Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1

by Louise Cusack

  ‘Where are the stars?’ she whispered.

  Talis tugged on her arm. ‘My Lady, we must hurry.’

  Khatrene shook her head. I’m not even in the same universe …

  YOU MUST MOVE PAST YOUR LIMITED CONCEPTIONS IF YOU ARE TO FULFIL YOUR DESTINY.

  I can’t even begin to … The emptiness of that sky was just too impossible.

  WHERE ARE YOUR EMOTIONS?

  Mihale. She forced herself to focus on her brother. He was waiting for her on that mountain with its sides of rippled rock, like sheets of corrugated iron propped up to form a base. She kept her attention on its structure, struggling to hold her gaze away from the sky. High above her the top was flattened off and covered by forest. From within that thick vegetation rose a monolith.

  Khatrene swallowed and felt her credulity buffeted again. ‘Is that …?’

  ‘The Volcastle, My Lady. You will see it soon enough.’

  ‘But not like this.’ Up close it would be all walls, heavy and imposing. Khatrene knew instinctively that only from a distance-would she see it in its entirety. ‘It’s … huge.’

  ‘You see only the outer battlement housing the guard stations, My Lady.’ He pointed to the towers that were spaced at intervals along an enormous, circular stone wall. Faint light glowed from within them, as though the occupants had fires to keep them warm. ‘Your brother’s castle lies within that wall, as do a great many people. Your subjects.’

  Khatrene closed her eyes briefly. Mihale. She had to keep her thoughts on her brother or she’d be overwhelmed.

  Talis pulled gently on her arm and they ran across the open space and onto a rocky path where the shadow of the mountain disguised their passage. Ahead of them, Pagan climbed stealthy as a cat, while Khatrene scrambled and knocked stones loose with Talis at her side trying to minimise the noise and keep her from falling on her face.

  They stopped every ten minutes to listen for sounds of pursuit, but there were never any noises to be heard above the sound of Khatrene’s laboured breathing.

  Two hours into the climb Talis pulled her to a halt and she raised her head from trying to see her feet amid the shadows. A glow was coming from ahead of them and Talis’s hand on her arm tightened. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. The path was barely wide enough for two with a cliff face on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Backing down the path was their only option, and after a few tense seconds she realised they were going to wait.

  A metal sliding noise alerted her to the fact that Talis and Pagan had both drawn their swords, but a moment later they were putting them back and Talis released her arm.

  ‘Ho, Kert of Sh’hale,’ Pagan called.

  A lean man at the front of the approaching group called back, ‘Ho, Pagan of the House of Guardians. We come at the King’s request to escort you.’

  Talis was silent until the group of men halted in front of them. Khatrene shot a glance over the troop and was disappointed to find no tattoos. Interestingly, all of them wore pale shirts and dark trousers, presumably a uniform of some type. In sharp contrast to her party’s muddy attire, their clothing was crisp and clean.

  Their leader, Kert, whom Pagan obviously knew, was dressed in darkest brown set off by an impressive gold sword belt and a cloak that glowed in the torchlight like the softest silk. She resisted the urge to step forward and touch it.

  Talis pointed to their torches. ‘Have you secured the route, Sh’hale, that you make such a show of our position?’

  Khatrene glanced at Talis, thinking so much for hello. Obviously he wasn’t as friendly with this Kert as Pagan was.

  Instead of replying to these accusations, Kert dropped to one knee before Khatrene and bowed his head. ‘It is an honour to serve the White Princess,’ he said.

  To her consternation, the ten or so men behind him all did the same, their sword sheaths rattling against the rocks at their feet, the glow of their torches now close to the ground, throwing the mountainside into deeper shadow.

  ‘You’re … welcome,’ she said, glancing to Talis for support. She’d been so long in his and Pagan’s company, she’d forgotten she was special. The men stayed where they were and it wasn’t until Pagan nudged her and made a rising gesture with his hand that she caught on.

