The Tigrens' Glory (Soul-Linked Saga) (Volume 9)

by Laura Jo Phillips

  “Nor do I,” Kyerion said. “Even more telling is the fact that we’re strongly attracted to Glory even without the influence of her pheromones. Such a thing shouldn’t be possible if we already had an Arima.”

  “Do you think that she lied to us?” Kirk asked.

  “No,” Kyerion replied. “I’m quite certain she’s told us the truth as she knows it. On the other hand, I trust my Druid senses which, like our memories, grow ever stronger. They are telling me that Glory is ours.”

  “Yes, my senses tell me the same thing,” Kirk replied. “Just as they tell me that her claim that we’ve been imprisoned for seven thousand years is true, though that, too, seems impossible. How can we not be completely insane? How is it that we possess enough mental acuity and power to recreate this imaginary valley and meet here, even block Glory’s flow of energy, yet we cannot awaken ourselves? None of this makes sense.”

  “We are all of us struggling to understand,” Kyerion said. “Glory included.”

  “What does she need to understand?” Kirk demanded in frustration. “She’s not trapped in her own mind with no knowledge of how to free herself.”

  “For a High Druid you listen with your ears overmuch,” Kyerion said dryly.

  “I ask that you be kinder to her,” Cade said to Kirk. “I know that she appears cool and aloof on the outside, but I have more of her energy within me then either of you, and I see her more clearly. She is a woman of great courage and enormous heart, who has learned to keep her emotions deeply hidden.”

  “Why?” Kirk asked. “Courage and heart are admirable traits. Why would any woman wish to hide them?”

  “I don’t know, Kirk,” Cade said. “Perhaps we should ask her.”

  “I’d like to see beyond that door,” Kyerion said, glancing at the door that they’d replicated along with the rest of Glory’s valley. “It’s very size and strength trouble me.”

  “Why not open it?” Kirk asked.

  Kyerion stared at his middle brother, who frowned. After a long moment he dropped his eyes and shook his head at himself. “All right, that was not a well thought-out question. As this is a copy of her valley, we cannot replicate that which we have no knowledge of. Of course, we could open the door when we’re in Glory’s valley.”

  “I have already told her that we wouldn’t do that,” Kyerion reminded him, turning to stare at the door thoughtfully. “Something tells me that door is important. It worries me.”

  Kirk and Cade looked at their eldest brother in surprise, but put whatever comments they may have had aside when they noticed a strange rippling effect in their surroundings. The valley itself seemed to shift and waver, their only warning before Glory suddenly appeared a few feet from where they stood. Once again she wore the black leather pants, vest, boots and gloves that she’d worn the first time they’d joined her in the dream valley. The only difference was that in addition to her curved sword, the belt that had contained throwing knives now held sai.

  “Hello,” she said, the undisguised warmth and pleasure in her voice capturing their full, undivided attention.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Kyerion said, bowing slightly, his eyes drinking her in. He found that he had to struggle to keep his hands at his sides when what he really wanted to do was reach out and stroke her satin skin before claiming another kiss, a deeper, more passionate kiss than the first one. But, he didn’t want to make her nervous again, so he gritted his teeth and kept his hands at his sides.

  “We find that we like this valley of yours very much,” Cade said. “It’s strangely colored to our eyes, but soothing nonetheless.”

  “I found the lavender skies and blue grass of Jasan to be strange when I first arrived there as well,” Glory admitted. “But it grows on you rather quickly. Were you waiting for me?”

  “Yes,” Kyerion said. “It seems to us that you’ve been gone for a long time.”

  “It’s been two days,” Glory said. “I’m sorry. I tried really hard to come last night, but I couldn’t make it work. I don’t know why. I didn’t have any trouble tonight, though.”

  “You said before that Dream Walking is new to you, right?” Kirk asked.

  “Yes,” Glory said. “This is only my third successful attempt.”

  “It takes enormous amounts of energy to do what you’re doing,” Kirk said. “You’ll get stronger each time, so long as you don’t push too hard and drain yourself.”

