‘Dana!’ Will called, and I blinked. Above me, in the trees, more men were leaping. I blew, shaking the great trunks, and down they tumbled, screaming. But one of them struck my mare with his sword, and she reared. I lifted, falling like a rag doll to the ground.
‘Dana!’ called Will again. He leapt down towards me and, back to back, we faced the enemy, who laughed, thinking we were easy prey.
Will killed the man with one stroke, splitting his smile in two. Still more came upon us and Jed was hard-pressed, his sword thwacking and trembling on the air. Will and I spun and kicked; heads and groins, throats and eyes. Any part that was unprotected, vulnerable. Men screamed and fell.
‘Hold!’ called a voice.
TeSin. He stood in the centre of the clearing, his knife pressed to N’tombe’s throat. How had he done that? How could anyone approach her? And then I saw: she was exhausted. She’d been replenishing herself from the forest energy last night, but now that had faded. He’d simply cut the thread that bound her to the trees.
But to have done that, he must be able to see them.
‘You,’ he called. ‘The princess. Give her to me. Or …’ he pushed the tip of the knife closer to N’tombe’s throat and she flinched as blood welled, dark red on her dark skin.
She stared at me and I knew what she was thinking. No!
I never listened to my governesses. I walked into the clearing. ‘I am here.’
He couldn’t understand me, but I, who had once been him in a dream, could read his thoughts. He would kill me and take the beads back to his king. Then he would be honoured.
‘Let her go,’ I said, and tipped my head to one side, nodding at him. He did nothing, but motioned for me to come nearer.
I did so, feeling my blades: one at my back, one between my shoulder blades, two in my boots.
N’tombe moaned and her hand moved. Unconsciously, with no thought of trees or leaves or my pleasure grounds, I watched the golden light reach towards her. And the man who brought his knife down and cut through it. Her face, dark skin and all, turned pale and her hands trembled.
She shrugged, leaning away from his knife, struggling backwards, and he had to follow her. It was all the opening I needed. I pulled the blade from my back and threw it hard. It seemed to turn in slow motion, arcing through the air, sunlight flickering on its shiny surface, and with a grunt, he brought his shield about and knocked it from the air. But it was enough.
I was on him, my blade shimmering, blurring as I moved, my foot kicking up towards his face. He blocked it with a grunt of surprise and called. Five guards rushed to his defence, and suddenly I found myself in a true combat space.
I was dimly aware of Will rushing to N’tombe, clearing his own death arena about him, and Jed, circling the clearing, looking for an opening. But now here was I, in this moment.
Alden and Owein had called me formidable. Truly, they knew nothing. I had always held myself back before, scared of hurting someone I loved or creating an unwomanly fuss, or Mother forbidding me to fight again. But here, now, were these men who wanted to kill me and my friends and I was fully armed and infinitely dangerous.
I spun and dodged, kicked the first man in the face, followed it with a blow to his neck. He fell. I threw a knife into one man’s eye and he reeled backwards. The third tried to rush me from behind, while the fourth feinted in front of me, so I spun, kicking the man behind me in the groin and, while he was gasping, stabbed the fourth in his armpit.
I didn’t stop to watch, but turned to the man who lay curled over his groin and stabbed him in the throat. The fifth waited, watching cautiously, then danced about me, weaving and twisting until, tiring of this game, I pulled a knife from my boot and threw it at him, catching him in the gut. He had mail on, and the knife bounced off him, so I moved in closer, jabbing left and right with open hands, the edges firm, like a blade, and he winced away from the strikes. I followed with a thumb strike to the eye.
TeSin stumbled backwards, his face suddenly fearful. He pulled his curved sword from its scabbard and whistled. Like a dog, his horse trotted to him. As a lion stalks its prey, I circled. He crouched, facing me with the tip of his sword. Who would make the first move? N’tombe, resting on the ground behind Will, grunted, a sigh in my mind. Light.
Light. I pulled a tendril of gold from the trees and, holding it like a net, rushed at TeSin, wrapping it about him so he stumbled. Will’s hand snaked out so fast I could barely see the movement. There was a thud and silently the warrior toppled backwards, Will’s knife piercing up under the mail, driving into his chest.
