Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 (11 page)

BOOK: Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3
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K
ert stared at Glimmer while she slept, wishing he still had the courage to kill her. The day they had arrived he could have done it easily while the madness of grief had been upon him. Then reason had returned. She was The Catalyst on whom all their lives depended, and she had promised to take him back to Mihale. At the time she had said this, Kert had believed her. He had stared into those innocent royal-hued eyes and believed that once she regained her powers they would return to Ennae, as she must to join the Four Worlds.

She still promised that, but how long had it been? Nearly three months? Living in a cave existing on fungus, albeit a surprisingly appetising variety, and cool spring water from deep underground. Kert had tried several times to explore outside the caves but the air was too sulphurous to breathe; yet inside, where they lived, it was fresh and fragrant. Glimmer speculated that it was the fungus that freshened their air, and Kert could think of no other explanation. Nor could he think of any activity to keep himself from boredom.

Glimmer was content to while away their waking hours talking, but Kert missed his son terribly, and Glimmer’s girlishly coy conversation was no replacement for Lae’s happy laughter and Lenid’s mischievous pranks. Most of all Kert missed the quiet times with his son, playing with toy castles and wooden swords, reading him to sleep, and the precious, precious times he had held his son in his arms, feeling those plump active limbs finally slacken into slumber, the wide trusting eyes gently closed. Often when he was on the edges of sleep himself, Kert would feel his son’s tiny arms hugging his neck and swear he could feel Lenid’s soft cheek pressed against his own. It was torment and painful pleasure all rolled into one and on those nights Kert could not help weeping himself quietly to sleep.

As the days had turned into weeks, the anguish of grief had become a painful ache and now there were days when several minutes might pass without him thinking of Lenid. Time was doing its work, and though Kert longed to be of service to the throne again, being absent from the Volcastle where memories of Lenid would be the strongest was likely to be helping him heal. For the moment it was most prudent to keep The Catalyst safe until she regained her strength. But despite the months they had remained on Haddash, she still appeared incapable of doing anything except sleeping, eating, talking and gazing at him with eyes that made him uncomfortable.

Even as he watched, those eyes slowly opened and gazed into his. He wondered if she’d been awake while he’d been watching her, and if so, for how long.

‘Good morning,’ she said, and smiled, her white teeth glowing in the dim light of their cave. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘I slept,’ he said and looked away. She was doing it again, gazing at him with … adoration.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked, and he heard her moving around. ‘I’ll get breakfast.’

‘I have eaten,’ he lied, and forced himself to meet her eyes, to try and gauge whether she was deceiving him about her weakness. At first he had been unable to reason why she might choose to remain on Haddash in a filthy cave, rather than return to the comforts of the Volcastle. Her youth — for she had told him she was sixteen — discounted the idea that she was plotting against him, and her eyes appeared completely trusting when they gazed into his own. It seemed impossible that she would knowingly keep him from Mihale, yet as time passed a suspicion grew in him that he was her prisoner and she was enamoured of him.

At first he had told himself that such thoughts were vanity. He was twice her age. She was of royal blood, and more beautiful than even her own mother, with her dazzling snow hair, soft pale skin and luminous eyes. Yet try though he might to discount the thought, he could not. She looked upon him with longing, he was sure. And when she thought he was asleep, she crept close enough for him to feel her breath on his face.

In his grief over Lenid he had not recognised the signs at first, but now he did. If this was not some form of attraction, he was a fool. And though many may hate him, no man had ever called Kert Sh’hale a fool.

‘I think I’ll go and bathe,’ she said, then hesitated, waiting for him to offer his services as a Champion.

‘Very well,’ he replied, but made no move to accompany her, and deliberately kept his attention on the front opening of their cave, the only direction from which threat would be likely to come. He heard Glimmer exit at the back, into the chamber where they had found a spring leading into a rock pool.

While they had been new to Haddash he had accompanied her there, intent on protecting her from danger, perhaps from unknown creatures that could traverse solid rock or live in the sulphurous air outside. But instead of danger, Kert had found awkwardness, and an embarrassing struggle to stop his eyes straying to her pale, slender form as she bathed in the warm pool. A faint breath of ahroce petals, the floral scent Kert instinctively associated with royalty, permeated the cave.

