Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (42 page)

ODD HOW THAT the senses don’t really work in tandem, not really. The first thing Beth noticed was the smell, a forest primeval—and as she’d never been in one she had to trust her shades for that memory. This was better though, the scent far older than her shades were. Earth, clean earth, warm and rich, pine trees so fresh her fear vanished as she breathed deep, trying to suck the sweet air into her very core. The air she’d known all her life, even the air inside the veil, was filth compared to this. She noticed sounds next, gentle wind playing through leaves in tree tops impossibly high above her, scampering sounds of tiny furry feet, the call of birds and the softest thud of hooves on forest floor.

Air touched her exposed skin, caressing her face, arms, and legs. It washed her skin clean with the touch. Then it was the fact that her heels were slowly descending into the earth that she noticed. Instinctively she leaned her weight onto the balls of her feet. She wasn’t afraid to lose her balance, hands twice the size of Kahtar’s gripped each elbow to support her. She just didn’t want to sully this place with the material her shoes were made of. They didn’t belong here.

At last Beth dared to open her eyes, knowing they weren’t worthy to see this place, but unable to resist cleaning herself with the light she knew would be here. Unable to focus she searched upwards and saw watery rays of light streaming through towering trees. All of it, the earth, the light, the trees, seemed so alive she could feel them all in her heart. Blinking she felt tears run down her face, burning faintly of poisons from the world she’d come from.

I could die here and it would be joy.
All semblance of fear vanished and she blinked the dirty tears from her eyes and looked around clearly. Hundreds of Old Guard moved through the forest, solid and real. The only light came from the sky above, not from these men. Here their translucent skin looked perfect and solid, flawless, and they appeared in the variety of flesh colors of all mankind. They moved gracefully, like dancers, and she saw not a weapon among them. Glancing around she noticed not a single dwelling, not a single man made item of any sort, not a chair or a cup and it was then that she realized that the Old Guard weren’t actually dressed as she usually saw them. As a matter of fact she didn’t think they were dressed at all. Though they didn’t seem naked either, she tried to focus on where their clothes would be, but they shifted and fluctuated in those areas, and she gave up. They simply were. It didn’t matter.

One of the Old Guard, his grey hair thick and his brows almost white, watched her closely, his obsidian eyes glinting oddly. When he spoke it was in a language she’d never heard before, but though the words made no sense, she understood what he said.

“She senses the truth here too. Are you terrified woman?”

Beth considered this for a moment, perhaps longer, thoughts crowded into her mind as she struggled to answer truthfully, and for once she was uncertain what the truth was.

He stepped closer. “Time passes differently here. If you consider all your mind takes in now, you will not find the words before those you know on earth have all turned to dust. Answer as you will.”

“No, though I should be.”

If Old Guard ever smiled, Beth thought they might have smiled at her then. Almost as one they began to come towards her, standing comfortably and looking her over. The men who she was certain had been wearing the plaid of Scotsmen at Kahtar’s cabin, wore only their odd shifting flesh here. Where they had seemed hostile moments ago—was it moments ago? Now they seemed only vaguely interested in her.

The Old Guard holding her right elbow leaned comfortably back, as though settling into an invisible vertical chair. Gently he continued to support her arm as he informed her.

“There are laws on earth against blending Seekers with Covenant Keepers. They are not our laws, yet we are sworn to keep the laws of the Covenant Keepers. Your father is Seeker, and that is not allowed among the clan I serve.”

Beth looked into the dark eyes briefly. They went on forever and held secrets she didn’t want to know. Still she was certain this man saw her as no less than any other Covenant Keeper, or Seeker for that matter. The fact that he understood truth as well as she did confused her. He didn’t think her less because she was a child of Blending. It was as though truth was irrelevant here. Then she considered what he had said and realized that in some ways it was, he was simply following a law and it was her who didn’t understand the truth of why. Existence as she knew it was small compared to what these beings knew. After a long pause in which the men all waited patiently, she finally answered.

“I am not one of the clan you serve. I am bound by the laws of Cultuelle Khristos.”

“Tell me something I do not know, woman. You do not belong. Cultuelle Khristos took you in unwittingly. Aberrations can undermine all. It is a precarious world. Would you have the Cult of Christ cease to exist so that you can continue in the world?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Beth knew she was forfeiting her life, but nothing in her would argue the point. If these Angels of God said she shouldn’t exist, she wouldn’t fight it. This is what it meant to be Covenant Keeper.

They didn’t look at each other, but she knew something silent had passed between them, out of her range of understanding. The gist of it was regret. She doubted any of them wanted to end her.

