Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1 (30 page)

‘I am with you,’ he said, and holding The Light carefully in his arms, he followed closely as Lae set off again with one ear open for sounds of pursuit and a smile of happy satisfaction on her lips.

M
ooraz stared at his Lord and thought he would see fire emerge from his eyes, such was his rage.

‘Have you killed the Hightower guards?’ The Dark asked, his words slowed by the effort to control his passions. About his feet were the shredded remnants of his wife’s wardrobe.

‘My Lord, yes,’ Mooraz replied. ‘By my own hand as you commanded.’

‘Yet this does not bring back my wife.’ The Dark stared at the bed she had lately slept upon. Mooraz noted the clenching of his jaw. ‘Where is my daughter?’ he demanded.

Apprehension grew within Mooraz yet he did not show it. ‘With the Guardian, Pagan when last I saw her, My Lord.’

And when was that?’ The tone of his Lord’s voice was chilling.

‘An hour ago, My Lord.’

Djahr closed his eyes. ‘Why can I get no reliable information from any source?’ He stayed like this for several moments before he opened his eyes and looked at Mooraz again. ‘I want to know where she is now,’ he said, adding, ‘Are you not her Champion, who should know her every movement?’

Mooraz was also the Captain of the Guard, a role which had recently required great exertion. ‘That I am, My Lord,’ he said obediently. ‘Do you wish me to search for her?’

The Dark stared through Mooraz, as though listening to inner voices. At length he said, ‘Lae will be safe. Concentrate your efforts on recovering The Light who cannot be far. She must be found before she can harm the babe within her.’

Mooraz nodded.

‘Where is her Champion, Talis?’ The Dark asked.

‘On the Plains, My Lord,’ Mooraz replied.

‘How convenient.’ The Dark turned away to the window.

‘The Light will be quickly recaptured, My Lord,’ Mooraz assured him.

The Dark did not reply, and with no further words, Mooraz took his leave, descending the Hightower stairs down which a few hours earlier The Light herself had journeyed, no doubt in fearful haste.

The Be’uccdha Guard, whom Mooraz had pulled back from searching the grounds, now awaited his further instructions in the Battle Hall. Silent corridors greeted Mooraz’s boots as he strode towards them, constructing in his mind a grouping of his men which would make the best time of scouring the nearby lands. Yet even as he did, Mooraz found his thoughts whispering toward his Lady Lae, whose whereabouts were currently unknown.

His Lord The Dark was sure Lae was safe, yet Mooraz was not. Her penchant for adventure had seen her escape his protection once. If she discovered that her new mother had fled the Castle she might take any wild action — more likely if she suspected, as Mooraz did himself, that her betrothed was involved in the escape. The timing of Talis’s absence was indeed convenient.

Though it might earn the anger of his Lord, Mooraz went on to send his men out, and then began a search himself, for a certain Cliffdweller who might know the whereabouts of a smaller, wilier quarry.

‘Y
our footsteps slow, my new betrothed. Are you tiring?’ Lae asked.

‘Not at all.’ Pagan smiled and hefted The Light who still slept in his arms. Three times in the last hour Lae had called him ‘betrothed’ as though in spite, yet she seemed to take a perverse pleasure in the name. He owned that he was amused by this, and relieved. He had feared the pact between them would be weighted with obligation and disappointment, yet Lae, for her part, seemed more intrigued than entrapped, though despite her calling him ‘betrothed’ she had not told him straight that she would accept him as her husband. ‘My burden is not heavy, but precious,’ he said. ‘If I could see my way more easily, my pace would be quicker.’

‘We are near the Plains,’ was Lae’s reply, and indeed Pagan could see a light ahead of the tunnel not caused by her raised torch. ‘The rocky ground is almost finished and soon there will be loose soil.’

