‘Yes, it was very bad timing,’ she said. Vandal had been jealous of Glimmer before. Now he positively hated her and he was furious with his father. He practised with his sword for hours a day and Sarah knew that was a bad sign. She should never have suggested using his powers to get her to Ennae. It would be far too dangerous, not to mention pointless. How likely was it that Pagan would leave his beautiful young betrothed for a middle-aged woman. Vandal still wanted to go, although thankfully he didn’t seem able to. That might change though. Pagan had told her his powers had been weak until he’d reached manhood. Thankfully it would be a few years before Vandal was through puberty. She hoped she could convince him to give up the idea by then. ‘So, is tomorrow any good?’ she asked, steering the conversation back to business.
‘The sooner the better,’ he agreed.
‘Okay, what about you come at ten, I’ll show you around and if you like you could stay for lunch.’
He smiled then, showing teeth, but where Sarah had expected to see genuine warmth, instead there was an odd glow in his dark eyes, like coals in a fire. It was disconcerting and mesmerising all at once. ‘I’d like to meet Vandal,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I could counsel him.’
Sarah nodded cautiously. She didn’t imagine Vandal would take kindly to being ‘counselled’, but priests were trained for that sort of thing, and perhaps it would be good to have an outsider’s input. Certainly Reg hadn’t been able to make any headway with the boy, and how could he? He didn’t know the truth.
Vandal shouldn’t know the truth. She should never have told him Ennae was real and that his father was going back to his young girlfriend. That had only made the situation worse, but Sarah had been hurting and she’d wanted to share that pain. It had been selfish, but she couldn’t go back in time and undo what had been done.
Vandal’s reaction had been frighteningly intense: elation to know that Glimmer was only a charge and not Pagan’s daughter — not his half-sister; fury to realise that his father had planned all along to abandon them, and thrill at the idea that he was a real Guardian with powers. After that had come determination to hone those powers and go after his dad. No matter what Sarah said — accusing Vandal of planning to abandon her himself, pointing out the dangers and his inexperience — Vandal was going, as soon as he possibly could. His plan was to bring Pagan back, but Sarah knew she’d lose them both and she had no one to blame but herself.
‘I won’t bandy too many biblical quotations around,’ Father Karl assured her, and she struggled to find her way back into the conversation.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ she said, picking up her briefcase and holding out her hand again. Having another man to talk to might distract Vandal from his obsession with Ennae. It couldn’t hurt to try. ‘So, see you at ten.’
He smiled as he pressed his palm against hers and she noticed something she hadn’t picked up the first time — his hands were unnaturally hot. And weirder still, some trick of the yellow light was making his eyes glow again, and it reflected on his teeth which seemed to glisten as though he’d been salivating. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he said. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent meal.’
‘You’re not a vegetarian,’ she said, looking at him closely.
‘Pardon?’
‘You’ve got two canine teeth on each side.’ She nodded at them. ‘That’s like a double dose of carnivore genes.’
He laughed and released her hand. ‘No, Sarah,’ he said, his strange eyes glowing again. ‘Definitely not a vegetarian.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
They paused for rest on the Plains and Glimmer turned to Breehan. ‘Noola and your tribe are in caves not far north of here. The son you gave her still lives.’
Breehan shook his head and tried to control his emotions. ‘It is my role as their storyteller to pass on the lore of the tribe to the new ones, but if I go to them now I will not want to leave. Let us do what is required by your destiny first.’
‘If you survive I will take you to them.’
Breehan nodded. He was not sure how he would cope with seeing Noola’s captive sire, but perhaps by that time Hanjeel would be returned to them and the Be’uccdha male would be gone.
‘Do you want to know his name?’ Glimmer asked.
For a moment Breehan was confused, until he remembered they were talking about his son, not Noola’s bedmate. ‘It is enough to know that he lives. That she lives,’ Breehan wheezed, concentrating on the necessities of the moment now, wondering how he would find the energy to reach Fortress Sh’hale. ‘Yet like the Guardian, I long to see The Dark dead.’
