Chapter 6
"What aren't you telling me?" Kateri asked with a very subtle drop in octave that told him she suspected she should be afraid. But other than that, she hid her panic well.
Damn. Ren should have recognized who she was the moment they met. Strange how the mind colored things and hid them from conscious thought. How something could be right under your nose and you missed it entirely ...
Now that he knew the truth of her, it was obvious, and he had no idea how he could have been so stupid as to have been blind to it.
While her features and height were nothing like the First Guardian's, she had his same eerie gold-tinged eyes that held a probing, deep intensity that seemed to strip away all lies, bravado, and pretenses so that their owner could see straight into the naked soul.
The first time he'd met the Guardian, that penetrating stare had reduced him back to the cowering dog that had lived only to gain his father's approval. The pathetic shadow of a human who'd allowed his own brother to walk all over him while he protected the bastard with his blood and bone. The dog that had accepted the kicks of everyone who came into contact with him, thinking he deserved nothing better than their contempt.
For most of his life, Ren had honestly believed that rather than be angry or bitter, he should be grateful that anyone was willing to offer him a home at all. Dignity was something reserved for his betters.
As much as he'd convinced himself that he hated his father and Coyote over how they'd treated him, the truth was he'd hated himself more. He had been the one to swallow their abuse and say nothing. The one who had allowed them to treat him as if he was lesser.
All the while, he'd had the strength and skills to silence them. But rather than risk his "home" and what little security he knew, he'd taken their verbal assault and made himself believe that he couldn't exist on his own.
That he really was weaker.
And the moment the First Guardian had looked into his eyes and stripped away the vengeance-seeking monster Windseer had awakened so that he was again a vulnerable human, Ren had unleashed that hatred all over the ancient for daring to see the truth. But in the end, the First Guardian had been right. It wasn't the First Guardian Ren had ferociously battled for that entire year so much as himself.
He, and no other, had always been his worst enemy.
Anyone else would have condemned Ren for his past atrocities and demanded his life. Instead, the First Guardian had embraced him like a brother. You allowed someone you loved to blind you with her lies. You trusted in her to look after a fragile heart that had never beat with acceptance before. While you committed evil at her command, the evil wasn't inside you. You took no pleasure or comfort from your actions. No pride.
I see your heart, Makah'Alay. You are shamed and horrified by what you've done. You know how wrong it was and you don't hide from that fact. You flog yourself far worse than I ever could.
But what you have to remember is that there are only two men in life who are perfect. The one not yet born and the one who has died. We all make mistakes. It's part of growing. The trick isn't to be perfect. It's to find a place of solace in the mind so that it doesn't cane you for trusting the wrong person or following after the wrong dream. All of us fall victim to harmful guile at some point.
Even I.
But hatred and rage solve nothing. Like a mighty fire, they quickly consume whatever is fed them. Yet it can't last. Soon enough, they devour all around them and burn out, leaving nothing but a hollowed shell no longer capable of feeling anything at all.
You, Makah'Alay, are the mighty Thunderbird. Born of human sorrow, you are the bringer of storms that swept through the land, destroying everything in its path.
Now spent, it is humble and giving. A protector who will sacrifice his life to save another.
How could I ever fault or punish that?
The cycle of the universe is birth, growth, death. And death, while unwelcome, is always necessary. Without death, there is no birth and no growth.
Most men die many times in their lives. The man we become invariably slaughters the child we once were. His knowledge of the world murders the babe's innocence. With the step you have just taken, the wise Makah'Alay has now laid the warrior Makah'Alay to rest. While you still know how to fight, you have now learned when to fight....
And most important, what to fight for.
Others and not himself. The First Guardian hadn't said the last four words, but that had been the lesson Ren had learned. Until the First Guardian had spared him, he'd always fought for his own glory, even while he claimed he was fighting for Coyote and his father. He hadn't really been protecting his brother. He'd been hoping that his father would take notice of his skills. That his father would, just once, embrace him and be proud to call him son.
But no one could change the mind of someone else. That was for them to do. And if they weren't willing, then there was no magic in existence to make them see what they didn't want to see.
His father had never held any use for him.
It wasn't my opinions that changed. It was my perceptions. That had always been Buffalo's quip whenever someone accused him of capriciousness.
Now, centuries later, Ren stared into the same pair of eyes that had once motivated him to murder....
"How much do you know about your father?" he asked her.
"Nothing really. My mother didn't speak about him. My grandmother told me the memories were too painful for her to bear and that I shouldn't mention him around her. So I never did."
"Your mother still won't speak of him?"
"My mother died when I was a girl."
So that was it, then. The First Guardian must have known that the Ixkib's line would die out and so he'd intervened to protect that from happening during one of their most crucial times. Knowing her mother would perish, he'd given her a child so that there would be a new Ixkib to carry on.