  “Dr. Honey said much the same thing,” Glory said. “Maybe I’ll be able to do it again tomorrow night.”

  “It’s possible,” Kirk agreed.

  “Is there a particular reason why you were waiting for me?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, it’s just that you’re our only contact with reality,” Kyerion said. “While we were waiting, it occurred to me that we know nothing of you. Will you tell us of yourself?”

  Glory tensed. She’d never been asked to talk about herself before, and the very idea worried her. There were many things she couldn’t talk about, and even more that she had no desire to talk about. She didn’t have the first idea what to say, or where to start. “What would you like to know?” she asked warily.

  Kyerion had no trouble sensing Glory’s surprise, confusion, and distress, though she gave no hint of her feelings in her face, eyes, or tone. When the warmth she’d displayed moments earlier slid smoothly behind her cool mask, he nearly growled out loud in frustration.

  The ability to hide one’s thoughts and feelings was a valuable asset for any warrior, as he well knew. Glory was too good at hiding, though. Why would such a strong, intelligent, compassionate, and beautiful woman hide herself so completely?

  “Whatever you’re willing to tell us, we will gladly listen to,” Kyerion said smoothly, betraying no hint of his own thoughts. “You’re the only bright spot in our existence, Glory. We would know more of you, if you’re willing to share.”

  It was obvious that Glory didn’t want to talk about herself, but Kyerion had inadvertently hit on the one reason that had the power to compel her to do as he’d asked. She would do it for them, because they needed it.

  “I’m from a world called Ramouri,” she began. “Ramouri is a mix of the new and the old, which turns out to be a good thing for the four of us. When I was about twelve, it occurred to me that if you were real, as I’d always believed, and came from a different world, as I also believed, we would not speak the same language. It was a compelling argument. How could you speak a language that only native Ramourians speak? Most people in the Thousand Worlds speak Standard now, but on Ramouri we keep to the old ways where we can, and all children are taught the old language. But, I knew that you were not Ramourian.”

  “We have never heard of Ramouri,” Kirk said. “I hear us speak and know we speak our own language.”

  “Exactly my point,” Glory said. “You speak your language and I speak mine, yet we understand each other. It is the same now, this moment, as it was in my dreams. I am speaking what I know to be Ramourian, and you are speaking whatever language you spoke seven thousand years ago on Ugaztun. It’s an inconsistency that made me doubt the truth of your existence, and it stuck with me even after I began my search for you.”

  “Have you solved that mystery?” Kyerion asked.

  “Yes, I have,” Glory replied. “After I reached Jasan, I heard Prince Garen say something in their old language, an endearment he calls his Arima, and I understood it, which surprised me. The next day I spent time with many different people, and heard several more expressions that I understood. I did some research on the vid-terminal in my guest house and discovered that the two languages are very nearly one and the same. There are some small differences here and there, but the old tongues of Ugaztun and Ramouri are undeniably the same language.”

  “Instead of doubting us because of our language, you were forced to believe in us because of it,” Cade said with a smug smile that Glory could not resist returning.

  “Exactly,” she
said.

  “How is that possible, unless Klanaren once lived on your world?” Kirk asked.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “I just discovered this a couple of days ago so I haven’t had time to develop any theories yet.”

  “Will you tell us of your childhood?” Cade asked, changing the subject.

  “My childhood?” Glory asked, tensing again. “Why would you wish to know about that?”

  “It would be nice to have something new to think on in this place when you’re not here,” Kyerion said, acting as though he didn’t notice her reaction to the question.

  “There’s not much to tell,” she said. She couldn’t talk about her childhood, but she couldn’t resist giving them what they wanted, either. She’d go insane if she were trapped within her own mind as they were. She just needed to be careful with what she said, and didn’t say. “My official name is Gloriani nee Aniya, tu Bashir, Third Princess of Ramouri. I’m the youngest of six children born to the King and Queen of Ramouri, and the third daughter.”

  “You’re a Princess?” Kirk asked in surprise. Glory nodded. “Why did you not tell us this before?”

