Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1 (37 page)

M
ihale glanced away from his Champion. These were petty matters that kept him from his bed.

‘Laroque must accompany us to the Shrine,’ Kert said. ‘The Ceremony of Atheyre requires a Guardian to open the way between the worlds, and Laroque is the only remaining —’

‘You think I do not know that?’ Mihale had indeed forgotten this fact and now he sought to hide his confusion from his Champion. Fear at his failings hovered over Mihale before he pushed it away.

Kert asked softly, ‘Does My Lord and King doubt Laroque’s loyalty?’

Mihale frowned, tried to recall why he had decided Laroque would not accompany them. Suddenly remembered. ‘I do not doubt it, and nor should you. Yet I would have him away while his kin are found and punished.’

‘And your sister, Lord?’

Mihale blinked, his mind drifting again. She who was now his sister lay sleeping in his bed. Yet a strange excitement stirred in him as he envisaged a reunion with the woman he had denounced as his kin. The woman who had left him for another. She had now known two lovers and that both sickened and excited him. As did his own thoughts. With the impending loss of her Champion, might he claim her at last for himself?

‘Would you … bring her to me?’ he asked.

Sh’hale’s expression grew wary, reminding Mihale that he did not approve of his King wasting his days in a bed of pleasure to the neglect of his military arts. ‘Majesty, she belongs to Be’uccdha,’ he said. ‘He is her husband, and the father of her child.’

Kert’s gaze strayed to his King’s hands and Mihale tried to still their trembling. Failed. ‘You are right of course,’ he said. ‘She bears his child, which he must have.’ Kert’s frown smoothed and Mihale added, ‘And doubtless he wishes to punish her.’ After which time she would come gladly to her brother for sanctuary, and he would welcome her with open arms. ‘Go now, prepare,’ he said, and waved Sh’hale away, yet before his Champion had reached the door Mihale added, ‘We leave in the morning.’

‘And Laroque will accompany us?’

Mihale nodded absently, his attention focused inward on the fantasy he now wove. ‘Make what arrangements you will,’ he said. ‘The details do not interest me.’

‘I shall leave a welcoming party to greet your new bride.’

Mihale merely gazed at him blankly. Bhoo had said something about the daughter of Verdan, although now he could not recollect it entirely. His mind was not as sharp as it had been.

‘Majesty.’ Kert bowed and swept out, his finely woven cloak catching the doorway a moment before following him out.

Later, when Mihale lay in the arms of his lover, he remembered that cloak, the way it had clung to the timber, dark and soft, stretching to escape when it could easily have torn on a splinter.

Remembering it, he stroked the warm flesh at his side. ‘You are the cloak,’ he said. ‘You are the dark pleasure,’ and as she murmured her love-talk Mihale put his fingers around her neck, and began with a caress. Yet soon he found his thoughts drifting to the other — the one who had rejected him.

‘Majesty?’ she said, frightened, as he squeezed her throat. ‘I carry your child.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And I carry your death.’ He gripped her more tightly and leant in to kiss her. ‘Does this not show my love, that I keep death away from you?’

‘Majesty. Yes!’ she gasped, yet he only eased a little and still held her firm.

‘I do not know you,’ he said, and steadying his resolve, he squeezed tighter still. Yet only for a moment before he left her to gasp and reclaim her breath. ‘Speak your name,’ he demanded.

‘I am your sister,’ she said, and the harshness of her voice held a pleasing harmony. No nuance of accent now discredited his belief.

Yet in his confusion he feared that the death he had entertained might visit her too soon. ‘You must not die,’ he said, and tears fell from his eyes. Yet when the storm of his upset had passed he was happy to take her again in his arms. ‘Kiss me and tell me about the child we shall raise. Yet do not mention the father,’ he said, ‘in case I should be jealous.’

A long pause followed these words, then he heard his sister speak. ‘You, royal brother, are the father of my child. Do you doubt your own strength in me?’

‘I thought … but a moment …’ Mihale blinked in the darkness. ‘I shall name the child Lenid, in honour of my father.’

The body in his arms relaxed. ‘You have told me this,’ she said. ‘And now let us sleep.’

‘For soon a woman will come to make me a husband,’ he said.