‘At last.’ Pagan was heartily sick of picking his way over slippery rocks. Their trail had hugged the coastline for hours through dank, volcanic tubes which would now open onto the Plains far from Castle Be’uccdha. Pagan thanked providence for Lae’s insistence that she accompany him. He could only marvel at the map within her mind. She did not hesitate at any turning, nor did she stumble, so strong was her recollection of the differing surfaces beneath their feet. He had thought her mind was solely occupied with the art of mischief, yet here was proof of an adventurous spirit and the intelligence to keep track of her trail.

‘I see the opening,’ Lae said, and pointed ahead.

Two steps later Pagan saw it himself, a barrier of thick fabric through which dawnlight bled.

‘The outer covering looks like stone. It is well concealed,’ Lae assured him.

‘But is it easily moved?’

‘Hush and I both struggled with it, I am afraid.’ Lae dropped her torch to the ground, for it was no longer needed, and tugged at the entrance. It only budged a little. ‘We need your muscles again, it seems.’

‘Here, hold The Light,’ he said, and offered her forth.

Lae shook her head. ‘You forget that my muscles are in my head.’ She moved away from the entrance a pace and sat. ‘Here, lie her on my lap.’

Pagan crouched and placed The Light gently on Lae’s lap, adjusting the shirt himself the better to conceal what Lae was determined he should not see. Talis would insist on the same and Pagan stayed mindful of his cousin’s heart in case carnal curiosity got the better of him. Yet speaking of carnal pleasures, Pagan found that in straightening The Light’s covering his hand brushed against Lae’s chest, and she in shock gasped and raised her head.

The moment called for a casual jest, yet instead, Pagan found himself confused. No words emerged which in itself was remarkable, but worse, the need to swallow came upon him, and that several times, as though it had been he who suffered the shock instead of Lae.

He forced himself to stand and turned to find the opening, using his back to shift the weight of layered cloth which rolled back easily at his touch. Again, unsettling thoughts rose within him; that Lae was small and weak and needed a man to protect her. Despite their history of woe, soft feelings came to Pagan, such as he would not have imagined could be laid at the door of Lae Be’uccdha.

Yet, before he could begin to cherish them she said, ‘Braggart,’ and pointed to the opening he had made. ‘You made that look easy to wound my pride.’

Pagan found his awakening emotions stilled by her words and a great relief swept over him. Lae could not leave tenderness alone a single second, even if it was to save her life. Never would they kiss with rapture, but that she would hold off to instruct him on something she knew nothing about.

Happiness at this reprieve made him smile as he returned to her and took The Light from her grasp. ‘I would not try to prick your pride,’ he replied, while his eyes were level with her own. ‘For it is so large and full of air, that to explode such a heated container would be to risk my very life.’

Lae’s lips twisted scornfully, and so help him, Pagan could not resist. He leant forward the necessary fraction and pressed his own lips against them, smiling when hers opened in surprise. Knowing he could not balance The Light for long at such an awkward angle, Pagan made the kiss brief, although once begun he wished he could pursue it. Instead he pulled away, his tongue a parting whisper on her lips.

Lae’s hand rose slowly to cover those lips as Pagan stood and hoisted up The Light, yet his new betrothed did not otherwise move, and only stared at him, her eyes as wide and dark as Pagan had ever seen them. For a foolish moment he was tempted to kiss her again, except that The Light lay in his arms.

‘Betrothed,’ he mocked, and gestured at their exit to the Plains.

Lae made no move and Pagan had to smile. He did not know what sort of kisses she had shared with Talis, but by her expression, his at least had given her pause.

‘I will marry you,’ Lae said abruptly and Pagan’s smile widened.

‘Here?’ he asked. ‘For in truth if we do not move soon I fear we will grow roots and be trapped in this spot.’

The jest appeared to sail over her head. She stood slowly and said again, ‘I will marry you.’

Pagan struggled within himself to find a solemn expression. ‘Then our betrothal vow is set,’ he told her. She nodded, and he gestured to the tunnel opening again. At last she preceded him, her two hands pressed to her midriff.

