Dark Nadir

by Lisanne Norman

“Nothing,” he said, reaching out to touch her hair and breathe in her scent. “I missed you, that’s all.” It was true, and he was surprised at how easy it had been to say it. He let his hand slip down to circle her throat in an intimate gesture of affection.

  She tilted her head, resting her cheek against his arm and smiled up uncertainly at him. “It’s good to see you.”

  The gesture was wonderfully familiar and suddenly he forgot the reserve and training that made him suppress his emotions. The others ceased to exist; there were only the two of them. He swept her close with his other arm, bending down to nuzzle her cheek and jaw.

  “I hope you’re free till morning,” he murmured in her ear. “I made plans for us.”

  She returned the embrace, and the glow of pleasure he felt from her made Ruth’s chastisement worthwhile.

  “What have you arranged?” she asked.

  “The guest house. Zhala packed some food for us.”

  “You’re teasing me!” she said, looking up at him as he drew her away from the classroom. “No, you’re not, I can sense it! This isn’t because of Ruth, is it? Because there was no need. . . .”

  “Maybe at first, but not now,” he said. “You should have told me what was happening, how you felt. You’re my Companion, Kitra, and I want to be with you, on Valsgarth estate and here in the Telepath Guild.” He began to cover her face in tiny bites and licks, ending with a kiss.

  There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, then a voice said, “Excuse me, Brother Dzaka.”

  Guiltily, they broke apart and turned to face Guild Master Sorli.

  “I don’t think the corridor is quite the place for such an enthusiastic greeting. We try to discourage the students from such behavior in public. Perhaps Kitra could show you the gardens, or one of the smaller common rooms?”

  As Kitra clutched his arm in distress, Dzaka once more wished the floor would open up for him, until he saw a twitch of amusement at the side of the Guild Master’s mouth.

  “Better still, why not just take her to the guest house?” Sorli continued quietly. “Your rooms should be ready by now. And, Dzaka, it’s nice to see you visiting Kitra. She’s been a little low in spirits lately.”

  “Yes, Master Sorli,” he murmured, edging toward the door again, Kitra’s hand clasped firmly and reassuringly in his. “We were just leaving.”

  As fast as politeness allowed, they made their way out into the courtyard. Once there, Kitra began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing at her as they headed over to where he’d parked the aircar.

  “You. You should have seen yourself when Sorli came up behind us like that!”

  “You were just as embarrassed,” he pointed out. “And left with as little dignity as me.”

  She began to run, dragging him after her, her steps almost small bounds of sheer pleasure. “But what was best,” she said, stopping at the side of his aircar, “What was really best, was T’Chya, Chisoe, and Ghaysa! I could feel them hating me when they saw you waiting there.”

  He looked round at her as he opened the hatch. Eyes sparkling with mischief, her unbound hair caught by a slight breeze, he hadn’t seen her so happy in weeks—since mid-winter in fact. “It really mattered that much?”

  “I know it shouldn’t have,” she said, her eyes clouding over. “But they were enjoying mocking me!”

  “Us, not you,” he corrected her. He wanted to see her face light up again, wanted to feel her joy—hadn’t realized how unhappy she’d been over the past month or two. Then she was filling his arms again, as all the feelings he’d tried so hard to hold back because of her age and his uncertainty over any future they could have, refused to be repressed any longer.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, before gently taking hold of her ear with his teeth.

  “You said that.”

  “More than I knew till now.”

  “You didn’t say that before,” she purred, reaching up to stroke his neck with gentle fingertips.

  “And I love you.” He felt her mind and her body suddenly become still. “I don’t know why it took me so long to say it.” He’d let go of her ear and was nibbling his way across her cheek.

  Her hands took hold of the hair at either side of his neck and she pulled his face gently round to kiss him. “I know you do, Dzaka Arrazo.”

  Her mind touched his, filling him with her need for him. He pulled back with an effort, suddenly vulnerable to the attention they were attracting.

  “It’s your uniform,” Kitra grinned. “Brothers are always considered distant, beyond normal emotions—and very dangerous.”

