Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1 (4 page)

‘… Talis. Talis.’ He felt at last the tugging of the Princess on his arm and turned confused eyes on her. She leant up and whispered in his ear, ‘If you can keep her busy for ten minutes, some men sent by my brother will be here.’

Talis closed his eyes, fighting the heat that her breath in his ear had aroused. His body was tensed for battle and he wished for it then, for the clean exertion of steel against steel. He wished he could fight Noorinya and her men for the honour of his betrothed, to slay among them and see their blood fill the cracked earth. Even the pain of their steel on his skin, he wanted, if it would to dull the sweet ache his Princess had fired in him.

But Noorinya knew the truth of it. His vow to the King must come first.

‘I will do as you bid,’ he said, his voice flat in his own ears.

Triumphant, Noorinya pushed aside his sword and took his arm. ‘Monit, guard the Princess well,’ she ordered. ‘In her safety lies our winter food.’

Talis did not look at his Princess as he was dragged from her side. He felt sick, but within the sickness a fierce fury built as he strode beside Noorinya, past the curious eyes of her tribe to her rough fibre shelter. There his anger was unleashed. No sooner was the door flap in place than he grasped the Plainswoman and pushed her to the floor where he fell upon her, his hands trembling. ‘You want what belongs to another?’ he said, tearing away the bindings that covered her body. ‘You want to feel the sword of a Champion inside you?’

Noorinya’s breath came fast as she stared up into his wild eyes. ‘I want the tender hand that stayed Kert Sh’hale’s sword.’

‘No.’ He tore at his own clothing now. ‘You bought a bedding. Nothing more.’ And with that he forced himself inside her, moulding her body to his with cruel hands. Blood, like the beating of the battledrum, pounded in his ears as he vented his anger on her, holding her hands away when they tried to touch him.

In short minutes the victory took him, shaking his fevered body with sickness as much as pleasure. Then he was still, not caring that his weight pressed hard on her.

Beneath him Noorinya was silent. At last she said, ‘I ask your forgiveness, Talis,’ her soft voice curling around his given name with a hesitancy that made him wish he could take back what he had just done.

He looked up to find her wrists still lay firm in his hands above her head, and he released them to push himself back. Noorinya did not cover herself, but lay staring up at him with sadness in her eyes. Her thick Plainsman skin would not show the mark of his hands on her breasts and her throat, yet Talis felt sick remorse inside himself. ‘You are the one hurt,’ he said, full of disgust at the knowledge that he had saved her from Sh’hale’s lust and earned an enemy in the process, only to misuse her himself. The crude fertility drawings on the walls of her circular shelter only mocked his pain.

If Noorinya noticed his self-loathing, she did not say. ‘I demanded what was not yours to give and have received just reward for my greed.’

He shook his head. ‘I am sorry to have hurt you,’ he said, and rose, adjusting his clothing. ‘But it could be no other way between us.’

‘We are enemies,’ she said and stood herself, not caring that her bindings fell around her, leaving her naked to his eyes.

Few men would find her form unappealing, yet Talis could not see the beauty in Noorinya that he knew another would. He had been dazzled, blinded by Khatrene, and the fear of what that meant to his life, his betrothal, filled him with dread.

‘Will you honour your vow and release us?’ he asked.

Noorinya nodded. ‘I will watch you leave, but I will long for the tenderness that you give to the one who has your heart.’

Talis shook his head, jagged thoughts filling his mind. ‘Your duty lies with your people,’ he told her, his voice full of the scorn he would keep for himself. ‘If you would retain your honour you must not long for what you cannot have.’

Noorinya’s smile was sad. ‘I fear that decisions of the heart are not so easily made as decisions of battle. And I am trained to the sword.’

‘As I am.’

They stared at each other a moment. Then the silence of their enclave was shattered by the sound of a piercing whistle. Noorinya’s eyes narrowed and she dived for a weapon as Talis made for the door, his only thought the safety of his Princess.

Catherine knelt between two sour smelling piles of fabric. Talis’s cloak effectively turned her into another indistinct mound, which suited her state of mind admirably — complete withdrawal until she could work out what was going on. There were several possibilities.

