All right. He’s Mihale and I’m Khatrene. Catherine Ennae is dead.
NOW 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. THE ELEMENT OF THIS WORLD IS EARTH.
And the element of my world was …?
THE ELEMENT OF YOUR PREVIOUS WORLD, MAGORIA, IS WATER.
Magoria? Okay, but if the element of Magoria is water, why wasn’t everything blue?
WHAT 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. YOUR ANCESTORS ARE NOT OF THIS WORLD. YET YOU BELONG HERE.
That was convenient. And you’re telling me I lived here?
UNTIL YOU WERE TEN.
Then why don’t I remember it?
TO 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.
YOU 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?
THE PRINCESS KHATRENE WILL NOT DIE.
She frowned. What? Not ever?
NEVER.
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?
THE PRINCESS KHATRENE WILL NOT DIE.
Oh. She thought about that. What you’re saying is that while I’m the Princess Khatrene, I will not die.
CORRECT.
But if I stop being the Princess Khatrene …?
YOU WILL BE SOMEONE ELSE.
Who will presumably die one day.
CORRECT.
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.
YOU 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.
HE IS A WARRIOR. BATTLE 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.
HE 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.
YOUR BROTHER SENDS HIS CHAMPION 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 …
FAITH.
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.
TALIS OF THE HOUSE OF GUARDIANS WILL NOT DIE THIS DAY.
Khatrene felt the tension leach out of her body. The fingernails that had been digging into her palms relaxed and she sighed, only to catch her breath again in a gasp. In the same second that she realised Talis was heading straight for her, she felt an arm come around her throat, dragging her up.
‘Monit!’ Talis shouted. ‘If you harm the White Princess, the blood of your loins will die by my hand and the hand of my House from this day forward.’ He halted two paces from her and stood, his breath coming fast, his sword half raised, eyes locked on the man whose sweaty arm was choking her.
Khatrene was terrified but the desperation on Talis’s face prompted her to action. She pulled on the Plainsman’s arm and gained enough space to breathe. ‘Talis, he’s not going to hurt me,’ she shouted, trying to get his attention.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Monit hissed in her ear, his breath only marginally fouler than the smell coming from his unwashed body.
Talis stiffened, the expression on his face so intent Khatrene wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.
You better be right, she told the voice. ‘Talis, listen to me. I’m not going to die, and neither are you.’
‘The White Princess knows all,’ Monit mocked, but she’d caught her Champion’s attention.
His gaze wavered and slid across to her e
yes. ‘How —’
All in a blur, Monit flung her aside and plunged his sword at Talis. Khatrene opened her mouth to cry out, but even as Talis was raising his sword to fend off the attack, Noorinya’s short blade drove through her lieutenant’s ribs. The force of her attack propelled Monit to Talis’s side where he fell with a choking sound that finally penetrated the cotton wool surrounding Khatrene’s emotions. A wave of anguish swept over her and she put a hand to her mouth, fearful the sickness would surge up from her stomach.
This is real. These people are real. I can feel it now.
AND SO WE BEGIN.
Though the fighting went on, Noorinya raised her head and howled, a chilling sound that seemed to reverberate through all the warriors around her. Then she dropped her blade and fell to her knees at Monit’s side, grief etching hard lines in her young face as she covered the wound with her hand. Khatrene’s fingers bit into her own arm to stop herself fainting. Monit’s violent death by such an unexpected hand had shocked her, the more so when fat tears slid down the Plainswoman’s dark cheeks.
‘Hold,’ Talis bellowed. ‘Still the fighting.’
Noorinya raised her head briefly and added her voice to his. ‘Plainsmen, hold. On your leader’s command I tell you to hold.’
An abrupt silence fell around them and Khatrene felt cocooned by it. She watched Talis crouch opposite Noorinya and cover her bloodstained hand with his own, an act that somehow comforted Khatrene as well. She had thought the Plainswoman solid and strong but beneath Talis’s large hand, Noorinya’s appeared delicate.
‘I will not forget that you saved my life,’ he told her.
Khatrene was moved by the compassion in his eyes.
‘Today I killed a friend to save an enemy,’ Noorinya replied. ‘This is not the warrior way.’
‘No,’ Talis agreed. ‘It is not.’
Noorinya looked up and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Standing above them, Khatrene felt like an intruder, and she wanted her brother then. She wanted to feel that sense of connection and caring that she could see between these two people, and hadn’t felt for so long herself, its absence was a physical ache inside her.
She wanted to hug Mihale and never let go. She wanted to see his smile and count his freckles and watch his eyes light up when excitement gripped him. She wanted to be his sister again, and more than anything, she wanted to tell him how much she loved him. Through all the dark lonely nights when she’d convinced herself he was dead, that was the one thing that had hurt the most — the fact that she’d never said those words out loud. She wanted that chance, and now she knew she’d do anything to get it.
‘I must leave,’ Talis said to Noorinya, and still they stared at each other.
At last the Plainswoman removed her hand. ‘You may take your force and withdraw unharmed,’ she said.
Talis turned to his Princess, his relieved expression conveying clearly that he had never lost sight of where his duty lay. ‘My Lady, we must leave,’ he said, coming to her side and offering his arm to help her.
Khatrene took it gratefully, ignoring the blood on his hands that now smeared onto hers. She wanted to thank him for saving her life, for doing whatever he’d had to do with the Plainswoman to buy them time, but …
ARE YOU THINKING HE DOESN’T DESERVE GRATITUDE FOR ENJOYING HIMSELF?
How do you know he enjoyed himself?
Silence.
Khatrene glanced back at the Plainswoman. Hesitated.
Did he?
Again there was no reply.
