Lae frowned at the letter and handed it back. ‘I cannot read it.’
‘I have told you its contents. I cannot be more than I am,’ he said, wondering now if that would be enough. ‘I have been honest with you, and you admit that you see no evil in my aura. Why do you not trust me?’
Lae gazed at him steadily. ‘I will ask you a question and you will answer me.’
Pagan nodded but inside himself he felt a premonition of failure.
‘If the child of The Light, Glimmer, should come to the Volcastle and tell you to kill … the royal you have seen on the Plains, would you do so?’ she asked.
Pagan shook his head, ‘’Tis an impossible question.’
‘Would you kill one of royal blood if it was demanded of you? If the Four Worlds depended on it?’
Her trust seemed to lie in this trap and Pagan knew no safe way out. All he could rely upon was truth. ‘If the child of The Light ordered me to … if the Four Worlds depended on it … I would.’ His eyes begged her to understand. ‘All of our futures rest in The Catalyst’s hands. We cannot disobey him.’
‘Kert said you would answer thus.’ She did not move but he felt her receding from him. He knew he should say something, should challenge her to the same question and ask her where her loyalties lay. But before he could, she turned and limped away, pausing at the end of the corridor to speak to someone before continuing on.
Pagan saw a shadow lift off the wall. Sh’hale. The young nobleman came forward and gazed dispassionately at his enemy. ‘Join me for dinner,’ he commanded. ‘My wife has lost her appetite and I hate to eat alone.’
Pagan stared at his rival, remembering the meals they had shared in the past, the friendship he had thought was between them while they both served the young King Mihale. There was no pretence now. ‘Very well,’ he said, thinking that if Lae would not tell him the reason for her fears, Kert may. He followed his host into the dining room and they sat on opposite sides of the long table, the head chair remaining empty as was the custom when no royal was present.
‘Lae fears that I am a threat to royalty,’ he said straight out.
Kert raised an eyebrow but he waited until the servants had come and gone and steaming bowls of soup sat before them. ‘You will not take her from me,’ he said.
Pagan held his tongue but he could not hide the hatred in his eyes.
‘Do not let your recklessness goad you into foolish violence,’ Kert said, taking up a spoon and sampling the soup. ‘Remember, that I am the superior swordsman.’
‘I am older and —’
‘Slower.’ Kert swallowed his soup and smiled. ‘Besides, if you somehow managed to kill me, you would not leave this castle alive. My men would see to that. And Lae would hate you for killing her son’s father,’ he added, as though reading Pagan’s doubts and revealing them one by one.
Pagan nodded, watching Kert gloat, feeling sick to his stomach. If he would have Lae as his, he must suffer this torment and struggle to find the truth of what lay between his beloved and her husband — their child obviously, but it was more than that. Much more, and only time and patience would reveal it to him. He could only hope that he did nothing foolish before the puzzle was unravelled, for though they all might die as the Maelstrom engulfed them, Pagan wanted to die with Lae in his arms, not seeing her held by the man who sat opposite him.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Breehan approached Castle Be’uccdha with a reluctant heart. He was about to face The Dark, who had killed his first love Noorinya and ended the life of the child that was between them. Glimmer had assured him that his own life would be safe, but that was not what Breehan feared. Hanjeel was still inside this monstrosity of a castle, and his greatest fear now was that he would be unable to liberate Noola’s son. Glimmer had been adamant that Hanjeel must remain until his task was completed, but Breehan knew he could not leave the boy at Be’uccdha. Yet how did one argue with The Catalyst?
Perhaps he should focus on the rite that was to come, and fortify himself for the burden of his own part in it. Afterwards there may be an opportunity to change her mind.
At Verdan they had successfully repeated the ceremony that produced the anchoring mirror. Though he had been exhausted, Breehan had been awed to see the spirit of the loch draw back its watery body to allow the glistening filament to rise to the heavens unimpeded. Unlike the Northmen, the Verdan forces had been welcoming, honouring Glimmer as the child of The Light and only bemoaning that their lord, Barrion, had not been present to receive her.
