Daughter of the Dark: Shadow Through Time 2

by Louise Cusack

  ‘My Lord.’ Both men bowed and Kert took his leave, yet a few steps away, around the corner, his eye was caught by a gap in the mists that covered the forests beneath Volcastle Mountain and he paused to lean over the battlement and seek below for movement which would indicate Northmen reinforcements were approaching. Behind him he overheard the lieutenant say, ‘’Tis said that Verdan invented a siege breaker.’

  ‘Verdan may come,’ the Guard Captain replied.

  Silence followed this remark, yet it was that particular form of silence that echoed with exchanged glances and unspoken words. Perhaps about the competency of Sh’hale leadership. To Kert, standing in the shadows beyond their vision, it suddenly seemed that no man was his friend. If indeed any had been. The Guardian son Pagan had thought himself Kert’s friend, but that had been before Mihale’s death, before Kert’s negligence had given The Dark opportunity to kill not only their king but Pagan’s own father who had stood against the threat, a duty which rightly should have been Kert’s alone.

  Each night Kert’s dreams were full of desperation to reach his king, yet always he arrived too late and found him dead. Even the daylight hours offered no sanctuary to escape his guilt, for Kert could not expunge from his mind the image of his young king standing valiantly against the sword of Mooraz, hopelessly inadequate to the task, only to have his life stolen by a cowardly stab from the side.

  Kert had never suspected The Dark capable of such treachery, yet he believed the anguished story The Light had told him of her brother’s demise. Kert had underestimated The Dark’s ambition and would not make that mistake twice. Likewise, he would ensure that his future king, though yet unborn, was protected from and all who may threaten him.

  History had told Kert that threat often came from unexpected quarters, and he feared that Ghett may threaten her own child. Yet being with child was all that kept her alive. She knew that. Surely then she would protect the child who grew within her as if her own life depended on it, as indeed it did.

  Lae of Be’uccdha, however, was a more elusive threat. A more unpredictable enemy, confusing his thoughts as she did with her pretence of obedience to the throne. There may come a time when he would admit she was no enemy, but that time was not now. Nor was it likely to be soon.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kraal lowered a fine claw to touch the face of the unconscious maiden they had brought him. ‘I am replete,’ he declared, his voice rumbling across the grassy Steppe, his engorged serpentine form languishing beside the Northmen’s latest encampment on their way to the Volcastle.

  ‘Then may I take her to wife?’ Kai asked, his voice obedient and deferential, yet with an undertone of eagerness he had not displayed before his God until this moment.

  Kai was clearly undergoing an internal transformation. He had seen power and wanted more. Kraal wondered if he would have to kill him soon, or whether this servant would retain the humility and reverence his God had first seen shining in his eyes.

  Kraal’s pause was telling and Kai quickly lowered his head. ‘I abide by the decisions of my God who is full of wisdom.’

  Full of Northmen, Kraal thought as he looked down on the frail form before him, swathed in an alluring golden gown. He turned to his stocky Northman servant. ‘You would break her in two,’ he rumbled. ‘And have you not recently taken the War Chief’s four daughters as wives?’ He liked the way the timbre of his voice shuddered through those who listened. It was a fitting voice for the form he had assumed. The form that inspired fear and awe in the Northmen.

  ‘That I have, Master,’ Kai answered, ‘and soon all will be with child.’ This was said with a pride Kraal did not understand. A pride that irritated him, just as the Northman scouts irritated him, intruding on his privacy with their paltry prize.

  ‘Take her to the pavilion,’ he roared, and before their stupidity manifested itself again, he turned towards a patch of smooth grass and opened his mighty jaws, loosing a stream of fire and creation that licked the air and did his bidding. The scouts gasped in amazement, then were hushed as the smoke drifted away, leaving behind a darkly inviting pavilion constructed of soft fabrics and burnished bronze trimmings.

  While the others gaped at this wonder, Kai merely gazed upon it with quiet satisfaction, and Kraal’s irritation faded into amusement at this proprietary pride. Yet again he had underestimated the pleasure to he gained from interacting with these creatures. He wished he’d been able to visit them sooner.

