15. Grok
The mountains rise up before us, jagged teeth of granite and shale gnawing at the underbelly of the sky. Their peaks are wreathed in mist, shrouding the path ahead in a veil of gloom.
It”s a fitting reflection of the turmoil roiling inside me, the doubts and desires clashing like storm clouds in my head, my heart.
Behind me, the warband snakes through the narrow opening in a clanking, growling river of steel and sinew. A thousand strong, the fiercest fighters and most faithful followers the Red Mountains have to offer...and yet, as I cast my gaze over their ranks, I can”t help but wonder.
Wonder...if their loyalty, their lives, are a price I”m willing to pay. If she, the female who haunts my dreams and my daylight, is worth the blood and bone, the sweat and sacrifice this march, this madness, will surely demand.
”Something troubles you, my Chief.”
Sharak”s voice, rough and steady as the stones beneath our feet, drags me from my brooding reverie. I glance over to find him pacing at my side, his craggy features set in lines of concern.
”You”ve been quiet as the grave since we set out,” he rumbles, pitching his words low for my ears only. ”Lost in thought, in memory of the little human, the Red Blade who cut her way into your heart.”
I snarl, the sound more pained than angry. ”You know me too well, old friend,” I mutter, shaking my head. ”Always have, even when I”d rather you didn”t.”
Sharak snorts, a wry twist to his lips. ”Privilege of rank,” he grunts. ”And the prerogative of the male who”s been at your back since we were younglings, shitting our swaddling clothes.”
Despite myself, I feel an answering smile tug at my mouth. ”Those were simpler days,” I sigh, the words tinted with nostalgia, with longing for a time when the world made sense, when I made sense. Before her. Before the wildfire she ignited in my blood, my bones, with touch I can still feel, still taste, like a brand seared into my skin, my soul.
”Simpler, aye,” Sharak agrees, his gaze going distant with memory. ”But not better, I think. Not truer than what we face now, feel now in the depths of our hearts.”
He flicks me a sidelong glance, his eyes keen and searching. ”You love her,” he says softly. Not a question, but a statement of fact. ”The human girl, the Lily who bloomed in the wasteland of your war-sickness.”
I close my eyes, letting the truth of it wash over me. Love. Such a small word, a simple word, for a feeling, a force, that threatens to remake me from the inside out, from the roots of my being to the edges of my every breath, my every heartbeat.
”I do,” I rasp, the admission scraping my throat raw. ”Gods help me, Sharak, I do. More than breath, more than blood. More than anything.”
I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. ”I”m a fool,” I mutter. ”A madman chasing a dream that may be nothing more than moonshine and mirrors, fantasy and fever born of a few snatched nights, a few scorching kisses.”
”Or,” Sharak counters gently, ”you”re a male in love. A warlord in love with a woman who sees past the blade and the battle to the heart, the hunger that beats beneath.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. ”There”s no shame in it, Grok. No weakness in letting yourself feel, fall for someone who sets your soul alight, your spirit ablaze.”
”Even if she”s the enemy?” I challenge, a growl building in my chest. ”Even if she”s human, soft and fragile compared to our kind, enemy of our kin?”
Sharak shrugs, his gaze unwavering. ”The heart wants what it wants,” he says simply. ”And if yours has chosen her, the Red Blade, then who are we, who is anyone to say it”s wrong? To deny you the chance to chase that connection to the ends of the earth, the edges of existence?”
I stare at him, something hot and fierce kindling in my breast, my blood. Hope, I realize dimly. Validation that I”m not mad, not wrong to feel this way.
”The clan will not approve,” I say quietly, the words leaden on my tongue. ”They”ll see it as a betrayal, a bewitchment that”s led me astray, weakened me in the eyes of our enemies.”
”The clan will follow where you lead,” Sharak retorts, fierce and fearless. ”They”ll fight for what you believe in, bleed for what you hold dear, because they trust you, Grok. They love you as a warlord, a king who”s never steered them wrong, never failed them in all the long years of your reign.”
He meets my gaze squarely, his eyes alight with conviction. ”They”ll follow you to the gates of hell if you ask it of them. If you show them that this female is worth the risk, the rending of all we are as a clan.”
I swallow hard, humbled and heartened in equal measure. ”And you, old friend?” I ask softly. ”Will you follow me into the madness of this impossible quest? For a love, a light that may flicker and fail, gutter and go cold before I ever lay eyes on her again?”
Sharak smiles, grim and resolute. ”To the ends of the earth,” he vows, echoing his earlier words. ”To the edges of existence and beyond, into the void.”
He leans in, his breath hot and heavy on my ear. ”I”m with you, Grok,” he rumbles. ”For you, in this, as in all things. My Chief, until the stars fall and the stones crack.”
Emotion swells in my chest, a tidal wave of gratitude and affection, allegiance to this male, this mien who”s been my shadow and my shelter our whole lives.
”Thank you,” I rasp, the words woefully inadequate but all I can manage past the lump in my throat. ”Thank you, Sharak. For your faith, your fealty, even in the face of folly, of frenzy.”
”Folly is for fools,” he grunts, drawing back. ”And frenzy is for younglings still wet behind the ears.” He grins, fierce and feral. ”This is something else, something other than the excitement of youthful infatuation.”
His eyes gleam with a knowing light, an ancient acumen. ”This is fate. Fate drawing you forward, forging your path towards a destiny that will shake the stars, reshape the story of our people, reveal our purpose for generations to come.”
A shiver runs through me, a ripple of recognition, of prescience. He”s right, I realize with a sudden, searing certainty. This is the hand of powers, of portents, far greater than my own desires, my own designs.
This is meant to be, made to be by forces, by fates, beyond my ken or control.
She is meant to be, made to be mine. My mate, my must, in all the ways that matter.
And I...I am meant to find her. Fight for her until my last breath, my last beat of a heart, a hope that knows no bounds, no borders when it comes to claiming her, keeping her.
Loving her.
With a roar that shakes the stones, shivers the sky, I surge forward, my steps eating up the ground, my gait goaded by the want burning in my breast, my blood.
Behind me, the warband thunders in my wake, their own cries rising to join mine, a cacophony of courage and commitment to the path I”ve set before us.
The path to her. To Lily, my heart, my home.
To the female I”ll fight for, die for until the very gods themselves bend knee and bow their heads to the bond that binds us, more powerful than blood or skin or heritage.
I”m coming, love, I vow silently, savagely. I”m coming to claim you, crown you as mine, in the eyes of gods and men.
I”m coming to keep you. Cherish you as you were always, meant to be cherished.
By me. For me and the life, the love we”ll build together, birth together from the ashes, the embers of all we were before we fell.
Wait for me, Lily, I whisper, a promise and a plea. Wait for me, my heart, my hearth.
For I will shake the foundations of the earth to reach you, to rescue you from a world too small, too shallow to contain us, to constrain us.
Hold on, my love, I keen, inside and only inside, where no one can hear me, heed me. Hold on, for I am coming. I am coming to bring you back, to bear you home to the heart that beats only for you.
With that oath, that avowal searing through me, steering me, I crest the final rise, and there, spread out before me like a tapestry is Thornhall. The human stronghold, the haven of my heart”s own home, waiting for me to breach its walls and claim at last what is mine, sacredly mine alone.
Lily, I whisper, a war cry and a worship, a wonder fierce and full.
I am here, my heart. I am here to bring you back, to bear you home.
Wait for me, my queen, my completion.
For I am coming, I am coming to bring you home.
To me.