Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (2 page)

Closing his eyes to focus, Kahtar’s scan resumed, moving down the country road. Scanning asphalt felt almost poisonous, he could practically smell it, taste tar on his tongue. Simultaneously, he shoved his mind east and west, following the road in both directions at once. From one edge of his scan came movement, a vehicle from the west. It blew through his mind, instantly engulfed by his mental radar. He digested every minute detail:
3,109 pounds of metal and synthetic substances, one 140 pound human being, vehicle speed fluctuating between 65 and 70 mph.
For today, barely speeding was still speeding because Honor Monroe’s scan still hovered dangerously near, and Kahtar was in no mood to have it bite into his head again. Besides, the more unpleasant he could make a trip to the village of Willowyth, the less likely people were to want to return.

Turning the key, Honor’s second voice, somehow as enthusiastic as his real voice, sounded in Kahtar’s mind.
“Chief? I feel it too! The car’s yellow!”

Ignoring Honor, he edged the patrol car to the roadway. The speeding car appeared atop a little knoll, a bright yellow Saab convertible. Honor Monroe insisted he could scan color, and although often wrong, he did seem to have some sort of extra gift. Honor’s annoyingly enthusiastic second voice sounded very faintly as Kahtar pulled onto the highway behind the Saab.
“I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Just stay out of trouble. I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”
He wondered if his second voice sounded as annoyed as he felt.

KAHTAR TRAILED THE yellow convertible, wondering how the woman inside could possibly see to drive while her hair whipped around her head in the wind like a dozen albino bats. It took flashing lights, a siren and a mile of riding her bumper before she noticed him.

The Saab came to a stop at the edge of a residential street with one wheel propped up on the sidewalk. Following merciless police protocol, he waited several menacing minutes before unfolding his nearly seven-foot frame from the squad car and slowly approaching. The bass of her music forced its own rhythm into his heart, but it wasn’t nearly as intrusive as the profane lyrics.

Nobody played bad cop as well as he did, and ruining the morning of a vulgar stranger had potential to cheer him up.

“Shut. It. Off.”

With an open palm the blonde obediently smacked a dial and silenced her radio. Despite miles of whipping wind her curtain of silky hair fell obediently into place as she looked attentively up at him.

“I drove behind you for miles before you even….” Kahtar’s lecture evaporated, as stunned, he momentarily lost the ability for any coherent speech.

Covenant Keepers never forgot the touch of another’s heart and though he didn’t know hers, images flashed through his mind unbidden as her heart unexpectedly touched his:
A pristine stream on The Fortunate Isles, a fresh squeeze of lemon in tea, the way snow used to taste before the Industrial Revolution.
This woman was one of his kind; as much Covenant Keeper as he was. The gale force of her impossibly familiar heart slapped right against his, announcing that truth as intensely as if he’d known her all his life.

Standing in the humid spring day and gaping like a suffocating fish, he basked in her heart skipping around his like the dappled summer sunshine shining through the Buckeye blossoms above them. The pretty blonde Covenant Keeper looked him up and down with wide eyes the exact same shade of blue as her dress.

The look on her face incredulous, she asked bluntly, “What are you supposed to be?”

Kahtar had almost forgotten the thrill of being pleasantly surprised. Gazing down at the strange Covenant Keeper, he explained his guise.

“I’m supposed to be a Willowyth cop, the Police Chief to be precise. You’re Clan Huron, aren’t you?” He leaned against the convertible, studying the open-hearted woman.

Shading her eyes with a hand, her expression confused, she said, “No, sorry, I’m not Clan. My name is Beth White.”

Kahtar straightened, surprised by the answer. Freed from his weight the sports car shifted slightly.

Beth reached into the backseat to tug an enormous silver pocketbook onto her lap. She scratched her lightly freckled nose, a slight crease between her brows as she squinted up at him. “Okay, look, I don’t have an Ohio license, but I do have an International Driving Permit and a Greek license. At least I did....” When he didn’t respond, she started fishing through her bag with one hand, occasionally shooting a concerned glance up at him.

“What are you playing at? Did Honor put you up to this?” It was the first random thought that popped into his mind, and he was surprised to hear himself voice the ludicrous idea.

She scratched her nose again. “Um, my permit expired two years ago. Is this really going to be a big deal? It’s hardly dishonorable to get behind on paperwork!”

She was sincere and frank about the stupid papers, as though she didn’t recognize him as one of her own, as though he was a regular cop pulling over a speeder.

“Beth White? Surely you recognize me?”

Perfectly arched eyebrows rose as she looked him up and down a bit more slowly than was polite. “Sorry. I make it a point to remember all the Avengers I’ve ever met,” she blurted, then bit her lip.

Kahtar blinked and his heart skipped a beat. For one wild moment he thought she knew his secret. His mind reeled.

