‘Yet destiny forged the alliances.’ Kert appeared content with her explanation and Glimmer was grateful for that. She did not want to have to choose Vandal’s life over her beloved’s if a fight ensued.
She looked down at her filthy brother and decided he appeared as wild as the void he had so recently navigated. He was beginning to stir, so Glimmer cleansed him of the dirt that encrusted him and brought him to full wakefulness. When the firesparks settled, he opened his eyes to slits. Kert tensed at the expression he levelled at his sister but Glimmer merely watched him curiously. Vandal’s volatile emotions were akin to the fury she had seen in Kert the day she had saved him, when he had accused her of letting Lenid die. Vandal would be dangerous, but not unpredictable.
‘My mother is dead,’ he spat. ‘I have come here to kill my father and the woman who stole him from us.’
Glimmer felt her shoulders relax. Vandal’s vendetta would take him to Ennae, allowing them to retain their privacy. And the more his emotions were aroused, the more use he would be to her when she needed him most. She scanned the possible futures and saw little risk in allowing him to go. The fate of the Four Worlds was still controllable.
‘This is not Ennae,’ she told him, then glanced at Kert. ‘He speaks of Pagan and my half-sister, Lae of Be’uccdha.’
Kert’s hand came out of her own and a secrecy slid over his features such as she had not seen in all the years they had been lovers. Was it possible that he still loved Lae? Glimmer struggled not to let her insecurities resurface, but when Kert continued to remain silent she felt the bite of jealousy return.
‘Who is he? Vandal demanded and Glimmer found she did not like that tone directed towards her beloved. The boy struggled to raise himself on one elbow, limbs still weak from his taxing journey. Glimmer did not feel inclined to revive him fully. ‘And where am I?’
‘This is Kert Sh’hale,’ Glimmer told him, ‘and you are on Haddash.’
Vandal’s eyes narrowed. ‘The Fireworld?’ He looked around at the grassy replica of the royal ahroce gardens, then back to Glimmer. His breathing had quickened and she wasn’t sure why. Was he preparing to lash out at them? ‘I’m on another world?’ he said. ‘I got here myself?’
‘I brought you here to save you from losing yourself in the void. The Maelstrom’s growing force obstructed your passage.’
Vandal’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Bringing me here won’t change my mind. I’m going to Ennae to kill them.’
Still Kert said nothing, and that in itself was odd.
‘If you desire to go to Ennae, I will send you there myself,’ Glimmer said.
‘Do you not think,’ Kert interrupted, ‘that you would rather enjoy your brother’s company for a time?’
Glimmer turned to look at her love and saw that his face was almost unrecognisable to her. The open, sensual Kert had been replaced by a stranger.
‘Are you not bored with me?’ he asked. ‘Surely your brother will be a welcome diversion.’
Behind them, Vandal struggled to rise. ‘I will kill the Be’uccdha whore who stole my father from us. It’s her fault that my mother …’ He trailed off without finishing, but Glimmer already knew of Petra’s murder and Sarah’s death.
These incidents were unfortunate, yet no worse than the tragedies occurring elsewhere on Magoria every second of the day. The fact that they had occurred to people she had lived with meant nothing to Glimmer. There was no compassion, no sadness. Only Kert stirred her emotions, and now his suggestion that they stop Vandal continuing to Ennae smacked of a desire to protect Lae whom he no longer loved, or so he had told Glimmer. Had that been a lie?
‘How will you kill her?’ Glimmer asked her brother, wondering whether his anger could be channelled productively.
‘Slowly,’ Vandal spat. ‘Painfully. I want my father to hurt … like we hurt before … and now.’ The boy was inarticulate with rage.
‘Steal her from Pagan first,’ Glimmer said to test Kert. ‘If he loves her, take that love.’
‘Then kill her.’ Vandal nodded, his expression grim.
‘That way you hurt your father twice.’ It would also keep Vandal busy longer and delay the crucial moment when she must return to Ennae.
Kert shook his head and was a moment speaking, as though scrabbling for an argument. ‘You told me he must not die. What if Pagan kills him to protect Lae?’ Her beloved sounded as though he hoped for such an outcome.
