A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (23 page)

Dana sighed. ‘I saw my father and Owein, in the cellars of the Castle. Alden was there, too. And I heard a sound, like a drum, or the beating of a heart.’ She banged her hand against her chest. ‘They went into the mountain, past the cellars. Down to the cave of the spring. It’s black down there, but they had torches.’

She stopped.

‘What happened?’ said N’tombe.

‘A wind blew their torches out. They stood in the dark — I heard them calling to each other. Then Alden shouted my name, as if he was warning me. I felt ....’ she shivered, ‘something huge. It passed me in the dark.’ She reached over to N’tombe. ‘Something’s coming, something evil. Quick, we must go!’

N’tombe shook her head. ‘Dana, it is dark. We can go nowhere. Here,’ she handed the water to the shivering girl. ‘Have a sip.’

Dana pushed the flask away.

‘Child, you must tell me of your dreams. You cannot run from knowledge, no matter how painfully it is gained.’

‘But I don’t know where the dagger is,’ wailed Dana. ‘Where can I find it?’

Will stared at her. What was she talking about?

N’tombe’s face was almost invisible against the blackness of the cave, but her voice sounded excited. ‘Dana. This dagger — is that what the soulbeads have shown you? That is the weapon we seek?’

Within Will’s embrace, Dana shivered. ‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘It’s all right. We’re here.’ He kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘I’m here.’

Her breath shuddered softly against his chest. She swallowed, looking at N’tombe. ‘They showed me ... a dagger.’ She whispered. ‘Made of jade.’

‘You dream of dagger? Made of stone?’ TeSin asked suddenly.

Dana nodded. ‘When I was on the boat. But tonight ... tonight, was a different dream.’ She shivered again and looked up at Will. ‘Something’s coming,’ she whispered.

‘Stone dagger,’ whispered TeSin. In the darkness his eyes were almost black. ‘Stone dagger.’ He bent forward from the waist, as if genuflecting. ‘You, chosen.’

Will took his arm from Dana’s shoulders and stood up. Why was he comforting her when she was perfectly capable of looking after herself? She’d destroyed a boat, an inn and a coachload of magicians all without him.

Uncertainly, Dana stretched her hand to him. The shadow of her arm was long and wavering on the wall. It looked like a snake. ‘Will?’

Will didn’t mean to shout. His voice just came out louder than intended. ‘What is TeSin talking about? What stone?’

Dana looked as though she might cry. She glanced at TeSin, as though seeking his permission.

‘What’s it to do with him?’ said Will. ‘He’s naught but a foreigner.’ And, he thought, someone who, only three months ago, would have been happy to kill any one of us.

‘Will,’ said N’tombe gently, ‘we are all foreigners here.’

Will opened his mouth. Shut it again.

‘Is all right,’ said the warrior. ‘I tell him.’ He looked at the faces in the torchlight. ‘Tell you all.’

––––––––

‘I
s old story,’ said TeSin. ‘Once, when Empire was young, the King of Kings, the Great One, go riding. He powerful ruler. But all this power make him worry. If luck change, what then? He have nothing. His kingdom, his wives — all vanish. So he ride far, far across the grass.’

Will remembered galloping over the grasslands of TeSin’s land; the open sky, the yellow-gold grass blowing in the wind. TeSin’s folk loved the steppes. They didn’t mind the harsh winters and bitter storms. On the open grass a man on a horse could gallop for days, free under the sky and the stars.

‘King make a promise. To grasslands. A special promise. He cuts skin with knife. Blood falls on grass. King say: Grass, you my Mother. My Father. If you keep fortune, smiling, I make gift to you.’

‘Gift?’ asked Dana.

Will understood the warrior. To TeSin’s people, a sacrifice was a gift to the gods. ‘You mean, he promised the grass a sacrifice.’

TeSin nodded. ‘Yes. And when he do this, land hear him. Sky turn dark. Wind. Lightning, bright in sky. Soldiers, horses, run away — they frightened. But King, he stand still. And he see.’

‘What?’

‘Old men, walking towards him. Kamaye.’

N’tombe caught her breath, Dana’s eyes widened. ‘Kamaye?’ she said the word as if she’d heard it before.

‘Kamaye? Hey, I know this story.’ Will remembered the guards on the ramparts and the shadows of the puppets on the screens. Kasar, his friend, had whispered the translation to Will while the other guards laughed and sniggered. Kasar, whom he had killed. ‘It’s the Story of the Garden.’

TeSin nodded.

‘The Kamaye promised to make him immortal, if he gave them a small present. And the Lord agreed, and said he would obey their request.’

‘Yes,’ said TeSin. ‘Please, you tell. You speak better.’

