Again the bundle moved and Noorinya’s smile widened. ‘Your burden would make itself known,’ she said.
Talis frowned. ‘As you honour the debt you owe me, I beg you to release me now.’ He took a test step away from her but Noorinya shook her head.
Behind the Champion Monit made a motion to cut the bundle away but Noorinya flicked a finger to negate the act. She would know this now, but she would not unman the Champion any more than he had unmanned himself.
She drew her sword and short knife and laid them at her feet, nodding for the others to move well back. Then she raised open hands and stepped close enough for her coarse breast-bindings and matted hair to brush the protective arm guarding his burden. ‘I am your friend, Champion,’ she said. ‘We share the battle brotherhood.’
Talis shook his head. ‘I am my King’s servant and no friend to the Plainsmen.’
‘Yet you saved my life.’
‘I protected a son of the House Sh’hale from dishonouring himself. That is all.’
‘Yet The Dark has said that all Plainsmen must die.’
He held her gaze and said nothing.
Noorinya knew it was time.
She took a clear-breath and calmed her body. ‘If you will not show me that your burden is worthless I will think it a treasure and fight you for it.’
Again the men murmured but this time Monit silenced them without need of prodding. Noorinya kept her attention on the Champion. She lowered her hands slowly and laid them across the dark fabric of his cloak. There was a body beneath her hands, no doubt. Soft, and alive. ‘Is this King’s business, or Champion’s business?’ she asked him.
Talis said nothing.
‘I think my men came upon you before you could prove yourself a man.’ She smiled again. ‘And in the confusion of your thwarted desires you were easily caught.’
Despite the tension in his arms, the Champion found courage to return her smile. ‘It is true, a woman can make a man weak.’
Noorinya lowered her voice. ‘I would have you puddle into the cracks at my feet, Champion.’
They regarded each other silently for a moment before he said, ‘Not this day.’
Noorinya nodded. She would never have this man as ally, but by the powers she would get him to her bed, there to sire on her a warrior such as the Plainsmen had never seen before. And while he was there, she would give him such pleasure as would make him dream of her forever. This was the message of the memory stone which in such close proximity to the object of its interest now throbbed at her throat. ‘The time will come,’ she said.
Talis saw invitation in the Plainswoman’s eyes. What he didn’t see were her fingers on the edge of his cloak until she had torn it back to reveal the face he had hitherto concealed.
Noorinya gasped, ‘Blood of the Ancients,’ and made a warding gesture before jumping to regain her weapons. As Talis had dreaded, the sharp contrast between the royal hue of his charge and the colouring of their land made her identity clear. Only one other in the kingdom matched her; her royal twin, Mihale.
‘Stay,’ Talis shouted, ‘all of you keep back,’ as the Plainsman drew swords and tightened the circle.
The Princess pushed at his chest and Talis set her to her feet. ‘Who are these people?’ she asked, wavering and then clinging to his arm, reminding Talis of the weakened state of her body. Then she stiffened. ‘They’ve got swords.’
‘They are Plainsmen, My Lady,’ he replied. ‘Sworn enemies of your brother.’
‘Plainsmen,’ she repeated, then frowned as though searching out memories Talis knew were in his own keeping. ‘Plainsmen are … dangerous. But Guardians have powers. Can’t you magic us away?’
‘My Lady.’ He struggled to control his own fears for her life. ‘Guardian power heals. It opens the way between the worlds. That is all. I cannot “magic us away�.’
‘Then …?’
‘We must stand and fight and you must trust me for your safety.’ Talis risked a glance at Noorinya’s men. The patrol was poised to attack yet were not advancing. He looked back to the Princess and feared he had no words to make the strange appear familiar to her.
Her answering gaze was intense. ‘Are you going to take me to my brother?’
‘I give you my solemn vow —’
‘Then I’m going to trust you.’ She looked at the Plainsmen around them, then back to Talis’s drawn sword. ‘Are you a good fighter?’ she asked.
Talis nodded and he called to Noorinya, ‘Release us now and you will not be harmed.’ He was his King’s First Man and he would not let the White Princess die.
Noorinya shook her head. ‘Her brother is my enemy. I will have her life.’
Monit clapped a fist against the hilt of his sword. ‘Best we kill them both and hide their bodies.’
There was muttering of agreement from the other Plainsmen at this.
‘I would honour my debt to you,’ Noorinya called to Talis. ‘Stand aside, Champion, and live.’
Talis was shaking his head even as Monit called to her, ‘For what purpose?’
Noorinya glared at her lieutenant. ‘For any purpose I choose, Monit. ‘This is my right as leader.’
‘Not if it threatens the safety of the tribe.’
‘I would have him live.’
‘So you can keep him here as a tame bed-warmer?’ The scorn in Monit’s voice was enough to turn Noorinya’s knife in his direction. Talis saw his chance. While they fought he would break for freedom.
‘My Lady, prepare to flee,’ he whispered.