‘Pagan will not kill his own son,’ she declared. ‘And neither will he let anyone else.’ Glimmer had seen that in the future.
‘I’ll do it.’ Vandal said. ‘All of it. The pain … the hurt they deserve.’ He appeared resolute but Glimmer was unsure whether he would follow her plan or simply act on his anger.
‘You need maturity,’ she said, and waved a hand over him. ‘I give you two years.’ Firesparks glittered around Vandal, and she heard Kert’s swift intake of breath. Vandal’s hair was now long and sleek, his form filled out into that of a young man. At seventeen he was almost identical to the Pagan who had left Lae all those years ago to take The Catalyst into exile. If Vandal could hide his fury, Lae would think her betrothed had returned to her.
‘This is cruel deception,’ Kert said softly and Glimmer felt jealousy like acid in her stomach.
‘And I gift you the power to retain your Magorian memories, lest you forget your purpose,’ she said.
‘Don’t do this,’ Kert begged and Glimmer’s temper erupted.
She turned on him. ‘Why should you care?’ she asked. ‘Do you still love your wife?’
Kert glanced at Vandal and said, ‘I will not speak of these matters before a stranger.’
‘You are the stranger,’ she said to Kert, furious that after all the intimacies they had shared he still valued Lae’s life over their continuing pleasure. She turned to her brother. ‘I send you to Be’uccdha,’ she told him, ‘where you will find the woman you seek installed as The Dark. Your father is her Champion.’ She sent him on without another thought, all her attention on Kert now and not the firesparks that glittered and fell behind her. ‘Speak,’ she demanded.
‘I am not like you,’ he said, and frowned as though unsure how to tell his truth. If it was truth. ‘Though I am … bewitched by you and the pleasures we share, I do care for other people, that they not be harmed.’
‘You care for Lae,’ Glimmer spat.
Though he knew it would anger her, Kert nodded. ‘She was the mother of my son,’ he said. ‘Though I hated her to start, I came to —’
Glimmer clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I will not hear this,’ she shrilled. ‘I will not hear you speak of other women. How can you torment me so?’
Kert’s frown deepened. ‘Do you feel nothing for others? The boy said your Magorian mother was dead.’
Glimmer dropped her hands and shook her head, ‘I care only for you,’ she said and, characteristic of her wildly fluctuating emotions, she relented in her anger and reached out to touch his shoulder. The tight muscles relaxed as her skin began to glow and the familiar pleasure flowed into his body, ‘I should never have brought Vandal here,’ she said.
Kert took a step backwards, away from her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘For now he will live and Lae will die.’
‘Stop talking about her!’ Glimmer shouted. ‘Or I will kill her myself.’
Kert looked away and struggled to keep emotion from his features.
‘Can’t you just love me,’ Glimmer pleaded. ‘The others aren’t important. They’ll probably all be dead soon.’
‘How? The Maelstrom? Or the Serpent God’s child?’
Glimmer said nothing, as she did each time he mentioned Kraal’s child.
‘You should never have let him escape Haddash, should you?’
Glimmer knew she must not admit the truth, that the beast who called himself Teleqkraal had killed thousands of people she cared nothing for. But in her defence, if she had tried to stop him when he first emerged, she would have missed the opportun
ity Kert’s anger had provided her, to push past his defences and become his lover. Now she had her beloved in her arms whenever she chose.
As The Catalyst she must make the supreme sacrifice. Surely she deserved some pleasure beforehand?
‘You should have killed him,’ Kert said.
Despite his stiff stance, Glimmer moved in and wound her arms around his waist. ‘I will die soon,’ she said softly, knowing that this discovery would distract him. ‘I brought you here to Haddash so we might share the longest time together. But ultimately it will end.’
‘You will die?’ He pulled back to look down into her face, his own creased with worry. A Champion’s worry. ‘When?’
She leant up and he did not resist when she kissed him. ‘Not long now,’ she said, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. Her glow was stronger now and in response to that he held her closer. She took the opportunity to further her advantage, moving her hands to where pleasure could be given. ‘I want only for us to share the time I have remaining —’
‘How can I prevent this death?’ he asked, her kiss and the way her hands moved on him softening his voice.
