Carry Me Home

Rose G

Disclaimer – Most characters and all settings belong to Stephan Donaldson, and I have made no money from using them. Kelembral is my creation.

Seagull, carry me

Over land and sea,

To my own folk,

That's where

I wanna be.

Rod Stewart, Every Beat of my Heart

Bannor raised his head weakly from the bundle of rushes and grasses that served as his pillow. The star – light caressed his tired body with its distant warmth; seeming to heal all his hurts if only for a second.

'Kurik?' He spoke a few words in the Hurachi tongue, then seemed to recall himself. Kurik was long gone, gone to dust with the proud stallion he rode and half a thousand Bloodguard.

He, Bannor, now Manethrall of the Ramen, was the last of those five hundred men. No, not of the Ramen, however much I love them, for I have done that which they never dared and sat astride a Ranyhyn. Even after my Maneing, I have ridden him, my Kelembral.

Slowly, he rolled onto his side to stare at the far distant shape of Kevin's Watch. It was a shapeless terror in the twilight even though, tonight, no lightenings danced around it's star grazing top. It was leant colour by the haze of his tears. I swore – how long ago – to him that built that. Long enough ago that half a hundred Ranyhyn have grown old and fallen in my service. And yet, I never aged until the Ur-Lord set us free. Should I thank him?

No, for life was still sweet. It still is. I have felt the sun, known the smell of flowers and the feel of loyalty. And yet, and yet – I cannot remember my wife, so should I be glad to die?

The old man whispered again the oath he had taken in the pride and strength of his youth. The oath of service and loyalty unflinching, but it did not settle onto his soul and bind as it had once done. Those who could enforce it were gone or far away. Mhoram, my Lord.…Kevin was master, but you are Lord…

Bannor – Bannor – Bannor – Bannor. The quick calling of his name bothered him, the words throbbing with heart's blood and courage. It was the calling of a long perished Warward who had ridden out to find him when he had not returned from a mission for some long dead Lord. They had galloped so hard that horse's hooves and his name had melded into one ceaseless call.

I was dying then when they found me. But I lived, and Styral whom I rode, too. Will I die alone tonight, when there is no-one left to fight Corruption, let alone care for an old Manethrall? Let them guard…

Bannor – Bannor – Bannor. The sound rung in his ears. A horse galloping, it's hooves almost underscored by the sound of his name. The vibrations of the great, Land-foaled hooves shook the ground the old man lay on, but although his muscles were afire already, the as yet uncorrupted grass cushioned him, held him as he had no memory of ever being held.

The Plains of Ra were darkening as he lay there, dimming with more than Foul's darkness. Bannor knew this was not night, but his darkness as the light of his soul faded. He will save and damn the Land…I will save and damn myself…Still, the hoofbeats echoed until a Ranyhyn rounded the Watch at full gallop.

The bay threw his head up, searching until Bannor's scent came to him. Running, running…Bannor felt his heart catch at the fine wildness of the stallion who was running to him. How arrogant I must have been to presume to ride a Ranyhyn in my youth, and even more so to continue to ride when the Ramen accepted me…And yet, and yet…how wrong can it be to bestride a Ranyhyn and rejoice in his speed, his joy at turning your labour into his sport? 'Kelembral!'

He raised himself to a sitting position, shivering. A thin whistle escaped his lips, to hang on the night air and mingle with the sounds of Ra. Kelembral tossed his head in response and galloped to Bannor, the Ramen who called and rode the great free horses. The dark bay was sword marked, scarred and one honest eye was cloudy from a blow but across the Plains to his master, he galloped as easily and joyfully as a foal.

Bannor's tears were of joy now. Joy at the strong limbs eating the distance, the noble head and arched neck, the flying mane and tail of his stallion that were pitch black in the darkness. He saw Kelembral as the Creator's part of the Plains – essence of the Land, strength and beauty set afire with courage – and himself as the Despiser's work. Yet Kelembral and the others had seen that in him, and still chosen him. He would not die alone here, tonight, in Foul's darkness. Kelembral, I'm sorry. You may be Earthpower but you do not understand my speech. I'm sorry.

The galloping stallion slowed to a walk, dropped his great head to snuff at Bannor. His white star hung as a jewel in the sky, the only thing that Bannor could see. Weakly, he reached up and clasped his arms around the stallion's head, pulling it close against his chest. The horse's warmth seemed to ease the pain.

'I'm sorry.'

Kelembral nickered softly to the dying man.

'You never…broke oaths.'

Another soft call.

Bannor was blind, now. Instinctively, he kept his hold of that great head as Kelembral arched his neck, pulling his rider to his feet. Somehow, given one last gift of strength, he mounted and sat the great horse once again. He was aware of a defiant stallion's bugling call cracking through the dark and Kelembral stretching into a gallop towards the Huachai Mountains far away, before he died.