A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (2 page)

I nodded and rubbed my chest. It was still sore. Maybe I’d slept on a stick, or a stone; maybe the hardness of the ground had caused my dream. Maybe.

Will looked puzzled. ‘You dreamt you fought yourself?’

I nodded. Shook my head. ‘I dreamt you killed me.’

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W
e left the sea coast and passed into the floor of a wide valley, traveling inland towards the mountains. The midsummer weather was kind, the sun bright, and the flies were out in force, nipping at our legs and arms and annoying the horses, who shuddered and swished their tails in irritation.

Riding beside a burbling river to the drone of summer insects might once have been idyllic, relaxing. But that was in another life. Now I rode nervously, aware of the army behind.

Not all of us seemed anxious. Jed rested his chin on his chest, slumping into the saddle like a man in a doze. But the two knives in his boots and the large sword across his back told of a traveler well-armed and ready for conflict. He’d shaven his beard, saying it made his face too hot, but this afternoon his face was obscured by a large hat, pulled down low to keep the sun from the newly-exposed jaw. Inured to travel, little troubled Jed, but now even he seemed tired.

Will, too, had long knives at his waist. He and I favored these weapons; shorter than swords, they were easier to conceal and throw. A compromise between action and concealment. Staves, kept in the tops of his saddlebags, could be used as weapons and like me, he wore throwing knives tucked into scabbards at his wrists and ankles. One can never have too many knives. Will rode alert, the tops of his knives glinting in the sun.

Lacing herself to the saddle with golden light, N’tombe’s body dipped and swayed like a sack of wheat. Untrained to riding, she would never look graceful on a horse. It seemed she’d given up trying, for this afternoon her spirit traveled in the air above us, a haze against the blue sky. Our guide, our protector, our watcher. I worried for her, for she rarely rested, and if she failed, what would happen to us all?

We spoke seldom. There seemed little to say, and in truth, I think we were in shock. Jed and Will, facing death by drowning, had found themselves rescued, only to be locked into a nightmare flight across the Kingdom.

Will, whom I’d greeted with such joy, now seemed distant, riding in his own thoughts, pausing occasionally to check the horses, his tack, or the sharpness of his weapons. We lay back to back at night, but rarely spoke or touched. It seemed as though we were two self-contained islands, complete in ourselves, needing no one to remove our isolation.

And I? I felt as though I watched the world from behind a pane of glass. Locked into a waking dream, I was aware of movement and constant little noises: the sigh of the wind in the trees, the jingle of tack, the snort of a horse. Always sound, always traveling. All my life, I’d dreamt of riding from the Kingdom, discovering strange lands and customs, yet now I felt lost, bewildered by the world’s vastness. My family and my home had disappeared; torn from the world by a blast of power. A power that I had helped to wield. Was it my fault they were gone?

I had been used to seeing walls of stone about me, but here was only wild forest and the blue and empty sky. I had no center any more.

‘We should stop soon,’ Will said. ‘Need to let the horses rest.’

‘At the ford,’ said Jed. ‘It’s not far.’

The horses. Another reason to worry. Without them, we had no chance, for how could we escape an army on foot? I’d never traveled more than an hour from a stable of horses, with grooms, trained to care for my mount. My father’s stablehands knew more about horses than I. Why had I not learnt more about horses in my studies, instead of sums and grammars and who was which king when?

N’tombe stirred, opened an eye and studied me solemnly. Sheltered behind a wide-brimmed hat, her face was near invisible; only her white eyes and teeth caught the light. ‘Are you well, Princess?’

I nodded fiercely. I am well. Of course I am well.

The sun had passed its zenith by the time we stopped for lunch. We loosened the girths of the horses and took them to the river. They drank deeply and set to grazing. We kept them saddled, for Jed, self-appointed as a guide, had decreed we should keep traveling as long as the good weather held.

There was bread, apples, ham and cheese in our saddlebags, a part of the Kingdom to fill our bellies. I ate slowly, trying to prolong the contact with my homeland. Fruit and meat and bread, the most mundane of foods, was all that remained to prove my country was not a figment of a fevered imagination.

‘You see anything?’ Jed tossed his apple core into a bush. Irrationally, I wanted to run after it. How could he throw away something so precious? But no, maybe one day it would sprout and grow more apples.