Presumably the Verdan lord was on route to his castle even as Glimmer was whisking Breehan away in her wild transportation which had just now dumped them on the edge of the Plains, under the shadow of Castle Be’uccdha.
‘Come, let us introduce ourselves to my father,’ she said in the same placid voice she always used.
Breehan shuddered but set off beside her, the stiff cliff-grass scratching his ankles. ‘I have never seen The Dark’s face,’ he said, ‘though I have hated the sound of his name since I was a child.’
‘And justly deserved,’ she said, ‘yet he was not born cruel. The destiny of my birth and the coming Maelstrom required that he become cruel, and so Kraal’s minion sowed the seeds within him while he was young, stealing his powers of discernment and leading him on a path of self-gratification. He was weak. Kraal feeds on weakness.’
‘Such as I,’ Breehan said softly.
Glimmer turned to him then and they stopped. ‘You are wrong. Inside, you are the same Breehan who went to Haddash six decades ago. Kraal’s influence has not changed your soul. You are not weak.’
‘I am not strong,’ he argued.
‘You confuse courage with strength,’ she replied. ‘Simple observation of humanity has shown me that a man may be strong and still fear for his life. The test of his strength is whether or not he runs.’
Breehan was unconvinced but she pointed towards the huge dark mass of stone they approached.
‘Here, now,’ she said, ‘you walk beside me towards the place of your hated enemy. Is that not courage?’
‘Perhaps I fear you more,’ he said, thinking again of Hanjeel.
Glimmer studied him a moment and then nodded. ‘Perhaps you should.’ She turned and set off again for the smaller entry beside the main gate.
Despite his apprehension, Breehan kept pace with her and told himself that this was courage after all. At the entrance Glimmer pressed her hand on the panel of wood. A loud clunking noise issued from within and then the door pushed open easily.
Breehan followed her in. ‘Where are the Guardsmen?’ he whispered as they stepped into the first courtyard and found it eerily deserted.
Glimmer closed her eyes. ‘There is movement,’ she said at last and pointed east. ‘We will go there.’
Breehan followed silently as they entered the castle proper and found utter darkness. He lit a candelabra and Glimmer carried that as they traversed the silent rooms, finding luxury such as even Kraal had not entertained; yet the lustre of polished bronze and the plush of thickly-woven carpets was all covered with a fine layer of dust. Fruit sat rotting in bowls and flowers wilted. A sour scent of decay permeated the dark stone corridors. In the east wing their approaching light touched a Guardsman dressed in the familiar and hated uniform of Be’uccdha. Breehan faltered but Glimmer continued towards them, and when the Guardsman made no motion of having heard their approach, Breehan followed.
‘They are transfixed,’ she said, poking the man’s dark cheek. The Guardsman’s eyes were fixed on a distant point in the corridor where Breehan could see nothing. His nerve restored, Breehan came closer and pulled on a heavy braid, but the Guardsman’s expression did not alter.
‘What magic is this?’ he asked, seeing two Guardsmen further down the corridor, equally unmoving. Glimmer glanced down at the Guardsmen’s breeches and Breehan followed her gaze, frowning at the stiff protrusion and the dark stain surrounding it.
‘I believe this is your kin
sman’s work,’ Glimmer said, and stepped past the Guardsmen to continue down the gloomy corridor.
Breehan followed, but with a last glance at the frozen expression before him. ‘Hanjeel?’ he whispered, unable to understand how Noola’s gentle son could inspire such fear as would make a warrior wet his breeches.
Down another two corridors they saw light ahead of them, coming from underneath a closed door. Glimmer handed Breehan the candelabra and knocked on the heavy wooden panel. ‘Open the door,’ she said and there was a sudden movement inside, and then silence. They waited, but no obedience followed her demand. ‘Open for the daughter of The Dark,’ she commanded, and this time there was an immediate response.
‘My Lady Lae,’ a frail voice came from within. ‘I have hoped for your return.’
The door swung wide and a stench of rotting flesh billowed out at them. Breehan covered his mouth and turned away, but Glimmer appeared immune to the rank fumes. A short man staggered back into the room.
Glimmer looked around it. ‘You are my father’s physician.’