  ‘Okay … Please stand up,’ she said, feeling as though she ought to add Simon says.

  DO NOT MOCK THE THRONE, the voice warned her as the men in front of her rose.

  Well, you could be a little more help here, she snapped back, growing tired of the imperious way the voice berated her.

  ‘My Lady.’ Pagan nudged her again and she dragged her attention back.

  Talis and Kert were staring each other down and she could sense a storm of testosterone brewing. It unnerved her, and instinctively she moved closer to Talis.

  ‘Can we go?’ she said. ‘I’m eager to see my brother.’

  Kert spoke before Talis had the chance. ‘The King awaits your presence, My Lady. If you will come with me.’ He gestured for her to accompany him, without bothering to ask or even look at Talis and that settled it for Khatrene.

  ‘I’d feel safer with my Champion,’ she said, and took Talis’s arm.

  Kert didn’t miss a beat. ‘As you wish, My Lady. But perhaps before we meet your royal brother, you would prefer to exchange your muddied rag for a fresh cloak.’ In a sweeping movement he shed his own cloak and held it out to her. It shimmered in the torchlight and she could imagine how soft it was. But rude?

  If this was the husband her brother had picked he’d have a real fight on his hands. She looked Kert in the eye, and said, ‘I prefer my … rag,’ straightening her shoulders inside Talis’s worse-for-wear cloak.

  Kert bowed low, more to hide the expression on his face than out of deference, she suspected. ‘If My Lady would follow with her Champion,’ and set off ahead with half his troop. The remainder stood back against the rock wall to let them pass before falling in behind.

  Pagan loped ahead to walk beside Kert, but ten paces behind, Khatrene kept her hand on Talis’s arm and concentrated on maintaining her footing, the unpleasant conversation already forgotten. For the first time in a decade she was about to see her brother and compared to that, Kert Sh’hale was a blip on her radar.

  They rounded a corner and the moon paved their way with ghostly light. Khatrene found her feet weren’t slipping nearly as much. The vegetation was sparse but she could smell it on the wind, and once when she stopped to stretch she saw the shadow of a vast forest above her. Beyond that, however, lay the frighteningly empty sky. Khatrene quickly dropped her head and pushed on. Soon their trail curved around another corner and over a hillock and suddenly they were walking on flat ground amid towering trees. No blurring of the demarcation line. One minute they were on a rocky hillside in the moonlight, the next walking through the deep shadows of a thick forest which thankfully obliterated her view of the sky.

  Even better. Khatrene was elated to discover real trees at last. Tall and thin with glossy bark and a high canopy, they looked like eucalypts and smelt like roast cashews. She reached a hand out to touch one as they passed and then drew it back in surprise. The bark appeared smooth and firm, but was actually covered with fine hairs. Even as she raised her hand, they started to sting her.

  ‘Talis,’ she said, her eyes opening wider as the pain increased. ‘I’ve hurt my hand. I touched the tree and —’ she had to stop talking because the stinging was intense.

  ‘My Lady?’ He took her extended hand and held it to the light of his torch. ‘You must not touch the trees here. They sense emotions and if you are upset —’

  ‘I�
�€™m upset now,’ she said, ‘and thanks for the warning.’ Her eyes watered and her breath came in hiccupped gasps. ‘Can you get them out?’

  Kert and Pagan backtracked. ‘The Princess is harmed?’ Kert asked, somehow turning the simple question into an accusation.

  Talis ignored him and said to Khatrene, ‘My Lady, if you will clench your wrist with your undamaged hand to halt the flow of blood.’

  Khatrene was panting the pain was so bad, but she did as he told her to. ‘Are the trees poisonous?’ she asked.

  Kert made a sound of contempt. ‘You did not think to warn your Princess —’ then halted when both Khatrene and Talis turned to glare at him. ‘Talis handed his torch to Pagan and tilted her hand closer to its light.

  ‘Can you make the pain stop?’ she asked from between clenched teeth.