N’tombe shook her head. ‘Everything is quiet. As though man has never touched this valley.’

Jed spat out a pip. ‘So how was this track made, then?’

‘Sheep,’ said Will. ‘And cattle.’

‘Sheep don’t arrive by themselves. Takes folk to manage stock.’

Will looked at him for a moment, then turned to N’tombe. ‘Could we have shaken off the army?’

‘It is possible.’

‘But you think unlikely?’

‘They have lost their leader and many of their men. It will take time for them to regroup.’

Jed picked at his teeth. ‘We should move now. While we can.’

With a sigh, N’tombe got to her feet. ‘Can you help me mount?’ The only time N’tombe asked for help was in getting on and off a horse. And sometimes she needed no assistance for dismounting, for she was most easily unseated.

Will cupped his hands and she stepped into them. He lifted her up onto her saddle. His arms were golden in the afternoon light, and strong.

‘Thus far, I’ve seen nothing.’ N’tombe slid her feet into her stirrups, relaxed her legs so her heels stretched down. ‘But maybe I am not searching for the right thing. What should I look for?’

‘Scouts,’ said Will. ‘They always post scouts. Small groups of men, three at the most. They ride light, and live off the land. They range far from the army, and report in regularly. And fire. If the Shield marches, they will need to signal the scouts. The smoke is their signal.’

‘The Shield?’

‘It’s what they call themselves.’

Jed tightened his girth. ‘They have other names too. Like the Great Horde or the Arm of the Eternal.’ The horse lifted one ear, as if listening to his rider. ‘Think themselves mighty important with such names.’ He spat. ‘Matters little what they call themselves. More needful is to know what their actions will be.’

‘They kill, is what they do,’ said Will.

‘Aye, they’re good at that. You’ll be mighty lucky to spot their scouts, Lady. They’re expert at hiding. But for their signals, Will’s right. Watch for smoke or flames or flags.’

‘All three?’

‘On the plains they use flags or flames. But in woodland they use smoke.’

N’tombe nodded and closed her eyes, shutting herself away.

Jed turned to me. ‘You coming, Lady?’

‘Sorry.’ Listening to them I’d forgotten that I, too, needed to get on my horse.

Jed and Will exchanged a look, but I pretended not to notice.

We camped that night in a brush of thorn, The low hanging branches created a natural hut. Good for keeping away wolves, said Jed, and for hiding us from men. Will suggested drawing lots for the watch, but I offered to go first. Dreading the night and the dreaming, I preferred to remain awake.

Built into a hollow of the land, the fire smoked a little. I tossed twigs and leaves onto the dying coals to watch them spark until Jed barked a sleepy order to leave the fire be. Sitting upwind on the hill above our wild hut, I watched the stars come out.

What does one do on night vigil? There was nothing to see, just the shapes of the horses resting on the grass, the dulling embers and the stars. N’tombe loved the stars. She would often tread the battlements to watch them, saying that in her home world they were not as bright. How much more she would love them here, without the sentry’s torches flaring and dazzling her. But she lay silent, entombed in gold, breathing gently. I could see her chest rising and falling as the golden energy of the wilds ebbed and fell about her like a slow-moving tide.

What was this golden light? At first, I had thought it a dream, something glimpsed between sleep and waking, until Rinpoche had shown me more. This energy was N’tombe’s air, her natural element. She still needed to eat, though; the golden light might give her spirit sustenance, but it wasn’t enough for her body. So Rosa had reminded her, teasing her gently.

Rosa. My aunt, the Guardian. Where was she? I tried to reach towards her. But I felt and heard nothing, just the sighing of the breeze and the lonely cry of a crow. Was she well? And my parents, my brothers? Did they even notice that the world about them had changed? I rubbed my face. These were not tears on my cheeks; no, it was only the chill of the evening that made my eyes water.

I tucked cold hands beneath my cloak. The stones about my wrist were a heavy weight. Five glass beads given to me less than a week ago, their power displayed at the Crossing, when their light had shone a beam into the clouds, separating land from sea and my homeland from this world. Now they were quiet grey shapes. Nothing remarkable. They had changed in form as Rosa had taken them from her necklace. When resting against her skin they had been precious stones: sapphires, emeralds, diamonds. Did they mind becoming glass?