‘Moniiiiiiiiit,’ the Plainswoman wailed, her voice high and thin as she rocked over the body.
‘We must leave them to their grief, My Lady,’ Talis said and Khatrene dragged her gaze away, stumbling beside her Champion as he guided her past corpses, avoiding the proximity of the remaining Plainsmen who now stood with heads bowed, hands rubbing together in time with Noorinya’s rhythmic moans.
‘Talis, I …’
DO NOT SPEAK TO HIM OF MY PRESENCE. IF YOU TELL ANYONE, I WILL LEAVE.
I wasn’t going to. She pulled Talis to a stop, just short of where the dark coats waited, out of their hearing. ‘You saved my life,’ she said.
His eyes scanned the bloodied field before returning to hers, obviously eager to be away. ‘This is the task of a Champion,’ he said, dismissing her gratitude.
‘I can see it’s your job to fight for me, but I don’t think you would have been trained to do … whatever it was the Plainswoman wanted.’
Talis said nothing, neither could he meet her eye.
There were a strained couple of seconds before she added, ‘I could see you didn’t want to, and … anyway, I want you to know that I appreciate what you did for me.’ His shifting gaze slid into contact with hers and some hunger in his eyes compelled her to add, ‘I’ve never felt as safe with anyone as I feel with you.’ And to remind herself that he was her link to her brother, she took his hand and squeezed it. ‘While you’re around I can believe this isn’t all a dream. I know you’ll take me to my brother.’
Talis nodded, his eyes solemn. ‘I was the Champion of your forgotten childhood, Princess,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps this gives you confidence in my skills.’
‘There is something … familiar about you,’ she said, her gaze caught on his. Inside her an emotion stirred. Excitement? Gratitude? She struggled to pin it down. Was it a childhood memory, or simply the fact that Mihale’s descriptions of the White Twins’ Champion was fleshed out before her? Talis certainly displayed all the valour and courage he had shown in Mihale’s stories. She wished now that she’d paid more attention to her brother’s recitation of the battle scenes. It was information that might prove useful in the near future.
In her peripheral Khatrene saw one of the dark coats approaching and in the next moment felt Talis tactfully slip his hand out of hers. A much older man with a luxuriant beard and long faded hair that matched Talis’s, two thin plaits at the front, stopped in front of them.
‘Princess Khatrene.’ The old man bowed respectfully, but as his gaze rose to encompass her face inside its hood, she saw his surprise.
I’m supposed to be thirteen, she reminded herself.
Talis too, must have seen his expression. ‘Uncle, I would introduce you to our King’s sister who has been many years away from her home and does not remember it.’ He grasped the older man’s upper arm and turned to her. ‘My Lady, may I introduce my uncle, the Battle Captain Laroque, head of the House of Guardians to which I belong. Uncle, the Princess Khatrene.’
Laroque dropped heavily to one knee and Khatrene struggled to hold back laughter. Being called ‘My Lady’ was bad enough, but kneeling? Still, she managed a gracious smile by the time he had raised his head, and even inclined her own regally as she supposed a princess should. ‘Your nephew is very brave,’ she said, taking the old man’s hand and helping him to rise. ‘I couldn’t wish for a better Champion.’
Laroque nodded at this, despite the worry still lining his eyes. ‘It pleases me to hear you bestow honour on the House of Guardians … My Lady.’ He appeared to accept Talis’s word that she was Khatrene, but to be sure, she pushed back the hood of her borrowed cloak and shook her head, setting her long blonde hair swirling around her face.
Gasps rose from the group of remaining dark coats and Laroque stilled them with a gesture. He turned to Talis. ‘We must be away before the Plainsmen stir again.’
‘I hear you, Uncle,’ Talis said. Then to Khatrene, ‘We are many days’ jo
urney from your brother, My Lady —’ He broke off, frowning as Laroque gestured one of his men forward. A tall dark coat broke away from the group and loped over.
Laroque turned back to her. ‘If you will bend to my will, Princess, I would have you escorted by my son Pagan while we make our escape. I must confer with your Champion.’
‘But …’ Khatrene looked to Talis and found his frown deepening. She was still trying to cope with the knowledge that they were ‘many days’ journey’ from Mihale. She’d expected to find him quickly.
‘Here is my son who is a Guardian in training.’ Laroque laid a hand on the young man’s broad shoulder. ‘Pagan, you will be the Princess Khatrene’s strength while her Champion is occupied.’
The dark coat looked her up and down with considerably less respect than she’d received thus far and merely nodded, apparently unconcerned by her age.
Khatrene returned the favour, and found herself doing a double-take. Pagan of the House of Guardians was young, extremely good-looking, and trying hard to hide a smirk.
Laroque turned back to her, ‘Do I have your leave, Princess?’
Khatrene shook her head. She wasn’t sure how he’d take this but a bad idea was a bad idea. ‘No. I’m sorry, but you don’t have “my leave�. I want to stay with Talis.’ What if they were attacked again? Could this Pagan even fight? Talis was covered in blood but this boy’s long dark hair was so glossy and clean it looked as though he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. Mihale’s bedtime stories had been full of danger; fierce Plainsmen, the outcast Raiders, stealthy assassins. Not to mention evil swamps. mountains of madness and enchanted lakes.
Laroque softened his voice but it was just as insistent. ‘My Lady, I must discuss with your Champion the direction of our journey.’
Talis didn’t look thrilled either, but he had already taken a step away from her. ‘I will not be far away, Princess,’ he said.
To which the voice added, YOU WILL BE SAFE.
She looked from Talis to Laroque, then grudgingly nodded. ‘All right. But don’t go where I can’t see you.’
Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1 Page 5