  Talis was frowning. ‘In good light I would remove the spurs first, My Lady, and then see to the pain but… We do not have the time.’ He flattened out her palm and then nodded to Pagan. ‘Come, Apprentice,’ he said, ‘show us your valour.’

  Pagan sighed elaborately and held out his hand. Talis placed it directly over hers and pressed the fingertips together.

  Khatrene had to shut her eyes and clench her teeth even harder on the jolt of pain that action produced, but miraculously, a second later it was all gone; tingling, pain, everything. She opened her eyes to find Talis inspecting her fingers with a faint smile on his lips.

  ‘Well done, Cous,’ Pagan said, his voice strained. He was holding his wrist the same way she’d held hers. ‘The Princess was obviously most upset when she aroused the spurs.’

  Talis released her hand. ‘My Lady, we must move on.’

  ‘Did you …?’ She glanced at Pagan who was taking deep even breaths, the hand that had touched hers held out in front of him. He managed a jerky nod in her direction before turning to scamper after Kert.

  Talis watched him go and then turned back to her. ‘A warrior must learn to bear pain,’ he said.

  Khatrene was incredulous, and her expression likely showed it. Talis, however … ‘Are you smiling?’ she asked him. She couldn’t see the dimples but his eyes were sparkling a little too brightly for the solemn expression on his face.

  ‘My Lady,’ he protested, ‘what base character would it show to take pleasure in the discomfort of my cousin?’

  They looked at each other a moment before she said, ‘Liar,’ and shook her head. ‘Torturing your own flesh and blood.’

  ‘Has he not tortured us these past days with his endless bragging?’

  Khatrene thought about that. ‘You will take the stingers out when we get to the castle?’

  ‘My first duty,’ Talis assured her with an obedient inclination of his head. ‘And if My Lady would refrain from touching these particular trees unless her mind is completely calm. The spurs invigorate a weary traveller,’ he explained, ‘but I fear your excitement at your reunion with the King has roused them to anger.’

  ‘Who would have guessed?’ she said pointedly, but she couldn’t be angry with Talis. He was simply too nice, which was most infuriating.

  They set off again and Khatrene quickly lost herself in speculation; about Mihale and the tattooed man, and how her life would be irrevocably altered from the moment she walked into her brother’s castle.

  Playing princess had been fun. Accepting the responsibilities that went with the title might be something else altogether.

  Minutes, or maybe an hour later, Talis shocked her out of her increasingly bleak thoughts by saying, ‘These are the outer battlements, My Lady. Your journey is at its end.’

  Khatrene felt anxiety gnaw at her stomach. They’d reached the edge of the forest and a hundred metres of clear, moonlit ground stood between them and a pale stone wall so high she had to crane her neck to see its top. Directly before them a huge wooden door panel was even now being raised to admit them.

  ‘Come, My Lady, your brother is within.’

  Khatrene knew this place. It was the same feeling she’d had at the Shrine, not a memory she could grasp, but recognition all the same. She’d been here before.

  Talis set off and she walked silently beside him as they crossed the open ground, but for some reason each footstep was more reluctant than the one before. They entered the arched portal and turned sharp left into a dark tunnel.

  ‘Defence against intruders,’ Talis explained. ‘Two hundred strides into the tunnel, wind is channelled to extinguish the torches. An enemy is forced to stumble forward in darkness, emerging into the courtyard to find blinding light and sharp arrows.’

  ‘Really?’ Khatrene tried to look interested in the huge stone blocks around them, some larger than herself, but the flickering torchlight cast ominous shadows and the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her chest grew larger and more choking by the minute.

  Imperceptibly at first, her footsteps began to slow and Talis’s with her. Eventually they were stopped and looking at each other.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to do this now,’ she said softly. ‘I’m scared.’ Actually, scared was an understatement. Khatrene was terrified, and she hated the idea that she was feeling anything other than joy at seeing her brother again.

  Talis was taking her seriously. ‘What do you fear, My Lady?’