For a crazy moment I was furious that Will had stolen this man from me. But a death is a death, and the hand wielding the knife is not important, as long as you are still standing at the end of the fight.
There was a brief flurry, a crashing in the bushes as the two remaining men turned their horses and ran. And then there was silence. I knew we were safe when the thrush resumed its song.
Jed called to the horses, calming them with kind words and gentle strokes. Poor beasts, pulled from a warm stable to open warfare. With horrible sucking sounds, Will retrieved the knives, cleaning them on the clothes of the dead men.
I knelt beside N’tombe. ‘Are you alright?’
She grinned. ‘What do you think?’
I narrowed my eyes. In the daylight she looked tired and unharmed, but when I gazed at her properly, seeing her as she really was — a golden pillar of light — I could see there was something wrong.
‘You’re exhausted,’ I said abruptly. ‘You need to rest.’
She coughed, struggled onto her elbow, reaching towards my face. ‘Little Dana,’ she said fondly. ‘Always surprising me.’
I pulled spun golden energy from the trees and wrapped it about her as a man wraps a shivering child. ‘Hush,’ I said and called to Jed.
‘We need somewhere dry and warm,’ I said, ‘and close by.’
He picked up N’tombe, much to her annoyance. ‘The ruins. They’ll do. Think those soldiers will be back?’
I thought for a moment, reaching into the golden light of the trees, searching for disturbances in their untrammelled energy. ‘No,’ I said. ‘There were only two survivors. And they’re heading away from here as fast as they can.’
‘Survivors,’ grumbled Jed. ‘Don’t like that.’
‘This is more important,’ I said. ‘Without N’tombe, we’re lost.’
He grunted. ‘Can you sit on a horse, lady?’
She murmured and he helped her up onto the back of her mare. I thought then of me, and last night’s exhaustion. Will and Jed seemed fated to carry and feed us and wrap us in warmth when we were cold.
‘Thank you,’ I said to Will, and he put his arms about me.
‘I’ve never seen you …’ he said, and stopped.
‘What?’
‘Never seen you fight like that.’
‘You’ve watched me fight lots of times. You taught me, remember?’
‘Not like that,’ he said, his voice fearful. ‘Dana, I thought I was going to lose you.’
I kissed him. Soon he relaxed and his lips moved on mine.
‘Ah hum,’ said Jed. ‘When you’re quite ready.’ He held N’tombe’s reins. ‘We’ll rest up for a day or so, get our strength back.’ He looked over at my tutor, who sat quietly, clinging to her pommel with hands that suddenly seemed small. ‘Then we’ll be on our way. Is that right, boss?’
She smiled, a flash of white against the darkness of her face, and nodded. ‘And Dana can wash her hair.’
I put my hands to my head and pushed the heavy mass back, away from my face. ‘I’m going to cut it,’ I said, ignoring her gasp. ‘Just you wait and see.’
Jed clucked to his horse and, with stumbling hooves, they left the grassy space that smelt of death. Behind us, hidden in the long grass, still men gazed with open, unmoving eyes at the summer sky. Will kissed me again and as we clung together the sun came out from behind the clouds. Then he took my hand an
d led me to my horse.
We rode from the clearing. Above, crows circled in the open air, searching for a place to roost.
41
Homecoming
Late in the afternoon, Will lay quiet under the trees, inhaling the sweet smell of summer grass. The pursuit had broken off, for a time anyway, and here the ground was dry and solid. He no longer had to look at moving waves, and he no longer felt ill with seasickness. There was enough food in the panniers for a week or more, and the weather was fine. Finally, here was a brief moment of peace.
He barely felt he’d drawn breath since washing onto the beach. Aside from those few hours in the silence of the cave, the arrival at the Kingdom hadn’t meant an opportunity for rest. Just a blur of riding, fighting and gut-wrenching panic.
