Then it came, muted sounds of blade against blade.
Lae wouldn’t let herself consider the possibility that Pagan might not be coming back. The stupid boy thought himself indestructible.
Hush stroked her arm, then tapped upon it. Lae felt two fingers walking up to her shoulder. Then beside those, another two fingers.
You’ll bring him back?’ she asked.
Hush patted the place where a moment before her fingers had walked. Then Lae felt the air beside her move. Several seconds later she realised she was alone. And frightened.
The sound of swords meeting continued and she took comfort from that. While there was battle, Pagan lived. There was hope that they could yet rescue The Light. If she was to be taken to her Champion, they needed Pagan. She needed Pagan.
Moments, or perhaps minutes later the sound of battle ceased and there was nothing but silence. Heavy, ominous silence.
Lae clamped her lips shut, knowing she must wait quietly, trusting that Pagan had proved victorious, and that Hush would lead him back. She strained her ears yet heard nothing at all and wondered why he did not call out a greeting. He must know that she would be wondering if he had survived, and that the sound of his voice would calm her fears.
Yet how strange, she thought suddenly, that the sound of Pagan’s voice should ever calm her, when before it had only brought argument.
Finally she heard footsteps approach and she squeezed Khatrene’s fingers so tightly she was sure it would rouse her. The glow of an approaching torch lit the tunnel ahead and Lae braced herself.
‘The triumphant warrior returns,’ Pagan said, as he stepped into the tunnel, his expression so smug Lae wanted to release her tension by slapping it off his face, Hush danced in behind him, her eyes alight with excitement and admiration, which had no doubt encouraged Pagan to believe himself worthy of much esteem.
It was on Lae’s tongue to tell him just how low she esteemed him when she noted that one sleeve of his shirt was torn and bloodied.
He saw her gaze of concern and shrugged it off. ‘A scratch.’
‘Heal it,’ Lae demanded and Pagan raised his brows.
‘Your voice has its sharpened edge back,’ he commented, and turned to say to Hush, ‘Perhaps your friend feared to lose her new betrothed before we had even shared a kiss.’ His gaze swung back to Lae, eyes glittering with challenge.
Hush raised a hand to her chest in shock, then fluttered at Lae about embraces and children.
Lae waved her query away sharply and turned a thunderous expression on her new ‘betrothed’. Her words when they came were deliberate and clear. ‘Hear this, boy,’ she said. ‘I do not care for you at all. Not for your conversation, or your fighting skills and most certainly not for your kiss. I care to see your arm healed so that you can carry The Light. You are transportation, nothing more.’
Pagan’s smile softened. ‘And here I thought you might have feared for my life.’
Lae’s mouth twitched yet she said nothing, and neither did he as he handed the torch to Hush who, now embarrassed, could barely meet his eyes. She put it on the ground.
He took off his jacket and then pulled his shirt off over his head, covering the sliced flesh of his upper arm with one hand. Then he closed his eyes and began to mouth words. Lae watched him a moment, her attention lingering on the wide, smooth chest he had revealed. Then she frowned and turned away.
‘Hush,’ she called softly, and waved her friend over. Hush tiptoed around Pagan, keeping her eyes averted, and came to crouch beside Lae, plucking at her short dress in agitation. Pagan and I are taking The Light to the Plains,’ Lae whispered. ‘Will you come with us?’
Hush shook her head, the golden orbs of her eyes large and luminous. She looked down at her hands and made a gesture of separation, the splitting of palms she used to indicate privacy.
Lae frowned. ‘You want to be alone?’
Hush shook her head. Pointed to Lae, to Pagan.
Lae snatched her arm. ‘Just because I might marry him doesn’t mean —’
Hush chopped her hands together and pointed at Lae’s eyes and then again at Pagan.
Lae pressed her lips together, knowing very well what her friend meant. Hush had seen something in the way she looked at Pagan. And in truth Lae did look at him differently now. But that didn’t mean she disliked him any the less. ‘I want you to stay,’ she said.