  She searched his eyes. ‘Lots of things. Dying. Finding out my brother isn’t the same person I remember. Being married to someone I won’t like. Being trapped here.’

  ‘My Lady, you belong here.’

  ‘But what if I don’t want to stay? Can you send me back if I don’t like it?’

  Talis simply gazed at her and the fear inside her fed on his silence. ‘My Lady,’ he replied at last, his voice low. ‘Your life there was lost. You must never return to Magoria.’

  ‘What do you mean, never?’ Her throat felt as though it were closing over.

  You DIED IN MAGORIA. YOU MAY ONLY GO BACK AS A CORPSE.

  No compassion, just the facts.

  I’m stuck here?

  CORRECT.

  But … it’s your fault. You told me to jump off the cliff. Did you want me to be trapped?

  YES.

  ‘No.’ Khatrene was right next to Talis but she felt as though she was receding from his presence, losing herself in isolation and fear. ‘I’m so scared,’ she whispered, and for the first time since she’d know him, Talis touched her of his own volition. In the gloomy shadows of the echoing tunnel his large, warm hand reached out and closed over her icy fingers. It felt like the sun after a storm.

  ‘I will be your strength, Khatrene,’ he said softly, looking deep into her eyes, ‘and I will keep you from harm.’

  They stared at each other and finally she nodded. ‘I know you will,’ she said, and the words chased away her fear. She swallowed hard. ‘So much for acting like a princess.’

  ‘Do you think that a princess is never frightened?’ he asked.

  ‘Well…’ She shrugged, embarrassed now. ‘Maybe it’s okay to be frightened but I’m probably not supposed to show it.’

  Talis didn’t reply immediately and she found her gaze straying to his large hand which had closed over her own. With the exception of a doctor, no-one had touched her in the last ten years; her mother too sick to hug, her brother gone. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the touch of another human being, until she had it now, and how comforting Talis’s touch was. She’d linked him so successfully in her mind with Mihale that it felt almost lik
e having another brother.

  ‘I wish you had come with me to Magoria when I was ten,’ she told him. ‘I could have used this sort of reassurance a couple of million times.’

  ‘I would have accompanied you, Princess, but the Sacred Pool may only be crossed by descendants of the Ancients.’

  ‘Royalty?’ There was that elite system again.

  Pagan loomed out of the darkness ahead, his face pinched and pale. ‘Cous?’ he panted. He was still holding his wrist.

  ‘Oh, Pagan, I’m so sorry,’ Khatrene said. ‘We’re just coming now.’

  He nodded and loped ahead, obviously not requiring the light to find his way. They followed more slowly. Beside her Talis was silent but Khatrene still felt comforted to have him near.

  Moments later a gust of wind extinguished their torch and Talis took her arm, guiding her ahead in the darkness. She started to count her footsteps and had reached a hundred and five when they rounded a bend and emerged into a courtyard flooded with light.

  Instinctively she threw up a hand, covering her eyes. Talis released her arm and she sensed rather than saw him move away. She was about to call out to him when she heard a voice say, ‘Khatter. Look at you.’

  Khatrene felt the hairs on her arms prickle. Squinting against the glare, she lowered her arm.

  ‘You are so old,’ he said.

  She shook her head, smiling. ‘You’re so young.’

  It was her brother. The brother time had taken from her.

  Peripherally she saw gold; clothes, shoes, some sort of crown. But at the centre of her vision was a face from her past. The eyes she’d remembered so well; green as grass just like her own and crinkled at the edges with wry humour. Shoulder length blond hair tucked behind his ears. Freckles

  All she could do was shake her head. ‘Michael …’ The next thing she knew she was in his arms, crying, laughing, and he was patting her hair, hugging her, calming her hysteria.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s all right,’ he kept saying but that’s why she was crying. Because finally it was all right. She had her brother back, and the moment she’d looked into his eyes every misgiving she’d had about coming to Ennae disappeared. Her heart felt as though it would explode with happiness.