‘A husband, My Lord?’ She yawned. ‘But you are my husband. And my brother.’

Mihale made no reply and soon her even breaths could be heard beside him, yet sleep did not come at all to Mihale who lay in the black night of despair and thought of another babe. A babe which must begone if he would have his sister back.

K
hatrene wiped her forehead. She was smearing her face with dirt but that was better than having the perspiration run into her eyes and sting them.

Talis had promised they’d be off the Plains and into the Elder Stand by the following day and that was all that kept Khatrene going. They’d separated from Breehan and the children the day before to keep the children safe. Raiders wouldn’t attack a party of Plainsmen, but put Talis and Pagan in their midst and blood would be shed. Khatrene had stopped walking then and both men had taken turns carrying her, yet she still felt exhausted, and so close to the end of the pregnancy she just wanted the baby out, wanted to put it to sleep somewhere she wouldn’t feel every roll and kick. More than anything else she wanted her body back.

She had loved being pregnant, and loved the baby so much already that she was frightened of her feelings sometimes. But enough was enough. Twice she’d asked Talis if they could hurry the birth and twice he’d told her they must wait until the child was ready. He was so infuriatingly patient with her. So kind and gentle.

Pagan was kind too, if not patient. He never complained when it was his turn to carry her and sometimes he joked with her which kept her mind off being miserable. It was usually some derogatory remark about Lae, which had Khatrene wondering why his thoughts were so often on a girl he professed to dislike. She was particularly interested to hear that Pagan had ‘kissed the shrew to silence her’. He had become silent himself after telling her that and Khatrene had drawn her own conclusions.

For the most part she didn’t think about where they had been or where they were going. Instead, she spent her time daydreaming about a warm, scented bath, followed by days of languishing in fine silky sheets over a deeply padded mattress. Sometimes the fantasy was so clear she could smell ahroce petals floating in the bath, or imagine she could feel the soft texture of the bedding.

Khatrene wasn’t sure if she was torturing herself with these imaginings or keeping herself sane. In either case, she didn’t mention them to Talis. He had enough to worry about keeping them alive without wasting time on mundane matters like her growing obsession with warm water and clean sheets.

‘Your rack of sheep is ready,’ Pagan called.

She struggled away from her fictitious bath and glanced at Pagan who was crouching by a smokeless fire preparing their lunch.

‘That’s rack of lamb,’ she corrected, ‘and shouldn’t we wait for Talis?’

Pagan brought her a steaming plate and sat beside her with his own huge serving. ‘He will be some time yet. There is still a distance to travel this day and he is scouting ahead to ensure your safety.’

Khatrene poked at the lump on her plate. ‘This isn’t rack of lamb,’ she said. ‘It’s ort roast.
Again
.’

Pagan looked at his own plate, then back to Khatrene’s. He shrugged. ‘The sheeps all fled my sword.’

‘Tease.’ Khatrene took a mouthful, tried to dwell on the heartiness of the meal, rather than its monotony. ‘And anyway, it’s sheep,’ she corrected. ‘Plural and singular. Not sheeps.’

They ate in silence for a time until Pagan said, ‘In Magoria, do they cut the flesh from these … animals and eat them?’

Khatrene could think of more pleasant dinner conversation. ‘I didn’t eat any, and now that I’m here I can understand why the idea revolted me. But other people did. It’s cooked first. Like this stuff. Would you eat raw ort?’

Pagan pulled a face. ‘I would sooner eat Plains dust.’

‘That’s how they feel about raw sheeps.’

‘Sheep,’ he corrected, and their eyes met.

‘He can be taught.’

‘Did you doubt it?’ he asked.

His arrogant expression cried out for a put-down, but Khatrene resisted. ‘I make it a practice never to insult the cook,’ she said diplomatically and went back to eating. Underneath his bravado Khatrene knew Pagan was missing his father, and had probably begun to wonder why he’d ever followed his cousin into exile.

‘And if I were not the cook?’ he demanded.

Khatrene looked him up and down. ‘Don’t let your warrior plaits go to your head,’ she said, nodding at the thin strands of hair Talis had finally approved. Pagan smiled at this recognition of his new status and they went back to eating.

