Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1 (40 page)

K
ai of the Northmen stood again with the leaders of the ten clans at the monolith his people had constructed, this time dressed for battle. Their ceremonial robes had been exchanged for breast-plates and their staffs for spears. Many weeks had passed since their war council had decided to wait for a sign from Kraal, and this day the sign had come. From the mouth of the carapace smoke had emerged, and soon after, the sound of rumbling. Kraal, the Serpent God was awakening and sooner than Kai had hoped, he would lead his clan to war against the Southmen.

‘Men of the ten clans,’ the Stone Clan leader shouted, ‘Kraal urges us to war.’

‘War!’ Kai shouted and raised a fist. The others followed his example.

K
RAAAALLLLLL
came an echoing roar from within the stone well they had constructed.

The Northmen fell silent and dropped to their knees.

O
NE
W
HITE DIES, BUT ONE REMAINS
, came the echoing roar from beneath the ground. K
ILL THE ONE
.

‘Kill the one,’ Kai said softly, and soon his voice was joined by many others.

‘Kill the one. Kill the one.’ The murmur rose to a battle cry as more smoke emerged from the carapace.

W
HEN ALL ARE GONE
I
WILL APPEAR
, the voice told them.

Kai surged to his feet. ‘Kill the one!’ he shouted and raised his banner. Behind him the Side Clan swelled forward, all with one side shaved to show their allegiance. ‘Kill the one,’ they bellowed and when Kai broke and ran down the hill they ran with him waving their swords and shields, screaming, ‘Kraal. Kraal. Kraal.’

At the front of the first clan out, Kai ate the wind as he led his men to battle. Many would die, but so long as The White was killed, Kraal would come.

Any sacrifice was worthy of that outcome.

D
jahr turned to Mooraz and held out his hand. ‘Your dagger, Mooraz.’

Lae crouched beside Khatrene and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Do not think you can harm her, Father,’ she said, fear mixed with defiance in her voice. ‘I will protect her with my own life.’

‘Do not tempt my anger,’ Djahr said to his daughter. ‘I will soon have a son —’

‘Which is as well,’ Lae replied, ‘for I am no longer your daughter.’

‘Indeed, this is true.’ Djahr took the dagger out of Mooraz’s hand, ‘For today I give you to Sh’hale.’

Lae shook her head, her eyes on the glittering blade. ‘I am not yours to give,’ she said.

Her father’s jaw tightened. ‘Stand aside,’ he commanded and Khatrene felt the chill of cold dread run down her spine. That voice had death in it. Hers and Lae’s.

It was time to do something. But what? How?

‘He’s been lying to you both,’ she blurted. Lae and Mooraz turned to look at her. ‘He uses The Balance as an excuse to kill people.’

‘Enough!’ Djahr snatched Lae’s arm and wrenched her away from Khatrene, shoving her towards Mooraz who broke her fall. ‘I will cut the child —’

‘No!’ Lae shouted and struggled against Mooraz who held her fast.

Khatrene tried to scramble backwards but lost her footing and fell heavily on her backside. Breath puffed out of her mouth and inside herself she felt a sharp wrenching sensation, like something being torn loose and cast adrift.

Djahr stepped over the body of her brother and leant forward with the dagger in the same moment as her puff of breath coagulated into a fluorescent-white ball. Khatrene knew that glow. It was the child’s.

‘My baby will protect me,’ she said, and wriggled further back while Djahr’s attention was distracted. The interior of the tent was well lit now by the glow and Khatrene assessed the distance to the door before glancing back at Djahr.

He eyed the ball curiously, his tattoo illuminated sharply by its fierce light. ‘My son?’ he said, and raised his dagger to prod at the ball. Beyond him Lae had become still at the appearance of the light, but Mooraz, who held her tightly against him, was reaching down to retrieve his sword.

Which remained where it was.

The moment Djahr’s dagger point contacted the ball, a soundless sea of multi-coloured light pulsed outwards from it like watery horizontal fireworks and both men dropped to the ground simultaneously, Mooraz dragging Lae with him. In the seconds that followed, complete silence settled over the camp, broken only by the sound of Lae grunting as she pushed out of Mooraz’s limp grasp. ‘We are saved,’ she said to Khatrene, yet before she came to her side Lae hesitantly lowered her ear to Mooraz’s wide chest, resting it on the dark plaited-fibre vest he wore in battle. A moment later she straightened. ‘He is asleep,’ she said, noticeable relief in her voice. Then, without even a glance at her father she scrambled to Khatrene’s side. ‘We must leave before they wake,’ she said.

From the gloomy corner of the tent, Bhoo and the Shadow Woman emerged and Khatrene stiffened in surprise, wondering what new threat they posed.

Lae’s hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘You are the wraith attached to my father’s aura,’ she said to the Shadow Woman. ‘You darken his soul.’

