The King's Challenge #334 and #335

Part 11

General Coltern

TKC 334 and 335

King Linus boards the shuttle first.

The man is as imposing as I remember; his height is above average and his shoulders are still broad, although illness has somewhat emaciated him – poison, more correctly. I suspect he lacks muscular strength at this point also, for he walks carefully as if needing to be aware of his every step.

His shoulder length hair is as dark as Iniri and Enris’, with the grey of wisdom and years at his temples. Wearing it tied at the nape of his neck, his face is more exposed than I remember in times past. On Makaran a ruler need not concern himself with hair in his face; for Massin, even a ruler requires every iota of eyesight. Care lines have etched into his forehead, as well as grooves from nose to mouth, but otherwise Linus Makar’s age is difficult to determine. I am aware he is ages old, but a Massinian will put his years at around forty while frowning and wondering if he or she is correct. Linus’s blue eyes certainly tell a different tale; in those orbs is his true age read.

I snort to myself as Iniri follows her father in. She glances around until she sees me; why is there so much sadness in her gaze? My concern is for the uncertainty of our relationship; hers appears to be for something more.

“Damin,” she murmurs as she approaches.

“Coltern,” I state, keeping emotion in severe check.

Her eyes squeeze closed and she gives one small nod. Opening her eyes, she says, “How I wish it was still Lyra and Damin for us.”

As I do. But that time is now gone. “Wishful is not reality.”

She blinks, taken aback by my tone. As much as it hurts me to do so, I need her to understand the soldier is now present. I am General Coltern and my loyalty is for her father before all others. I swore that oath a long, long time ago. Yet, I admit, the person that was Damin seems to intrude into my thoughts more often than can be comfortable for this present.

“Later, Iniri,” I add quietly.

Her wry smile tells me she understands my dilemma. “Later,” she echoes, and returns to her father’s side.

Enris meets my gaze from the other side of the shuttle, his filled with sympathy. I look away. Enris is heir and I cannot afford to see him now as a friend first.

“Pilot, prepare to leave,” I say, waiting until all are strapped in, including Commander Gennerin. When Kay takes a seat after having checked that Siri is safely strapped, and Mirlin gives me a nod, I add, “You are cleared, pilot.” As the shuttle moves, I fling into the navigator’s seat and clip in.

Swiftly the industrial hangar vanishes from view and star-filled blackness fills the window. To the right, other shuttles manoeuvre and above us there are the larger transports.

Massin’s moon is visible in the distance, an orb I am suddenly able to land on if that is my wish. Damin never even dreamed of doing so. I snort to myself again, wondering if Damin would have been enough for me in the fullness of Massinian time.

The shuttle banks and Massin itself fills the view.

I am entranced. It is a beautiful world. Oceans and mountains, rivers, lakes and forests, rock and desert, snow and plain. Massin is still unspoilt, still natural. Technology consists of stone edifices and the bow, sword and carriage. Ancient ways Makaran moved away from many ages ago. Saying not a word, I confirm the choice I made in the small room where we found our king.

Damin will never leave Massin and Coltern will never return to Makaran.