When Dana had arrived with N’tombe, bringing fresh horses, fresh food — well, he’d not felt so happy since he’d first arrived at the Castle. The food and horses were welcome, of course, but to see Dana, running and smiling — it was as though, for a moment, all the hardships of the travel had disappeared. And then she leapt into his arms, and kissed him …
Without thinking, he’d kissed her back.
Will closed his eyes. Such fear he’d felt for her, since then. Those creatures on the cliffs — what were they? And the lights shining over the Kingdom, the waves roaring, and Dana’s own wrist blazing against the night.
The Guardian had taken the Kingdom, N’tombe had said, but how was that possible? How could you just uproot a country, move it somewhere else? No-one had that power. And then N’tombe had called Dana the Guardian. But everyone knew the Guardian was an old woman with a necklace. Dana didn’t have a necklace. Still, she’d been so tired, he hadn’t liked to ask her.
The worst moment had been that morning when the commander stepped into the clearing, his knife against the Enchantress’s throat, and challenged the princess to fight. He’d felt such horror when she’d stepped forward. ‘No!’ he thought. ‘You can’t …’
No matter how gifted she was with her daggers, how could she even dream she could match a noyan? But it was a good thing he had kept his thoughts to himself. How had she learnt to fight like that? She seemed to flow through space; appearing, disappearing at will. He’d blinked, awe-struck; she reminded him of N’tombe — the sense of power, the immense control.
And then there was an opening, and without thinking, he leapt towards the enemy. He had to protect her.
‘What are you thinking?’
Leaning on her elbows, Dana smiled at him. Tendrils of her hair had escaped her braids, framing her face like a disordered halo.
Will smiled and twisted a curl around a finger. He pulled her head down, kissed her. Her lips were soft and moved gently on his.
‘Don’t stop,’ she said hazily, when he took his mouth away.
‘Do you realize,’ said Will, ‘this is the first breathing space I’ve had in many a day. I’ve been checking our provisions. We’ve flour. I can make flat bread for our supper.’
‘Food?’ she said. ‘Is that all you can think of?’
Will laughed and kissed her. ‘Not all.’
He pulled her head onto his chest. Dana rested quietly against his heart. Together they listened to the wind in the trees.
It didn’t really matter what she was: Guardian or fighter or princess. As long as he was with her, he was home.
42
Dreaming
Stars peeped through the willow leaves overhead. I pulled my cloak over my shoulders, huddling into it for warmth. The others were used to sleeping outdoors, but I missed my bed, I missed my home.
Were the people at the Castle even aware that they had moved? Only Daddy really paid attention to the scenery; would he notice the change? Maybe they weren’t even awake — perhaps Rosa had set them all to sleeping.
N’tombe, a dark shape against the night, stood on the bank keeping watch. She’d slept so much yesterday, she said, that there was little point in her resting further. She shifted and a tendril of gold from the forest spun out towards her, wrapping her like a blanket. Sometimes N’tombe seemed to merge with the light, so it was hard to see the woman against the brightness. Did I do that? Did Rosa?
My eyes felt heavy but still I couldn’t sleep. This time last year I was a princess with nice clothes, a bed and a family. An annoying family sometimes but, still, they were mine. Now all were gone. I’m a vagabond, I thought, with a strange thrill. I’d fought hard today, killed men. Their blood was in my hair and on my clothes. Was I still me?
The beads about my wrist tightened and seemed to warm.
‘Hush,’ they murmured.
My eyes closed. I dreamt. This was my dream.
Rosa stood at her window, a crow on her fist. She whispered something and the bird tipped its head, staring at her from a bright eye. She lifted her hand and, like someone throwing a ball, tossed the bird from the window. Calling in a harsh voice, it spread its wings wide, circled the tower then turned away, flying towards the sea. Gradually, it dwindled to a speck, disappearing into the blue.
‘You’ve done well,’ she said.
‘I’m not sure what I’ve done,’ I said. ‘I think you did it all.’
She smiled. ‘We did it together, child. Did you not feel it?’
‘Maybe,’ I shrugged. There had been something from me, but what it was, I couldn’t tell. ‘I’m not used to this business, after all.’