  “Does it matter?” Glory asked, frowning.

  “No, it doesn’t matter at all,” Kyerion said, warning Kirk with a glance to hold his tongue. “Please continue, Glory.”

  “I have two sisters, both beautiful, graceful, feminine, clever, and knowledgeable in the finer arts. They are all the things royal Princesses should be. I was different.”

  “Different?” Kyerion asked. “Different in what way?”

  “I was not feminine. I lacked grace, beauty, charm, and a pleasing personality. I possessed none of those traits or skills expected of a Princess.”

  Cade smiled and opened his mouth, but a signal from Kyerion silenced him before he spoke. Glory was absolutely serious. She was not using feminine wiles to gain compliments, nor was she attempting to elicit their pity or sympathy. She spoke with a cool detachment that disturbed Kyerion because it was absolutely not an act. She felt no pain at being singled out from her sisters, no jealousy, no longing to be all the things she thought she wasn’t, but most certainly was. She spoke as if she were talking of someone else. A stranger.

  “When I was in my ninth year, a man named Pusan-Lo came to the palace and sought counsel with my father, King Bashir,” she said. “That same day I was placed in Pusan-Lo’s care and custody, and sent with him to learn the arts of war.”

  “Did your mother not object to this?” Kyerion asked.

  “My mother died when I was born,” Glory said flatly.

  Kyerion, watching her closely, noted that her hands had begun to tremble, though otherwise she expressed no emotion whatsoever. For the first time, he wondered why she always wore gloves. He’d thought it part of her warrior garb, but now he wondered. Had she worn them the last time they’d seen her? When she was wearing that soft blue outfit that had tested every ounce of self restraint he possessed in order to keep his hands off of her? Yes, he realized. She had. And he’d been so busy with his own desires and emotions that he hadn’t even noticed something that should have stood out plainly to all of them.

  “You began training to be a warrior at the age of nine?” Kyerion asked in a carefully neutral tone, avoiding the subject of her mother which was obviously sensitive ground.

  “Yes,” Glory replied. “My brothers began training earlier than that, but I was female. No one expected me to become a warrior, but Pusan-Lo insisted upon it.”

  “What was Pusan-Lo like?” Cade asked softly. Kyerion heard the tension beneath his youngest brother’s words, but Glory didn’t.

  Glory’s hands stilled and her shoulders relaxed as an expression of peace and affection crossed her face. “At first he frightened me. He was much larger than men I was used to, not as big as you three, or the Dracon Princes, but close. He had sky blue eyes and snow white hair, neither of which I’d ever seen before. He spoke little, and he had a gruff manner, but he was good to me. And patient. Eventually, I learned to trust him. He taught me everything I needed to know to be a good warrior, as well as other things such as reading, writing, and Ramourian history. He was, in most respects, my only family from that day forward.”

  “Did your true family never visit you?” Kyerion asked, watching her carefully. There was something strange about her story. Or the way she told it. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  “As a member of the royal family, I was required to visit the palace and present myself to King Bashir two times a year,” Glory replied. “On the day of my birth, and on the day before the spring equinox. Aside from that, I saw them only from a distance. When I was eighteen years old I was deemed skilled enough to be given a post as a junior palace guard. In time, I progressed through the ranks until I commanded my own unit at the age of twenty-three, an unheard of feat for a female. I was one of only eight female guards, and none of the others were officers.” Glory paused for a moment, considering, before she said, “That’s all there is to tell of my childhood.”

  Kyerion, Cade, and Kirk were stunned. Why had a nine year old girl, a princess, been trained as a warrior? Why had she been assigned as a palace guard when she should have been inside that palace with her family, being guarded herself? Why had a stranger been allowed to take her from her family and raise her alone? Why was the tale of her childhood so short? And why did she tell the story so calmly, so coolly, without emotion or embellishment of any kind except for that one moment when her hands trembled?

  Kyerion had hoped that by telling them about her life, he’d learn more about the woman she now was. Instead, her story raised more questions than it gave answers. The worst of it was that Glory was not lying. That was truly all she had to say of her childhood. He found that singular fact chilling.

