Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1

by Louise Cusack

  Yet, before he could begin to cherish them she said, ‘Braggart,’ and pointed to the opening he had made. ‘You made that look easy to wound my pride.’

  Pagan found his awakening emotions stilled by her words and a great relief swept over him. Lae could not leave tenderness alone a single second, even if it was to save her life. Never would they kiss with rapture, but that she would hold off to instruct him on something she knew nothing about.

  Happiness at this reprieve made him smile as he returned to her and took The Light from her grasp. ‘I would not try to prick your pride,’ he replied, while his eyes were level with her own. ‘For it is so large and full of air, that to explode such a heated container would be to risk my very life.’

  Lae’s lips twisted scornfully, and so help him, Pagan could not resist. He leant forward the necessary fraction and pressed his own lips against them, smiling when hers opened in surprise. Knowing he could not balance The Light for long at such an awkward angle, Pagan made the kiss brief, although once begun he wished he could pursue it. Instead he pulled away, his tongue a parting whisper on her lips.

  Lae’s hand rose slowly to cover those lips as Pagan stood and hoisted up The Light, yet his new betrothed did not otherwise move, and only stared at him, her eyes as wide and dark as Pagan had ever seen them. For a foolish moment he was tempted to kiss her again, except that The Light lay in his arms.

  ‘Betrothed,’ he mocked, and gestured at their exit to the Plains.

  Lae made no move and Pagan had to smile. He did not know what sort of kisses she had shared with Talis, but by her expression, his at least had given her pause.

  ‘I will marry you,’ Lae said abruptly and Pagan’s smile widened.

  ‘Here?’ he asked. ‘For in truth if we do not move soon I fear we will grow roots and be trapped in this spot.’

  The jest appeared to sail over her head. She stood slowly and said again, ‘I will marry you.’

  Pagan struggled within himself to find a solemn expression. ‘Then our betrothal vow is set,’ he told her. She nodded, and he gestured to the tunnel opening again. At last she preceded him, her two hands pressed to her midriff.

  Pagan followed, with some measure of satisfaction in his visions of the future now. If Lae’s humours should drive him to distraction, he need only kiss her into silence and the battle would be won. With this tempting thought in mind, he stepped out into bright morning sunlight and squinted against it, not seeing at first the effect it had on his precious burden.

  A second later his eyes were opened wide in horror as dazzling Otherworld colours radiated to breadths and heights that could be seen from a great distance. Quickly, he took The Light back to the tunnel, yet feared the damage was already done.

  ‘What did you expect?’ Lae hissed as she followed behind, apparently recovered from his kiss. ‘You should have anticipated just such —’

  ‘What I anticipated,’ Pagan cut over her, ‘was a heavy mist, the normal condition of the Plains.’

  ‘We are on the edge the Plain,’ Lae reminded him and Pagan could only nod.

  He remembered she had said that, yet because of the distance they had travelled, his weary mind had convinced him they were deep in Plainsman territory. How should they go forward now? Pagan glanced at Lae’s clothing — too small, and then his own — too large. Not that Pagan would think to travel on the Plains without clothing in any case, no matter how important their mission. ‘If we had a cloak …’ he said.

  Lae rubbed her arms, in comfort or despair, then finding ties under her hands, shrugged out of the strange satchel The Light had carried on her back. ‘What is inside this?’ she asked, and to Pagan’s surprise, appeared to find no breach of privacy in opening the case and laying out its contents: a small butter knife, a flask of water —

  ‘A cloak!’ Pagan snatched it from Lae’s hand and crouched to wrap The Light in it. ‘Now we may go on,’ he said, and rose again to lead the way himself this time; out into the sunlight with no sign of The Light’s aura. Pagan smiled, and looked back toward the tunnel where Lae would be gathering the contents of the satchel before she joined him.

  A low husky laugh behind him and the flick of his sword being stolen from the brace on his back alerted Pagan to the unpleasant realisation that they were no longer alone.

  ‘Foe!’ he shouted for Lae to hear, then turned to face … a Plainswoman, who wielded not only her own sword with deadly skill, but now his as well.