‘Wait,’ the Princess said, and stared out past the crude Plainsman shelters into the golden mist. Her head was tilted, as though straining to hear a faint voice. ‘Tell them they can ransom me to my brother,’ she said softly. ‘Keep them busy with negotiations. Help is on its way.’
‘My Lady, how can you —’
She looked up into his eyes and Talis felt the storm inside himself stir. ‘I trusted you. Now you must trust me,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘I will die with that trust in my heart,’ he said softly and lowered his sword. ‘Noorinya of the Plainsmen,’ he called. ‘Cease this bickering.’ The Plainsmen around them fell silent. Noorinya drew herself up to her full height, nearly the height of Talis himself, and turned scornful eyes on him. ‘I call you to parley,’ Talis said. ‘Will you negotiate on behalf of your people for the ransom of the White Princess?’
‘Ransom?’ called a voice from the circle, and a thrill of excitement ran through the tribe which Monit had difficulty stilling.
Noorinya sheathed her weapons and placed her hands behind her back. As one, every person in the camp fell silent, even the children who had come out to peer from behind shelters. The import of the gesture was not lost on Talis. For a Plainsman to speak only with voice denoted utter sincerity. There could be no nuance of gesture, only straight truth.
‘What coin does your King offer for the safe return of the White Princess?’ she asked.
Talis glanced at his Princess and then back to Noorinya, lost for a moment in the differences between the two women. While the Plainswoman was dark, solid and fierce, his Princess seemed as insubstantial as a cloud. He did not hold the purse-strings of the royal treasury, but he would give all he owned to keep her from harm. Surely her brother would do no less.
‘Our Lord and King Mihale will gift you treasure beyond your dreamings to guarantee the safety of his royal sister.’
&n
bsp; Murmurs of approval showed him the Plainsmen were won, but Noorinya was not.
‘Count these treasures by name,’ she ordered, her expression unmoved.
Talis knew he had no authority to offer royal coin but at a nod from his Princess he speculated on what he imagined lay at wait in his King’s treasury.
‘Gilded bowls and jewelled clothing will not feed the empty bellies of our children,’ Noorinya said at last. ‘We need food, Champion. The cold times come. We must have stores for when we retreat to the mountains.’
Talis nodded. He had seen their leanness. ‘My Lord and King has a bountiful store.’
‘Then I would rob it,’ she said.
‘I would have a jewelled vest,’ Monit called.
Noorinya didn’t turn. ‘That is why I am leader,’ she said. Chuckles arose from the men of his patrol and the other Plainsmen who had gathered outside the circle.
‘I say we kill them anyway,’ Monit snarled and Talis felt again the fingers of his Princess bite into his arm.
Noorinya turned to face her lieutenant, ‘I think you are jealous, Monit,’ she said, the scorn in her voice like a whip lashing out. ‘I think you see pleasure in the gaze I lay on the Champion and you would kill him to keep warm the dream that I will share your bed.’
Monit was silent.
‘You are not the one I choose,’ she said, then turned back to Talis. ‘There is one more condition to my bargain, Champion.’
Talis felt a prickling omen. ‘Speak it.’
‘You will lie with me as a man with a woman and then I will let your precious Princess live.’
A murmur of interest ran through the Plainsmen before they fell silent.
Heat overwhelmed Talis and he felt the Princess’s fingers release his arm.
‘Speak, Champion,’ Noorinya ordered, hands still behind her back. ‘Unless you would rather pray to your Great Guardian to save her.’
‘I am sworn to remain at the side of the White Princess,’ he said.
Noorinya smiled a knowing woman’s smile. Her hands fell to her sides and she shrugged, a gesture that carried nuances unknown to Talis. The men of the patrol laughed heartily. Monit alone was silent. ‘If you wish her to watch,’ Noorinya said, ‘I’ll warrant she’ll learn a trade.’
Talis felt heat on heat. ‘Such was not my meaning as you well know.’
‘I know your meaning, son of the House of Guardians. Now I would know the honour of your Champion’s vow,’ Noorinya demanded. ‘Will you protect the White Princess with your body?’
Sniggers rose around them and Talis was torn between duty and honour. He felt the battle fury grow in him. When Noorinya approached he raised his sword to hold her. ‘That is not the vow at issue,’ he said, his eyes locked with the Plainswoman’s. ‘I am betrothed and will not lie with another.’
‘You must decide between vows, Champion,’ Noorinya said in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Because if you do not lie with me now, your Princess will die.’
‘… 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 wo
rk 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?
THIS 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.
YOUR MIND HAS YET TO CATCH UP WITH YOUR BODY.
Then help me. Tell me how I got here.
THE GUARDIAN TALIS USED HIS POWERS TO RETURN YOU FROM EXILE IN MAGORIA TO THE KINGDOM OF ENNAE.
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.
DO 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.
MIHALE. HIS NAME IS MIHALE AND YOU ARE KHATRENE. YOU MUST BELIEVE.
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