  “How long have you searched for us?” he asked.

  “I’ve sought some sign of shifters for as long as I can remember, though it wasn’t easy on Ramouri,” she said. “They keep a tight control on information, especially for women. About six weeks ago I learned that a race of shifters lived on Jasan, and made arrangements to leave Ramouri for the first time. It’s amazing, really. I’d never imagined leaving Ramouri before, and here I am, on my way to Xantara.”

  “Will you return to Ramouri after you’ve found us?” Cade asked.

  “No, that isn’t an option for me,” Glory said. “Before my departure King Bashir gave me a choice between marriage to a man I despised, and banishment. I chose banishment.”

  “Why would a father do such a thing to his daughter?” Cade wondered. “You are his blood.”

  Everything within Kyerion stilled as something dark flickered in the depths of Glory’s eyes. It was there and gone so quickly that Kyerion knew he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her so closely. Yet there was no more emotion in her voice or manner now than before.

  Glory shrugged dismissively in response to Cade’s question. “I’ll not return to Ramouri, so it is of no importance. Once the three of you are safely returned to your people, I plan to travel the galaxy. The Thousand Worlds is very big, and is only a tiny part of an even larger galaxy--there are many peoples, many cultures to see and explore.”

  “Who is this man your father chose for you to marry?” Kyerion asked, his voice deceptively soft.

  “Rollo Shorif, Master and Liveryman of the Ramouri Merchant Guild,” Glory replied. They were coming to know her better with each word she spoke, so they all sensed her distaste even though she gave no obvious sign of it. “I’d never met him, but I knew of him. He is renowned for his cruelty and greed. Though I chose banishment, he still followed me to Jasan in an attempt to Free Claim me.”

  “You sound amused,” Kyerion said, struggling to calm his tigrenca at the thought of any male following her, or claiming her.

  “I am, a little,” she said. “In his arrogance, Shorif committed several grave offenses when he reached Jasan. High Prince Garen contacted King Bashir and made it clear that if
Shorif wasn’t punished to his satisfaction, Jasan would go to war with Ramouri. King Bashir immediately stripped Shorif of his rank and office, confiscated his property, and sentenced him to three years on a penal planet for his crimes on Jasan, plus three more for nearly starting a war.”

  “I grow to like these Princes of the Jasani,” Kirk said with a rare smile.

  “Yes, they are good men,” Glory agreed. “In truth, all of the Clan Jasani I’ve met so far seem to be good people, both men and women. What surprises me most is the affection the men and their Arimas have for each other. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “The bond between an Arima and her Rami has always been such that they cannot bear separation for more than a short period of time,” Kyerion said. “I trust that has not changed.”

  “No, it hasn’t,” Glory confirmed, though she appeared slightly puzzled. “Princess Lariah Dracon left her infant sons and young daughters behind to join her men in this attack against the Xanti. I’ve seen her in her dracon form, and she’s quite formidable, but Lariah isn’t a warrior. Arima Saige Lobo is here as well, and although she is a warrior, she is also very close to giving birth to her sons. Several more consuls wives are here too, all equally devoted to their Rami. It has been a rare privilege for me to get to know these women.”

  “Glory, how is it that you’re able to join us here, in this place, and touch our minds?” Kirk asked, seemingly changing the subject.

  “I suppose it’s because I’m a Dream Walker,” Glory said. “I didn’t know that until I went to Jasan, but I know it now. That’s the explanation for all of it. The dreams I had when I was young, the daydreams I’ve had for the past few weeks, this valley and the way I’m talking to you now.”

  “What is your physical self doing at this moment?” Cade asked.

  “Sitting in the middle of my bed in my room aboard the Ugaztun, meditating.”

  “Meditating?” Kyerion repeated the unfamiliar word.

  “It’s a beneficial mental state reached by relaxing and calming both the mind and the body,” she replied. “It was the first thing Pusan-Lo taught me, using a method he called the Garra-Atea. The Flame and the Door.”