Shades of Gray (15 page)

Walking back to her bower, she turned her thoughts to two of her other charges—Noni and Conner. Now her mouth opened in a gentle smile, the sadness she felt briefly dissipating. Now there was a good match. Both of them had served her well over many years. They deserved the happiness she’d hoped they’d find together. However, there was more for them to do.

With a thought, she called her two assistant dzinaes, Agalimi and Aduan, the spirits of Shola’s two moons.

Lost in his own thoughts, Conner hadn’t noticed the commotion at first.

“Look! Look up!” The man running toward him was screaming. “They’ll kill us all! Run, run for your life!”

He stopped, confused by the sheer terror in the other’s voice, uncertain if he was drunk or mad. Hands grasped him, fingers biting like claws in the sleeve of his robes.

“Listen to me, dammit!” the man yelled into his face, making him gag at the wave of his sour breath. “They found us! You have to run, get under cover, or they’ll kill you!” Wide, staring eyes glared at him from a pale face.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he began, keeping his voice calm and reasonable.

“You idiot! If you don’t believe me, then believe your own eyes,” the man snarled, shoving him aside and continuing his mad dash for the houses that ringed the square.

All around him, the people were running for cover, some pointing at the sky overhead, many of them screaming. One or two, like him, simply stood and stared.

He looked up, gasping in shock at what he saw. High above them, it hung in the air, looking like the kind of bauble peasants would hang on the prayer tree for their chosen deity. Moonlight shimmered and glinted off it, making it appear almost ghostly, a thing of less substance than presence. A spindle end projected from its top and hung below it. Between them, a platform hung in nothingness, banded by four slim struts that formed the outline of a globe.

A flash to one side of it drew his attention. It was followed by a streak of light, then another, and finally by a flare so bright that even when he blinked, he still saw it.

Movement from the platform—a cloud of tiny lights, like fireflies, leaving, swarming toward where he’d seen the explosion—caught his eye.

“Our defenses aren’t strong enough yet,” said a voice at his elbow that he almost recognized. “If only we’d had some warning.”

He spun around to face the man, but his face was hidden in the shadows of the clock tower.

“I don’t understand,” he stammered, glancing back at the beautiful monstrosity in the sky.

“There aren’t enough ships berthed at the platform. The attacks came too soon for us.” A low snarl underlaid the voice.

A flare of light, like a bolt of lightning, hissed and crackled through the air, impacting on the central building of the Palace behind him. Stone blocks exploded violently, sending red-hot shards high into the night sky to rain down on the courtyard. Over it all, a high-pitched whine and the smell of burning filled the air.

The red glow of flames lit the man’s face, and as he watched, it began to alter. The ears shrank, becoming smaller, the bridge of the nose filled out until it formed a smooth line to the forehead, and the mouth widened and narrowed, top lip forming a gentle V shape.

It was the eyes that held him—large, bulbous green eyes, with vertical pupils.

With a choking cry of horror, he stumbled backward, desperate to escape the demon. Quicker than his eye could follow, a hand snaked out to grasp hold of him.

“You must warn us, Merlin Llew,” the green-skinned demon said.

“Leave me alone!” he croaked, plucking at the clawed hand. “You caused this!”

“Not me. Look around you. These are my people,” the green demon said. “Look!” he commanded.

He looked, seeing for the first time that he was no longer in his village, that this was not the market square but a huge stone courtyard, lined on one side by buildings and massive statues and on the other by a row of open-air stores, many fronted by tables and chairs.

“See the people!” the voice commanded.

Against his will, he let his eyes focus on those fleeing in terror. All were green skinned and bald like the demon that held him captive.

He recoiled again, Llew’s mind shrinking from a reality he couldn’t accept.

“Look at me, Merlin Llew. Open your eyes and learn what the future holds if you don’t remember.”

He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, terrified beyond comprehension, then another bolt hit a building close by, filling the air again with red-hot stinging embers and his nostrils and ears with the stench of burning flesh and screams of agony.

“You’d condemn them to this because they’re different, Merlin?” the voice asked more gently.

This time, the voice was familiar, and against his better judgment, he opened his eyes.

Letting out a low moan, he would have collapsed to the ground had he not been held. His reaction only brought him closer to the being as it changed form yet again.

Gone was the green skin; instead a covering of fur was growing across its face as the ears lengthened into those of a cat, the mouth became smaller, bifurcated, and the nose shrank to more Human proportions then darkened. Hair grew from the bald scalp, cascading down to the being’s shoulders and beyond.

“You must remember, Llew, remember when you are the Merlin Conner, and tell us we were not prepared for the attack on K’oish’ik.”

Memory struggled to the surface. It was a voice he’d only heard once, but it was unmistakable.

“Kusac?”

The Sholan laughed gently, canines shining red in the reflected light of the fires blazing around them.

“No. We have met before, here, in Stronghold.” The voice was altering, becoming high in pitch, more feminine.

Conner blinked, watching as the Sholan’s pelt blanched, turning white in a matter of moments, and he stood in his own bedroom before a small, blue-eyed female, dressed in pure white.

“I was sent to unlock Llew’s memory,” she said, letting him go to run gentle fingertips across his cheek, leaving a trail of coolness behind them. “So you are a Human. It seems I have ignored your kind too long,” she murmured, letting her hand fall to his shoulder and, obviously appraising him frankly, walking around behind him. “I should visit your world of Earth again.”

He shivered, aware of both the chill that emanated from her body and the heat from her eyes as they seemed to bore through his thin sleeping robe.

“What am I to remember?” he asked, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Patience,” she purred. “I would study you a little longer.”