‘That you may,’ she said, turning her far-seeing gaze back to the Plains. ‘My father still lives and we will meet him later. But first, to Sh’hale.’
Breehan nodded but could not seem to get his tired limbs moving again. ‘Can you assist me to have more strength?’ he asked. ‘My reserves are exhausted. I cannot go on.’
‘I can carry you,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘I am old and frail but not without pride.’
‘Then I must use other means to transport us,’ she said and was silent a moment, thinking, ‘I have been many years in Magoria where I was unable to use my powers openly. I was forced to disguise my actions even from the child who was raised as my brother. It will take time to adjust to the fact that deception is no longer necessary.’ She held out her hands and, as Breehan watched, a shining platter appeared on them, covered in succulent fruits and soft cakes. A decanter of sparkling liquid sat at its centre. ‘Rest and eat,’ she said, crouching to place the tray on the ground.
Breehan gratefully sat down and ate, but when he was sated he felt compelled to asked her, ‘The ten years you cannot account for, you have no memory of them?’
She shook her head, but there was no puzzlement in her expression, only contemplation. ‘The map within my mind shows me that there will be a divergence. Soon. Yet I cannot see how it comes about.’ Her eyes cleared and she looked at him. ‘Those ten years must have been taken to correct the error.’
‘Or they have created it,’ Breehan suggested. ‘Remember the voice the Guardian heard? It warned him that the greatest danger was near and that he must protect you. Yet you dismissed him.’
‘I am the voice he and others have heard,’ she said. ‘Or I will be when the Four Worlds are joined.’
‘Yet you did not know that you had spoken to him. Or why you had said what you did.’
‘Time is complicated,’ she replied, ‘especially when you only know one version of its use.’
Versions of time? Breehan stared at her, pondering what she might mean, and in those moments of stillness he noticed a maturity in her face which had not been evident in the girl who had rescued him from Haddash, the girl with the brightly coloured fingernails. This woman’s eyes were the same. Knowing eyes. Breehan assumed she had always had such eyes. But the set of her chin and the tilt of her head indicated grief and hardships met. For one who had been raised in the Plainsman way it was easy to read character from gestures. Yet what little she had told him indicated that she was unable to experience suffering or even to understand it. How could it be there in her bearing and the very shape of her mouth?
‘I see your thoughts,’ she said. ‘They are not correct.’
For main years while he had been on Haddash, Breehan had feared that Kraal was reading his mind. To find that The Catalyst could do so now seemed less threatening and he was able to accept it calmly. ‘You said there would be a problem,’ he reminded her. ‘You cannot know all that will happen.’
‘I know that I cannot feel grief.’
‘You have not met your father.’
Silence followed this remark and Breehan coughed and decided he would lie down. ‘I must rest,’ he said, reclining on the hard earth. But thought he closed his eyes, he could not sleep while a question still intruded on his mind.
Glimmer apparently sensed it and said, ‘I deceived the Guardian so he would no
t follow us. It was easier for him to relinquish his protective urges towards a young man.’
‘I could see that.’
‘Yet the truth is that I have never required championing. I cannot be destroyed in a physical sense.’
Breehan shook his head, not in disbelief, for he could see that The Catalyst was indeed powerful, but the deception …
‘I was born not only to save, but to experience. Though I am the memory of all things that abide in the minds of man, of all who have ever lived and who ever will live, I can only save man by being human, by being born and growing among you.’
‘Do my memories abide in you?’ Breehan asked.
‘And that of your grandchildren,’ Glimmer said.
‘I will have grandchildren?’ Breehan’s tired old heart lightened at the thought.
‘You will not live to see them, but they will be born.’
Breehan was overwhelmed. His tribe would go on. His seed … ‘Is this future set?’ he asked.
‘It is dependent on the Four Worlds being joined.’
‘Then we must do everything in our power to ensure your success.’ Which brought Breehan’s mind back to the Guardian’s warning.
‘Why did the Guardian think you were a boy?’