  He reached in to grab the container of food Zhala had given him, then sealed the aircar again. “This one certainly will be if we don’t get away from here,” he growled. “It’s like a wave of curiosity! I can feel every one of them.” He hustled her toward the guest house. “I don’t suppose it’s got dampers, has it?”

  “Of course,” said Kitra archly. “We can’t let non-telepaths affect our tranquillity, can we?”

  * * *

  Later that night as they finally turned to the food that Zhala had packed, Kitra broached the subject of their future yet again.

  “Mother’s given us a year, Dzaka, that’s all, then Father will have to choose a husband for me.”

  “We knew that would happen,” he said quietly, reaching for his mug of wine.

  “I don’t want it to happen. We love each other, why should I have to life-bond to someone else? It doesn’t make sense, Dzaka. Will you stand with me on this, ask for us to be married?”

  He hesitated a moment before answering her. “I can’t, Kitra. Nothing’s really changed. We’d be told to wait until you’re older, until you’ve seen more of life, have a career. And that I’m not a suitable life-mate for you. I’m gene-altered, there would be no cubs for us. There’s more to the future for you than just finding a life-mate. No matter what happens, we can always remain Companions. No one can take that away from us.”

  “I want more! I don’t care about cubs! I want you, not someone chosen by my father and approved by the Clan Council!” she said, taking the mug away from him and setting it on the night table, forcing him to pay attention to her. “People on the estate have a choice, why shouldn’t we? Lots of people my age—and older—are complaining about it, now we realize there’s an alternative. Only those who are Grade One and Two telepaths and from the main Clan families have to put up with arranged marriages, no one else! Why should we be so different?”

  “You know why,” he said, reaching out for her, but she avoided him. “Don’t let’s argue and spoil tonight. Let’s enjoy what we have now.”

  She felt angry and cheated by his reaction. “If it was up to me, I’d fight for you,” she grumbled, nevertheless allowing him to soothe her.

  “When the circumstances are right, I’ll fight anyone who tries to keep us apart,” he said, and she could hear a hard note creep into his voice. “But not now. It’s too soon. We could lose it all if we fight them now.”

  * * *

  Day 4

  The Brotherhood meditation lamp was said to be the oldest on Shola, one that had belonged to the first Temple of Vartra. There was reason to believe that claim now, thought Brynne, remembering that it was here in Stronghold that the person Vartra had carried out his most important work, that of binding the Humans and Sholans together.

  Unbidden, a comparison between the lamp and some of the Victorian relics in a dingy old bric-a-brac shop back home in Norwich sprang unflatteringly to mind. He smiled to himself, then hurriedly suppressed it. This was the temple’s most valued lamp, and it was a real honor for him to be included in the evening’s senior students’ meditation class. Even Jurrel had been nonplussed at the invitation. Taller than most, slim and rangy, the midnight-pelted Sholan and he were becoming fast friends. An able teacher, Jurrel had a fine understanding of the differences between life here and the freedom Brynne was used to on the estate. />
  “So Father Lijou believes that because of the memory transfers, you’ll be able to join in this session?” his companion asked quietly as they settled themselves on the densely padded prayer mats.

  “That’s what he says. I need to use the skills to activate the acquired memories of them.”

  Jurrel grunted. “Makes sense. They’ve never done this before. Not enough of us have any dependable telepathic talent, though.”

  “We wait only upon your convenience,” interrupted the tutor, with gentle sarcasm.

  * * *

  This time, it was much easier for him to let down his mental shields and link to the tutor. Joining with the others to become a part of the group consciousness was not so easy. He knew the solution, but balked at taking it, at consciously letting go of his Humanity to access his Sholan self.

  Don’t relinquish your Humanity, came the tutor’s thought, just accept your Sholan side. Embrace it, let it carry you into our shared meditation.

  Ghyan did this for me before, he objected.

  You must join us unaided. It is the Brotherhood way, came Vriuzu’s implacable reply.

