by Janet Woods
And the Pitilan, he reminded himself, grimacing. He hadn’t forgotten it, just pushed the problem of it to the back of his mind. The beast was a laboratory abomination, and as such had no part in the scheme of things. He’d been forced to make arrangements with the watchers to disable the creature. Then it would be killed. Before he brought the rift together, he would insist that all the Pitilan left on Truarc, and their gene bank, be destroyed.
He admitted that Tiana was not without courage in her defiance of him. Her tongue had a barbed edge to it, and she wouldn’t have willingly come through the portal if his hawk had not tricked her into it. He’d learned that threats were met by stubborn reasoning by her and wondered whether persuasion might be a better course to take. Her intelligence was based on a strong intuitive sense, as yet untapped.
The fact that she was a kindred spirit excited him, though he’d be the first to admit his own power was slowly being leached by the concentration needed for his task, plus the power of the pivot stone. There was also a strong possibility he’d be destroyed by the joining of the rift, which was why he needed to endow her with the means to produce the God child.
A smile played around his mouth. To coax Tiana from the barrier she surrounded herself with and show her the wonders of his world would be a challenge. She would sense trickery and resist, pitting her wits against his. Not there was any doubt about the outcome. The silver-haired witch would be his eventually. It was written. He just hadn’t expected to have to work so hard for her trust.
“Seven dawns,” Kavan whispered, his flesh pricking with delight at the thought of a different chase. “I shall send you dreams to pleasure your nights, daughter of light.”
His voice spread across the lake in widening ripples, whispered upon the rocks below the fall and sent vibrations up through the crystal pipes.
The body of the alchemist shivered in his tomb.
Chapter Four
As Tiana had promised herself, the next morning she bathed. Lowering her shivering body into a reed and fern-sheltered pool above the fall, she delighted in the feel of the cool, silky water, the race of goosebumps against her skin.
Dirt was dissolved by the application of scented sap of a wax flower. She started on her hair, massaging the sap to the roots until it foamed. When her hair squeaked with cleanliness she rinsed it, and standing, flicked the wet slick back over her head in a glittering arc of droplets. Every part of her was tingling and alive, as if her body sang a sweet melody.
The forest provided her with a sparse handful of nuts to eat, though she had to search for them. She found no fruit. She didn’t linger there very long and stayed on the outskirts. The dark interior hinted at danger, and the well-worn tracks might have been made by animals. It occurred to her that there might be better pickings further in, but she had no intention of exploring the interior until she’d studied it first. It was a pity her Pitilan couldn’t speak.
The sun was warm and a breeze teased the abundance of grasses. A touch of humidity made the air pleasant to breathe as she wove a short rope from the pliable fronds of grass and reeds she’d laid out to dry. Her intention was to weave a basket for her medicines. Already she’d discovered some pitcher plants that would be useful as containers when dried by the sun. This was indeed a land of promise and plenty. Once she found shelter she could stay indefinitely, and Atarta would protect her from danger.
“But how can you fulfill your purpose, and who will you heal if you stay here?” she asked herself a little later, thankful that the antidote for the Pitilan venom was safely in her pocket instead of back on Truarc in her sack. She’d never had to milk Atarta’s glands for it, and imagined it would be a messy and unpleasant business.
For part of the day she engaged in a fruitless search for shelter, then, growing bored, she kept watch on all that went on below. Pennants fluttered from the four towers of the manor, purple and black with a silver crescent moon. They seemed to be Kavan’s colors.
The crenulated walls of the manor were patrolled, the troopers using large magnifying telescopes to survey the skies and surrounding countryside. From what threat they guarded the population in this land of plenty she couldn’t imagine.
Inside the manor walls was a world of color and excitement. Drums beat, trumpets blared, and the troopers marched back and forth, or fought each other with practice swords. She searched the landscape for a sight of the portal, but to no avail. The land below the fall was thickly vegetated, it hid its secrets well.
In the town beyond the manor walls all was bustling. There seemed to be some sort of market place, and the sound of hawkers selling their wares carried clearly to her.
“Bread, straight from the baker’s oven.”
“Buy my wine, nectar of the Gods made from the finest grapes grown on Cabrilan.”
“Fish ... fresh fish,” and Tiana - who’d tasted only dried fish, and remembered the taste of the sweet, juicy grapes her mother Lynx had given her, felt her mouth begin to water and her stomach growl. She could almost smell the hot, doughy fragrance of the bread, though she couldn’t remember ever having it straight from the oven.
She’d half-expected Kavan to visit, but night came without incident. The disappointment she felt was dismissed as vanity. Surely she could not be desirous of his company and attention. She put him from her mind, concentrating instead on making herself comfortable for the night. Though she’d searched in vain for a suitable shelter that day, no hiding place had been visible in the rock. She’d have to rely on her images to keep her safe and warm until her instinct lent her the courage to venture into the forest. She might be able to gather branches and fashion a hut of sorts if nothing else occurred to her.
She could try out the wishing dish!