‘The child of The Light was supposed to be a son. My father was given this news by a minion of Kraal when I was as yet unborn, and as The Dark, his decrees were not questioned. Even my mother believed it, and later when I was born, the Plainswoman Noorinya hid my gender as is the custom with newborns among her people. Circumstances conspired to keep my gender secret until I was exiled into Magoria.’
‘Circumstances,’ Breehan mused. ‘That was convenient. And the Fire God’s purpose in this deception?’
‘Unknown.’
‘Even by a shadow through time?’
‘Once you understand time you will see its limitations.’
‘But the Guardian was with you in Magoria. He knew —’
‘He lost his memory of that time when he returned through the Sacred Pool.’
Breehan thought about that. ‘I wish I had lost my memory of Haddash,’ he said softly. Yet that would only have made his time with Noola seem closer and more painful. Perhaps it was better this way. Better for her. And at least he could reassure himself that his penance in the Fireworld had won Hanjeel’s life.
‘The boy will return to his mother soon,’ Glimmer said. ‘His task nears an end.’
‘What task?’
She looked down at him, her soft white hair falling to cover eyes which he already knew showed no emotion. ‘That of destroying The Dark, as slowly as is humanly possible.’
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Lae adjusted the collar of Lenid’s little coat and then stepped back, glancing at Kert to see if he was attentive, although she should have known better. When Kert was in his young king’s presence there was little could distract him.
‘Are you ready, my love?’ she asked her son, proud of his regal bearing though he was only recently three.
‘Yes, Mother,’ he said slowly and carefully.
Kert smiled and Lae was pleased that she had taught her son the formal manners that befitted royalty.
‘Then let us begin the recital,’ she said.
Lenid took a deep breath, his tiny hands pressed against the front of his ornate jacket. But the breath was too quick and it ended on a cough, coupled with a squeaking explosion of air from the rear end. Poor Lenid’s beautiful royal-hued eyes went wide in horror at this embarrassment, and Lae would have felt grief for him that this first display of his verbal talents for Kert had been sabotaged, only it was too funny.
She managed to stifle a smile only as long as it took to glance at Kert, then they were both laughing out loud. Lenid’s bottom lip abruptly stopped trembling and he squealed with delight, running into Lae’s arms and wiggling his bottom as though to produce more sounds that would give them mirth.
Lae covered it with a hand. ‘No more,’ she begged.
But Lenid shouted, ‘More, more,’ and continued to wiggle, although thankfully with no repeat performance.
At last when their laughter had subsided, Kert said, ‘I thank you, Majesty, for your inspiring recital of the royal histories.’ He stood and bowed.
Lenid grinned and stepped out of Lae’s arms so he could bow himself, then he ran into Kert’s arms and was held there.
Lae watched fondly, remembering how awkward Kert had once been with these innocent intimacies, and how obvious was his pleasure in them now. He loved Lenid more fiercely than any man ever loved a son, and Lae marvelled that such strong emotions dwelt within him, a man most had believed passionless and more intent on perfecting his deadly warrior skills than in finding love. Yet spending time in Lenid’s presence had enhanced qualities in Kert she had never known he possessed. Kindness, generosity, a sense of humour. Who would have imagined that the Kert Sh’hale who had hated and hunted Talis so relentlessly could learn to laugh out loud and to tease his charge so gently and with such obvious affection.
The change was profound, and Lae had to agree with Firde that he was indeed a very handsome man, a fact she had never been able to acknowledge while he had treated her so despicably. She had not forgotten, and would never forgive his cruelty, but their camaraderie now eased Lae’s burden of confinement. Lenid was still a prisoner in his nursery and all she could hope was that Khatrene’s son would soon return from Magoria to take the throne until Lenid was of age. Until that time Kert would take no chances with revealing their young king’s identity.
Be’uccdha had not troubled them again after that first contact two years earlier, but neither Kert nor Lae believed her father would give up. They’d had no word of his death and that was the only occurrence Lae could imagine that would stop him wanting to rule Ennae from the Volcastle. The Northmen outside their gate had given up their siege and now occupied the royal forests beyond. There had been no message delivered from Barrion and they assumed this meant he was either dead or at her father’s side.