  The birth of The Catalyst had opened for him the way between the worlds, affording him opportunities he could never have pursued on Haddash. Her living power enabled him to move between worlds, but only those no White inhabited. It irked Kraal to think he would be forced to leave Ennae when she returned, but perhaps by then he would be sated by its wonders and ready to explore Magoria. There would surely be much to experience there.

  What he needed was a way to come and go uninhibited by the presence of the White — some magic that would shield him from their warding presence. But for now he amused himself with these strange creatures who had worshipped him for so long and were so easily intimidated by his current form.

  Though they did not mean to defy their God, the scouts, in their awe, had not moved to obey him. They merely stood gazing at the pavilion he had created, and Kai became angered on his God’s behalf. ‘Why do you hesitate?’ he barked. ‘Do as your God commands. Take the prisoner there and stand guard over her.’ He pointed at the doorway where a slight breeze fluttered the tasselled edges of a heavy fabric.

  They hurried to obey their new War Chief and Kraal was pleased yet again with his choice of an aide. Kai was young but he was intelligent, and despite the mindless brutality of his race he harboured a sensitivity Kraal found fascinating. This was why he had chosen him. ‘Tell me of this fathering,’ he said, motioning with a wing for Kai to follow him away from the camp. ‘I see no significance. Do you do it for the pleasure of the planting? Or to see your seed grow within a woman and watch it born?’ Kraal held his muscular limbs close and tucked back his wings to slither on the smooth grass, taking sensual pleasure in the friction against his serpentine form. Kai strode at his side.

  ‘My God and Master,’ he began hesitantly, a sure sign that he was afraid of angering Kraal.

  ‘Speak the truth plain and be quick,’ Kraal growled. Although intrigued by human thought, he was easily irritated by its predisposition to emotional diversions. ‘I would rather straight shrift than lengthy platitudes.’

  ‘Then I shall speak plainly, Master,’ Kai replied quickly. ‘I join with my youngest wife for the pleasure of the moment, for she is my favourite. The others are not as comely and I lie with them only to see my sons spring from their loins.

  ‘And this will give you pleasure?’ Kraal did not understand.

  ‘Have you no children, Master?’ Kai asked as they cleared the cooking fires of his men and headed out onto the open grass.

  Kraal felt his scales rise and struggled to keep his voice even. ‘I have not chosen to do so.’

  Kai had heard the tone. ‘Master, I do not mean to anger you, yet you sought straight shrift. I ask only the better to aid me in answering your question. To sire a son is to know a joy that cannot be gained by battle or beauty. It is …’ He faltered.

  ‘It is what?’ Kraal snapped, halting and raising his upper body. ‘You have no sons. How do you know of this joy?’

  Kai’s head lowered, as though to prepare for his death, and Kraal opened his mighty jaws to accommodate him, a servant who thought himself above his God merely because he had lain with a woman. Such vulgarities were below Kraal’s dignity. He had known ecstasies this puling mortal could not even imagine. Why would he care to sample mortal pleasures, unless to …

  Kraal raised his head and closed his jaws. His far-seeing eyes peered into the memory place of his past, the time when he had been formed from the evil in men’s hearts. No father had shown pride at his arrival, nor at his accomplishments. The thought was alien an
d abhorrent that another could claim his triumphs, yet now that the four Worlds were to end. Kraal suddenly desired to experience all that he could.

  ‘Explain this riddle of progeny to me,’ he demanded.

  Kai raised his head slowly and Kraal saw not relief in his broad features but humility. This pleased him greatly.

  ‘By siring a son,’ Kai began carefully ‘I see my life extend beyond my death.’ He took a pace closer to his God and this surprised Kraal. To test his servant’s loyalty he extended a claw and laid it over Kai’s sandalled foot, restraining him, yet rather than causing greater fear, Kai closed his eyes, as though in contentment. ‘To hold my son in my arms will be to see my immortality in his future,’ Kai said, so softly that Kraal had to strain to hear. ‘To watch him grow in the shape my seed has dictated …’ Kai smiled softly to himself. ‘A man’s sons take him forward.’

  ‘Into time,’ Kraal said, his rumbling tone echoing some of Kai’s humility. Then he gathered himself and said, ‘Northmen sacrifice their children to me, yet the mindless brutality of your people does not shape your thoughts. Whence comes such poetic imagery?’

