Destiny of the Light: Shadow Through Time 1

by Louise Cusack

  ‘They were heading north,’ Khatrene said, ‘into the mountains.’ Another group she could only pray for.

  Noorinya exchanged a glance with Lae then looked back to Khatrene. ‘I will carry your brother to quicken your journey,’ she said, and without waiting for agreement she took Mihale’s arm out of Khatrene’s hand and heaved him onto her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. She straightened with a grunt then pointed, ‘The Shrine is this way.’

  Lae nodded her agreement and they set off for the Shrine. Khatrene fell in behind.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Ellega swirled in front of the glass, her eyes sparkling as brightly as the jewels on her gown.

  ‘My Lady will make a beautiful bride,’ her first maid said smiling. Around her the lesser Volcastle maids also smiled and nodded.

  Ellega felt as though her heart would burst with joy. ‘There will be no bride as happy as I am on my wedding day,’ she said, gently patting the star-necklace Bhoo had gifted her on behalf of his King. Worn by the Queen Danille on her own wedding day, it was an heirloom Ellega had never thought to touch, let alone wear herself. ‘It is a waking dream,’ she said softly, gazing at her reflection, at the daringly designed Verdan bridal gown; the elaborate placement of jewels in an undulating design to symbolise the spirit of the Loch. As she moved the gown would glisten like the sun sparkling off water.

  It seemed strange and sad that her last meeting with Mihale had brought her such grief, yet Ellega had promised herself she would put that night behind her and look only to find love in her husband’s arm and pleasure in his companionship. For despite his hurtful words, he had chosen Ellega as wife, and this was all she should concern herself with.

  Her move to the Volcastle and preparations for the wedding had kept her from feeling homesick, yet at odd times she felt a prick of longing to be near the Loch, to lie with her hair drifting on the water, listening to its siren song telling her of the pleasures she would experience as a woman and the joy motherhood would bring her heart. Like The Light who would soon be her sister, Ellega knew she would become a mother early and such contentment came to her when she thought of carrying Mihale’s babe that she could not long miss her home or her brother.

  In five days her betrothed would return, and that night Ellega would be Queen. The hours would surely plod, but as Ellega imagined the happy years ahead, she knew it was not too long to wait for all of her dreams to come true.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Djahr awoke to a violent smell that seared his brain. He shook his head, and put up a hand to fend it away.

  ‘My Lord, The Dark,’ a voice said, and he opened his eyes, then became still.

  ‘Traitor,’ Djahr replied quietly, and looked about himself in the gloom of a dimly lit room — the King’s enclosure where Mooraz still lay fallen. Before him stood the King’s Champion he had thought long dead. Filthy, unkempt, and with a Raider woman at his side. Yet he had no weapon in his hand. Only the vial with the foul-smelling liquid. Djahr’s own hands were empty so he could do nothing but listen warily as Roeg spoke.

  ‘My Lord The Dark, I did not kill my King,’ he said slowly, as though unsure that Djahr was fully awake. ‘I was cleverly implicated and fled in fear of my life. Yet I can hide no longer. The scout I caught told me the Northmen are poised to strike again, and the true traitor might try to kill Mihale and take his throne.’

  Djahr sat up, glanced surreptitiously at the blood on the floor, then made a show of gazing around the outline of Roeg’s body before meeting his eyes. ‘It was a pity you fled, Champion. For if I had seen your aura then, as I do now, I would have discerned that you are indeed innocent,’ he said. ‘Do you suspect who the true traitor is?’

  Roeg nodded at this. ‘The Elder Sh’hale,’ he said. ‘I have heard his admission of guilt and slit his throat.’

  ‘Yet … the younger Sh’hale has become our King’s new Champion.’ Djahr feigned alarm. ‘Were father and son in collusion?’ He looked around the royal enclosure. ‘And where is Sh’hale now? Where is the King?’ This last was said with a convincing amount of concern.

  ‘I do not know,’ Roeg replied, and into his eyes came a desperation that Djahr knew would see him easily manipulated. ‘I have just now come upon the camp and found your guardsmen stabbed.’