I missed the castle. It had winding stairs, walls of honey-colored stone and secret tunnels that stretched from the cellars into the heart of the mountain. The kitchens, hard against the south wall, had been full of noise and bustle and the smell of baking bread. I wanted the activity of the place; the sense that there was always something about to happen.

Was Rosa well? The great ruby that hung at the base of the necklace was working upon her, wounding the flesh above her heart. Soon, too soon, she would be a bead upon the necklace, and I? Would I be in that tower, wearing the same necklace? I clenched my hands upon the beads. I do not want this thing. Even if it means keeping my homeland safe, I do not want to be a sacrifice.

‘I will watch, Princess.’ N’tombe’s dark face made her nearly invisible in the night.

‘I’m fine,’ I whispered.

‘Nevertheless, you must rest. Take my place. The soil there is warm.’

I slid between Jed and Will. The wind sighed and called of sleep, and though I feared to dream I could not prevent my eyes from closing.

***

I
dreamed strange fragments; a woman in a white robe, her back to me. I called ‘Rosa!’ but when she turned, her face was mine. Screaming, I tumbled, falling from the tower onto a knife that ached in my chest and bled across my hands. I grabbed at it and it became but a heavy, hard stone, polished and precious.

I sat on a stony beach, my hand on a dull green rock. Wood smoke stung my eyes, a woman wailed. Above arched a cliff, rimmed with green fronds from palms as tall as trees. A bird called, forlorn and lonely. It sounded like a small bell, tolling.

A man laughed. ‘
Death shall not take you, lord,
’ and I fell again, tumbling and twisting, drifting like smoke across a dry plain beneath great mountains, capped with snow that gleamed in the moonlight.

But the moon has not yet risen, I thought, and yes, this wasn’t the moon at all, but the eye of a great dragon that blinked slowly, a great half-eclipse of an eyelid.

I heard another voice. ‘You come to me, my dear?’ It was old, and unused to talking.

The creature smiled and huffed his breath, sending me tumbling again, whirling and twirling, falling onto a wall of daggers. And I woke then, tangled into a thornbush like a fly in a spider’s web. Two men stared at me.

‘You need to cut your hair,’ said one. I blinked, uncertain. Was this a dream?

Will laughed, and I relaxed. ‘I’ll do it,’ he seized his knife, held it above my head. The morning sun gleamed on its blade.

‘No!’

‘What’s wrong? Dana, you panic so easily.’ He chuckled, set the knife’s edge against my throat.

I seized his wrist, struggled with him.

‘Ow!’

And there I was, straddling Will, his knife in my hand, while he blinked at me with sleepy eyes. ‘Dana! What are you doing?’

Feeling sick, I put down the knife. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘Your hair, Princess,’ Jed’s voice was a strange echo of my dream. He smiled but his eyes were alert, his sword drawn. ‘It’s tangled in the bush.’

I begged to be put on watch, for then I had an excuse to sit wide-eyed, staring at the dark. But it’s impossible to keep awake forever, so I elected to doze on horseback. But even then I dreamt, strange fragments of dragons and towers and always, always, an ache in my chest, so strong that at times it stopped my breath. I grew heavy-eyed. Catching my reflection in a dawn-still pool, I saw dark shadows under my eyes. They looked like bruises.

N’tombe watched me, anxious after I’d waken everyone with screams of a dragon eating my heart. She spun gold light out of the trees, wrapped it round me, and at night we lay together, two strange chrysalises. She slept, but I stared, saucer-eyed, at the stars. I sung snatches of song to keep me awake.

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‘Ninny-nonny-no

How do you pass

All the way into town?

Silly Nonny-no

Where did you go?

The world’s turned upside-down.’

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N
ext morning we continued onwards. We traveled upstream, following the river. N’tombe pushed her awareness out, watching for scouts or soldiers and we stayed alert for the smell of smoke. Yet there was still nothing.

On the nineth day of our travels – the nineth day since we’d left the Kingdom – we reached a series of waterfalls. The walls of the valley grew steep and the trees had been pruned into strange shapes by the wind. The rough path was too stoney for the horses, so we dismounted and led them onwards. Their hooves slid and clattered on the rocks. Finally, we reached the top of the valley and saw before us the empty moor. It was like staring at an ocean of grass.