Hush shook her head. She made the leaving signal, with one hand slapping off the other.
‘No.’
‘Shall I take up my burden now?’ Pagan asked, standing over them.
Lae let her friend’s arm go and stood to face her enemy. She glanced at his arm and saw that it was completely healed. Talis himself could have done no better. Obviously the boy’s Guardian was strong but Lae would be the last one to compliment him.
‘The Light is cold and wet. Give me your shirt,’ she said and snatched it out of his hand. ‘Now look away,’ she instructed, as she crouched to lift Khatrene from the floor. At a gesture from Lae, Hush stepped to the other side of their sleeping Princess and both women looked expectantly at Pagan.
He grunted and turned his back to them, crossing his arms.
Satisfied, Lae removed the satchel and unlaced Khatrene’s sodden gown, then with Hush’s help, she struggled her limp patient out of her clothes and into the overlarge shirt of her temporary Champion.
A quick glance at Pagan’s back showed Lae that he continued to obey her, and pondering this anomaly all but distracted her from the broad shoulders that rose and fell as he waited for her to finish her task. Though not as solid as Talis, Pagan’s lean form was far from unattractive. ‘I am done,’ she said, still cradling Khatrene’s limp head against her chest. ‘Yet why has she not woken?’
‘Her vitality was low,’ Pagan said. ‘I gave her a healing sleep.’
Lae raised an eyebrow at this. She hoped his Guardian lessons were well advanced. Talis would not thank him for practising his art on the most important mother in their history.
Hush rose gracefully to her trotters and fluttered a farewell, her gaze skidding off Pagan before she darted from the tunnel.
‘Farewell,’ Lae called after her, then turned to face Pagan whose gaze centred on the ill-dressed Khatter, her bare legs exposed by the inadequate length of his shirt.
‘You may now carry The Light and I will lead us to the Plains,’ Lae said.
Pagan stepped forward to obey, a little too eagerly it seemed to Lae.
‘But know this, son of the House of Guardians,’ she said coldly, waiting until she had caught his eye. ‘If you take any liberty with my friend Khatter while she lies unprotected in your arms, I will see that you do not live to brag about it.’
Pagan gave Lae a look of affront, and in truth his tone was injured. ‘Do you think I would dishonour my House in such a way?’ he said softly, as though The Light herself might hear. ‘Tell this to Talis and before he kills me I will call you a liar.’
No quick retort rose to Lae’s lips, and she found herself embarrassed, a sure way to fire her anger. ‘I do not know what you are capable of,’ she hissed, pushing Khatrene into his arms, then struggling awkwardly to her feet and snatching up The Light’s satchel.
Pagan gathered The Light to his chest and rose. ‘It appears you do not,’ he said quietly.
Lae would not meet his gaze, and instead found distraction in the movement of his arms, where muscles smooth as flowing water moved beneath the skin. The Light’s cheek now lay against his chest, and Lae found her hand trembling as she adjusted his shirt, the better to cover Khatter should Pagan prove false. This accomplished, she glanced up and
found his scrutiny not on the scantily covered body of The Light, but on herself.
‘It is best we leave,’ she said softly.
Pagan nodded.
Lae nodded in return, yet it was a moment before she turned to retrieve the torch and light their way. Her feet led her forward, to a tunnel they had come out of and then on to the side tunnels skirting the cliffs. It was the same route Hush had led her on when Lae had fled her father months before.
Though she was not awake and aware, here was another woman, his own wife, fleeing him with just such fear in her heart. Lae hoped she would have the opportunity to ask Khatter what had happened before she disappeared into exile. For it was indeed strange to hear that her father had locked his wife away from the world, and even her own Champion.
Lae’s thoughts moved on then, to Talis and their lost betrothal. And to Pagan’s vow to take his cousin’s place. Curiosity woke her tongue.
‘Pagan,’ she said, not slowing her pace.