‘I am he,’ the man said softly, staring at her, his Be’uccdha black cheeks flushed with some amazement. ‘Daughter of The Light?’ he asked.
‘And The Dark. I am The Catalyst,’ she said in her matter-of-fact tone. ‘Where is my father?’ She looked around the physician’s room. Breehan, behind her in the doorway with a sleeve over his nose, followed her gaze. Sheets crusted in dried blood littered the floor and in the gloomy corner of the large room a body lay on a high table. Breehan pressed his hand more tightly against his mouth. All four limbs had been severed and in their place were thickly wadded bandages, dark with blood.
‘Who is this?’ he asked.
The physician seemed to notice Breehan for the first time, taking in his immaculate white robe with only the widening of his eyes. ‘The Lord Verdan,’ he replied dutifully. ‘Tortured by the Northmen. I have done my best to save him from the putrefaction of his wounds but he fights death even as we speak.’
Breehan stepped to Glimmer’s side. ‘Can you heal him?’ he asked, prodded by memories of the pitiful gratitude of the Verdan people when they’d had news of their lord’s escape from the Northmen — their happy expectation of his imminent return.
‘It is not my destiny to save individuals,’ she said and turned away, ‘Take us to my father,’ she ordered the physician.
‘Save the Verdan lord,’ Breehan argued, stepping closer to the rancid body on the table, then stalling as the stench overwhelmed him. ‘It must be in your power to do so.’ Glimmer turned back to face him and the glistening perfection of her hair and her dress stirred anger in Breehan such as he hadn’t felt in decades. ‘Are you so perfect that you may not even dirty your hands?’ he demanded, barely recognising himself in the trembling fury his lips vented.
‘It is within my power, yet I see no point —’
‘To alleviate sadness. To bring hope to the people of Verdan who love their lord.’
‘Emotions,’ she said, ‘are not my domain.’
Breehan clutched the memory stone in his hand and swallowed back resentment. He told himself she was not malicious, merely incapable of mercy. Yet despite the passage of the years, he still felt anger that Noorinya had died while he lived. If she had been spared …
Breehan was tempted to touch Glimmer with the memory stone then, to see if he could make her feel. But instead reason intruded. If Glimmer paused to heal every wounded man in her path she would be hopelessly distracted from her destiny. And what arrogance Breehan owned to think he could select the ones she should save. After what he had been through himself, it was a miracle that he was still alive. If the Verdan lord was destined to live, he would do so with or without Glimmer’s intervention.
‘I apologise for my outburst,’ Breehan said. ‘But you are not like us. It is hard to adapt.’
‘You are also old and tired,’ Glimmer said. ‘I have observed that this hinders emotional control.’ She nodded to the physician. ‘Lead on.’
‘My Lord Be’uccdha … your father,’ the physician said as he walked down the corridor at Glimmer’s side, struggling to match her long strides with his stocky legs, ‘has been indisposed for some time now.’
Breehan, walking behind them, heard deception in these words.
So, apparently, did Glimmer. ‘How long has he been indisposed?’ she asked.
The physician looked up at her, his heavy shoulders hunching slightly, as though expecting punishment. ‘For years, My Lady.’
‘And you have run the castle in his name?’
‘I … My Lord’s Guard Captain is incapable, My Lady. And your sister, the Lady Lae, has not returned to us …’ He trailed off, unable to look at her now.
‘Then there have been no religious ceremonies in the Altar Caves?’
‘They have been empty for years, My Lady.’
‘The Cliffdwellers?’
‘Gone most recently, and we struggle to emulate their harvesting skills. All our efforts strain now towards survival.’ Little wonder the castle was deserted.
Glimmer nodded. ‘Thus our destinies unfold,’ she said, and Breehan thought to see the small man straighten, emboldened by this lack of censure. He directed them up a tower stairwell and Breehan felt his old legs tremble as he climbed. Worse, though, was his anticipation of the ordeal of seeing The Dark.
‘I have done what I can to keep the castle functioning,’ the physician said at Glimmer’s side, ‘but My Lord is maddened and we never know when he will be walking the corridors with the boy. We have lost so many …’
‘Hanjeel?’ Breehan asked from behind. ‘Was this boy a Plainsman?’ wondering how they had ‘lost’ so many. Was Hanjeel now a warrior?
