A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (3 page)

To the south loomed mountains, rounded and sombre. Granite tors, with odd and sudden shapes, looked like castles in the evening mists. Black lakes reflected the sky like an eye and swamps appeared, sudden and dangerous underfoot. The land seemed bare, scrubbed clean of inhabitants. A wild place, this land of mountain and moor. It was good to be here in midsummer, when the weather was kind and the days long. Traveling this land in winter was only for the hardy, or the foolish.

‘It’s strange, Dana.’ Will rode beside me. His mount, ears pricked, seemed to enjoy the wind off the heath. ‘When we landed on that beach I thought, Great! Now I can stop traveling.’

‘And then I arrived. At the time you seemed pleased.’

‘I was.’ He grinned, a private little embrace in his eyes, and for a moment my fog of tiredness lifted.

I said it in a rush. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘Does it worry you? Killing someone?’

‘It should,’ he said slowly. ‘Of course it should. Kill someone, you take away everything. All they are, all they will ever be. But ...’

‘But?’

‘Do you feel guilty about the coney we eat at night?’

I shrugged. ‘One has to eat.’

‘That’s how an army thinks. They don’t worry about you as an individual. Soldiers won’t care about your family or your home. You are just an obstacle to overcome.’

‘So, should I feel like that, too?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not saying they’re
right
, Dana. But while you try to avoid killing them, they will be trying to kill you.’

‘Those men at the crossing, they were doing a job. And I murdered them.’

‘Is that what’s bothering you?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ That, and the dreams of dying. And dragons. And the ache in my chest that never went away. And the sudden disappearance of my country, my family. That was a little disturbing too.

‘Dana, they would have killed you. You had to stop them.’

‘But not by killing them.’

‘A dead enemy is a safe enemy, Dana. Call it self-defence, if it makes it easier.’

I smiled and rubbed my chest. Will put his hand on mine. ‘Hey. You’re acting as though you’re the one who’s guilty. Remember, it was them who attacked us. Dana, think of it this way — you saved our lives.’

‘You killed their commander, Will, not I.’

‘The Noyan? I could only get to that man because you gave me an opening. Without you there, I would not have had the chance.’

We rode silently for a while. My horse stretched her neck, pulled at the bit. I slackened the reins to let her find a space of comfort.

‘You’ve improved since I’ve been away.’ Will’s tone was light. He was trying to change the subject.

‘I’ve
improved
?’

‘Oh yes. Your fighting is better, too.’

I grinned. ‘I’ve been practising.’ I told him of the Sergeant’s training, how I’d fought up to five guards at once, disarmed them all.

‘He should have let you kill them,’ Will muttered. ‘That way it wouldn’t be such a shock.’

‘I’m joking,’ he added.

I caught his sideways look and wondered. ‘Will, who was the first man you killed?’

He smiled grimly. ‘In Less Brittain, we’d left a tavern. We were strangers, equipped for a long journey. We must have had money. A group of men tried to rob us. It wasn’t much of a fight.’ For a second an older man, a hard man, peeped out of Will’s eyes.

‘Do you have nightmares?’

‘About the robbery?’ He snorted. ‘Not me. I bet the survivors do though.’

Once I had dreamt of him and Jed being ambushed. They had been passing through a canyon and had been waylaid by bandits. That had also been a true dream, but in that dream I had not been terrified for myself, only for Will. ‘You remember those other bandits, those ones in the rocks? Would you say that was an easy fight?’

He smiled, then, a softer, younger Will. My Will. ‘Then I thought there was no hope. Until you arrived. Like a miracle, you were. You and your flying fists.’

‘Flying fists?’ For a second it was as though nothing had changed between us. Old sparring partners, we knew each other in a way no one else could. I punched him on the shoulder and he punched back, but he was a rotten hitter on horseback and I ducked. ‘Hah!’

N’tombe looked at us and smiled.

It’s one thing to look out of a window at a distant mountain range and dream of exploring beyond their peaks. It’s quite another to go into the scenery and to know there is no return. Even worse is a one-way journey from comfort into danger; though your bones ache and your legs are chaffed from riding, there is no rest. You must continue.

In the morning, stiff and coughing, I could smell my sweat. Then I got used to it. Finally, I found it useful, for the flies bothered me less. Although, that might not have been the smell, that might have been the cooler mountain air.