‘You can’t.’ She pushed his shirt back and kissed the long muscle that ran from his throat to his shoulder, sliding her tongue along its length. ‘Let me have what pleasure I may in the time remaining to me,’ she whispered, and took his hand, placing it over the button of her jeans. ‘You like my warrior pants,’ she said, looking up into his eyes. ‘They excite you, don’t they?’
He gazed back at her silently, as though struggling to decide whether to pursue his duty as a Champion or to trust that The Catalyst knew best and give himself up to the pleasure of the moment. The tingling inside her grew more pronounced and he closed his eyes.
She felt the snap of the button opening and his hand sliding inside to cover the gusset of her white cotton panties. She closed her own eyes on a sigh.
‘They do,’ he said.
Glimmer didn’t give Vandal another thought.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kraal, inside the body of Mihale, glanced across at his sister. She was seated on the throne beside his on the raised dais of the banquet hall. He had ordered a festive day, so house banners lined the walls, and the remaining nobility of Ennae sat at tables decorated with gold painted flowers — the yellow ahroce that were Khatrene’s favourite. In the centre of the room a band of players were enacting a comedy, but Khatrene was barely listening. Dressed in a gown of royal gold to match Mihale’s own attire, she sat chewing her lip as she gazed in the players’ direction, no doubt worrying about the fate of her beloved Guardian, Talis. Wondering when she would be allowed to see him again. To join with him.
For all the years Kraal had been unable to manifest in the presence of a White, and therefore unable ever to observe one, he had thought them to be powerful beings. Descendants of the Ancients. Yet now that he controlled the body of a White he thought them pitiful. They valued honour over pleasure, and were not even as ruthless as their unintelligent enemies from the north. Kai, the Northman leader, would be a better ruler of Ennae than this boy Mihale who thought cunning was evil.
And his sister! She lived only for love. The love of her mate, the love of her daughter, and even the pitiful love of her brother, though thanks to Kraal’s control she now found no pleasure in his company. In sixty years the Plainsman Breehan had not been able to explain friendship to Kraal. He would never understand love.
Yet such was the perversity of his nature that Kraal often found himself questioning Khatrene on that very subject. It had been more than two months since he had separated her from Talis, yet she showed no signs of losing interest in him. Indeed, as time passed, she grew more anxious and spoke of him more often. Kraal, whose appetites were always evolving, could not understand why she did not simply choose another mate. He had ordered the handsomest men at court to attend her, yet she rejected them all. Fascinating.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, sister?’ he asked, accustomed now to hearing his voice emerge in the youthful tones of the boy king. He gestured at the elaborate play being enacted before them.
‘I’m tired actually,’ she replied softly, in deference to the players. Then she glanced across at him, arching an eyebrow in silent disapproval. ‘Aren’t you?’
Kraal smiled, keeping his expression one of boyish good humour to match his countenance. She must have heard that he stayed up all night — night after night — entertaining himself with the females of the palace. Procreating was indeed as exciting as Kai had professed.
In the form of the Serpent of Haddash, Kraal had been able to create matter out of his thoughts — minions, a castle on Haddash, comforts when he had arrived on Ennae — and had the ability to change shape. His sojourn on Magoria as Father Karl had been fascinating and he only wished he could have witnessed the finale to his manipulations first-hand. But alas he now needed to control Mihale’s body at all times, to ensure the stupid boy did not kill himself or tell another of his entrapment.
Locked inside the king’s body, without access to his magical powers, he was mortal and would remain so until he chose to leave. Yet Kraal was not sure if that would ever occur. Leaving Mihale’s body might return his powers, but it would also make him again unable to remain in the presence of The White. Khatrene, her daughter or even Mihale would ward him away from this world and he would be destroyed in the Maelstrom. Only those on Ennae in proximity to the castle anchors would stand any chance of survival, and as the King, surely Mihale would be safeguarded the most carefully.