  He tried, but his Sholan side was what he was most afraid of: it was the beast within him—it was what he was drawn to in Vanna. He’d fought against it, repressed it out of fear, so that now it was almost impossible for him to access it.

  It is what enhances your Leska Link.

  Tomorrow was his Link day with Vanna. He’d have to return to the estate, leave Stronghold!

  Despite his closed eyes, the temple seemed to lurch around him, and suddenly, his mind was open and beginning to merge with those around him.

  The onslaught on his senses was so sudden and overwhelming that he really began to panic. He wasn’t one person, but ten, with all their individual emotions and responses. Immediately, he felt the steadying presence of Father Lijou.

  You’re doing well, Brynne Stevens, the Head Priest sent, using a private link. This is how a meditation circle for those with Talents or gifts should be. This is the reality of your Sholan self. It is what and who you are. Use those senses, they are really yours, not just borrowed from your Leska.

  He could recognize them all by scent now, especially Jurrel; hear their breathing, and sense their curiosity about him, the first of the Humans to visit Stronghold as a student. It was as if a door to another world had suddenly opened for him.

  It was always there, sent Father Lijou. Only your fear kept the door closed.

  Not just me, Derwent! He told me to be afraid, that to succumb to the Sholan way was to lose my path, to give in to the base senses that we Humans had evolved beyond! He was furious, but mainly with himself for trusting a man who knew nothing about the Sholans.

  He had the gift of Glamour, sent Father Lijou. In his company, the ridiculous seemed credible. We all have our Ghezus or Derwents. In the end, you recognized him for what he was, that’s what matters. I will leave you to your studies now. With that, the presence withdrew.

  Lijou’s link gone, he didn’t realize he was now part of the group again. To sense so much, yet be rational and not driven by the Link’s compulsion to mate, felt so strange. Then he felt the amusement of the group at his thoughts and would have retreated from them in embarrassment had the tutor not prevented him.

  Let’s use some of that rationality to proceed with the lesson. “Focus on my voice,” he said.

  Brynne listened to the soothing voice slowly build a picture of a woodland scene in their collective mind. So real was it that he could smell the loamy soil and hear the bird-calls. Caught by the reality, he let his attention drift as he looked around him. A movement in the bushes claimed his attention; a wild jegget. Intrigued, he followed it off the path—and with a gut-wrenching lurch, he was in the deep forest, running for his life.

  Through the bushes he crashed, branches whipping him about the face and shoulders, the uneven ground making his footing precarious. The sounds of his pursuers were loud—three of them at least. He had to reach the cave and safety.

  The trees were thinning out. Ahead now he could see the rock face with the fissure that led to his hideout. They were gaining on him—the noises were louder, he could hear their labored breathing—or was it his own? He knew that even when he reached the ledge, it would take him precious seconds to squeeze through the split, seconds that from the sounds of the crashing behind him he didn’t have. He gathered himself, risking all in one leap, praying that he hadn’t misjudged it in his weakened condition.

  Too low! He was too low! Hands and feet scrabbled for purchase on the crumbling surface as he propelled himself up onto the ledge and staggered toward the fissure. Sharp projections tore at his flesh as he forced himself through the narrow gap. He heard the lead feral land on the ledge in a flurry of loose stones, then its rank breath enveloped him as its jaws gaped wide, snapping shut just as he fell into the chamber beyond.

  Shaking with shock and fear, he forced himself to crawl farther into the darkness, trying not to hear his pursuers snarl and yowl their anger and frustration at being balked of their prey. Terror made him forgetful of his surroundings and the low roof met his head with a resounding crack. Nausea and giddiness engulfed him as he passed out.

  * * *

  Someone was calling his name, he realized through the throbbing headache. He needed to move, to get deeper into the cave, farther from the ferals. Then he realized where he was—Stronghold. At the edges of his mind, he could dimly sense Vanna, demanding to know what was happening.

  * * *

  “This is what Ghyan said happened at the Shrine,” said Lijou, watching Jurrel help the prostrate Human into a sitting position. “How long was he unconscious?”