  ‘All?’ Djahr felt frustration at that. How could he capture Khatrene with no swords to serve him.

  Roeg had begun to frown. ‘Yet Sh’hale guardsmen lay dead as well,’ he said, and appeared to rethink his assumptions. ‘And Laroque.’ He turned with sadness to point at the fallen Guardian whose dead eyes stared at nothing.

  ‘Perhaps this is a clever plot to disguise his actions,’ Djahr replied, determined to keep Roeg’s suspicions aimed at Sh’hale. He held out an arm. ‘Come, help me rise,’ and when Roeg had obliged he stepped over to nudge Mooraz who had been uninjured in the swordfight.

  ‘I have a potent medicine,’ Roeg said and opened the vial under the nose of Mooraz who still did not awaken.

  ‘No matter,’ Djahr said, and left his Guard Captain for dead. ‘We must go before Sh’hale returns and finds us without protection.’ He made for the exit, kicking the carpet over Mihale’s blood as he passed.

  Roeg’s softly spoken words reached him at the door. ‘I have struggled to stay alive, hoping to prove my innocence. To find an ally against the true traitor.’

  Djahr paused and looked at his right hand which had risen to the door flap. A smear of Mihale’s blood covered three fingers. Djahr remembered the blood of the father which had risen up his forearms and could not help smiling. ‘I am that ally,’ he said to Roeg.

  Behind him the Raider woman raised her head and sniffed.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  ‘How far is it?’ Khatrene asked Lae after they had walked for half an hour. She had no idea how far they were from the Shrine and afternoon was drawing toward night.

  Lae stopped and turned back. ‘We are close.’ Her glance encompassed Noorinya who had stopped behind them. ‘Do you need rest?’ she asked the Plainswoman.

  ‘I will speak of it when I do,’ Noorinya replied shortly, and they were about to resume when Khatrene felt a small movement inside her. Then came a sound, like the twang of a rubber band snapping. It was followed by warm wetness trickling down the inside of her legs.

  Khatrene clasped both hands beneath her belly and looked down.

  ‘Khatter?’ Lae stepped forward, her gaze also dropping to the ground where a small puddle of clear fluid had formed.

  ‘The child comes,’ Noorinya said with authority. ‘Do you feel any pains?’

  Khatrene shook her head. ‘I’ve felt no pain or discomfort the whole pregnancy. Talis said the child was shielding me from it.’

  Lae touched Khatrene’s arm tentatively, looked to Noorinya. ‘How shall we know when to stop for the birth?’

  ‘We will stop when safety is reached.’ Noorinya nodded for Lae to continue, which she did, taking Khatrene’s arm and tugging on it gently to set her in motion.

  Khatrene let herself be led, stumbling over gnarled roots and slippery moss as she concentrated on the sensations inside her. She could feel a pulsation and every so often a rhythmic pressure which she assumed was contractions. The pressures grew closer together and almost constant but she tried not to panic. ‘It’s nearly time,’ she whispered to Lae.

  ‘A few steps further.’

  Khatrene grimaced. ‘You’ve said that twenty times.’

  ‘Lae of Be’uccdha?’ Pagan s
tepped out in front of them and Khatrene could have cried out in relief.

  ‘Pagan. Where is Talis?’ Khatrene glanced around but he was already shaking his head.

  ‘Looking for you,’ he said and his eyes returned to Lae’s as though he too was seeking something, then they moved past her to the third of their party who could be heard approaching. ‘Noorinya!’

  ‘Who bears our lifeless King,’ Lae said, snatching his arm to regain his attention. His gaze jerked down to her small hand on his large-muscled arm, then rose slowly to meet her eyes. ‘The Light’s child wishes to enter our world now, Apprentice,’ she said, ignoring his warrior plaits, ‘and such is our desperation that even you are a welcome sight.’

  ‘We have to get Mihale to the Shrine.’ In Khatrene’s mind, he was the priority.

  Lae touched her arm in reassurance then said to Pagan, ‘We are fleeing to the Royal Crypt to perform the Ceremony of Atheyre. Do we have your aid?’