“That’s what we like to call a joke. Are you all right?” Beth held out her paperwork, and even in his semi-stunned state he noted the worn passport and laminated card were genuine documents. “I do have American insurance. Are you okay? Officer…Officer?”

It took less than a heartbeat to realize she didn’t know his secret, and for the strange space of another beat he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. That she was not from any neighboring clan was now obvious. Her behavior was off-the-chart odd for any Covenant Keeper. Internal alarms began to sound even while her heart continued to leapfrog around his like a friendly puppy. Kahtar tried to make sense of her and his mind flew through several highly improbable scenarios, distracted by the touch of that heart.

The touch of her heart reminded him of running through fields when he had been a boy in a clan in Malaysia, or a time when he’d been a boy during the Middle Ages, memories of joy. With effort Kahtar forced his attention away from old memories and blinked. She stared at him and judging by the frank concern in her blue eyes, she was bewildered by his behavior too.

Hiding behind the guise of an officer of the law, Kahtar took her paperwork and glanced at it. As he read her name, the answer to her behavior finally dropped into his mind. Beth White wasn’t an alias. It was her name.

Beth was not the name of a Covenant Keeper. Orphan. Beth White was an Orphan of the Inquisition. A Covenant Keeper without a clan, without a home
.
A descendant of a Covenant Keeper lost to her own, perhaps generations ago. Pangs of disappointment rippled in Kahtar’s heart. This woman didn’t know her own when one of them stood right in front of her because she didn’t know herself.

“Hey, Chief?” Beth White interrupted his reverie. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

And this is the part where I chase her away.
It was as simple as that. She belonged to another world and as far from Willowyth as possible. Meeting her eyes, he glared with hostility usually reserved for opponents on the battlefield. Many sins darkened his soul, but no one could ever accuse him of not doing his duty. Bending down so that he was level with her eyes, he growled, “Keep right on moving, Beth White, or I will arrest you. I don’t like you, and if I ever see you again, you will regret it.”

LIAR, BETH THOUGHT. Despite his bipolar-on-crack behavior, the Zeus-like cop definitely liked her. Granted, he’d thought she was somebody else at first, whoever Clan Huron was. He’d realized his mistake quickly though. Then like a Greek god suffering from a head injury, he’d gone from bad cop to good cop to nutter cop and back to bad in the course of a few minutes. Still. He definitely liked her.

Peeking in her rearview mirror, she watched him stalk back to the cruiser. Boldly adjusting the mirror to get a better look, she bit back a sigh. There was something about him that made her want to like him too, but who could like a whack like that? Starting her car, she kept an eye on the mirror, her hand on the gear when she saw it. A light she’d seen thousands of times in dreams, danced in a brief sparkling column near the back of the police car. She sucked in breath as it vanished. Something tingled through her. Not fear—a thrill. Always, since she’d been a child, she’d known those lights existed. The memory of what they were was elusive, like trying to catch a thought that raced away faster as you reached for it.

The cop pivoted to look at her and their eyes met in the mirror. His were steely, hiding something. They held her gaze a brief second, but that was all Beth needed to see to understand the truth. The Police Chief hoped she hadn’t seen the light. That light meant something had happened, something serious, something he didn’t want her to know about. He wanted her to leave and instinctively she cooperated. Giving him half of what he wanted, she shoved the car into gear and pressed a toe of her favorite lemon colored stiletto pumps against the gas pedal, leaving a spray of gravel in her wake. That cop, however, would quite possibly see her again. She wasn’t going anywhere—Willowyth was right where she belonged. And if that was in his way, that was just too bad for him.

THE OLD GUARD’S second voice seared through Kahtar’s brain.
“Honor Monroe critically injured.”
Anger and frustration wrestled with disbelief as Kahtar sent a battle cry. Like a wave it moved silently from his mind, echoing towards the consciousness of nearby warriors. It consisted of only one word.
Pray
.
That was where Honor’s only hope lay, in the healing prayers of his fellow warriors.

Jumping into his squad car, Kahtar turned it in the opposite direction of the departing Orphan. Racing over miles of country road, frustration won as his leading emotion. The slow means of transportation the car provided was infuriating, although the speedometer edged into the red zone. Putting miles between the Orphan and Old Guard was mandatory. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Beth White hadn’t noticed the Old Guard shimmering his warning message. For her sake, he hoped she hadn’t.

Scanning the abandoned roadway, and then into the empty sky, Kahtar braked hard. The cruiser’s tires shrieked in protest, leaving a rubber trail the back end spun into the wrong lane. Unpleasant burning smells filled the car as he backed recklessly into the woods, right over weedy shrubs and through bramble, hiding the vehicle out of sight from both road and sky. Turning the key and tossing the door open, he shouted, “Old Guard!”