His father remained silent but his face gave the answer.
Alcandhor’s hands squeezed into fists. “You see I will be Thane. Not ‘perhaps,’ if Valdhor does not sire a son, but as a certainty. Is this not true?”
“Son, even if I saw thus, I could not say.” Saldhor put his hands on Alcandhor’s shoulders. “You must study harder than you ever have. You must prepare.”
Alcandhor twisted away from his father and strode toward the door. “‘Tis not fair! ‘Tis not fair!”
“Alcandhor—”
The slamming door cut off his father’s voice. Alcandhor ran off. He could bear to hear no more.
~:~
Alcandhor huddled by the wall, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, ashamed that his anger brought him to tears. Stripling Rangers should be beyond such childish emotional displays.
Footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Alcandhor stiffened as the door creaked. Hang it! He thought the unused guards’ chamber of the tower a safe place.
“Ha! Found you at last.”
Alcandhor exhaled in relief. At least it was only Haladhon. Less than a year apart in age, the boys, raised almost as brothers, were best friends. But he wished no company. “Go away,” he muttered.
“Ah nay, cousin.” Haladhon plopped down next to him, and Alcandhor turned his battered face away. “Stars, but your brother left his mark on you. Why do you let him goad you into fighting him?”
“You should have seen his face—gloating! He walks away from his responsibility and dumps it onto my shoulders and then crows about it, knowing I must now give up my dreams to ready myself for the day I become Thane!” Alcandhor smashed his fist on the stone floor, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand.
“Why did he give up heirship to Thane? ‘Tis inconceivable.”
“It is because of his beating of Marcalan. He knows our clan will not follow his leadership.”
“Aye. It has happened. As with Zadhras the Seer’s grandson. The clan deposed him for his younger brother. But cousin, do not give up hope. He could still marry and provide an heir.” Haladhon chortled. “Assuming any lass would have him.”
Alcandhor shook his head. “I said thus to Father, and he told me to not trust to that. He said he has foreseen things and that I must be prepared to become Thane. I think,” he stopped and licked his lips, “I think he has always known I would be Thane. Remember how he pushed me into Ranger-training?”
“Aye. It surprised me when you became a Trainee. But cousin, as future Chief or Thane, you still must study.”
“Nay. Father has said my studying must increase. So I have not the time to learn the things I want.” Alcandhor stood and paced the chamber. “‘Tis bad enough to be a Chief, but Thane—” Alcandhor closed his eyes as the reality struck him, churning his stomach. “Stars, understand you what that means? To be leader not only of our clan, but to keep peace for our entire world? I am not strong as my brother is, how am I to take on such responsibilities some day? You know how much I enjoy learning the Laws of the Maker, and the Laws of the World, too, especially the sciences. To understand what the Enaisi left us.”
“Stars.” Haladhon’s voice held slight disdain. “Do not start.”
Alcandhor whirled. “You have seen a bio-crystal key glow. You have walked up the mountain to the Portal Complex. You know the history as well as I do. The Enaisi—”
“Are gone! The portal does not work and never will again.”
“It could. If we could understand the principles and their technology.”
“‘If.’ Granted your mind is given to grasp such things. Even Uncle Lamadhel says so. But what those aliens left behind is as magic to us.” Haladhon held up a finger. “And ‘if’ you do get it to work, what then? What hope you to find, eh, cousin? They locked themselves away from our world. They broke contact. Think you they wish us to find a way to them again?”
Alcandhor crossed his arms, averting his gaze. Even his closest friend demeaned his dreams.
“You are too young to be so old. I never have understood the fire that drives you.” Haladhon rose with a frown. “Since you were small you have been thus. Why?”
“Can you not imagine that portal coming alive? Of walking through it and meeting the Enaisi?” Alcandhor threw out his arms. “How can it not fill your mind with wonder?”
With a wry smile, Haladhon shook his head, leaning against the wall. “What fills my mind is whether I can sneak an extra dessert at afternooning, or if I can wager off priv chores to another stripling.”
Groaning, Alcandhor jammed his fingers through his hair. “Are you ever serious?”
