Child of Thunder (Renshai Trilogy) by Reichert Mickey Zucker

Author:Reichert, Mickey Zucker [Reichert, Mickey Zucker]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: DAW
Published: 1993-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

As the last notes pealed forth from the instrument, Khitajrah found herself in tears. The individual words had not registered, rather the seamless combination of melody and voice had seemed to flay open her soul to reveal the ugliness inside. She felt innocent as an infant, cleansed of the crimes she had committed, in her own name and in that of chaos. The music of the forest replaced Mar Lon’s talent, revealing the steady wash of leaves in wind, the first faint chirrups of birds, and the muffled clanks and rattles of working Béarnides. Reality returned to Khitajrah in a rush, making camaraderie between communities of mankind seem like a naive and foolish dream. Chaos’ presence felt like a lead weight in her mind. Though it lay still and silent, Khitajrah directed her thoughts at it accusingly. *Is what he sang true?*

*It is his interpretation of truth.*

The answer seemed like a dodge. *What does that mean? Are you afraid to answer the question?*

*No.* Chaos seemed unruffled. *I simply see no reason to bother answering. If I told you he spoke lies, would you believe me?*

Khitajrah considered for a moment. *Probably not.*

*Then the question is as pointless as the answer.*

Chaos made sense to Khitajrah this time, though she cared little for its approach or its attitude. *Tell me which parts you find truth and which lies. I’ll form my own opinion, but wouldn’t you like to have a say?*

Apparently, the logic behind her comment convinced it. *He’s right about the history; I’ve told you that before. Odin did banish chaos, and the world has stagnated under the influence only of law. But the Chaosbringer’s bounty is knowledge and cleverness, not destruction.* Chaos lapsed into its vibrating equivalent of laughter. *And this singer-man has sadly misinterpreted the Wizards and their motives.*

*Which are?* Khitajrah pressed.

*You’re not ready for the explanation at this time.*

*Try me,* Khitajrah insisted.

Chaos went dormant, spreading its formless tendrils through her thoughts, its touch almost imperceptible.

Before Khitajrah could protest further, Mar Lon’s singing again caught her attention, the chords forming a golden harmony to his words. This time, he used the trading tongue, though he chose an Eastern rhyme scheme:

“War raged like a stallion across the dark plains;

Eastern sword met Western in a wild clash of steel.

The West for its own, the East for land gains,

Each soldier concerned for the hand death might deal.

“The Great War spawned heroes, much more than its share:

Child, swordsman, then corpse in less than a day.

West, Santagithi’s strategies blazed the battle fare,

His soldiers bedecked in his black and his gray.

“Grand in his helmet of spires and spines,

Sheriva’s chosen, Siderin, sparked his Eastern horde

Two skilled lieutenants kept his ranks in perfect lines

Boldly, they stormed westward for love of their lord.

“As prophecy promised, the West’s proven champion:

A Golden-Haired devil from the North tribe of Renshai.

Colbey slashed through East ranks in a reckless run

And every blade slash drove an Easterner to die.

“The great axman, Narisen, met death in this fashion,

Skull staved by the hooves of the Renshai’s bay mount.

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