Kert’s plan to remain holed up in the Volcastle until The Light’s child returned was a good one, even if it did tax the patience. Still, whenever these thoughts assailed Lae, she reminded herself that the time would pass more slowly for Pagan. No matter how impatient she felt, his lot was far worse.
Pagan. She thought of him by name now, rather than as her ‘beloved’. Was that as a result of the doubts Kert had sown in her mind? In her innocence she had pledged herself to Pagan, as she had known him then. But it would not be that same Pagan who returned. Could she in all conscience expect herself to honour that vow, even if she didn’t have Lenid’s safety to consider?
‘You’re thinking about him.’
Lae looked up and found Kert staring at her. Lenid played with a toy on his lap.
‘Your eyes.’ He pointed. ‘They soften. I can always tell.’ He sounded bitter, and Lenid reacted to the tone by putting his hand over Kert’s mouth and rubbing it, as though to erase the words.
Lae wished she could erase them as well. One moment Kert was tender and kind and she thought of him as an honourable man, a handsome honourable man. Then his mood changed and she remembered how much she’d despised him, and how easy it would be to despise him again.
Kert looked at her a moment longer then transferred his attention to Lenid, helping his charge pull apart the intricate wooden castle he’d brought him, then put it back together again. Lae watched them, trying to quieten her mind.
‘My Lord and King has a quick hand and a quick mind,’ he said when the task was completed, and Lenid reacted with a proud smile that shone like the warm glow of morning sun on a cold face.
‘Mama,’ he cried, clambering off Kert’s lap to run towards her, ‘Mama,’ forgetting his formal manners in his excitement. ‘I am quick.’
‘Like the wind,’ she agreed, taking him into her arms and finding him still warm from Kert’s. She could smell Kert on him as well, the faint sweet scent of sword oil mix
ed with a breath of kitori, the Sh’hale stimulant Kert favoured to keep his mind alert but not intoxicated. The nearness of this scent disconcerted Lae and she glanced up to find him watching her, his eyes searching, and the fluttering in her stomach grew more pronounced until a pudgy finger poked her in the ribs.
‘Like a dagger,’ Lenid corrected her.
Lae arched an eyebrow at Kert who shrugged, an admission of guilt, then she found herself smiling. Smiling at Kert, and he was smiling back, the intensity of his eyes pushing past her guard, into her head and her heart. So handsome, that dark hair and pale skin, coal black eyes. Lae remembered how she’d felt all those years ago when she’d encountered him in the temple gardens, the way she had quivered when his cloak had brushed her arm. Longing had been awoken in her then, and now it resurfaced.
Firde’s words came into her mind: ‘He sleeps alone. The kitchen maids would know. There isn’t a one of them wouldn’t be in his bed, but he won’t have them. It’s as though he’s waiting … for you, My Lady’.
But Lae was waiting for Pagan. And why? She remembered him confronting her in the temple gardens after Kert had gone, accusing her of dallying with Kert while she was betrothed to his cousin. Later she had come to love Pagan, but that memory reminded her of how arrogant and foolish he had once been, and could yet be.
Kert’s smile faded. ‘We are a family, Lae,’ he said, and she nodded. It was true.
‘Fam-il-lee,’ Lenid sang happily to himself as he played with his wooden castle. Lae absently caressed his head as she gazed at Kert, wondering if she was seeing him truly for the first time.
He rose and came towards her. This time Lae felt no apprehension, even when he crouched beside her, one arm encircling Lenid, closer than she had ever allowed him. ‘This means something to me,’ he said, and though her eyes never left his, she felt him stroking the large Sh’hale ring he’d taken from his own hand to put on her finger three years ago in the rushed wedding ceremony that had followed Lenid’s birth. She had planned to take it off immediately afterwards but Kert had insisted she continue to wear it and had arranged for it to be adjusted to size. Now she understood why.
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