  ‘I … am yours to command.’

  Khatrene could have sworn he was blushing

  ‘Then I command you carry The Light to the Shrine before her child appears on this open ground,’ Lae said.

  ‘I will obey,’ he replied and Khatrene slid gratefully into his arms.

  Once safely held, she could concentrate on the pressure inside her, trying to hold her muscles against it for as long as she could. They crossed the river and shortly afterwards a wave of pressure rolled down her lower back. Khatrene knew she couldn’t hold on any longer. ‘I have to push,’ she said, feeling the imperative.

  ‘Not yet,’ Lae said, from right beside her.

  Khatrene tried to hold on but she was becoming disoriented, restless, as though her body was taking over the process and her mind was about to be excluded. ‘I … it’s happening.’

  Pagan placed her on the ground and she opened her eyes to find herself in the centre of the Royal Crypt. Beside her the raised altar was dimly lit by fading afternoon light shafting down from the central skylight. Dust motes danced in the light and Khatrene willed them to still, to stop time for a moment so she could catch her breath. ‘Mihale,’ she grunted and searched the gloom of the cavern around her for Noorinya. ‘Take him to the altar.’

  Pagan’s face loomed in, anxious. He nodded, and was gone.

  Lae held her hand and Noorinya positioned herself at Khatrene’s feet.

  ‘Make a fire,’ Noorinya commanded, and Lae squeezed Khatrene’s hand and rose to obey. ‘Do you feel any pain?’ Noorinya asked.

  ‘Not a thing. Just this urge to —’ Khatrene’s words were caught on a grunt. The wave of pressure had rolled down her lower back again and this time there was no holding back. Her eyes widened and Noorinya gripped her ankles.

  ‘Push,’ she said, and Khatrene did, straining against the pressure with every ounce of energy she had inside of her. Noorinya smiled and shook her head.

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’ Khatrene asked when she could get her breath.

  ‘You are the first mother who has not deafened me with her screams.’ She nodded approvingly. ‘I can hope now that I will not die of pain when my time comes.’

  Khatrene started to laugh at the idea of Noorinya dying of pain. Then the next contraction kicked in and she could think of nothing but the pushing.

  ‘Head,’ Noorinya said shortly.

  Khatrene saw a faint glow in front of Noorinya, like the pure light of a small fluorescent tube. She hadn’t expected that, but it made sense. Just because she needed bright sunlight to display her aura didn’t mean her child would. She smiled then, in anticipation of holding her baby.

  Lae appeared at their side with some cloths which Khatrene suspected were torn up underskirts. Behind her a bronze glow warmed the crypt. Khatrene could see raised sarcophagi lined up around the walls and it somehow seemed fitting to bring life into this place of death.

  ‘Can you check on … Mihale?’ she asked Lae, surprised at how breathless she felt. The pushing hadn’t seemed hard, yet now she was starting to feel tired. Perhaps once the child was out, its powers over her body would cease.

  Lae tore her attention from the glow of the emerging child and left them. Noorinya and Khatrene looked at each other.

  ‘One more push,’ Noorinya told her.

  Khatrene nodded. They waited, then the urge came over her and she pushed. Really pushed. Sweat stood out on her forehead and she could feel her limbs trembling. Thirty seconds later it was over. The bright glow had grown markedly but Khatrene heard no sound whatsoever. She watched Noorinya anxiously but the Plainswoman appeared unfazed.

  ‘The child of The Light is born,’ she announced, and smiled so gently that Khatrene felt tears prick her eyes.

  ‘Can I?’ she asked, and held out her hands.

  Noorinya cut the cord and wrapped the child, extinguishing the glow which was all Khatrene could see. She handed the baby over Khatrene’s flaccid belly into her arms. ‘Another push to clear your womb and the task is completed,’ she said.

  Khatrene wasn’t listening. She was awed by the glowing face of her small, beautiful child. He was wrapped tightly, and she was just thinking how normal he looked, apart from the glow, when he shimmered and cast off the blood smears and waxy vernix that had protected him in the womb. His skin was perfect pink, his hair pale and soft and his eyes so dark it seemed impossible that they would turn as green as hers with time. Had Mihale looked as beautiful as this when he was born?