  “Only a few minutes,” said the tutor. “It was uncanny, Father. One moment he was with us, his mind joined to ours, the next he was gone.”

  “He’s been touched by the Gods. This is work for Guardian Dhaika, not us.”

  “I wonder what it’s like to feel a God’s hand on your shoulder.”

  “Terrifying,” said Lijou, closing his eyes momentarily in remembrance of the encounter. “Truly terrifying. Believe me, you don’t want to experience it. Take them to their room, question Brynne gently, and report to me when you know what he experienced. Remember, this is even newer for him because he’s Human.” As he spoke, Vriuzu sent to him, letting him know that Physician Vanna Kyjishi was on the comm demanding to know what had happened to her Leska. “Tomorrow, I’ll take him to the Retreat.”

  * * *

  Confused and worried, Brynne used the fact that he needed to return to the estate that night because of his Link day with Vanna to avoid visiting Guardian Dhaika. It wasn’t strictly true, he could have left tomorrow, but after hoping he’d find the answers he needed at Stronghold, to learn that he had to go to Vartra’s Retreat instead was too much.

  As he took off from the courtyard, battling the crosswinds posed little difficulty.

  “Not bad. Amazing the difference two days make,” said Jurrel quietly from the seat beside him. “Some of the Brothers and Sisters never get the knack of takeoff and landing here.”

  Jurrel was his insurance that he made the trip home safely. After the incident in the temple earlier, no one wanted to take the risk of him flying back alone. If he should pass out during the flight . . . He shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about. Jurrel was also a reminder of just how different he was becoming. Briefly he wondered if this was how Kaid had felt when he’d begun to experience his visions.

  “Do you want to talk about what you experienced?” asked Jurrel.

  Brynne glanced at him. “You’re too good a sensitive,” he said. “I told everyone all there was to tell yesterday. It was like the last time. Just an animal in the forest.”

  He found these experiences more disturbing than the vision of a future event would have been. It was as if what was happening to him now was merely reinforcing what he and Derwent had been working on—trying to get him centered, or grounded, in the ver
y soil of Shola.

  “Be one with the earth,” Derwent had said constantly. “Feel Him surround you, feel the life within. The rocks are His bones, the soil His flesh. It’s their God, Vartra, incarnate.”

  But he couldn’t feel it. Try as he might, he could feel no link, no empathy with this alien world—until the visions started. That was the truly frightening part. Now he could feel all that Derwent had been talking about, except it wasn’t a maleness he sensed, it was an indisputably female presence.

  He needed to get back home, talk to Ghyan, whom he knew he could trust, see what the priest made of all this. Sure, he’d been the one to suggest going to Stronghold, but he didn’t really know anyone there. He couldn’t be sure he could trust them. It was possible that they, like the Telepath Guild, had no real interest in him, only wanted to know what Derwent and he had been up to.

  * * *

  That morning, Kaid needed the heat from the shower to dispel the chill in his bones. It was like this whenever he slept. Somehow, the link between him and Carrie had reestablished itself in a new form. Despite her being in cryo, when he slept, the natural barriers between them must be lowering enough for her mind to touch his. Even when there were no dreams about her, his body and mind were still tuned in to Carrie’s.

  He flattened his ears, lifting his head upward under the spray of hot water, trying to wash away the memories of a restless night. T’Chebbi was still asleep, having been on watch during the early hours of the morning. Despite the interim treaty he’d made with the U’Churians and the Cabbarans—it only needed the final signatures of their appointed leaders—Kaid felt it wiser not to relax their guard too much. Tallis’ behavior was reason enough. Several times he’d been caught snooping around areas out of bounds to them as visitors on the Profit. Still, in a few hours they’d reach the jump point. After that, it would only be ten days until they’d be on a Sholan destroyer, with medical aid for Carrie and Kusac—and Tallis. That male was definitely becoming more psychotic as the days passed.

  * * *

  Kaid was finishing his first meal when Manesh entered the communal mess room.