  As though suddenly remembering himself, Kai straightened and opened his eyes, bowing his head to his master. ‘My God and Master, I know not if this was the answer you sought, but it is the only answer I can give.’

  Kraal noted how the horror of his arrival among them was no longer hidden by Kai, merely overlaid with awe. ‘You are honest with me, servant,? he said. ‘And as you remain so, you will live to sire sons.’

  ‘With the pale prisoner my men took?’

  Kraal stifled a smile at Kai’s persistence and chose instead to grate his teeth against each other. The fearful noise caused his servant to cry out and fall, his instinctive flight thwarted by Kraal’s restraining claw on his foot.

  ‘She will father a child,’ Kraal rasped, ‘but not yours.’

  From his position on the grass, Kai shuddered. ‘Your … child, Master?’ he whispered, his face contorting at the thought.

  ‘I see you understand there are worse fates than being eaten.’ He gazed back at the pavilion beside their camp.

  ‘My God and Master is indeed powerful,’ Kai said but Kraal scarcely noticed. His thoughts were with the woman the scouts had captured. She was of southern stock, pale of skin and eyes, yet with dark braided hair that fell like streaming tassels to her breasts.

  He looked back to Kai and the Northman lay still under the inspection. ‘You are strange creatures,’ he said. ‘I know not why you were invented, yet I would know this thing of sons.’

  ‘How may I assist my God and Master,’ Kai whispered, his lips shaped as though to suck sour fruit.

  Kraal raised his claw and gestured him away. ‘You will take me to my paramour and guard our privacy,’ he said.

  Kai scrambled a distance away and gazed at his God as though unsure he had heard correctly. Then Kraal closed his eyes and created in his mind a picture of the man he would be: a masculine twin of the woman he had seen, hair like burnished bronze, eyes of darkest amber, and garb of costly weave. When he had the picture set in his mind he opened his mouth and breathed the fire of creation over himself.

  At a distance he heard Kai’s gasp and a scrabbling sound as the extremities of his body began to transform. It was an unpleasant sensation of shrinking and discomfort, of scales pinching and then dissolving as his external carapace became softer. The membrane wings contracted into balls that exploded into his spine and then were absorbed into his bloodstream. So much size to compact and yet in a handful of heartbeats it was done.

  Kraal opened new eyes to gaze around, adjusting to the altered perspective. His servant was on a level with him now, and the encampment appeared more distant with his loss of height. He lifted his hands to inspect them, turning them over to admire the neatly trimmed nails. A weighty ring adorned the middle finger of his left hand, made of fine gold and polished volcanic stone glowing with the fires of Haddash. He fingered the ring and then noticed he had a propensity to curve his hands and feet and consciously straightened them out.

  ‘My … God and …’

  Kraal looked again to his servant who sat where he had cowered, struck with awe and confusion. ‘Stand and escort me to the pavilion,’ he said, pleased with the melodious voice he had constructed.

  Kai scrabbled awkwardly to his feet and then hunched his shoulders, as though afraid to stand as tall as his God. ‘I will obey,’ he said, voice overloud and filled with unnamed fears. For himself. For the maiden?

  Kraal smiled and found it an odd sensation, his lips curving over smooth, even teeth. His tongue came out to wet those lips and the sensation of it gliding over this newmade flesh was startlingly intense. His hand dropped to press over his lower abdomen and the sensations spread. His smile widened.

  Kai watched all this with an expression of tense expectation and yet said nothing.

  ‘I am still your God,’ Kraal said and his servant nodded. ‘In these moments of human guise I will experience your world as you do. Yet I may not be killed in this or any form.’

  ‘Thus the legends say, My God and Master,’ Kai whispered.

  ‘Yet you did not believe them,’ Kraal said as though angered. ‘You did not believe I could manifest in any form.’

  His servant had the honesty to shake his head.

  Kraal stepped towards him, ‘Then beware, Kai of the Northmen,’ he said, manipulating the nuances of his new voice to bring fear into the heart of his servant. ‘While I am on your world, you will not know what form I take — the pillow beneath your head moving to steal your night’s breath, the favoured wife who, once obedient in your bed, turns pleasure’s cries into agony’s screams. This is the gift I give you this day,’ he said and touched Kai’s cheek gently, as a loving God. ‘Only when you fear your own death in every moment will you be truly alive.’