In a way it was easier for Jed and Will. Used to the privations of a journey, they rode uncomplaining, pausing only for a brief stop at midday before pressing onwards. But I, used to the luxuries of mattresses and maids, found those first few weeks a form of hell. Only the nightmares distracted me from the pain.

***

‘Y
ou don’t have to accept them, you know,’ said the woman.

I blinked. ‘What?’

Only a moment ago, I’d been staring at the stars, now it was bright daylight. This is the worst thing about true dreams; they are so intense, that it’s hard to be sure sometimes what is real and what is the dream. Such dreams are deeply seductive; enticing and disturbing. It would be so easy to stay in the dream for ever.

‘You can control it, Dana.’

‘Am I dreaming now?’

The woman had long flaxen hair, deep lines between nose and mouth and a resolute jaw. Robed in plain, tight-sleeved linen, she could be from any place and any time. I had not seen her before and yet she felt familiar, as if I knew her.

With that thought came understanding. ‘You are?’

She nodded. ‘One of the beads around your wrist. Yes.’ She lifted her face to the sun. ‘A bead, that’s all I am.’

‘I think,’ I said slowly, ‘that you are more than a piece of glass.’

‘I was a diamond, once,’ she spoke with a flash of pride. ‘Then when others came, I changed. We have to match, you know. Co-ordination is important.’

‘You change just so you look good? Isn’t that a bit superficial?’

‘We change because we work together. The outward appearance is just an expression of the transformation.’ She smiled. ‘And of course, we like to look good, too.’

There were laughter lines at the corner of her eyes and I relaxed. There was nothing to hurt me here.

‘No, child. In this dream, nothing will harm you.’ She touched my wrist. ‘You must not live in fear. You have a rare gift. You can take the dream, and change it.’

What was she talking of? I had had terrible nightmares — I’d dreamed of being chased by a dragon, being stabbed through the heart. In these dreams, I had no power; I was a most unwilling participant. I rubbed my chest. The echo of pain was strong.

She looked at me. ‘And haven’t you fought and killed, in your dreams?’

I remembered Will and his talk of flying fists, and me dreaming of his danger and fighting to defend him.

She nodded. ‘Yes. Those bandits. You awoke, but they did not.’

So, those men at the Crossing had not been my first deaths. Strangely, this was a relief. It was not a good thing to have killed these men, was it? And yet, at the time I had no choice. If I had not killed them, they would have shot Will with their arrows. Maybe that’s all one can do; stop the moment before it happens.

‘In that dream,’ said the woman, ‘you had power.’

‘If I had done nothing, Will would have been killed.’

‘So you thought not of yourself, but of someone else.’

‘Of course.’

‘Well,’ she said briskly. ‘You’ll have to start thinking of yourself, child. Or your dreams will turn you mad. Listen to me. Your dreams are yours and yours alone, and you make your own choices within them. When someone close to you is threatened, you don’t hesitate, do you? Well. Now it is you who are under threat. The enemy you face is old. And powerful. With strong armies to command and brave men who have fought many battles for him.’

‘Will spoke about a king, an emperor. He’s very old,’ I said. ‘But I don’t dream of him.’

‘Well, what do you see in your dreams?’

I rubbed the spot over my heart. ‘I see a dragon. And a sword in my chest.’

She sucked in breath. ‘Ah, he is clever. This makes it hard for you to sleep, yes?’

I nodded. Yes. A sword in my chest did make it difficult to sleep.

‘He will make you distrust those about you.’

‘He can do this?’

‘Of course. He has many agents. You have met some already, some you have not. Pray you do not. They are terrible.’

I remembered the magic worker who had invaded the Kingdom and taken Alden, my brother, hostage. N’tombe and Rinpoche had fought him. Dissolving, Rinpoche had destroyed the evil, but at great cost, for I no longer heard his laughter in my dreams.

She looked at me with pity. ‘Poor girl, to carry this heavy burden.’

The knowledge of power seeking me should be terrifying, and yes, at some level it was chilling. But that morning, in that dreamland, I felt only relief. An enemy I could cope with. Having an enemy meant I had a goal, a mission. Someone to target, something to train against.
I can do it,
I thought.
I can fight and I can kill
. This is the strange thing; an enemy gives one hope.

I spread my fingers in the dream sunlight. ‘So. What must I do?’

She patted my shoulder. ‘Good girl.’