Will tried to remember the rest of the story. ‘A walled garden appeared on the Grasslands. Inside the walls were many trees. The old men beckoned to him, and invited him to step through the gates.’

Will frowned, trying to recall the details. So much to look at: puppets, guards, the laughing crowd. The terracotta tiles of the city; the scent of cooking smoke. The puppets had waved with a jointed hand. One of the guards, giggling nervously, had copied the gesture.

‘They gave the King a peach, and he sat down on a bench to eat it. Juice ran down his fingers and face and he wiped it with the back of his hands. Then the King was very tired. He lay down to sleep. And as he slept, he dreamed.’ Will looked at Dana, who also dreamed. ‘The King saw his Kingdom growing great and spreading across the world. And he would be the King of Kings, the Emperor of this great Kingdom, for ever and ever. And when he woke, the garden and the old men were all gone. But he licked his fingers,’ mimicking the action, Will licked his hands also, ‘and they were sticky, from the peach juice. And his fingers were no longer fingers — they were claws.’ Remembering the shadow of the puppet’s talons, Will hooked his fingers. ‘He had changed.’

Will remembered the awe of the guards; even the children in the courtyard below had been silent. A story with the Kamaye in it made people nervous. Although the Kamaye were powerful, they were capricious. No one wanted bad luck.

TeSin nodded. ‘Kamaye make Lord part man, part dragon. So now he live forever.’

‘So he really
is
immortal?’ Dana asked.

‘Of course. He never die.’

‘And have you seen him?’

TeSin nodded. ‘Old. Very old. Small, like child. But,’ he touched his chin, ‘he have beard. White hair. So,’ he took a deep breath, ‘that why gift is made. Gift is for Kamaye, to say thank you. And for grasslands. Emperor promised.’

‘Gift? You mean sacrifice?’ Will said.

TeSin nodded.

‘But there are many sacrifices in the Stronghold,’ said Will. ‘To many gods.’

‘This is ... special,’ said TeSin.

‘Why?’

‘One time a year. When grass green. After snow.’

‘In the spring, after the snow melts?’ asked Will. ‘When the grass begins to grow?’

TeSin nodded. ‘In spring. Sacrifice.’ He sliced a thumb, like a blade, across his throat. ‘Spring Sacrifice very special.’ He held up ten fingers. ‘Each year, animal is killed: a goat. Each ten year, white horse.’ He held up ten fingers, closed them, and reopened them. Ten times.

Will puzzled over this. ‘So, every ten years, you sacrifice a horse?’

TeSin nodded, held up ten fingers, open and closed them ‘This many years?’

‘One hundred years.’ Will said. ‘Do you mean — every one hundred years there is a different sacrifice? Something — special?’

TeSin nodded, took a deep breath, as though he was about to jump into deep water.

N’tombe’s face shone in the firelight. ‘A century. Each year you sacrifice a goat. Every ten years, you kill a white horse. But you are not telling us this because you wish to discuss goats or horses. You are telling us about the special sacrifice. The one that happens every hundred years.’

TeSin nodded slowly. ‘Great Gift. Very special. Very ... sacred. Bring good fortune.’

‘What is this Great Gift?’ asked N’tombe

‘A child,’ whispered TeSin.

N’tombe made a growl, deep in her throat. ‘You mean, every hundred years, you kill a
child
?’

‘Not any child. A special, special child.’

Will felt as though he’d been slapped. Why did the other guards not speak of this? Perhaps, they didn’t want to say. It must be a terrible thing, to think your own city is founded on the deaths of the innocent. Or, maybe they had just forgotten — one hundred years is a long time.

‘What do you mean, special?’ said Dana

‘Child from far, far away.’

‘He means,’ N’tombe rose to her feet, ‘the child that is to be sacrificed comes from the farthermost lands of the Empire. And I suppose,’ she turned to TeSin, ‘that for each sacrifice, the child must come from further away?’

TeSin nodded.

‘That’s awful,’ said Dana.

‘It’s not the end of your story, though,’ said N’tombe. ‘Is it?’

TeSin nodded. ‘A secret. Not many know it. But I am Noyan. I know this story also.’ He paused, took a deep breath. ‘Many many year ago, a boy sacrifice.’ He sliced his finger across his throat. ‘His land far, far away. Around his neck he wear,’ he mimed a necklace and a pendant, ‘stone. A green stone. And this boy very hard to kill. Kamaye say stone is powerful; but they take his soul anyway. So he die on the grasslands. But he die slow. And as he die, he call his Gods. He say:
Curse this King. Curse this land
.’