She wore the necklace. The ruby gleamed in the sunlight. Rainbows, tinged with red, reflected from its facets and danced across the chamber. Her hair was lank, her face pale and pinched with pain.
‘Are you well?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘As well as can be expected.’
‘And my family?’
She smiled. ‘Do not worry for them.’
‘Are they awake? Or have you put everyone to sleep?’
‘A little of both,’ she said. ‘Watch.’
She brought the crystal globe over to the window. Inside the glass my family seemed to dance, like tiny dolls in a ball of snow. Mother smiled, Owein scowled, Alden glinted charmingly and my father … Standing away from the others, Daddy stared out of the ball. He seemed to see me, and lifted a hand.
‘They do not realize they are dreaming,’ she said fondly, ‘save Leovane, I think; he has some of the power and can sense my workings. He is confused, a little, but he trusts me enough to let me do my job, as I leave him to do his.’
‘They are safe then?’
‘Safer than you or me,’ she said. ‘For we are awake, child, and we stand guard.’ She turned me to the window. ‘Look.’
Far away, the mountains were purple against the haze. As I looked, the haze seemed to thicken, growing like smoke from a distant fire. Claws of cloud stretched towards us, then a breeze sprang up and they drifted away. Rosa sighed, a harsh breath of pain.
‘The enemy,’ she said, ‘is seeking us. Yet we remain hidden; he cannot find us, not if he searches under every rock in every world. But I am weak, child, and old. I do not have the strength to destroy him. That task is yours.’
‘Mine?’ What did I know of the world outside the Kingdom? I couldn’t even sleep on the ground properly — how could I, a girl barely sixteen, seek out an eternal king and kill him? He would have armies and sorcerers and probably terrible weapons. And he was old, he was experienced. I was still learning.
‘You have help, Dana. You have your companions.’
I thought of N’tombe, exhausted. That warrior had cut her golden threads of energy so easily. I looked again at the mountains. The haze was still there. And in the globe, my family danced their silent dreams.
‘What must I do?’
‘Good girl,’ she said approvingly. ‘Dana, you have a strange road to travel and I cannot see its turnings. Some advice I can give you: follow your heart, child. It is wiser than you know. One thing you must watch for — right now — are the soldiers at your back. The army was large and my storms damaged it badly, but it is
not destroyed. Soon it will regroup and seek you out. You and your companions must flee.’
Where would we go? I knew nothing of the world beyond the Kingdom. ‘N’tombe said something of a weapon?’
She smiled. ‘Seek it in darkness, for in darkness it shall be revealed.’
What does that mean? Why can’t she just say: you need this thing, whatever it is? Even better, maybe she could tell me what it is and what it looks like. And maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, she could tell me where I can find it. Why all this mystery?
‘Ah, Dana,’ said Rosa, putting her hand on my hair, ‘so impatient. Sometimes, child, the journey is as important as the destination.’
I woke spluttering, the sun on my face. Will was dropping twigs into my mouth. ‘Come on, dozy one. Time to go.’
I groaned. My back and hips ached from the hard ground. Maybe I was getting old; I was sixteen now, after all. ‘I’m coming.’
He helped me saddle my horse.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I used to think that one day I’d reach a village and there would be a bakery, and I’d open its door, and I’d just know.’
‘Know what?’
‘That I was home.’ Straightening, he stared at me across the mare’s back. ‘But it doesn’t work like that, does it?’
‘I think,’ I said, stroking the mare’s warm shoulder, ‘that home isn’t really a building. It’s being with the people who matter most.’
He grinned. ‘That’s what I think too. Hop on, Princess. Time to ride.’
Fin
Acknowledgements
This book was made possible through an award offered by the Story lines Children’s Literature Charitable Trust of New Zealand, in association with HarperCollinsPublishers.
The Storylines Children’s Literature Charitable Trust supports and promotes children’s literature in New Zealand. Membership, open to all, includes parents, grandparents, authors and illustrators, publishers, teachers, booksellers, librarians, and other professionals in the fields of reading, writing, publishing and literacy.
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