  ‘I have seen this before,’ she said, and nodded towards the bundle in his arms.

  ‘Drop your sword,’ Pagan shouted, then with less volume, ‘and my own.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ she said, raising a dark, straight brow. ‘You are on the King’s business and you demand that I release you.’

  Before Pagan could reply, she loosed a high-pitched, warbling whistle into the air. The sound was answered the same way from deep within the Plains mists. Pagan judged the distance and realised he had only a few minutes in which to engineer an escape.

  His desperate gaze searched the near area yet found no salvation. Lae surely had enough sense to remain hidden, if she had not already fled back to her father’s castle, which she must do soon if she was to cover her absence. The Plainswoman had his weapon and he was alone, save for his precious burden. How could he possibly hope to beat this … this …

  Pagan forced himself to look more closely at the woman standing before him, to assess her capabilities, yet instead he found his gaze resting on the strips of fabric that wound around her upper body and fell from the waist in tantalising strips. Her hair was long and ragged around her face, her lips pursed in contemplation of his fate.

  ‘You look like a Guardian,’ she said, her inspection now shifting to his bare chest upon which rested the cloaked form of The Light.

  Pagan straightened his shoulders and looked her boldly in the eye. ‘I am,’ he said, imagining the glance from her slanted Plainsman’s eyes to be one of interest. If he could entice her with his manly charms he may win his freedom without a battle.

  ‘Can you heal?’

  ‘That and more,’ he lied, his gaze holding her own, not in challenge, but in the dance of seduction he had practised so thoroughly.

  ‘More?’ She stepped closer, and of an instant he felt her sword point come to rest against his breeches.

  Pagan’s eyes widened in surprise and he held himself stiller than stone.

  ‘What more you can perform, Guardian?’ she said, no softening in her tone although Pagan was sure he now saw fascination in her eyes.

  ‘Guardians have powers that may be used in many ways,’ he replied softly, his attention drifting to the bindings that covered her breasts. Her own shoulders drew back to place them more prominently before him and despite the desperation of his situation, Pagan felt himself stir with thoughts of wild joinings and primitive Plainsman fertility rites.

  Her wide mouth fashioned itself into a smile and Pagan found her sword point pressing sharply against him through no action of her own.

  She glanced at the place where he had begun to feel pain. ‘Either you are too young and foolish to restrain your desires, Guardian, or you display an uncommon ability to control that which may be used in the pursuit of pleasure.’

  Pagan would not wince, though he was sure the sword would break through the cloth of his breeches and pierce his flesh at any moment. Instead he smiled. ‘If you would offer me the opportunity to display my abilities, I am sure you would find it a most uncommon experience.’

  The Plainswoman lowered her sword and stepped back a pace. Yet just at the moment he felt sure he was about to gain her h
elp, he was struck on the shoulder.

  ‘You faithless … wretch!’

  Lae.

  ‘You hateful, whoring … You will never call me betrothed again.’

  Pagan could not believe, with their lives in jeopardy, that Lae could act so stupidly. Where was her vaunted ‘warrior brain’ now?

  ‘If the merger had not been forced upon me, you never would have,’ he replied, stepping back to dodge a blow to the head. Lae’s hand swung perilously close to his cloaked burden and his irritation turned quickly to anger. ‘Beware The —’ he pulled himself up short and flicked a glance at the Plainswoman. A second longer and he would have said the name of The Light. What fate then from his captor? Certain death? Just when he had thought to woo her to his cause.

  Damn Lae, who was still trying to hurt him. Yet before she could, the Plainswoman stepped forward and pulled the flailing girl into her grasp, the sharp edge of her sword against Lae’s throat.

  ‘Silence, harridan,’ she said, ‘or I will give you injury that will test your betrothed’s Guardian power to the limit.’

  ‘He is not my betrothed —’

  The Plainswoman’s sword pressed closer and Lae clamped her lips closed but Pagan could see the cost. She had the look of one who would explode with pent-up anger. If those were real daggers in her eyes, he would have died a hundred deaths beneath them. So help him, Pagan could not stop himself smiling at her discomfort.