Clasping his arms across his chest in a futile effort to keep warm, he waited. He felt his hair being moved aside, then her cool nose touched his bare neck; she was only taking in his scent, logic told him.

“Ah, your people chose you well, Conner. The fires of life blaze fiercely in you, and your seed is still strong: just as it should be for a Guardian.”

Her voice was deeper, languorous. Her hand strayed around to caress his throat while against his neck her breath was cool. “And you’re still unmarked on either throat or neck. Perhaps I’ll return to spend some . . . quality . . . time with you.” Her laugh rippled like the sound of wind through icicle-laden trees.

He shivered again, reinforcing his mental shields in an effort to distance him from her, but a cold heat began to lap slowly across the nape of his neck, scattering his concentration and leeching what warmth remained from him.

Kuushoi laughed again, letting his hair fall back into place and stepping around in front of him. “Your kind is very fragile. Come, let me warm you now, as I warm the new season’s growth under my blanket of snow.” She spread her arms, mouth widening in a Human smile.

He hesitated, trying to gather his wits. She was altogether too beguiling.

“Your virtue is safe from me—this time, Conner,” she purred, her eyes mocking his indecision as she pushed his arms aside and stepped forward to enfold him. “I only entertain the unattached, and you have no mate.” Her nose tucked itself under his chin—for she was shorter than him—and gently nudged his jaw upward.

Powerless to move, as his mind screamed “No!” a sudden gust of warm, blossom-laden air swirled around and between them, then was gone.

Kuushoi hissed angrily as she leaped back before turning her ice-blue gaze on him again.

Nung flowers, he thought, it had smelled of nung flowers . . . and it had broken Kuushoi’s spell of ice.

“Tell Kusac alone that his salvation, and that of his Clan, will be found only when he becomes his enemy. Some evils can only be fought from within. You are to guide him, Merlin Conner, help him make wise choices when the time comes. My worthy sister,” her lips lifted briefly in a soundless snarl, “reminds me you are her creature, and bids me tell you that the sand-dwelling reptiles, the Primes, their land withers from neglect. She looks to you to return them to the old ways. What point is there in surviving invasions only to succumb to neglect?”

He nodded, more from reflex than any ability to control his frozen limbs.

She tossed her head, smiling again. “My message is delivered. Now, Conner, I’ll trade you a gift for a gift. Show me your gratitude and grant me a kiss, a foretaste of that Human passion I will one day claim voluntarily from you.” Her hand reached out, and she began to draw a lingering finger down the center of his body.

Grasping her hand, he leaned forward, lips barely touching hers, only to be captured in a kiss that sent fire and ice coursing through his body, igniting responses that had lain dormant since he’d said farewell to his Nimue.

Kuushoi broke away, hand to her lips, eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Ah, Conner—if only you served me and not my cold sister, then perhaps Spring and Summer would be bearable,” she murmured.

Like quicksilver, her expression changed, becoming somber. “Since you gave the kiss freely, I give you one more piece of knowledge for Kusac. Time is fluid, as you know. When he becomes his enemy, he will set in motion events that can be resolved by his choices alone. Like Llew’s High King, he must know which one is true and live the past that has been already written, or all that has been achieved these two years will be undone, and Shola will fall.”

“I don’t understand. What has this to do with the High King?”

“Remember Llew’s life, remember Artos,”“she said, forming the name with difficulty as she stepped back from him. “Remember your King, the one who sleeps under the hill—remember how Llew couldn’t influence his choice. Maybe this time, the Merlin’s words will be heeded by the sired as well as by the sire, Guardian. Perhaps this time, Justice’s Sword will bind all sides in a lasting peace. Just maybe ...” Her voice and form faded till nothing remained—except the bitter cold.

 

Conner woke with a start, still deeply distressed and chilled to the bone but with the echoes of arousal still coursing through him. He remembered everything—with too much clarity.

“She should have let me accompany him to Avalon,” he muttered, pushing himself out of his bed. “Man of my age has no business outliving his King. But She knew better. Now I get to stay behind and be plagued by visions of demons not even Morgause could have dreamed up!”

Reaching for the black robe that lay on the chair by the side of his bed, he shrugged it on, tying the belt loosely around his middle as his feet fumbled, one at a time, under the bed for his sandals.

His mind, meanwhile, reached out through the building, checking to see who was still awake. He found only a few hardy souls—a youth still busy with his books, several praying in the chapel, another kept awake with a toothache. He snorted, heading for the door out into the corridor. Not his problem. If they thought him tamed, they had the wrong man. Let King Rhydderch’s surgeon see to it, it was no longer his concern. He was leaving, returning to the deep woods.

Lighting in the corridor was dim as he padded cautiously toward the main staircase. Behind their drapes, he could hear the windows rattling with the force of the wind howling outside.

“I’ll build you a place where you can study the stars, Brother,” he muttered. “You’ll be the first to see your sky ships! Thinks she can buy my silence and peace of mind with empty promises, does she? Liar! She wants me here for that pale husband of hers, the one they call King! He’s no King—there’s been no true King since the High King fell!”

Tears started in his eyes, and he stopped, leaning against the wall, overcome with grief.

“Goddess . . . Mother . . . you should have let me fade into legend with him, not chained me here, half mad, among the living!”

He dashed the tears away on his sleeve and stumbled on. “Why do I bother appealing to you? You know as much about pity as the witch does—and this is her season!”

The main staircase was ahead of him, and beyond it, the castle door and freedom. For a wonder, the guard was missing from his post. Putting on a spurt of speed, Conner hurried down the stairs. As he drew level with the counter, a figure stepped out in front of him, barring his way.