“I am very serious! Do you want my priv duty?” Haladhon straightened, eyes wide. “Stars! Future Thane scrubbing the priv.” He threw his head back, laughing, and pointed to Alcandhor. “I just realized—one day I will bow knee to you as Thane. Shall I practice now?” He went down on one knee, head bowed as his arms spread in exaggerated reverence.
Alcandhor grabbed him by his jerkin, hauled him to his feet, and shook him. “‘Tis not a jest, rogue! ‘Tis a fact.”
“Aye, ‘tis fact. But at least see this humor in it—one day you will be his Thane. He will take orders from you.”
Not wishing Haladhon’s all-too-contagious mirth to infect him, he loosed his giggling cousin and turned away, but his lips twitched despite his efforts. Stars, had his brother thought of that when he renounced Thaneship?
“‘Twill be sweet, cousin,” Haladhon said, still snickering.
“Aye.” Alcandhor chuckled despite himself. “There is that.”
Haladhon clapped a hand on Alcandhor’s shoulder. “Come. Let us go exploring for some of these secret places of the Enaisi you search for in the back corridors. Perhaps today is the day we shall find one.”
Alcandhor gave a wry smile and let his cousin lead the way.
~:~
Haladhon slapped Alcandhor’s arm and nodded toward the barracks. Alcandhor lowered his bow, wiped his face, and looked where his cousin indicated. Pack on back and staff in hand, Valdhor strode toward the gate.
“He is truly leaving?” Haladhon asked.
Alcandhor shrugged. His brother would leave without a word? He hesitated, glancing at his instructor. With a knowing smile, Edhron nodded. Alcandhor ran over to walk next to Valdhor.
“So you are leaving now, brother?” Alcandhor asked.
“I have asked before that you not call me that.”
“Why?”
Valdhor’s lip curled. “I do not like the intimacy of familial names.”
Alcandhor resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists. “Is it not that you do not wish me for a brother?”
“Take whatever meaning from it you wish.”
“Since that is your request, I will never again use a familial name to you or even refer to you as my brother.”
With the ever-present sneer on his face, Valdhor inclined his head and quickened his pace.
Alcandhor stopped and watched the young Ranger stride away. He had admired his older brother—nay, Valdhor—since he could remember, despite the fact they did not get along. He coiled his
pain of the rejection deep inside and stiffened both his shoulders and his face. He would not give Valdhor the satisfaction of knowing he had wounded him.
Alcandhor turned and walked back to stripling practice.
~:~
With a groan, Alcandhor struggled up from the floor. Edhron tossed a drying cloth to him. “You still try to use strength against me. You have not the muscle yet. Speed, agility, leverage—those are your advantages.”
Alcandhor nodded, wiping his face and trying to catch his breath.
“We will match each day at this time.”
A sickening twist tumbled Alcandhor’s stomach. He had always valued the free time between afternooning and evening meal as his one time to study uninterrupted. The forbidding expression on the elderly instructor’s face stopped his protest and he merely muttered, “Aye, sir.”
Glancing about, warmth spread up from Alcandhor’s neck onto his face. All through the training hall striplings and Rangers had stopped their matches to watch him be humiliated by Edhron. Stars. Everyone would be keeping eye from now on when he trained, and would compare him to Valdhor.
Alcandhor headed across the huge chamber, eyes averted as feigned whispers reached his ears.
“A scrawny lad.”
“He is young yet.”
“He has not his brother’s fighting and tracking skills.”
“Aye. He has his nose in books more than on a sword, they say.”
A snort. “As long as he has more respect than Valdhor.”
“That does no good if he cannot arbitrate. Or fight.”
“Time will tell.”
A small group of stripling Rangers stood to one side and Alcandhor approached, relieved to be with those his own age.
“‘Tis our future Thane,” called Monadhal. He swept into an elaborate bow. “You wipe the floor well with your face, cousin.”
Several other striplings chuckled.
“You fight Edhron full out, then laugh,” Alcandhor shot back, clenching his fists.
“Bells, your humor left the city when your brother did,” Monadhal said. “The basin is in the corner. Soak your head in the cold water until you find it again.”