That scent had easily distracted him, reminding him of Lenid’s baths, the exuberant splashing and slippery antics as Kert tried to wash him, Lae waiting nearby with a towel, smiling at the mess her son had made — Kert soaked from hair to boots and laughing with them. Fatherhood had brought Kert carefree joys he had not imagined, and an unexpected happiness that made his loss all the harder to endure. When he could not bear to think of Lenid a moment longer, he would force his thoughts back to the protection of Glimmer who bathed nearby.

Now that he was confident that their cave system was safe, however, Kert no longer accompanied her to her bath. Although often while he waited, his mind would recall her damp hair falling down the tender curve of her back, or the soft splashes and sounds of contentment she made while her hands worked the water over her body.

Once Kert had been angry with himself for letting his attention stray to her innocent movements, yet now he wondered whether there could have been some art in them designed to tempt him. For surely if there had been, it had worked. Even now, in the next cavern from her and unable to see or hear her ablutions, he could not purge from his mind the thought of her standing naked in the warm water.

Life had been simpler when he had been Mihale’s Champion. Threat had been easy to recognise and his temperament had lent itself to the basics — kill or be killed. There had been no grief to suffer, no desires to fulfil save that of blood lust.

No conscience to placate.

Kert closed his eyes, rested his head back on the wall of the cave and tried to concentrate on his breathing. In. Out. Clearing his mind. Yet still a soft noise intruded. He tried to block it, to keep Glimmer completely from his thoughts, then his eyes snapped open. The sound he had heard was a click of metal. The only metal they had was the dagger in Kert’s boot. He reached down to touch it. Still there.

He withdrew the sharp blade and silently pushed himself up the wall, then edged around the cave to the front entrance where he waited, praying his charge would remain in her bath and not make her presence known. Seconds became minutes while Kert resisted the urge to reveal himself by looking around the corner. At last he heard a soft footfall and a stream of light entered their cave. He tensed himself to spring. A heartbeat later the intruder cleared the entry and Kert lunged, knocking the metal bludgeon out of its hand. Light danced around the walls. He grappled the trespasser to the ground and tore the strange hood from its head. A mass of short black hair sprang out and the face of a woman was revealed. Her skin was darker than Be’uccdha black, so dark that her eyes shone like large discs and her teeth glowed.

At first she gasped, her eyes widening. She appeared to be holding her breath and Kert wondered at that. Could she not breathe without the hood? He had restrained one arm but now the other flailed, the hand rising to her throat where she tapped a circular device that began to tick, hissing air.

Was it a weapon? Kert shoved her hand away and tore at the device, ripping open the front of her tight bodice. He threw the ticking metal piece out of the cave, back the way she had come, then he dragged her to her feet and shoved her back against the wall. ‘Are there others with you?’ he hissed, wondering whether he should not simply kill her now. But if there were others and they found this one’s slain body, they might track her murderer relentlessly. If Kert was killed, who would protect The Catalyst? He may have railed at his confinement on Haddash, but Kert was still a royal Champion.

‘Speak,’ he said and slapped the woman’s face.

She drew in a long shuddering breath, then another slower one. ‘I … breathe,’ she said at last. ‘You purified air?’

‘I have done nothing to the air,’ he said. ‘Are there others with you? What was that metal device?’ He pointed to the cave entrance where he’d thrown the ticking object.

‘Air filter.’

‘Are you alone? Answer me!’ He shook her.

Her eyes darted around the cave behind him. ‘Dome destroyed. Earthquake. Crawled through dust storm. Sulphur air. Thought I die.’

‘You still may,’ Kert said, glaring at her.

She looked back at him, her eyes widening, the terror of asphyxiation obviously replaced now by fear of his dagger at her throat. ‘Pale skin? Who …?’

‘I ask the questions,’ Kert said. ‘Are you an underling of the Fire God?’

She stared at him. ‘Fire … who?’

‘The Serpent of Haddash. The ruler of this world.’