The physician ignored Breehan. ‘My Lady may have to devise a means of controlling the whims of her father.’
‘I do not stay,’ she said. ‘I have a rite to perform and then I go to the Volcastle.’
The physician said nothing but Breehan thought about what she had said as he climbed the circular staircase, his hand on the stone wall at his side, pushing him up. Thin light admitted by vertical slits in the stone illuminated their passage. ‘Then why do we see The Dark?’ he asked when they reached a solid wooden door. ‘If it is not your destiny to save individuals …’
‘I promised you Hanjeel,’ she said, waiting as the physician unlocked the door, ‘in return for your help with the talisman.’
‘Then you care nothing for your father?’ he persisted. ‘Not even curiosity?’
‘I have not cared to be curious about my mother or my sister.’ she replied. ‘Ties of blood are meaningless distractions.’
Breehan heard the dull click of the lock opening and then the physician turned to them. ‘I cannot stay and live,’ he said, ‘yet I warn you now that the boy within has powers to steal a life with pleasure.’
‘We will be safe,’ Glimmer said. ‘Go and attend your duties. My sister may return here and you must be ready for her.’
The physician’s face lit with gratitude and he disappeared down the stairwell.
‘The daughter of The Dark will return to her castle?’ Breehan asked.
Glimmer looked at him intently, as though choosing her words. ‘I am a shadow through time,’ she told him. ‘Though you see me in the present and I appear as one of you, I am not like you. I have existed in one form or another for all of time, past and future. In that future I see Lae of Be’uccdha return to her castle.’
‘Yet when you aged,’ he reminded her, ‘you did not understand why.’
Glimmer merely gazed at him. ‘Something will happen,’ she said.
‘To stop you joining the Four Worlds?’
‘Perhaps.’ She turned back to the door.
Breehan shook his head. There were always more questions than answers. It was fortunate that Glimmer was not burdened by emotions, or fear of the coming event that had caused her to age prematurely would surely drive her mad.
‘Stand near me,�
� she said, ‘and do not be alarmed by what you see.’
Breehan nodded, knowing it was not personal concern that drove her words but the desire that he remain alive and able to carry out his duties as her assistant. Was there something within that may stop his heart? The door swung wide and he strained his eyes, searching the darkness that was revealed.
‘Hanjeel?’ he whispered, struggling to believe that Glimmer knew the future and she expected him to be here. There was nothing to see.
‘A curtain separates us,’ she said and stepped forward.
Breehan followed, unconsciously hunching as the physician had. A strange odour permeated the air. Sweet incense and something of the body. Sweat? Breehan struggled to place it in his mind.
Ahead of him Glimmer grasped a heavy velvet curtain and drew it back. Beyond was a metal barrier, an ornate grille with a door whose lock was closed but unlatched. Inside this gilded prison, hundreds of candles burned low across a large room swathed in soft fabrics. No hard edges of tables or chairs were visible and everywhere the golden light fell was smooth and warm. A shadow moved away from the wall and Breehan caught his breath. Hanjeel, clad only in a golden strip of fabric at the loins, was more beautiful than any apparition Kraal had conjured for him. More beautiful than Breehan had thought possible. His long dark hair shone with life and animation — indeed, it appeared to move on his shoulders. And what shoulders he now had. Smooth and wide leading down to a chest that Breehan coveted. A chest that women would long to touch. Hanjeel had grown from a comely boy into a beautiful and desirable man. Noola would be proud of this son she had borne, and Breehan could not wait to return him to her.
‘Kinsman,’ Hanjeel said, and Breehan was startled by the sound. Even Hanjeel’s voice was beautiful, like the purest bell strike, resonant and yet deeply intimate.
‘He has a magical power that I shield you from,’ Glimmer said. ‘You see only his beauty and not the glamour the Forest of Desire imparted while it taught him pleasure. He is the ultimate sensualist and all who see him are captivated and entrapped. If you would have me return him to your tribe I must remove the glamour.’
Daughter of the Dark: Shadow Through Time 2 Page 42