  ‘Are there others who may attack you?’ the Plainswoman asked.

  He shook his head. The sight of Lae silenced so effectively was meat for a dinner of jests he would savour for the rest of his life.

  Another whistle came. Much closer.

  ‘The other Guardian comes fast behind us,’ the Plainswoman said and nodded in the direction of the mist. ‘He bids me keep you safe until he arrives.’

  ‘Talis?’ Lae said, unable to keep silent for even the briefest time.

  Pagan all but dropped his cargo with his jaw. ‘Are you my cousin’s confederate?’ But … how had such an alliance been won? He would have asked the Plainswoman this if her manner had been less arrogant and more welcoming.

  Presently, though, there came a sound behind them and Pagan turned to find a Be’uccdha guardsman emerging from the same secret tunnel he and Lae had travelled through.

  ‘Mooraz!’ Lae cried.

  The Plainswoman tightened her grip. ‘I know you,’ she said to Mooraz. ‘You captain The Dark’s guard.’

  Lae made a choking sound.

  ‘I come only to seek safety for the daughter of my … brother,’ Mooraz replied, and stepped no closer.

  The Plainswoman’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is your kinswoman?’

  Pagan glanced at the two, seeing that Lae and Mooraz both shared the dark skin of the Be’uccdha House. The lie had a look of truth.

  Mooraz nodded calmly, yet Pagan saw his apprehension. If he had revealed her true parentage, Lae would most likely now he dead.

  ‘Will you punish her?’ the Plainswoman asked. ‘She helped the wife of your Lord escape.’

  Pagan felt his breath still within himself. The Plainswoman knew who it was he carried.

  ‘Her father may punish her,’ Mooraz said, his voice soft. ‘I care only to see her returned unharmed.’

  The Plainswoman said nothing, merely held Lae tight within her grasp.

  ‘I will disarm myself,’ Mooraz said, and withdrew his sword and dagger to lay them at his feet, his heavy braids falling forward as he did so. ‘I give a pledge on my honour as a warrior that I will do you no harm if you release this child into my care.’

  Lae frowned at this and Pagan felt his exasperation with her grow. How could she be irritated with Mooraz for calling her a child when he was battling with words to save her life. Perhaps his very use of the word would soften the Plainswoman’s heart.

  ‘I lost a brother to The Dark,’ the Plainswoman said, no softness in her voice. ‘A boy child.’

  Mooraz took a breath, as though to still an unpleasant thought, then said, ‘I believe you have honour in your veins, Noorinya of the Plainspeople …’

  Pagan gaped at Mooraz. This was Noorinya? The legendary warrior who had sparked the enmity between Talis and Kert? He looked at her again, with more respect than he had previously.

  ‘… I believe you will show more mercy than your enemy did,’ Mooraz finished.

  ‘More mercy than your own Lord?’ Noorinya asked.

  Without hesitation, Mooraz replied, ‘I believe this.’

  The Plainswoman looked at him, then said, ‘You are correct,’ and withdrew her sword, pushing Lae in his direction. ‘But when we meet next we are enemies again.’

  He nodded and took Lae’s arm, making no move to pick up his weapons. Pagan owned himself impressed by this exchange. Two mortal enemies parlaying without fear of betrayal. His esteem of Noorinya grew.

  ‘Follow me, Guardian boy,’ she said to him. ‘I will take you to your kinsman.’ And with no further glance at Mooraz she turned her back on him and set off for the Plains.

  Boy? Pagan frowned at this, yet turned to follow her at the very moment a lone figure emerged from the distant mist. All waited as Talis approached at a silent run, then came abruptly to a halt before Pagan who offered him the limp burden he had carried from Be’uccdha. Talis took his beloved gently into his own arms, with no word or glance for the rest of the party

  ‘She escaped by herself,’ Pagan told him. ‘A Cliffdweller found her in the tunnels and led us to her. I have given her a healing sleep.’ He watched as Talis laid The Light on the ground and pulled back the cloak from her face, releasing her aura in a lesser display than Pagan had earlier. This done, Pagan expected his cousin to minister straightaway to his charge, bringing healing magic to her exhausted form, yet for long moments Talis could only stare at her, a profound anguish in his gaze. Finally, he placed his hand on her forehead and closed his eyes, hiding the torment of his soul from those who were watching.