Still, as she ate, she had to struggle to hide her smile. He was tilting his head from side to side so he could watch his warrior plaits sway. ‘My cat’s tail used to sway like that,’ she said. ‘It was a game between us that I’d try to grab it.’

Pagan stopped swaying and looked at her. ‘This would be Spike, the … tabby.’

She nodded to acknowledge his good memory, but said, ‘Careful, you’re impressing me.’

He smirked at the compliment. ‘This tail-catching was a dexterity exercise?’

‘No, a game. He liked to play.’

‘And if you caught his tail?’

‘He’d bite me.’

‘A strange reward for your effort.’

She smiled. ‘Spike was a strange cat.’

‘Yet you were fond of him?’

‘Absolutely.’

Pagan grinned. ‘Then I shall not give up hope of securing someone’s affection.’

Khatrene laughed. ‘I know just the bitey kitten to give a big tomcat like you a run for his money.’

Pagan’s smile faded as he caught her meaning, but rather than argue, he let the subject drop.

The rest of the meal went down in companionable silence, then Khatrene lay down for a nap. But her baby was restless and sleep wouldn’t come, so she sat back up and sang to herself while she waited for Talis to return.
Old MacDonald had a Farm
bored her after four choruses so she switched to
She’ll be coming round the Mountain when she comes!

Talis arrived moments before Pagan would have throttled her and after sizing up the situation, he quickly settled his cousin into a ritual of self-healing which was supposed to make up for not having slept in three days. Khatrene pulled her lover down to sit with her while he ate, but her smile disappeared as her hand came off his jacket bloody.

Talis shook his head. ‘A minor wound,’ he said, ‘and healed already.’ But Khatrene wasn’t happy till the jacket was off and she’d seen the faint line beneath, the result of a quick healing. The slash in the jacket was long, however, and the amount of blood sickening.

‘A lone Raider inside the Elder Stand,’ he said and Khatrene was momentarily distracted.

‘We’re that close?’

‘Two hours’ march.’

Khatrene nodded, but now her feelings were mixed. Relief came tainted with anxiety. The Elder Stand had seemed a cool sanctuary after the dusty monotony of the Plains, but now she imagined pale Raiders waiting behind every tree. She almost wished they could go back to the Plainsmen. Only there was no going back.

Talis had said nothing to her about a possible pursuit but she could see the anxiety in his eyes, feel the urgency within him. He believed they were being followed and that meant they must go on. They all knew that whatever lay before them was preferable to what lay behind.

‘I should pack,’ he said, glancing at their scant belongings, but Khatrene shook her head. She moved to sit next to him and rested her head against his chest as his arms came around her, one large hand smoothing the hair back under the hood of her heavy cloak, the other resting protectively on her huge belly.

The baby purred within her and Khatrene smiled. She felt so contented when Talis held her like this, she wanted to purr herself, but she couldn’t pretend there was nothing to be frightened of.

She touched his face and brought his gaze to meet her own; she needed to tell him what was in her heart. ‘I don’t want you to die,’ she said, then swallowed back her fear. Voicing the words had somehow given them life.

‘Nor I you,’ her beloved replied frankly.

‘No matter what happens,’ she said, ‘the baby has to live.’ She watched him closely wanting to be sure he understood, and equally wanting to be sure that he agreed.

Talis touched her cheek and her lips, and then he kissed her again. Khatrene tasted desperation as she kissed him back, never sure which kiss would be their last. Each time Talis took her in his arms she wanted to stop time, to stop Ennae and her own destiny, but it flung her forward like sand in a storm. She was frightened of dying, but her desire to see her baby live was stronger. Talis had to be convinced to feel the same way.

‘I can’t go back to Magoria,’ she told him, touching his face to keep his eyes on her own, ‘but my baby can.’ She waited a moment before adding, ‘You can.’

Talis simply stared at her, the enormity of her suggestion rendering him temporarily speechless.

‘If things don’t go the way we’ve planned,’ she said, ‘I need to know that you’ll protect him, even if it means leaving me here.’

Talis didn’t protest as she’d expected him to. Instead he simply gazed at her for a long time before he said, ‘I knew you would ask me this.’

‘And you’ll do it?’