  ‘Noorinya. Is Mihale —’

  ‘Push,’ Noorinya said and Khatrene obeyed her, knowing she had no assistance from the child now to maintain the health of her body. Yet even as she obeyed Noorinya’s commands, she was entranced by how solemnly her baby gazed back at her. The bond between them was strong.

  ‘To whom do you gift the cord of life?’ Noorinya asked, winding it around her fingers in an elaborate knot.

  Khatrene swallowed sickly. She glanced at the cord which now resembled a squishy macrame construct. ‘I wasn’t planning to give it to anyone,’ she said. ‘It’s usually thrown away.’

  The Plainswoman nodded. ‘Customs differ,’ she said. ‘Yet I wish to have it if you would give it to me.’

  Khatrene looked her in the eye. ‘What will you do with it?’

  ‘Dry it on the Plains and make a charm from it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Khatrene forced her eyes back to the sticky mass in Noorinya’s hands and had a sudden memory of having seen the shape before. ‘The necklaces the women wear,’ she said as she tapped her throat. ‘The things dangling off them.’

  ‘Fertility charms,’ Noorinya confirmed. ‘The cord of life is a powerful talisman. Worn by a woman who is with child …’ She glanced away enigmatically and Khatrene suddenly understood.

  ‘Breehan will be so happy,’ she said, then remembered. ‘Your memory stone,’ nodding at Noorinya’s bare neck where the mark of her leadership had hung. ‘You gave it to him.’

  Noorinya said nothing for a moment, then, ‘I will get it back.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ Khatrene agreed. ‘They were all fine when we last saw them two days ago. They’ll make it to the mountains.’

  ‘As I will,’ Noorinya said, raising her eyes to meet Khatrene’s. ‘I have served the child as the old women instructed. I will sacrifice no more. At first light I leave.’

  ‘I understand.’ Noorinya had done more than enough. ‘Please, keep the cord.’

  Noorinya nodded and wrapped the sticky mess
in a piece of cloth, but Khatrene could see her mind was still on Breehan. Finally she said, ‘I will see if the boy brought food. I have not eaten for some days,’ and rose abruptly to go looking for Pagan’s satchel.

  Lae returned then and cooed over the baby before propping Khatrene up and helping her put the child to her breast. Khatrene’s eyes watered as it latched on but soon the baby was suckling contentedly and she had time to consider aches and pains she hadn’t experienced recently and was now forced to contend with.

  Yet thinking of the recent times brought her beloved to mind. ‘I hope Talis is all right,’ she said. No reply came, and as she turned to glance at Lae she could have slapped a hand over her mouth, if she’d had one free. ‘I’m so sorry about your betrothal,’ she said. Lae had already been angry with her for ‘stealing her father’s affections’ as she’d called it. To take her betrothed as well …

  Lae shook her head. ‘I felt wounded for a time, but it was only pride. I know now that I did not love Talis as a man, but only as a friend.’ She glanced at Pagan, then when she saw Khatrene watching her she said, ‘We must tell him of his father’s passing.’

  Khatrene looked to the rectangular altar where her brother was laid out and Pagan stood, palm on his King’s forehead, back perfectly straight and still. Laroque’s horrible ending would not be easy to relate, but Pagan needed to know. Soon.

  For the moment, however, he must not be interrupted. His concentration was fierce and would remain so, Lae said, until Talis could be brought to perform the Rite of Revival. Khatrene didn’t hold much hope out for that and was more interested in preparing for the Ceremony of Atheyre. She’d been about to ask Lae whether she knew where to find any candles when the girl lowered her voice and leant in close.

  ‘What about my father?’ she whispered. ‘He will surely wake and come looking for you.’ Lae nodded towards Noorinya who was munching her way through Pagan’s food supply. ‘If we had told the Plainswoman about my father’s presence, he would now lie as dead as the guardsmen whose lives she took.’