First, she was asleep and this was an extraordinarily vivid dream. Not likely as she’d pinched herself and tried very hard to wake up, with no luck.

Second, she was lying in a psychiatric hospital bed pumped full of some hallucinogenic drug, a suitable punishment for trying to kill herself, although not a likely scenario. If she’d landed at the bottom of that waterfall, she was dead.

Third, this was real. The voice was pushing that option and she had to admit the physical facts seemed to support him. When she closed her eyes, the clang of swords and groans and shouts of pain and exaltation sounded remarkably real. The place certainly felt real; and the coppery smell of blood in the air was pungent enough. But when it came to emotion she might as well have been watching a sepia movie for all the connection she felt with what was happening.

A Plainsman had fallen close to her hiding place, rust-coloured liquid staining the front of his thin shirt, yet she felt nothing. He hadn’t moved for several minutes. Was he dead?

Was she?

T
HIS EXISTENCE IS AS REAL AS YOUR PREVIOUS EXISTENCE.

So you keep telling me.

She looked at the dead man again through the peephole she’d made in the cloak. Nothing. The only corpse she’d ever seen was her mother’s and there had been no blood then. All the damage — the cancer — had been internal. This corpse should have horrified her, or frightened her or
something.

Y
OUR MIND HAS YET TO CATCH UP WITH YOUR BODY.

Then help me. Tell me how I got here.

T
HE
G
UARDIAN
T
ALIS USED HIS POWERS TO RETURN YOU FROM EXILE IN
M
AGORIA TO THE
K
INGDOM OF
E
NNAE
.

The Kingdom of Ennae? The same as my surname? The brown kingdom is named after me? Well, that’s nice. When I regain consciousness they’ll have to deal with delusions of grandeur as well.

D
O YOU WANT TO BE WITH YOUR BROTHER
?

That stilled her sarcasm. She swallowed and tried to quieten the twist of anguish those words had awoken.
You know I want to be with Michael.

M
IHALE.
H
IS NAME IS
M
IHALE AND YOU ARE
K
HATRENE.
Y
OU MUST BELIEVE
.

All right. He’s Mihale and I’m Khatrene. Catherine Ennae is dead.

N
OW YOU BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND
.

Okay, but why would Mihale pretend that the Kingdom of Ennae was a fairytale if we really belong here?

Long seconds ticked over and the voice made no reply. Again, frustration came and went before Catherine — no, Khatrene understood. If she was having trouble believing in Ennae while she was sitting in the middle of it, what hope would her brother have had of convincing her back then?

All right. I’ll buy that. But why is everything brown?

The voice replied immediately. T
HE ELEMENT OF THIS WORLD IS EARTH
.

And the element of my world was …?

T
HE ELEMENT OF YOUR PREVIOUS WORLD
, M
AGORIA, IS WATER.

Magoria? Okay, but if the element of Magoria is water, why wasn’t everything blue?

W
HAT IS A RAINBOW MADE OF?

Ahhh.
She thought for a moment.
But if everything here is supposed to be brown, and I belong here, why am I blonde with green eyes?

He took his time answering that. Y
OUR ANCESTORS ARE NOT OF THIS WORLD
. Y
ET YOU BELONG HERE
.

That was convenient.
And you’re telling me I lived here?

U
NTIL YOU WERE TEN.

Then why don’t I remember it?

T
O FULFIL YOUR DESTINY YOU MUST BE UNENCUMBERED WITH THE PAST
.

What does that mean?

Silence. Long, slow silence.

So don’t tell me.

She went back to watching the battle, searching for something that sparked recognition in herself, but it was impossible to reconcile her brother’s glorious stories with this brutal scene. The Plainsmen looked completely alien with their dark olive skin and slanted eyes, like distant relatives of Genghis Khan. Even the men they fought, sent by her brother so the voice had said, looked no more familiar. Like Talis, they wore long dark cloaks over black quilted jackets and pants. Their skin was paler than the Plainsmen’s, but not as pale as her own, and they all had dark hair and brown eyes. In fact, everyone was dark and brown, except for her. She stood out like an albino at a corroboree, and it was incomprehensible to Khatrene that she could have lived in a place where she was so unusual and not remember.