Her glance fell on its protective box. Rowena had told her she could wish for anything she wanted. A manor like Kavan’s perhaps, with an army of troopers to go with it? Fine gowns and servants, food brought on platters and people at her beck and call? She laughed as her thoughts conjured up a wide river with her own personal barge on it. It would be decked out with satin fringes and tessellated hangings to keep her shaded from the sun. There would be a company of musicians and storytellers on board to keep her amused as she reclined on soft cushions eating grapes and other delicacies.
Her stomach rattled. Right now a bowl of hearty broth with a chunk of bread to sop up the juices would not go amiss.
Her foot nudged against the box and her smile faded. Such devices should not to be used for power or self-comfort, but for the good of those in need.
She sent the Pitilan off to hunt and settled herself for the night, tying one end of the rope she’d woven to her wrist, the other end to the sapling. She wrapped herself in Kavan’s cloak, her head pillowed on her arms. By harnessing her sub-thoughts, this time she knew the exact moment when she rose from the ground.
Laughter trickled from her mouth as she drifted over the rock pool. She gently rotated, and saw herself reflected in the water. Her hair was filled with moonlight and floated around her in luminous strands.
“It’s good to hear my lady laugh,” Kavan said against her ear.
Her breath left her body as she turned again, but she could not see him. Totally relaxed, her eyelids wouldn’t open. “My eyes are heavy with sleep, I must be dreaming.”
“You are denying them the sight of what your heart wants to see. You can lighten them if you would but try Tiana mine.”
She did as her lord asked and found herself floating high over the land. Her body tensed. She gasped and was about to fall when Kavan’s hand curved warmly around hers.
When he smiled at her, his eyes were bright with laughter. “Why do you feel fear when you know you’ve secured yourself to the sapling? This is only a dream. Look below you Tiana. What do you see?”
“A land so rich in beauty it hurts my eyes to gaze upon it.” She was self-conscious under his scrutiny. Her earth-colored gown was shabby, and her smile reflected her shame in her appearance. Kavan was
splendid in a black tunic with a silver crescent emblazoned on his chest. Her heart quickened. “There’s a harmony of water and land on Cabrilan. It gladdens the eye and gives solace to the heart.”
“It’s a gift I offer you, Tiana.”
The gift was symbolic, such riches not his to give. “I’ll treasure only the thought behind the gift. The land belongs to all those who see and rejoice in its beauty. It belonged to others before we inhabited it, and will delight the eye of others long after we are gone.”
“Wise words, lady.” He gently caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. “All Cabrilan cherish life.”
How could one so beloved by his people utter such untruths? “Your lies are designed to seduce me,” she murmured, turning her face away. “Do not treat me like a fool. Your troopers are highly trained; they do not hesitate to kill or main. Even defenceless old women are not immune to their blood lust. This I have witnessed with my own eyes.”
He took her by the chin and turned her face back towards him. His eyes were intent on hers; his smile melted her bones. “You choose to close your mind to the ferocity of the Pitilan you brought with you. Its purpose was to kill the Cabrilan people, and that urge is uppermost in its genetic makeup. Did you not order it to kill?”
“I . . . I did not give the order with malice, it was a gut reaction to your attack, a matter of survival.”
“From that action sprang knowledge and new insight. You gave the order to kill, and you learned a new healing skill that day, did you not?”
“Someone paid for that skill with their pain, another with his life. The High Mother was not your enemy, and the Pitilan is my personal protector. The trooper would not have died had he not attacked. The guilt of the attack is yours to bear.”
His smile took on a mocking edge. “To lay the guilt on another’s shoulders is easier than admitting one has the ability to kill when necessary. I didn’t create the Pitilan and none of my troopers attacked you personally. Can it be that you wished to test the beast’s power?”
Denial sprang to her lips. “Atarta defended those unable to defend themselves. It was an unfair contest to start with. If you can’t admit to that and discipline your men, then for all your fine posturing you are no leader.”
His face darkened. “The killing stopped from that day forth, as I promised. We had no wish to fight the Truarc. Drastic measures were called for because they would not listen to reason.”
“Why should your reason be superior to that of my sire, who is wise above all others?”
His voice took on an edge. “Your sire is full of false pride. He placed his dignity and position above the safety of his subjects.”
Who was he to talk of false pride? She stared at him with disbelief for a moment, and then gave a mocking little bob of her head. “Your manners are a lesson in humility to all, my Lord.”
He acknowledged her sarcasm with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m aware of the idiosyncrasies of my nature. We must put pride aside and unite. There are others who would destroy us.”
“What others?” she scorned. “Were we in danger the augur would know.”
His eyes narrowed. “The augur might not see fit to tell you.”
“But it would tell the mighty Kavan, I suppose,” she scorned.
His smile was as smooth and creamy as goat's cheese. “Our enemies are insurgents. They follow the doctrines of Beltane, and seek the alchemist’s sacred stones.”
So the wishing dish was not set with the stones. She slanted her head to one side and gazed at him. Indeed, she found it hard to keep her eyes from his elegance. “Legend says the stones are lost, swallowed up by the earth in the rift.”
“Legend also says you will become my mate. Why do you fight it?”
Until now she’d enjoyed the cut and thrust of his conversation. Now he’d become predictable. “Rumor can be mistaken for legend, and it’s sometimes started because someone wants something or someone he cannot have.”