“It’s all right.” Even as she reassured them part of her thought she must be nuts, and wondered where her survival instinct had gone. “Please just make this count for everyone else and help Kahtar.” Tears filled her eyes, welling over, hot and dirty tears in the clean air of this place. “This will destroy him.”

“Destroy?” Another Old Guard straightened. His posture alert as he stared at her, hard. “Hearts heal.”

Beth shook her head, “You do not take wives do you?”

They didn’t move, but it was as though part of them flowed through the trees like the wind. Her comment hurt them, the very air spoke it, but she wasn’t sorry for it, it was true.

“You are not joined with the Warrior of the Ages.”

“Semantics.” Beth argued pointedly. “He needs me. We are aberrations of the same ilk, imperfectly matched. Please? I know you are not counselors, but please explain to him why I had to go. Make him see it?”

Kahtar was a logical man, he would understand, but he would die too. There was no doubt, they belonged together and now he would be broken. More tears welled up and out, sliding over her lips and dripped off her chin. Dirty on the clean, clean ground, a sacrilege.

INEXPLICABLY IT HADN’T killed him. His heart hadn’t exploded. Kahtar’s will to live was gone, but that had happened before and he knew in the next repeat or the one after that, it always came back. This time he wondered though, if maybe it could be gone for good.

The Mother had refused his request to annihilate the men responsible for Beth’s death. It was his right to seek retribution, to take the life of every man sworn to uphold the laws of Clan Berwick. It was within his power to accomplish the task too, he was a strong man, a skilled fighter. Surely he could wipe them off the earth in mere days, leaving their women heartbroken in the bloody wake. Standing small before him The Mother had looked up into his eyes, shaking her head, her gentle voice low, but firm.

“Why bother, Kahtar? They are a small dystopian clan. Time will finish them soon enough.” And he’d been too sick to argue, to demand their blood, their complete sacrifice for their beliefs. Despite the death of his own heart, the thought of killing their plebes sickened him and he was thankful that The Mother had refused him. Vengeance was exhausting, and he was tired to his soul.

Kneeling by the pond in the evenings Kahtar didn’t have the energy to seek ilu, to stretch his arms towards the heavens and let his heart soar in search of his maker. For the first time in his existence he did not have the will to pray. Instead he slumped against the tree where the hammock still swayed; the one Beth had liked to lie in with Honor. Honor who had sobbed like a child when he’d learned of Beth’s fate. Suddenly the fact that she was a child of a Seeker hadn’t mattered to the young warrior. Kahtar had turned his back on the rookie and walked away. He planned never to speak to him again. The last thing Honor had done to Beth was hurt her, and though it was willfully sinful, Kahtar held it against Honor, refusing to forgive.

Unfortunately time marched heartlessly on, duty waited and he was Warrior of ilu. Gladly he might have sat against the tree by the pond and welcomed death from exposure—many times it had come in the past like that, though never before had it been welcome. Death would bring no peace anyway, just another repeat holding the same pain. After two weeks of grief and despair, of cold silence to Honor Monroe and wearing the same filthy clothing until he was chafed like a godless barbarian, Kahtar began to fake life again. It was, after all, his duty to live. The Mother had sent word that he was not to return as Police Chief but Kahtar did not plan to comply. It was his call as Warrior Chief not hers.

More than a fortnight after Beth was taken, Kahtar mechanically rose before dawn and found his way to the barn, defending himself in his morning fight against an Old Guard, and emerging with painful wounds only partially healed. Wolves didn’t run with him, as Kahtar forced his legs along paths in the woods, the dog continued to slink about the veil obviously waiting for Beth, and Kahtar ignored him. Making his way to the bathhouse for the first time in two weeks he was met with the sight of Beth’s belongings. Forcing his eyes on what he needed to do, he tried not to see the dresser covered in her lotions and potions. All of her clothing was neatly shoved in drawers and cupboards, as messy as Beth was she’d kept her clothing pristine and orderly, including color-coding every item. Pretending not to see the shades of blue peeking through a partially opened drawer, he gently pushed it shut with a knee as he passed.

The plebes hadn’t dared to touch anything, and as Kahtar sank into the bath water, he knew he wouldn’t allow them to ever do so. This was all he had left and he wanted it there, but when he climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel, the faint aroma of tangerines wafted from it. Beth had used it last. It took every last bit of fortitude he possessed to keep moving. Pulling on his leggings and blouse he carried the towel with him, drying his cropped hair with it as he went to breakfast.

Folding it neatly he placed it in his rucksack and went to the table. Shoveling food into his mouth was rote, a skill he’d mastered long ago. The shade of Golgotha hovered as he ate, as dark and painful as it had always been. Maybe it should have been good that something hadn’t changed, but this was definitely the one thing where distance would have been welcome.