Y
OU LIVE HERE NOW
, the voice said simply.

The sound of swords striking each other came closer, then abruptly fell silent as another Plainsman dropped in front of her, his drab tunic stained with blood. The dark coat moved on and Khatrene felt the urge to ask,
If this is real, should I be worried about dying?

T
HE
P
RINCESS
K
HATRENE WILL NOT DIE.

She frowned.
What? Not ever?

N
EVER.

I’m indestructible? Immortal?

No. I
SIMPLY KNOW THE SEQUENCE OF EVENTS
.

That I will never die? You want me to believe this is real and you’re telling me I will never die?

T
HE
P
RINCESS
K
HATRENE WILL NOT DIE.

Oh.
She thought about that.
What you’re saying is that while I’m the Princess Khatrene, I will not die.

C
ORRECT.

But if I stop being the Princess Khatrene …?

Y
OU WILL BE SOMEONE ELSE.

Who will presumably die one day.

C
ORRECT.

That was something to remember.

A flutter of movement caught Khatrene’s eye and she looked across in time to see the Plainswoman who had taken Talis into her tent dart past in what looked like a dirty bandage wound around her upper body. Below that was a strip skirt that swished as she moved. Khatrene watched the woman fight, her sword moving with jabs rather than the slashes she had seen Talis use. One of the dark coats fell and the Plainswoman uttered a long yelping call before leaping over bodies to start in on another. Many women were fighting and some had fallen, their skirts settling like butterfly wings into the stickiness of their blood. Yet the Plainswoman who had taken Talis into her shelter fought on.

Y
OU WERE UPSET WHEN HE WENT WITH HER
, the voice said.

I was scared. He was the only person here on my side.

Her gaze searched out Talis and found him standing his ground across the compound from her, two men lying dead or injured at his feet and a third struggling.

H
E IS A WARRIOR
. B
ATTLE IS IN HIS BLOOD.

I can see that.

Khatrene felt awe at the competency with which Talis dispatched his opponents. He was neither brutal nor sadistic, simply terrifyingly efficient, and at the moment all of that efficiency was focused on keeping her safe.

H
E WORKS HIS WAY BACKWARDS TO BE CLOSER TO YOU WITHOUT REVEALING YOUR POSITION.

Khatrene nodded. You didn’t have to be a strategist to see that. Unfortunately, the twitchy one they’d called Monit was on an intercept course.

Will Talis be hurt?
she asked.

No reply.

Khatrene bit her lip and watched, wincing as the third man went down and Talis swung around to survey the compound behind him, his gaze lingering a heartbeat longer on the place he’d secreted her. Rust-coloured blood splattered the smooth olive skin of his face, made rat-tails in his long dark hair and soaked the front of his thick jacket and pants.

She knew she should feel sickened by what he’d done, but if she felt anything it was a kind of dazed exaltation. Talis was killing to protect her, as were the other dark coats who had come from her brother. Someone had dared to threaten the life of the Princess Khatrene and this was the response.

Y
OUR BROTHER SENDS HIS
C
HAMPION TO PROTECT YOU
, the voice said and Khatrene found she could believe that, could accept it. She’d spoken to Talis, touched him, looked into his eyes and had no problem accepting that he was real. If Talis was an extension of her brother’s love …

F
AITH.

Khatrene nodded. Talis was her link to Mihale and she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight again. When he’d gone into that tent with the Plainswoman, she’d felt vulnerable and alone. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the door flap the whole time he’d been in there, even when she’d heard the group of men approaching. As Talis had rushed out again, his eyes searching for her, she’d felt such a sense of relief that she’d wanted to cry.

She barely knew him, yet now she understood why his wellbeing had become tied in with her feelings of security. When he was with her she felt safe. Just as she had with Mihale. Right now, she needed that.

Tell me he won’t die
, she demanded of the voice, and was surprised at the quick reply.

T
ALIS OF THE
H
OUSE OF
 G
UARDIANS WILL NOT DIE THIS DAY.