The Shadow Woman stopped before the body of their dead King, Bhoo at her side. She raised her placid glance to Lae. ‘
I have taken his powers of discernment and in return he has taken my counsel,’
she said.
‘Among other things,’
and here her body rippled in a slow undulating wave no mortal could perform.

Khatrene looked away.

‘Are you a minion of Kraal, sent from Haddash to corrupt my father?’ Lae asked.

‘I serve a God,’
the Shadow Woman replied, then she glanced at Bhoo.
‘The most powerful God.’

Khatrene was looking at Bhoo now. ‘And for The Balance to be maintained,’ she said, drawing on the world picture her child had shown her when she’d first joined with Talis, ‘the Great Guardian would have to send a minion as well. To guide my brother?’

‘But not to interfere.’ Bhoo smiled his ugly smile then he gestured at Mihale’s body. ‘What has been taken may be returned,’ he said. Both minions looked sadly at Mihale’s body.

Khatrene frowned. ‘His life?’ she asked warily. ‘Do you mean his life can be returned?’

‘And you may save your own.’’
The Shadow Woman’s voice sounded faint and Khatrene realised they’d both begun to fade.

‘Tell me what to do to save Mihale?’

‘The Ceremony of Atheyre,’ Bhoo said. ‘You must take your brother’

Khatrene shook her head. ‘How will I get him there? I’ll need help.’

Bhoo and the Shadow Woman drifted together and became one entity, a shifting, ghostly form, paling almost to invisibility.
‘Trust in the destiny which has brought you this far,’
they said, two voices twining into one.
‘Trust the child.’

‘But…’ Too late. They were gone.

‘Were they minions of the Gods?’ Lae asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Khatrene said, and glanced back at her brother. ‘But I do know that I was dead on one world and came back to life on another. Maybe Mihale can too. ‘We’re taking him with us.’ She grabbed Lae’s offered arm and pulled herself up. ‘To the Ceremony of Atheyre.’ The baby purred within her as though to confirm her decision.

‘Khatter, that is madness.’ Still, Lae followed her to Mihale’s side.

‘How much time do we have until the ceremony begins?’

Lae shook her head. ‘Dawn tomorrow, but there will be no ceremony. If my father finds us again he will rather steal your child than perform the rites of his office.’

‘We don’t need him,’ Khatrene said. ‘We’ll do it ourselves.’ She tapped Lae’s arm. ‘Help me pick Mihale up.’

‘He is too heavy and you are big with child,’ Lae protested. ‘My arms cannot carry him.’

‘Then we’ll have to drag him.’ Khatrene wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and leant down. ‘Take his other arm.’

‘Khatter, I —’

‘Do it.’ Khatrene grabbed her brother’s limp hand and glared at Lae.

The girl picked up his other hand and together they dragged him around the body of Laroque and out the door flap. Once outside, Khatrene’s aura spread into the misty glade. Her mind was clearer now. She had a goal. Get her brother to the Royal Shrine by morning.

‘Do you need any company?’ said a voice from behind them.

Both women turned and Lae gasped in shock.

Noorinya stood with a dripping knife in hand. Her eyes shone with the unnatural light of battle-madness Khatrene had seen all too often.

‘The Daughter of the Dark is your ally now?’ She nodded at Lae.

‘She is also my friend,’ Khatrene said, to be sure Noorinya wouldn’t take matters into her own hands. ‘Are there guardsmen awake out there?’ she asked, glancing at the blood on Noorinya’s torn clothing before scanning the silent camp.

The Plainswoman shrugged. ‘I killed them as they slept,’ she admitted. ‘They did not deserve an honourable death.’ She pointed her blade at Mihale. ‘Is your brother dead?’

Khatrene swallowed her grief. ‘Not for long,’ she replied. ‘We’re taking him to the Royal Shrine.’

‘Is your Guardian also dead?’ Noorinya asked.

Khatrene hadn’t let herself think about Talis or Pagan, except to pray that they were still alive. ‘All I know is that I have to get Mihale to the Royal Shrine,’ she said, and again this statement was accompanied by purring from her child.

‘Breehan and the children are not here.’ Noorinya’s flat statement carried no emotion but Khatrene could imagine the desperation that had forced the Plainswoman to enter her brother’s camp searching.

‘They were heading north,’ Khatrene said, ‘into the mountains.’ Another group she could only pray for.

Noorinya exchanged a glance with Lae then looked back to Khatrene. ‘I will carry your brother to quicken your journey,’ she said, and without waiting for agreement she took Mihale’s arm out of Khatrene’s hand and heaved him onto her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. She straightened with a grunt then pointed, ‘The Shrine is this way.’

Lae nodded her agreement and they set off for the Shrine. Khatrene fell in behind.