‘People laugh. They say: “No God is strong as grasslands,” But after boy die, much trouble. Clouds cover sun, moon for many days. Little food. Many sick, many die. Bad, bad winter. No laughing, then.’ TeSin shrugged. ‘But next year, grass high again and people happy.’

‘Happy?’ Dana shuddered. ‘That’s barbaric!’

‘Story not finish.’ TeSin held up a hand. ‘Next year, old woman come to King. She boy’s grandmother. She says to King: you must stop. No more sacrifice. But Great One laugh at old lady. He say, Your gods are weak, old woman. Look, here I am. I am Lord. So guards take old woman.’

‘They killed her, didn’t they?’ said Dana.

Don’t tell her how, thought Will. Just nod, or better still, shake your head. Say, no, the King laughed and was merciful, and sent her on her way.

‘Of course. She killed. But, story is: she say one thing before she die. She say: “My heart full of sorrow, it feel like a stone. And one day, King, a stone stop your heart.”’

N’tombe hissed. Crouched in the torchlight, Dana stared at the warrior. Her eyes seem to glisten.

Will thought of a stone. Sorrow. Grasslands. Children, dying on the grass. The Evans brothers, dead in an empty field, empty eyes staring at the sky. One hundred years, he thought. A century. ‘When is the next sacrifice due?’

TeSin looked at him, said nothing.

‘That’s why the boat. Why Dana. Why she wasn’t harmed,’ Will leapt across the little cave-house, landing on top of TeSin. ‘I killed you once,’ he shouted, and his voice echoed around the cave. ‘I can do it again.’ He punched the warrior, aiming for his jaw, but the man ducked and scrambled to his feet. Will put a hand to his ankle, reaching for his dagger, but he’d given it to Dana. No matter. He could kill a man without a weapon.

‘Will!’ Dana pulled him back. ‘Stop!’

He struggled away from her, turned back to TeSin. The man was crouched in a fighting stance. He too was unarmed, but Will had no doubt that he, too, could kill without a knife.

A sudden crack, a shaft of pain in his belly. Both Will and TeSin crumpled. N’tombe hissed. ‘That’s enough! Both of you.’

Will lay on the ground, groaning. At the other corner of the chamber, TeSin sounded like his echo. For a time, both men lay still, panting.

‘What are you doing?’ Dana sounded confused. ‘I don’t understand?’

With an effort, Will sat up on his elbow and looked at Dana. Her face, outlined by the fire, had never looked so beautiful. ‘Didn’t you hear him?
A special child, a child from far away
. You, Dana.’

She stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘You mean me? A sacrifice?’ She stopped, and he could see the fear in her face. Then she smiled. ‘Don’t be silly. Didn’t you hear him? He said a
child
, Will. I’m not a child.’

Will laughed bitterly. ‘When I heard you were unharmed on that boat? I was so grateful. How could that be — a young girl, a boatload of sailors? Yet, you were untouched. You know why?’ Awkwardly, he tried to sit up.

‘What do you mean?’

‘In his city,’ Will gestured at TeSin, ‘Child means “young virgin”.’

The torch flared, covering the wall in flame. N’tombe gasped.

‘Are you saying,’ Dana sounded uncertain, ‘that I
am
a child?’

‘More than a child,’ said Will. ‘A special child, from far away. Don’t you see?’

She shook her head. ‘No. No.’

But Will knew he was right. No wonder the magicians had wanted her so badly. ‘Yes. You do see, don’t you?’ And, he realized, they will never stop searching for her. They will follow her to the uttermost ends of the earth, if they have to. His voice cracked. ‘Dana, you are to be the next sacrifice.’

––––––––

I
stared at the flickering flame on N’tombe’s outstretched palm. How could someone hold a fire?

It was hard to focus; hard to think. Snippets of memory: voices raised in song, the castle’s winecellar, Rosa at her window. Images seen only in dreams: a lump of jade, uncut and cold. A blind man crouching in the darkness like a dog. And a dagger, intricately carved and sharp as steel.
The hardest knife in all the world.

Another dream, too. Three and a half years ago N’tombe had arrived at the drawbridge, scattering lightning and threatening to destroy the gates. That night I had dreamed of TeSin, watched him murder innocent villagers. That night, I had
been
him, lived in his body, thought his thoughts. At the time it had made me sick; TeSin’s was not an easy mind to inhabit.

While I’d lived inside him I had seen his memories: his wife, his son. All dead. He missed them still. And another memory also. An old man. I froze the image in my mind. Wrinkled, small, like a fruit too long in the sun. The old man had a long white beard and long white hair. No claws, no wings. He seemed frail, as though a breath of wind could puff him over.