  Lae was one of those, and it was with trepidation that Pagan glanced at her, expecting anger at this betrayal by her sworn betrothed. Yet as she watched Talis, her eyes shone with just such sadness as he himself had felt.

  As though sensing his attention, Lae shifted her glance to Pagan, her sorrowful expression touching his heart. Despite her ill temper, she had dealt honourably with Talis and found nothing but anguish in return. If she was discovered, her father would punish her for her part in The Light’s escape, and worse, she would be forced to marry a man she detested. Pagan would not wish such a fate on an enemy, and too late he realised that Lae was not his enemy.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he mouthed and she nodded, then looked at Talis again, as did Pagan.

  Having sought for injuries with a healing touch, Talis now rose, The Light held gently in his arms. She did not wake but continued to rest in a healing sleep.

  ‘I release you from your betrothal vow,’ Lae said, before he could speak. ‘And find no dishonour in your love for another.’ This was despite the fact that the object of Talis’s love was her own new-made mother. ‘You show me an example of the true love I shall seek for myself.’ Lae’s voice trembled at this ending, yet she held her head proudly and looked straight into Talis’s eyes. All those present knew she would find no such love, yet Pagan felt an unwarranted pride in her words, as though she were his kin and her honourable actions were his to claim.

  ‘I thank you for your understanding,’ Talis replied. ‘And your discretion.’

  ‘We will not speak of this,’ Mooraz replied for her
, then nodded at The Light in Talis’s arms. ‘I would not live if my Lord should discover I have let his wife go, yet I can make no other choice. The safety of my kinswoman,’ he said, his eyes warning Talis not to contradict him, ‘is closer to my heart.’ He tugged gently on Lae’s arm. ‘Come, child, we must return. And you, Guardian,’ he said to Pagan, ‘before we are missed.’

  Lae stood her ground. ‘I will not marry Pagan,’ she said to Talis. ‘I will marry no man who does not love me.’

  ‘But Kert Sh’hale —’ Talis said.

  ‘I will live a maid. My father cannot make me marry.’

  Pagan glanced at Talis, then shrugged. ‘I will come with you, Cous,’ he said.

  Talis shook his head, yet Noorinya spoke for the idea. ‘You need an extra sword, Guardian. Take the boy.’

  Pagan found no joy in her naming him ‘boy’, yet the fact that she argued his cause showed she desired his company. Undoubtedly his earlier ‘control’ had impressed her. He said, ‘If my cousin needs no help, perhaps you require a … reliable sword?’

  Noorinya’s expression did not change yet she took one step forward and shoved him to the ground with her bare foot in the middle of his chest. ‘When I am old and toothless,’ she said, leaning over him, ‘then you may show such impertinence, boy. Until then, you are a thorn beneath my feet.’ And with that she kicked dirt over him and turned to stride towards the Plains mist without another word.

  ‘Take my heartfelt apologies to your good father, Pagan,’ Talis said. ‘Farewell, Lae. Mooraz.’ He nodded and turned to follow Noorinya.

  ‘Up, boy,’ Lae said, and though her voice trembled, Pagan heard only the familiar scorn. ‘Come with us now and return to our castle or follow your cousin.’

  Pagan rose and dusted himself off, then spoke to Mooraz. ‘You may tell your Lady I would sooner eat stone than return to her hospitality. Farewell.’ And with that Pagan ran after his cousin and the ill-mannered Plainswoman whose derision would be easier to bear than the acid jibes Lae was undoubtedly preparing to heap on him. No woman infuriated him as much as Lae, and he was glad to be rid of her. By comparison, Noorinya’s violence was uncomplicated, and a clear challenge to his masculine skills. In spite of Lae’s kiss, or perhaps because of it, his pride now demanded that he bed the Plainswoman, even if it cost him his life.