‘I am here,’ he replied, a few steps behind her.
‘Truthfully … did you promise to marry me?’ A simple question, yet Lae held her breath waiting for his answer.
‘Aye,’ Pagan said. ‘I promised I would. Your father has wealth and influence. I will be well made with such a match.’
‘Indeed?’ A day ago Lae would have added the sharp edge of her tongue to the argument. Yet now she sensed … no, within herself she knew, that fortune meant little to Pagan, just as it had to Talis. Why then would he agree to such a merger? Was it only duty to his cousin? Lae had to know. ‘What would you say if I choose Sh’hale instead?’
‘I would say you are a fool,’ Pagan replied, ‘and that your fate will be no better than The Light’s.’
Lae paused at the juncture of two tunnels and turned back to check on Khatrene. The Light still lay as though sleeping, resting comfortably in the arms of the man who had been Lae’s nemesis and apparently was no more. Exertion had wrung beads of perspiration from him and they oiled his skin to glistening in the soft torchlight.
‘Your friend is safe from harm,’ Pagan said, and when Lae looked, she found him watching her again.
‘The way is long. Can you manage?’ she asked.
Pagan nodded. ‘And do not fear that if you drop the brand I will flee into the darkness.’
Lae had to smile, remembering her flight from Pagan in her mother’s family Shrine. He had been furious, yet now he smiled at the memory.
Quickly then into Lae’s mind came another memory, of Pagan in the Volcastle gardens scolding her for her dealings with Sh’hale, accusing her of inviting flattery. Had those been the actions of a man intent on protecting the honour of his cousin, or of a man with jealousy in his heart? Lae felt wonder at this new thought. Perhaps there had been a sort of affection in his jibes that she’d known nothing of. And now, to agree so easily to a marriage he should have rebuffed …
‘Very well, Guardian,’ she said. ‘I will not ask after your condition again. A long night lies ahead of us, but let us hurry so that we may reach the Plains before daybreak.’
‘I am with you,’ he said, and holding The Light carefully in his arms, he followed closely as Lae set off again with one ear open for sounds of pursuit and a smile of happy satisfaction on her lips.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mooraz stared at his Lord and thought he would see fire emerge from his eyes, such was his rage.
‘Have you killed the Hightower guards?’ The Dark asked, his words slowed by the effort to control his passions. About his feet were the shredded remnants of his wife’s wardrobe.
‘My Lord, yes,’ Mooraz replied. ‘By my own hand as you commanded.’
‘Yet this does not bring back my wife.’ The Dark stared at the bed she had lately slept upon. Mooraz noted the clenching of his jaw. ‘Where is my daughter?’ he demanded.
Apprehension grew within Mooraz yet he did not show it. ‘With the Guardian, Pagan when last I saw her, My Lord.’
And when was that?’ The tone of his Lord’s voice was chilling.
‘An hour ago, My Lord.’
Djahr closed his eyes. ‘Why can I get no reliable information from any source?’ He stayed like this for several moments before he opened his eyes and looked at Mooraz again. ‘I want to know where she is now,’ he said, adding, ‘Are you not her Champion, who should know her every movement?’
Mooraz was also the Captain of the Guard, a role which had recently required great exertion. ‘That I am, My Lord,’ he said obediently. ‘Do you wish me to search for her?’
The Dark stared through Mooraz, as though listening to inner voices. At length he said, ‘Lae will be safe. Concentrate your efforts on recovering The Light who cannot be far. She must be found before she can harm the babe within her.’
Mooraz nodded.
‘Where is her Champion, Talis?’ The Dark asked.
‘On the Plains, My Lord,’ Mooraz replied.
‘How convenient.’ The Dark turned away to the window.
‘The Light will be quickly recaptured, My Lord,’ Mooraz assured him.
The Dark did not reply, and with no further words, Mooraz took his leave, descending the Hightower stairs down which a few hours earlier The Light herself had journeyed, no doubt in fearful haste.