––––––––

S
eated by the campfire, N’tombe and Will crouched under a tarpaulin shelter. The tightly woven canvas kept off the worst of the rain but didn’t stop the wind, which blew through the open sides and swirled the smoke about. Weather like this made Will long for simple things: a warm bed, a house with walls, a fire that didn’t smoke. N’tombe appeared equally uncomfortable; she crouched beside the fire, hands huddled into the folds of her cloak.

Traveling in wet weather held little charm and, as there had been no sign of pursuit, the company decided on a rest day. A fortnight of constant riding was hard on horse and rider. Although, Will thought, crowding together under a small tarpaulin was not exactly relaxing.

Dana had muttered and twitched until eventually Jed had mentioned the lack of fresh meat.

‘I’ll go hunting,’ the Princess had said eagerly, taking up her bow and quiver.

Will stared out at the damp moorland morosely. Maybe he should have offered to go instead of Jed, but he and Dana ... well, things were not so good between them. She seemed so distant. Had he done something to offend her?

He laid another pine branch on the fire, watched the flames lick sullenly at damp wood.

N’tombe shivered. ‘I hate this weather. So cold.’

N’tombe’s power was extraordinary, yet here she sat, blowing on her hands just like any commonplace traveler. From another world, so she said. How could there be many worlds? Wasn’t one large enough? 

Will pointed to the saddlebags. They were well equipped; he’d never had so much gear with him before. ‘We have more clothes.’

She made a face. ‘More clothes? I feel like a parcel. I can barely move.’

‘Keeps you warm, though.’

She nodded reluctantly and shuffled over to the packs. Then she smiled. ‘Look! Hats! And a woolen undershirt.‘ She pulled a cream garment from a saddlebag and examined it closely. ‘This is finely made. Not at all itchy.’ The Enchantress held the garment up against her as if measuring it for size. ‘I will wear it.’ She frowned at Will. ‘What are you waiting for? Turn around.’

Quickly, Will turned his back, stared out across the heath. N’tombe rustled behind him. What was she doing? From the sounds it seemed she was removing her garments. He swallowed, watched the grey sky intently. He didn’t want to peek at a partially-clad Enchantress; she might turn him into a frog if he showed signs of disrespect. Stop! She can read thoughts, remember?

Desperately, Will considered the climate. It is raining again. Not the cold of winter, but still ’tis cold for this time of year. On days like this, a body wants hot food. What did they have in those saddlebags? Dried peas. Beans. Barley. Suitable for a rabbit stew, provided Dana and Jed could find some. Most coneys would be hiding down in their holes in weather like this. He was getting plaguey sick of rabbit, anyway.

They had flour, wrapped carefully in brown paper bags. He could make camp bread! Would be a treat for Dana when she returned from her hunting. Will smiled, imagining her pleasure.

‘You can look now,’ said N’tombe.

Will blinked. She was wearing the hat. Such a hat! Knitted in thick wool, its creator had decorated it with tassels and added ear flaps that could be tied under the chin. Will coughed.

‘What?’ asked N’tombe.

‘Um. Your hat.’

‘It is very warm. Look. It is lined with wool.’ She pulled another from the pack. ‘Here. Try it.’

‘No thanks.’

‘It will keep your head warm.’

‘My head is fine, thank you.’ It would take a fair amount of cold weather to get him to wear a hat like that. Although it appeared better on the Enchantress than it would on him; something about her black skin and smooth cheeks. She could make even a stupid hat look exotic.

She smiled at him approvingly.

Oh damn, he thought.

‘You remember the warrior?’ she asked, as if to take his thoughts from his embarrassment. ‘The one you fought?’

Will pulled the saddlebag with the provisions over. The flour should be in here somewhere. ‘Warrior? You mean the Noyan?’

‘A Noyan is someone important?’

Will set the bag down. ‘Aye. Very important. A general, a leader.’ He remembered the dark-eyed warrior. He had met TeSin at the Crossing, before embarking on his journey. Strange that he’d encountered the same man on his return. Strange, and unlucky for TeSin.

Will didn’t like thinking about the folk he’d killed; made him feel somewhat guilty even though it was never his choice to do the killing. Carefully, he poured two handfuls of fine white flour into the smoke-rimmed cooking pot before tucking the remainder into a saddlebag. Might be enough for another batch, if he were careful. It was good to think only of cooking; better by far than remembering killing and death.