‘I am not a descendant of the Ancients and only such as they may pass through —’

‘That’s just a rule. You can break it.’

‘Perhaps with the child’s help I can.’

‘Then you’ll do it?’

‘I know it is right,’ he said, ‘and yet I cannot imagine how it would be done.’

‘Open the Sacred Pool. Take the baby. Step through.’ She somehow managed to smile. ‘Easy.’

Talis shook his head. ‘If you were to ask this of me many years from now, I would have memories to last me the rest of my lifetime. Yet to leave you now while our love is still a sweet-scented blossom that has yet to unfurl its beauty …’

Khatrene felt tears sting her eyes. ‘Just tell me you’ll do it,’ she said.

Talis drew a slow breath. ‘If you ask it of me I will not disobey.’ He looked at her a moment longer, his eyes suspiciously damp, then he rose abruptly to clear the camp, ensuring no sign of their passage would remain.

Pagan stirred, and by the time the utensils were packed, Talis had regained his composure. He hefted Khatrene into his arms and even managed a smile as she wriggled into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep. Yet instead of rest, Khatrene found only heartache as she imagined saying goodbye to Talis and her child in the same instant. She knew she would be strong enough to send them to Magoria if the necessity arose, but to dwell on the decision before it was taken was to ask for grief. Better to be unprepared and cope with the consequences as they arose.

Instead she imagined how sturdy her son would be, with his strong legs which seemed to need to kick night and day. She was just smiling at that thought and drifting towards sleep when the voice spoke to her.

Y
OUR BROTHER IS CAMPED WITHIN THE ELDER STAND. YOU MUST SPEAK TO HIM.

Khatrene stiffened and her eyes snapped open.
Is this a trap?

‘Beloved?’ Talis dropped a kiss on her forehead.

She shook her head and closed her eyes again, knowing he would assume the baby had disturbed her.
Is Mihale
—

Y
OUR BROTHER KNOWS NOTHING OF YOUR APPROACH
. H
IS COURT HAS TRAVELLED TO THE
S
HRINE FOR THE
C
EREMONY OF
A
THEYRE.

Is it safe to see him? Or will he give me to Djahr?
Khatrene waited desperately to hear what the voice would say. He seemed to take forever replying.

I
HAVE DONE WHAT
I
CAN
. T
HERE HAVE BEEN SO MANY LIVES, YET
I
AM ALMOST AT THE END.
He sounded faint, distant. Y
OU MUST ACT FROM LOVE AND NECESSITY … AS
I
HAVE DONE
… A whisper of sound echoed through her mind, then there was silence. Deep, dark silence.

Khatrene put a protective hand over her belly, knew there was nothing she could do to stop or influence his actions. She had to concentrate on keeping alive.

Mihale was near. Was this an opportunity to escape Djahr? Why else would the voice have told her? Worry dissolved into exhaustion and eventually Khatrene slept, only to wake in fright as Talis put her to the ground next to a tumbleweed shrub. He was reaching for his sword, but before she could ask what was going on, she heard the sound of swords clashing. ‘Pagan,’ she mouthed, fear growing inside her.

Talis raised a finger to his lips, gave the Plainsman signal to stay put, two fingers pointing down, then turned and left her. She huddled against the shrub, peering in the direction he’d gone, not seeing anything. But she heard. A moment later the horrific clang of swords worsened as Talis weighed into the fray. Khatrene had no way of knowing how many they were fighting against and could only listen to the grunt and cry of battle, a sound she would never become used to no matter how many times she heard it.

She prayed to the Great Guardian to protect them and it was on the tip of her tongue to send up a prayer for Breehan and the children when she saw a shadow pass over her. In the next second she felt a cloth covering her mouth.

‘Make no sound if you want to live.’

Khatrene stiffened but didn’t struggle. Something sharp pressed against her throat as the gag was tied.

‘Our Lord Sh’hale will be pleased with this find,’ the voice said, dragging Khatrene to her feet. Then he added to his confederates, ‘Cover our trail when we leave, and if the Guardians survive the Raider attack, kill them yourselves.’

He pushed at her back and Khatrene stumbled forward, no thought in her mind but to stay alive. As the battle continued behind her, she could only pray again that Talis would also.