The Be’uccdha Guard, whom Mooraz had pulled back from searching the grounds, now awaited his further instructions in the Battle Hall. Silent corridors greeted Mooraz’s boots as he strode towards them, constructing in his mind a grouping of his men which would make the best time of scouring the nearby lands. Yet even as he did, Mooraz found his thoughts whispering toward his Lady Lae, whose whereabouts were currently unknown.
His Lord The Dark was sure Lae was safe, yet Mooraz was not. Her penchant for adventure had seen her escape his protection once. If she discovered that her new mother had fled the Castle she might take any wild action — more likely if she suspected, as Mooraz did himself, that her betrothed was involved in the escape. The timing of Talis’s absence was indeed convenient.
Though it might earn the anger of his Lord, Mooraz went on to send his men out, and then began a search himself, for a certain Cliffdweller who might know the whereabouts of a smaller, wilier quarry.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
‘Your footsteps slow, my new betrothed. Are you tiring?’ Lae asked.
‘Not at all.’ Pagan smiled and hefted The Light who still slept in his arms. Three times in the last hour Lae had called him ‘betrothed’ as though in spite, yet she seemed to take a perverse pleasure in the name. He owned that he was amused by this, and relieved. He had feared the pact between them would be weighted with obligation and disappointment, yet Lae, for her part, seemed more intrigued than entrapped, though despite her calling him ‘betrothed’ she had not told him straight that she would accept him as her husband. ‘My burden is not heavy, but precious,’ he said. ‘If I could see my way more easily, my pace would be quicker.’
‘We are near the Plains,’ was Lae’s reply, and indeed Pagan could see a light ahead of the tunnel not caused by her raised torch. ‘The rocky ground is almost finished and soon there will be loose soil.’
‘At last.’ Pagan was heartily sick of picking his way over slippery rocks. Their trail had hugged the coastline for hours through dank, volcanic tubes which would now open onto the Plains far from Castle Be’uccdha. Pagan thanked providence for Lae’s insistence that she accompany him. He could only marvel at the map within her mind. She did not hesitate at any turning, nor did she stumble, so strong was her recollection of the differi
ng surfaces beneath their feet. He had thought her mind was solely occupied with the art of mischief, yet here was proof of an adventurous spirit and the intelligence to keep track of her trail.
‘I see the opening,’ Lae said, and pointed ahead.
Two steps later Pagan saw it himself, a barrier of thick fabric through which dawnlight bled.
‘The outer covering looks like stone. It is well concealed,’ Lae assured him.
‘But is it easily moved?’
‘Hush and I both struggled with it, I am afraid.’ Lae dropped her torch to the ground, for it was no longer needed, and tugged at the entrance. It only budged a little. ‘We need your muscles again, it seems.’
‘Here, hold The Light,’ he said, and offered her forth.
Lae shook her head. ‘You forget that my muscles are in my head.’ She moved away from the entrance a pace and sat. ‘Here, lie her on my lap.’
Pagan crouched and placed The Light gently on Lae’s lap, adjusting the shirt himself the better to conceal what Lae was determined he should not see. Talis would insist on the same and Pagan stayed mindful of his cousin’s heart in case carnal curiosity got the better of him. Yet speaking of carnal pleasures, Pagan found that in straightening The Light’s covering his hand brushed against Lae’s chest, and she in shock gasped and raised her head.
The moment called for a casual jest, yet instead, Pagan found himself confused. No words emerged which in itself was remarkable, but worse, the need to swallow came upon him, and that several times, as though it had been he who suffered the shock instead of Lae.
He forced himself to stand and turned to find the opening, using his back to shift the weight of layered cloth which rolled back easily at his touch. Again, unsettling thoughts rose within him; that Lae was small and weak and needed a man to protect her. Despite their history of woe, soft feelings came to Pagan, such as he would not have imagined could be laid at the door of Lae Be’uccdha.
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