She looked at Kert as though his wits had fled. ‘No Serpent God. No serpent religion.’ Her gaze dropped to his hand, then back to his face. ‘You offworlder? Other worlds outside haze barrier? I not astrotech, but knew —’

‘Silence.’ Kert replaced the dagger at her throat with the fingers of one hand. He squeezed to show his intent. ‘Are you alone?’ he asked again and she nodded, clearly intimidated by his violence. Then her gaze slid away from his, as though considering for the first time how that admission could endanger her.

He returned his dagger to its boot sheath, and with his free hand he patted her strange one-piece uniform of a tight black shirt and warrior pants, searching her for weapons.

‘What are you doing?’

Glimmer was behind him. She came to his side and drew in a sharp breath.

‘A minion of the Fire God, I am sure,’ Kert replied, ‘despite that she denies it.’

The woman transferred her frightened gaze to Glimmer, who was staring at the exposed breasts below Kert’s restraining hand.

‘You are undressing her,’ Glimmer said. ‘Touching her.’ Her incredulous tone held an undercurrent of anger.

‘I am searching her for weapons,’ Kert replied.

‘Then why have you freed her breasts to your gaze?’ Glimmer demanded.

Kert glanced instinctively at the torn front of the woman’s uniform. Black skin flowed over fist-sized globes, and for an instant he was caught in memories of his fantasies about Lae with her dark brown skin. Many a night had he lain in his bed at the Volcastle remembering how his necklace had clung to her delicate throat, wondering if the skin of her breasts would be as fine, if the colour of her nipples would match the blushing hue of her lips.

‘Your eyes tell the tale,’ Glimmer said. ‘I see desire in them.’

Kert’s fingers on his prisoner’s throat tightened as he turned to face his young charge. ‘She is my captive,’ he replied, keeping his voice calm in the face of Glimmer’s outrage. ‘She can give us information about this world.’

‘Take your hands off her. Now!’ Glimmer demanded, not with regal authority but with the petulance of a child. Her hair stuck to her hot cheeks and her eyes were wild. ‘If you do not, I will kill her myself.’

‘You will not touch her.’

‘Yet you do,’ Glimmer spat. ‘Here, if you want to look at breasts, look at these,’ and before Kert could stop her she pulled her Magorian-hued shirt over her head and threw it to the ground.

Kert reached out with his free hand and slapped Glimmer’s face.

Her lips parted in shock and he noticed her pale and perfect breasts rose and fell quickly in agitation. ‘You struck me,’ she whispered, her eyes searching his own. ‘You … touched me.’

‘I was trying to awaken you to sense,’ Kert replied. It had not been a caress, yet Glimmer’s eyes were now full of some heat that could not help but stir his own blood, despite that he still had a prisoner in his grasp. ‘Put on your shirt,’ he commanded.

She shook her head, took a half-step towards him. The scent of ahroce petals warmed the air between them, confusing Kert further. An image of Lenid came and went from his mind. He tore his eyes away from hers and looked to his captive who was glancing towards the cave exit, as though gauging the distance to sprint if she had the opportunity. Should he simply kill her? She appeared to be alone so there would be no repercussions, and it was his duty to protect The Catalyst.

‘Kill her,’ Glimmer said, as though she could see the decision in his eyes. ‘You don’t need her.’

‘I would question her further’ Kert could not explain even to himself why he had changed his mind, except that he would not be commanded by a sixteen-year-old girl.

‘I can tell you anything of this world you wish to know,’ Glimmer argued. ‘She will lie.’

‘When we came here you told me you knew nothing of this world.’

Glimmer’s heated breaths slowed and she glanced away.

The silence between them was charged, then the woman spoke. ‘I not lie,’ she said and they both turned to look at her. ‘I came shelter. No weapons.’

‘What of the bludgeon in your hand?’ Kert demanded.

She frowned. ‘Torch? Projects light, not hurt. I no threat.’

Glimmer made a boiling noise in her throat and Kert suddenly realised he was restraining the wrong woman. Probably trusting the wrong woman as well.

‘I want to leave your world,’ he told the intruder. ‘Is there a portal that will return me to my own?’


I
will return you to Ennae,’ Glimmer said. ‘Kill her now or —’

‘I grow tired of waiting for your powers to return,’ Kert snapped, keeping his attention on his captive. ‘She may serve me better.’

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