“True,” he said, and his laughter sounded like a response to a joke. “By my beard, your mind has more twists and turns than a flea on a mangy cur! Answer this. Why else but dictated by fate, would a man in my position chose someone as stubborn as you for a life-mate – especially when you were already mine for the taking by right of capture?”
As much as she tried to stop it, she bristled with affront. “You do not find me as fair as other maids, then?”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “If I liked women in unflattering robes I’d consider you fair. If I liked waspish and contrary dispositions then I might consider you . . . intriguing. If I was attracted to eyes the color of rare crystal and hair like water weed spun through with moonbeams in the river currents . . . why, then, I might just find you more than fair.” His mouth curved into a smile. “In fact, it’s quite possible that under those circumstances I might think of you entrancing and spend my nights tossing and turning at the thought of a kiss from your mouth.”
Unsure of whether he mocked or not, and unaccustomed to the art of flirting, a question balanced tentatively on her tongue. Did he like all those things in a woman?
His eyes held her gaze to his, and his words poured like elixir into her ear. “Are you desirous of my admiration and attention then, Lady.”
She jerked her chin from his hand. She would have to remember to guard her thoughts from now on. “You have stolen me from my people, made a fool of me and insulted me. Why should I want to be admired by you, barbarian?”
“Doesn’t every female want the strongest male to father her children?”
His voice set a thousand muted flames licking into a conflagration of desire. If one had to have children, yes, she would want a strong man to father them?
“When you are mine I will fill your mind with sweetness and your body with a craving only I can satisfy. I’ll plumb your very depths. Your resistance will be overcome and you will know and welcome your master.”
What would it be like, coupled to this barbarian? She’d be helpless to fight off his superior strength as he took his pleasure of her and filled her womb with the seeds of his lust. Yet . . . he’d promised her pleasure too, and satisfaction for the cravings she fought so hard to control. There was one problem with the scenario he painted. She’d accept no man as her master, however highborn!
Warmth flooded over her and she began to perspire. To bane with this man and his silver tongue. He hadn't laid a finger on her, yet already she was on fire from head to toe for something she’d only read about and imagined. She’d been warned about lust in the temple.
Rule 29. A novice who lusts for carnal knowledge will burn in everlasting banefire!
She glared at him, knowing her cheeks were glowing bright red. “Hah, you will never master me! Take every other woman for a mate. Let them swoon at the sight of you and crave for a moment of your attention. I will not pander to your vanity. I care not a gibber’s worth for legend, or appearing desirable for a puffing adder like you.”
A great, booming laugh rang out. “You are untouched, Tiana. The blood of Lynx flows in your veins, the blood of Arcus in mine. Day and night will meet through us, as destined, each will taste of the turbulent sweetness of the other, and together will produce a son so powerful he’ll rule the universe and take his place amongst the gods. Thus it is written. Thus it will happen.”
“Plant your god-child in another’s womb.” She gazed around her in panic, seeking a way out of a dream that had become too personal. “I do not think I like this dream state.”
“You cannot escape the truth of the augur.” Kavan’s mouth touched against hers in the lightest of kisses. Filled with his sweet nectar, she clung to the kiss for a moment, helplessly drawn to the pleasure of it. Carnality was sent by Bane to plague the sinful. When she murmured a protest he released her. She descended gently, cradled in Kavan’s arms.
When she woke she gave a shaky laugh, and then stretched in languorous rapture. Her body felt different, more aware of its creation and pu
rpose, one that would have been denied on Truarc because of their lack of sustenance and the need to control the population. The dream had aroused the cravings in her she’d been taught to ignore. Longer meditation would be needed this morning to bring the uncomfortable urges under control.
Atarta slunk back in after his night of hunting. His stomach was distended and his breath smelled of blood. He fell into a stupor on his side and she was unable to rouse him. She guessed he was glutting on the abundant prey in the forest. She’d keep him close by tonight and purge him if needed else the edge would be taken from his instinct.
Meditation brought no peace or insight. Her mind kept wandering to Kavan and the dream. She abandoned the practice, going in search of something to fill her stomach instead. The fish in the stream eluded her, their bodies twisting and streaking through her fingers like silver lightning. She’d have to eat the herbs. When she went to fetch them, she discovered the shrub she’d hung them on had been stripped bare of them.
She gazed at the forest, her stomach lurching in a prolonged rumble of protest. Wreathed in mist it looked forbidding. She thought she saw figures moving in the dark, twisting vapors. Forgetting her temple training she yelled. “Cabrilan thieves, may the Grand Alchemist burn you in banefire.”
The wind held its breath. Total quiet descended on the forest, as if all the creatures that dwelt in its shelter had become mute. Then there was a prolonged rumble and dust began to rise from fissures in the rocks.
Tiana fled over the shaking ground to the high place, there to hide her face against the rock. She pulled Kavan’s cloak tightly around her to ward off a shower of bouncing pebbles. The fragrance lingering on the cloak brought the dream back into her mind. She snorted. A god child, he’d said. How ridiculous! Everyone knew gods were not born to mortals. Uneasily, she remembered she and Kavan had genetic bonds to the gods.