Pagan followed, with some measure of satisfaction in his visions of the future now. If Lae’s humours should drive him to distraction, he need only kiss her into silence and the battle would be won. With this tempting thought in mind, he stepped out into bright morning sunlight and squinted against it, not seeing at first the effect it had on his precious burden.

A second later his eyes were opened wide in horror as dazzling Otherworld colours radiated to breadths and heights that could be seen from a great distance. Quickly, he took The Light back to the tunnel, yet feared the damage was already done.

‘What did you expect?’ Lae hissed as she followed behind, apparently recovered from his kiss. ‘You should have anticipated just such —’

‘What I anticipated,’ Pagan cut over her, ‘was a heavy mist, the normal condition of the Plains.’

‘We are on the edge the Plain,’ Lae reminded him and Pagan could only nod.

He remembered she had said that, yet because of the distance they had travelled, his weary mind had convinced him they were deep in Plainsman territory. How should they go forward now? Pagan glanced at Lae’s clothing — too small, and then his own — too large. Not that Pagan would think to travel on the Plains without clothing in any case, no matter how important their mission. ‘If we had a cloak …’ he said.

Lae rubbed her arms, in comfort or despair, then finding ties under her hands, shrugged out of the strange satchel The Light had carried on her back. ‘What is inside this?’ she asked, and to Pagan’s surprise, appeared to find no breach of privacy in opening the case and laying out its contents: a small butter knife, a flask of water —

‘A cloak!’ Pagan snatched it from Lae’s hand and crouched to wrap The Light in it. ‘Now we may go on,’ he said, and rose again to lead the way himself this time; out into the sunlight with no sign of The Light’s aura. Pagan smiled, and looked back toward the tunnel where Lae would be gathering the contents of the satchel before she joined him.

A low husky laugh behind him and the flick of his sword being stolen from the brace on his back alerted Pagan to the unpleasant realisation that they were no longer alone.

‘Foe!’ he shouted for Lae to hear, then turned to face … a Plainswoman, who wielded not only her own sword with deadly skill, but now his as well.

‘I have seen this before,’ she said, and nodded towards the bundle in his arms.

‘Drop your sword,’ Pagan shouted, then with less volume, ‘and my own.’

‘Let me guess,’ she said, raising a dark, straight brow. ‘You are on the King’s business and you demand that I release you.’

Before Pagan could reply, she loosed a high-pitched, warbling whistle into the air. The sound was answered the same way from deep within the Plains mists. Pagan judged the distance and realised he had only a few minutes in which to engineer an escape.

His desperate gaze searched the near area yet found no salvation. Lae surely had enough sense to remain hidden, if she had not already fled back to her father’s castle, which she must do soon if she was to cover her absence. The Plainswoman had his weapon and he was alone, save for his precious burden. How could he possibly hope to beat this … this …

Pagan forced himself to look more closely at the woman standing before him, to assess her capabilities, yet instead he found his gaze resting on the strips of fabric that wound around her upper body and fell from the waist in tantalising strips. Her hair was long and ragged around her face, her lips pursed in contemplation of his fate.

‘You look like a Guardian,’ she said, her inspection now shifting to his bare chest upon which rested the cloaked form of The Light.

Pagan straightened his shoulders and looked her boldly in the eye. ‘I am,’ he said, imagining the glance from her slanted Plainsman’s eyes to be one of interest. If he could entice her with his manly charms he may win his freedom without a battle.

‘Can you heal?’

‘That and more,’ he lied, his gaze holding her own, not in challenge, but in the dance of seduction he had practised so thoroughly.

‘More?’ She stepped closer, and of an instant he felt her sword point come to rest against his breeches.

Pagan’s eyes widened in surprise and he held himself stiller than stone.

‘What
more
you can perform, Guardian?’ she said, no softening in her tone although Pagan was sure he now saw fascination in her eyes.

