Wind Rider's Oath

Walsharno's ears shifted.

Tomanâk said,

Bahzell frowned, intrigued almost despite himself. A portion of his awareness remained firmly focused on the movement of Walsharno's muscles under him, the caress of the late afternoon breeze as the day wound towards twilight, the jingle of mail and weapons harnesses, the creak of saddle leather, and the slightly dusty smell of grass crushed under the hooves of coursers and warhorses alike. But most of his attention was focused on the question it had never occurred to him to ask and on the answer he would never have anticipated, if he had asked.

he put in,

Walsharno agreed.

There was no disrespect or challenge in the courser's question. He accepted what Tomanâk had said, as a yearling accepted the decrees and explanations of his herd stallion. He was simply seeking explanation, not demanding that Tomanâk justify what he had already said.

Tomanâk replied.

Bahzell observed dryly, and Tomanâk chuckled again in the back of the link he and Walsharno shared.

Tomanâk replied.

He obviously recognized Bahzell's and Walsharno's confusion, for he went on.

Walsharno thought slowly,

Tomanâk replied simply, as if the staggeringly complex and preposterous implication were perfectly reasonable.

Bahzell thought after a moment.

Tomanâk agreed,

Bahzell and Walsharno were silent, stunned by the immensity of the concept Tomanâk had just laid before them. The idea that there were an infinite number of Bahzells paired with an infinite number of Walsharnos, each fusion experiencing its own outcomes, fighting its own battles and meeting its own fate, might have made them feel small, and insignificant. No more than two single grains of sand upon an endless beach. Yet they were anything but small and insignificant. The exercise of their free will would determine their fates, and their fates would be not grains of sand on a beach, but stones in an avalanche thundering to a grand conclusion which would determine the fate of all universes and of every creature who had ever lived . . . or ever would.

Bahzell said after a long, thoughtful pause.

Tomanâk agreed.

<I?> Walsharno came to a sudden halt, his ears straight up and his eyes wide. <I, a champion? I'm no such thing!>

Tomanâk said almost gently.

<But-> Bahzell began.

Tomanâk said gently,

Bahzell protested, oblivious to the other coursers and warhorses halted in puzzlement about him and Walsharno.

The complex linkage between hradani, courser, and deity trembled with the force of his protest.

<Peace, Brother,> Walsharno said, shaking off his own shock at Tomanâk's calm announcement as he recognized the pain-and guilt-suffusing Bahzell's mental cry of denial. <You will never drag me anywhere against my will. When I chose you, I chose knowing you were a champion, knowing where that might lead. I was surprised, but He's right, and if you think upon it, you'll see that He is. I willingly and gladly chose to partake of whatever fate awaits you-whatever fate we make for ourselves-in the full knowledge that you were a champion . . . and that few champions perish in peace, surrounded by those who love them. It simply never occurred to me that in doing so I might have stepped so close to the power of the Light myself.>

Tomanâk said gently.

<I will,> the courser's voice rang in the vaults of Bahzell's mind. A part of the hradani wanted desperately to forbid it, to prevent Walsharno from binding himself so inescapably to whatever fate awaited Bahzell himself. But another part recognized that it was too late to prevent that. That from the moment Walsharno willingly linked himself to him, their fates had been joined. And another part of him recognized that he had no right to forbid Walsharno this. That it was the courser's-his brother's-right to make the choice for himself.

<I do.> Walsharno's "voice" was as deep, as measured, as that of Tomanâk himself, filled with all the certainty and power of his mighty heart.