The Chronicles of Amon book 2 The Sea of Marmara

  Chapter 8.

  Three days earlier, Amon had finally come out of his funk. When Broc and Nohm approached him after the burials, he was deliberately unresponsive, fearing that he might break down in front of them. Better to just keep quiet, he thought. When they told him their plan to scout northward, in the direction the stricken couple had gone, Amon had said nothing, only nodded his consent.

  He watched, unmoved, as they disappeared into the distance, all the time struggling with the decision he knew he would soon have to make.

  That night, after everyone had retired, he retrieved the transceiver from it’s hiding place and quietly moved away from the camp. When he was sure he could not be seen or heard, he activated the unit.

  For many hours into the night he and Evander talked. He learned of Sef’s death at the hands of the Tal. He learned of their departure from their jungle home and their trek northward.

  He explained his feelings; how he had come to recognize his desperation, his confusion, his willingness to turn his back on all he and his clan had accomplished.

  Evander had expressed his understanding and appreciation for all he had endured, but had said little more.

  Amon hesitated for only a moment before he broached the subject they had discussed so many years before.

  “You once told me that at some time, if I so chose, that I could join you, that I could leave this place.”

  “Yes. It is STILL possible. Have you weighed the consequences of such a decision?”

  “I have.” Amon was now resolute. Having said it out loud, it didn’t seem as intimidating.

  “I know that I may return any time I choose, but that if I do, it will be to another time; that all those I know and love will either be very old . . . or dead.” He looked his friend square in the eye as he continued.

  “All that has already come to pass! My grief has become more than I can bear. I must find a way to escape it before it consumes me.”

  “My dear friend . . . your grief will never go away, not completely. You will retain the memories of these events as long as you live. But in time you will learn to live with them. Though you do not feel it now, in time you will draw strength from these experiences. You will become a better man. You will feel more intently the compassion you now feel for your fellow beings.”

  “My friend Evander. You have been at my side all my life. You have watched. You have advised. But you have never interfered. You have allowed me to choose my own path. And for that I have grown to love you.”

  “All those who I have held closest to my heart are now gone. Yes, I love all the people of my clan. But the feelings I have for them are somehow, different.”

  “That is as it should be, my dear friend,” said Evander. “There is a saying among my people which has always given me comfort during trying times. ‘Blood will Prevail.’”

  “This I understand.” Amon nodded slowly in agreement. “There is a bond . . . a ‘blood bond’ that joins us . . . between parent and child . . . between a man and his mate. It is stronger than that between friends. It is a spiritual union . . . so strong that time or distance cannot sever it.”

  “Yes. It is borne of time, of intimacy, of sharing and caring. It prevails beyond the grave. It is everlasting.”

  “I know, I have similar feelings for my people. I worry for their welfare, so much so that on occasion I’m tempted to re-direct them, to prevent them from erring. I know it is not right for me to do so. If I attempt to control them, even though I believe it is for their own good . . . if I do so I deprive them of their right to choose.”

  “This is true wisdom, my friend.” said Evander. “In all the universe, this truth prevails.”