Besides, the control Kraal now exerted was an exact microcosm of his previous life, and that comparison fascinated him. He saw no belittling of his status in the change, merely that the parameters of his existence had altered, offering him new challenges, new experiences. His days were spent discovering the ways his subjects’ minds could be manipulated with intrigue and conflicting loyalties, punishment and reward. At night he explored the many variations in which bodies could be used to procreate. In the form of the boy king, he had endless willing partners.
Was that what Khatrene envied? The pleasure. ‘Jealous?’ he asked, and turned to face her, to observe the intricate play of emotions on her face. Love of her brother warred with anger at his actions. Her desperation to have Talis returned was tempered by fear of how her brother would respond to such a demand.
‘You don’t seem terribly concerned with the Maelstrom,’ she said. ‘How do you know that the sky-mirror will continue to protect the Volcastle?’
He tilted his head to observe her more closely. ‘What worries you more?’ he asked. ‘The wind storms, the deluges, the volcanic eruptions or the earthquakes?’
‘They all worry me,’ she said, ‘and they should worry you. We don’t even know if the other three castles are still standing.’ She waved a hand at the distant window, the play forgotten. ‘Outside the Volcastle’s protective walls your subjects could all be dead.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Or has the voice told you otherwise?’
Kraal knew nothing of this voice that had spoken to Khatrene when she was newly returned to Ennae, helping her navigate a land she had forgotten along with her childhood. But it was useful that she assumed the same voice spoke to her brother.
He smiled and asked her, ‘Do you wonder if it speaks to me of your daughter? If it tells me she is on Magoria, where you cannot go? If she is even alive?’ Khatrene made no response to his taunt so he said, ‘It tells me that Talis is still alive.’ Still no reply. ‘Is that not your dearest wish?’ he asked. ‘To keep your love alive?’
She swallowed, and he saw emotions flicker across her face again.
‘I speak of him and you do not respond,’ Kraal said. ‘Have you tired of him? Would you rather —?’
‘I don’t … want anyone else,’ she said clearly, though her voice had lowered to match the sudden silence in the banquet hall. Kraal felt the eyes of the players and the nobles of court settle on their king and his sister.
H
e lifted a hand. ‘Leave us,’ he ordered, but continued to watch Khatrene as the hall emptied. She kept her attention on the shoulder of his jacket, clearly unwilling to meet his eyes. When they were alone he said, ‘I was thinking of betrothing Talis to a distaff cousin of the House Sh’hale. A pretty girl. Younger than you. She’s quite taken by him.’
Khatrene closed her eyes and stopped breathing.
Kraal waited, impressed by her forbearance. He had separated her from her beloved, guarded her to be sure she would not seek him out, and taunted her at every opportunity. Yet still she did not retaliate against her brother. What a thing this love was, that so stretched the boundaries of tolerance and temper. Kraal felt a moment’s pang that he would never experience it, then let the disappointment go. He did not want to be trapped by an emotion. And clearly that was what love did. It trapped you.
Khatrene opened her eyes. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, no fear in her now. She had stepped over the line and was clearly ready to be punished.
‘A widow princess carrying her servant’s child?’ He glanced away, as though considering this. Within himself Kraal felt the remnants of Mihale’s personality crying for freedom, to be allowed to speak to his sister, to control the body Kraal effortlessly governed. It was a faint noise like faraway whispering. He ignored it. ‘This is proof that Talis has broken the law.’
‘I broke the law,’ Khatrene said, rising from her throne to stand in front of him. ‘And it’s a stupid law. I’m not married. I should be able to love whomever I want.’
‘But you were married when you first joined with your servant.’
‘He is not my servant.’ Her voice was growing more strident. ‘He is the man I love and I want to be with him.’
‘If he is married to another, he will forget —’
‘No!’ she shouted, and reached down to grasp the front of his jacket. ‘He’s mine.’
Kraal gazed at her in astonishment and delight. She had been so difficult to provoke and here, finally, he had succeeded. ‘The Guardians belong to me,’ he reminded her, and in response to this her grip tightened and she shook him. Her teeth were gritted with agitation and she appeared quite unable to control herself. Kraal was hard put to keep a serious expression on Mihale’s face.
Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 Page 24