‘Guardians have powers that may be used in many ways,’ he replied softly, his attention drifting to the bindings that covered her breasts. Her own shoulders drew back to place them more prominently before him and despite the desperation of his situation, Pagan felt himself stir with thoughts of wild joinings and primitive Plainsman fertility rites.

Her wide mouth fashioned itself into a smile and Pagan found her sword point pressing sharply against him through no action of her own.

She glanced at the place where he had begun to feel pain. ‘Either you are too young and foolish to restrain your desires, Guardian, or you display an uncommon ability to control that which may be used in the pursuit of pleasure.’

Pagan would not wince, though he was sure the sword would break through the cloth of his breeches and pierce his flesh at any moment. Instead he smiled. ‘If you would offer me the opportunity to display my
abilities
, I am sure you would find it a most uncommon experience.’

The Plainswoman lowered her sword and stepped back a pace. Yet just at the moment he felt sure he was about to gain her help, he was struck on the shoulder.

‘You faithless … wretch!’

Lae.

‘You hateful, whoring … You will never call me betrothed again.’

Pagan could not believe, with their lives in jeopardy, that Lae could act so stupidly. Where was her vaunted ‘warrior brain’ now?

‘If the merger had not been forced upon me, you never would have,’ he replied, stepping back to dodge a blow to the head. Lae’s hand swung perilously close to his cloaked burden and his irritation turned quickly to anger. ‘Beware The —’ he pulled himself up short and flicked a glance at the Plainswoman. A second longer and he would have said the name of The Light. What fate then from his captor? Certain death? Just when he had thought to woo her to his cause.

Damn Lae, who was still trying to hurt him. Yet before she could, the Plainswoman stepped forward and pulled the flailing girl into her grasp, the sharp edge of her sword against Lae’s throat.

‘Silence, harridan,’ she said, ‘or I will give you injury that will test your
betrothed’s
Guardian power to the limit.’

‘He is not my betrothed —’

The Plainswoman’s sword pressed closer and Lae clamped her lips closed but Pagan could see the cost. She had the look of one who would explode with pent-up anger. If those were real daggers in her eyes, he would have died a hundred deaths beneath them. So help him, Pagan could not stop himself smiling at her discomfort.

‘Are there others who may attack you?’ the Plainswoman asked.

He shook his head. The sight of Lae silenced so effectively was meat for a dinner of jests he would savour for the rest of his life.

Another whistle came. Much closer.

‘The other Guardian comes fast behind us,’ the Plainswoman said and nodded in the direction of the mist. ‘He bids me keep you safe until he arrives.’

‘Talis?’ Lae said, unable to keep silent for even the briefest time.

Pagan all but dropped his cargo with his jaw. ‘Are you my cousin’s confederate?’ But … how had such an alliance been won? He would have asked the Plainswoman this if her manner had been less arrogant and more welcoming.

Presently, though, there came a sound behind them and Pagan turned to find a Be’uccdha guardsman emerging from the same secret tunnel he and Lae had travelled through.

‘Mooraz!’ Lae cried.

The Plainswoman tightened her grip. ‘I know you,’ she said to Mooraz. ‘You captain The Dark’s guard.’

Lae made a choking sound.

‘I come only to seek safety for the daughter of my … brother,’ Mooraz replied, and stepped no closer.

The Plainswoman’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is your kinswoman?’

Pagan glanced at the two, seeing that Lae and Mooraz both shared the dark skin of the Be’uccdha House. The lie had a look of truth.

Mooraz nodded calmly, yet Pagan saw his apprehension. If he had revealed her true parentage, Lae would most likely now he dead.

‘Will you punish her?’ the Plainswoman asked. ‘She helped the wife of your Lord escape.’

Pagan felt his breath still within himself. The Plainswoman knew who it was he carried.

‘Her father may punish her,’ Mooraz said, his voice soft. ‘I care only to see her returned unharmed.’