Guardian of Heaven and Earth
-
Kanbal
Epilogue - Alam Lai La
The gate in front of the royal palace opened wide. An announcer called out to the assembled Kanbalese people as cavalry riders sped out of the gate.
Balsa was part of the crowd; she looked upon the shiny tack of the horses and strong shoulders of the riders with a shared sense of national pride. The cheering crowd was loud enough to spook the horses, but the riders kept their mounts under control.
Hagu Muro and Kahm Musa rode at the front of the line of mounted warriors. Chagum rode between them, keeping just a little bit behind their horses like he didn’t want to be seen. Unlike the other riders, he looked fearful and apprehensive, not proud and brave.
Balsa caught Chagum’s eye and gave him a nod of farewell. He smiled at her briefly and bowed his head, but he was frowning again by the time he passed her by.
More riders lined up behind Chagum and the others as they began their long journey toward Rota. Balsa mounted her own horse and turned away from them.
Balsa...good luck, Chagum thought. I hope you reach Torogai and Shuga safely.
Chagum swayed a little in his saddle. Even if Balsa did manage to warn Torogai and Shuga before disaster struck, saving everyone in Kosenkyo and the surrounding villages would be extraordinarily difficult. Chagum wanted to believe that they would succeed.
New Yogo was beset by invaders from the south and a terrible disaster from the north. But I can’t think about that right now. I can only deal with one disaster at a time.
Chagum could do more about the Talsh invasion than he could about the threat of natural disaster. He would return to his home someday--assuming it survived all the calamities ahead. He felt a sudden sensation of warmth, like Balsa’s hand on his cheek when they’d said goodbye.
King Radalle had given Balsa new clothes, armor and equipment the day before. Chagum looked like a brave warrior in the new armor, but he knew that he was marching off to war. He would have to kill people, or order people killed.
Balsa sat near a fire in their shared guest room with her spear in her hand, polishing its blade. Chagum sat down next to her. “Do you ever really forget how terrible it is to kill someone?” he asked.
Balsa’s hand stilled on the point of her spear. “I never thought it would be easy to kill people,” she said, “but I was wrong. It was very easy, as long as I could justify their deaths to myself. But the only justification that wound up making sense to me was to kill only to protect myself or other people whose lives were threatened.”
Balsa looked up at Chagum. “But, no. You never do forget how terrible it is to kill a person--not deep down, where it matters. My wounds heal after every battle, but killing a person is a crime against your soul. It’s a wound that never heals.”
The corners of Balsa’s mouth twitched upward in a smile. “When I was used to killing, I made all kinds of excuses, but even then, I was losing myself a little bit at a time.” The light of the fire danced over her cheekbones. “I’m sorry I don’t have a more comforting answer. I probably would, if I were your mother. There are some things in this world that we have to do, whether we choose them or not. And there are things that no one person can accomplish on their own. I think that’s why it hurts to much to kill. It feels like there should have been another way, but it’s outside our control.”
Balsa returned to polishing the spearhead. “It’s a contradiction to save some people by killing others. That contradiction bothers me every day. You are also on a contradictory path; you’ll need to kill some to save everyone else. I don’t know a way around that contradiction. I wish I did.”
Balsa smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “But I will say that saving some people is worth it.” She touched Chagum’s scarred cheek lightly with one hand. “I never thought that I would get to see the little boy I saved from the river grow up.”
The warmth of Balsa’s hand on his cheek lingered in Chagum’s memory as he rode into Kanbal’s mountains. The riders paused briefly at noon so that the army could eat, but then pressed on until sunset. When the clouds in the sky were stained red and the sun sank low on the horizon line, Kahm Musa and Hagu Muro called a halt so that the men could eat dinner, but the army was swiftly on their way again.
The mountain peaks all around were bathed in the red-pink light of early evening. The color was like a blush on the cheeks of a little girl.
“Alam lai la,” Chagum said. Dagu Yonsa, who was riding next to him, blinked at Chagum in surprise.
“You know the Yonsa dialect of Kanbalese, Your Majesty?” Dagu asked. The scene really was alam lai la: a glorious pink mountain sunset.
The sun loves the mountains, who are the mother of the Kanbalese people. The sun shows its affection to our mother before going to sleep for the night, as it has for a thousand years.
Chagum smiled and turned his face to the sun. He squinted his eyes. The air smelled like snow. Rota was on the other side of these mountains. He felt like the sunlight was making a path of light for him, though it was probably just an optical illusion. He would go to Rota, and then, finally, he would get to go home.
Chagum had chosen his own path. Enveloped in sun-kissed mountains, he followed the light.
This is the end of Guardian of Heaven and Earth - Kanbal. The story continues in Guardian of Heaven and Earth - New Yogo.
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