  ‘I would live,’ Kai croaked and his God smiled.

  ‘Perhaps you shall.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Barrion of Verdan’s heavy footfalls tracked the length of his battle-practice room and back. He raised his shaggy head to glare at the carved stone ceiling where the loud crash of boulders could be heard striking the platform above. In their castle beneath the Verdan Loch his people were safe from the attacking Northmen, but only as long as the ventilation continued to function. The Spirit of the Loch would not allow the Northmen to enter its watery domain and any who ventured into its embrace soon found themselves sleeping on its muddy bottom.

  Unfortunately that hadn’t stopped the Northmen attacking from land, catapulting boulders at his hold’s central platform where the ventilation emerged. If Barrion could not devise a plan to thwart them soon, his people would all suffocate.

  The officers of his guard stood ranged around the walls, waiting on his orders. Their patience infuriated Barrion almost as much as his own lack of forbearance.

  ‘Where is my Captain?’ he asked, coming to a halt at the huge gleaming door forged of the gold Barrion’s ancestors had mined. His thick beard fairly bristled with impatience.

  ‘I will find him. My Lord,’ the door guard replied and quickly took his leave, pleased no doubt to be escaping his lord’s wrath.

  Barrion glanced around the timber-lined walls at the others of his guard, looking for satisfaction in the crispness of their brown serge tunics and the alertness of their stance, but finding only further irritation at their readiness for battle when he had no way of deploying them. ‘By the powers, we will find an escape.’ Barrion growled.

  It had been almost a week since the Northmen had first encircled the loch and Barrion was desperate to secure his sister’s safety. She was all the family he had. If he could be sure she had reached the Volcastle with her trousseau and her attendants he would have no fear, for within those high walls she would be safer than anywhere in the realm. But if she had been intercepted by the Northmen …

  Barrion turned away and began pacing again to escape his destructive
thoughts. Mihale would be looking for Ellega if she was missing, and the king’s forces were greater than any Verdan could muster. Although, their Lord and King would have been at the Shrines for the Ceremony of Atheyre when the Northman had poured down from the mountains. Barrion could not even be sure that Mihale had returned safely to his Volcastle before the swarming Northmen attacked his party. Had he been forced to battle his way clear? Surely with Sh’hale forces standing alongside the Royal Guard to protect him there could be no doubt of his safety. Northmen would not penetrate that combined force.

  Barrion wished now that he’d attended the ceremony himself instead of remaining at his castle to ready his House’s preparations for the marriage of Ellega to their king. Now the finery he had ordered would not be worn until the Northmen were vanquished, and so there had been no point to the endless measurements, with his chief tailor stretching cords around his massive chest and throwing disapproving glances when his belly had proved the larger girth. Barrion had laughed at the time and called for another meal. There was little laughter in him now considering how badly his forces were placed to aid his king, let alone rescue his sister if that were necessary.

  ‘Curse the barbarians,’ he said loudly. Then he turned as the gold doors reopened to admit his Guard Captain.

  ‘My Lord Verdan,’ the seasoned campaigner said, striding to Barrion’s side and unrolling a yellowed parchment, ‘I have found the old plans.’

  Barrion took one end and held it, his expert eye running over the faded lines, recognising corridors and chambers, searching for any that were unknown to him. ‘Here, what is this?’ he asked, stabbing a finger at the edge of the plan.

  The Guard Captain, holding the other end, tilted his head to see. ‘My Lord … it is behind the kitchens. A refuse tunnel?’

  Barrion nodded. It had been many years since he had been through the kitchens but he remembered from his childhood the mystery of the disappearing scraps. A kitchen boy had shown him how to place vegetable peelings into the well through the grate at the top which protected people from tailing in. As Barrion watched, the loch had swept the peelings away. He remembered also that the kitchen boy had told him the loch did not take that which was not intended for it. One of the serving maids had lost a locket leaning over the grate, yet before she could begin to cry at the loss, the scraps she had dropped were gone and the locket lay bright and gleaming on the well floor.