E
llega swirled in front of the glass, her eyes sparkling as brightly as the jewels on her gown.

‘My Lady will make a beautiful bride,’ her first maid said smiling. Around her the lesser Volcastle maids also smiled and nodded.

Ellega felt as though her heart would burst with joy. ‘There will be no bride as happy as I am on my wedding day,’ she said, gently patting the star-necklace Bhoo had gifted her on behalf of his King. Worn by the Queen Danille on her own wedding day, it was an heirloom Ellega had never thought to touch, let alone wear herself. ‘It is a waking dream,’ she said softly, gazing at her reflection, at the daringly designed Verdan bridal gown; the elaborate placement of jewels in an undulating design to symbolise the spirit of the Loch. As she moved the gown would glisten like the sun sparkling off water.

It seemed strange and sad that her last meeting with Mihale had brought her such grief, yet Ellega had promised herself she would put that night behind her and look only to find love in her husband’s arm and pleasure in his companionship. For despite his hurtful words, he had chosen Ellega as wife, and this was all she should concern herself with.

Her move to the Volcastle and preparations for the wedding had kept her from feeling homesick, yet at odd times she felt a prick of longing to be near the Loch, to lie with her hair drifting on the water, listening to its siren song telling her of the pleasures she would experience as a woman and the joy motherhood would bring her heart. Like The Light who would soon be her sister, Ellega knew she would become a mother early and such contentment came to her when she thought of carrying Mihale’s babe that she could not long miss her home or her brother.

In five days her betrothed would return, and that night Ellega would be Queen. The hours would surely plod, but as Ellega imagined the happy years ahead, she knew it was not too long to wait for all of her dreams to come true.

D
jahr awoke to a violent smell that seared his brain. He shook his head, and put up a hand to fend it away.

‘My Lord, The Dark,’ a voice said, and he opened his eyes, then became still.

‘Traitor,’ Djahr replied quietly, and looked about himself in the gloom of a dimly lit room — the King’s enclosure where Mooraz still lay fallen. Before him stood the King’s Champion he had thought long dead. Filthy, unkempt, and with a Raider woman at his side. Yet he had no weapon in his hand. Only the vial with the foul-smelling liquid. Djahr’s own hands were empty so he could do nothing but listen warily as Roeg spoke.

‘My Lord The Dark, I did not kill my King,’ he said slowly, as though unsure that Djahr was fully awake. ‘I was cleverly implicated and fled in fear of my life. Yet I can hide no longer. The scout I caught told me the Northmen are poised to strike again, and the true traitor might try to kill Mihale and take his throne.’

Djahr sat up, glanced surreptitiously at the blood on the floor, then made a show of gazing around the outline of Roeg’s body before meeting his eyes. ‘It was a pity you fled, Champion. For if I had seen your aura then, as I do now, I would have discerned that you are indeed innocent,’ he said. ‘Do you suspect who the true traitor is?’

Roeg nodded at this. ‘The Elder Sh’hale,’ he said. ‘I have heard his admission of guilt and slit his throat.’

‘Yet … the younger Sh’hale has become our King’s new Champion.’ Djahr feigned alarm. ‘Were father and son in collusion?’ He looked around the royal enclosure. ‘And where is Sh’hale now? Where is the King?’ This last was said with a convincing amount of concern.

‘I do not know,’ Roeg replied, and into his eyes came a desperation that Djahr knew would see him easily manipulated. ‘I have just now come upon the camp and found your guardsmen stabbed.’

‘All?’ Djahr felt frustration at that. How could he capture Khatrene with no swords to serve him.

Roeg had begun to frown. ‘Yet Sh’hale guardsmen lay dead as well,’ he said, and appeared to rethink his assumptions. ‘And Laroque.’ He turned with sadness to point at the fallen Guardian whose dead eyes stared at nothing.

‘Perhaps this is a clever plot to disguise his actions,’ Djahr replied, determined to keep Roeg’s suspicions aimed at Sh’hale. He held out an arm. ‘Come, help me rise,’ and when Roeg had obliged he stepped over to nudge Mooraz who had been uninjured in the swordfight.

‘I have a potent medicine,’ Roeg said and opened the vial under the nose of Mooraz who still did not awaken.

‘No matter,’ Djahr said, and left his Guard Captain for dead. ‘We must go before Sh’hale returns and finds us without protection.’ He made for the exit, kicking the carpet over Mihale’s blood as he passed.

Roeg’s softly spoken words reached him at the door. ‘I have struggled to stay alive, hoping to prove my innocence. To find an ally against the true traitor.’

Djahr paused and looked at his right hand which had risen to the door flap. A smear of Mihale’s blood covered three fingers. Djahr remembered the blood of the father which had risen up his forearms and could not help smiling. ‘I am that ally,’ he said to Roeg.

Behind him the Raider woman raised her head and sniffed.