“A language as beautiful as yours should not be allowed to die.”
“I’m going to learn Antian.”
He laughed. “That will take the rest of your life.”
“I’m not that thick.”
“No, but the language is. It fills four databanks.”
“So, you’ve changed your mind about bloody stupid romantic ideas?”
“I never really thought they were stupid, just out of my reach.”
“All you had to do was open your hands.”
He nodded. “But I didn’t know how. When you ran away to Atlan…” His eyes filled with sorrow. “I was going to save you or die trying, because either way you would be free. No innocent has ever lost their freedom because of me, and I wasn’t about to let you be the first. I was only sure about one thing: I didn’t want to live without you. I accepted it when you left because that was your wish and I hoped you’d come back, but there was no way I could let them lock you up because of me.”
Two tears escaped her stinging eyes to roll down her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Like you shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself on Darmon.” He wiped away a tear. “You’re raining again.”
“It’s been a stormy day.”
“Ah, so you have had a peek at the Antian database.”
“I learnt that on Atlan, when I was trying to find out more about you. Tarke means ‘storm’, so together we’re a rainstorm.”
“There will probably be the odd wet day.”
She slid her hands up to clasp his neck. “Where I come from, they say trust has to be earned.”
“Where I come from, trust is given, but you have earned it, in any case.”
Rayne pulled his head down and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he smiled when she drew back.
“Testing, testing.”
She giggled. “It is pretty unbelievable.”
“It’s safe to believe it. Test all you want.”
Rayne embraced him and rested her cheek on his chest, and he held her close. With him, her life would be a roller coaster ride of joy and pain, but it would be worth it. She marvelled that someone like him would want someone like her, and go to such extraordinary lengths to make it happen. He had overcome deep-seated psychosis from the horrific life he had led as a slave just so he could allow her to get close to him. The fact that he had only managed to do it on an execution block did not dilute it as far as she was concerned. If anything, it made it even more poignant. He had wanted to trust just one person before he died, and he had chosen her.
Nothing defeated the Shrike; not decades of slavery and torture; not the loss of his home world and race, and not even the greatest empire in the galaxy. He was an enigmatic force of nature, unstoppable and intense, helping all who needed him without asking for anything in return, and she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, on any terms. She foresaw many adventures ahead of them, venturing into the unknown to find new marvels, as he had found and saved her on a dying world so long ago. Despite what he had told her, she was certain he would have rescued her from it, too, had the Atlanteans not done so, but he must have known they would.
All around Shadowen, the largest fleet of space-faring vessels ever assembled escorted them home. A few had stayed behind to collect the dead and salvage ships that were too damaged to travel, while Atlan reeled from the shock of losing its High Council and most of its priesthood and civilian leaders. She mourned Tallyn’s loss, and she was sure Tarke’s capture had not been his idea. Somehow, she doubted Atlan would try to capture him again. They would know, as she did, that he could have destroyed their world had he wished it. Atlan had been defenceless when Tarke had given the order to stop the battle. She understood now why his people revered him, and had laid down their lives to save him, as he had saved them. He was unique and irreplaceable. He was the Shrike.
****
About the author
T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles with her family when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa. T. C. Southwell has written over thirty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art.
All illustrations and cover designs by the author.
Contact the author at [email protected]
Acknowledgements
Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the years, and Vanessa Finaughty, best friend and former business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.
Slave Empire III - The Shrike Page 28
