Authors: Deborah Chester
Both
came forward impassively as though there had been no delay.
They
were presented to Bixia, who received them aloofly, her voice cold with
hauteur.
Still
red-faced, Albain beckoned to Elandra. She came forward reluctantly,
embarrassed and uncertain as to whether her father was furious with her or
simply disappointed. Over to one side, Hecati threw her dagger looks.
“My
natural daughter, Lady Elandra,” Albain said to the commanders. “She also
travels under your care, sirs, to be received and prepared for marriage by the
Penestricans.”
“We
are doubly honored, Lord Albain,” the general of the Imperial Guard said. He
spoke Lingua with an odd, flat accent.
Alud
Handar, general of the Gialtan squadrons, bowed respectfully to Elandra. His
eyes were warm and friendly in his stern face. “We shall guard these precious
pearls of our lord and master with our lives.”
“Then
good journey,” Albain said gruffly.
He
took Bixia’s hand and kissed it according to protocol. “Farewell, my daughter,”
he said formally. “I count the hours until I can bestow your hand in marriage.”
“Goodbye,
Father,” Bixia said haughtily. “I await our reunion.”
They
glared at each other for a moment longer; then Albain turned to Elandra and
clasped her hand in both of his big calloused ones. “Have courage to face what
lies before you. My blessing to you, little daughter.”
Over
his shoulder, Elandra saw Bixia turn red with fresh anger. Albain had not given
Bixia his blessing, but no doubt he was saving that honor for her wedding day.
Still, it was another slight that Bixia would want revenge for.
Ruefully,
Elandra curtsied to her father. She wished more than ever that she was still an
unnoticed member of the household, keeping out of sight and out of trouble in
the servants’ passageways. Aside from Magan and perhaps General Handar, she had
no allies to protect her away from Albain’s direct influence.
“Thank
you, Father,” she said softly. She gazed up at him, her eyes full of apology.
His
expression softened marginally. “Remember to keep your place,” he said.
The
chastisement was mild indeed, but it was enough to make Elandra draw in a sharp
breath and drop her gaze.
Bixia
sniffed with patent dissatisfaction.
Then
they were being lifted into the palanquins and settled. The handlers perched
themselves behind the head of the elephants.
The
troops wheeled about in formation, imperial horses prancing skittishly around
the elephants. The Gialtan barbs ignored the elephants and trotted smoothly
forward.
Trumpets
sounded again, and the tall gates swung open. With banners flying, they were on
their way into the unknown.
* * *
By
nightfall, they had left the road that paralleled the river for a rough track
that led away from the irrigated fields and paddies into the jungle itself. The
terrain was rough, and leafy branches brushed the sides of the palanquin
frequently.
Elandra
soon adjusted to the majestic sway of the elephant carrying her and Magan.
Riding so high above the ground, she was able to see numerous monkeys. Wild
parrots flew everywhere in brilliant profusion. Flowering vines looped down
from the treetops above, perfuming the air with sweet fragrance that briefly
overcame the damp, fetid scents of the jungle. Now and then she glimpsed a
predator lying concealed among the mossy branches. The air was heavy and still,
making the intense heat a clammy, smothering enemy.
She
and Magan used the reed fans constantly, but by the time they stopped for camp,
Elandra felt limp from the heat. She had no appetite for the food served to
her. To her relief, Bixia and Hecati looked equally exhausted and did not even
talk to her.
The
soldiers were detailed into sentry units. The rest dispersed elsewhere, to make
a second camp. Servants put up tents and cots, and Elandra found her quarters a
tiny, airless, claustrophobic place.
The
darkness pressed down, hot and still. She felt as though it were water, trying
to drown her. Magan draped netting over her for protection against the
stinging, vicious insects. It was like being wrapped in a shroud, but Elandra
made no complaint.
Eventually
she slept, but her slumber was light and restless.
“Elandra
Albain,
”
whispered a soft voice through the darkness.
Elandra
stirred and sat up. The netting around her was gone. As she blinked, uncertain
whether she’d heard her
name spoken, the dark tent around her faded away like smoke.
An eerie green light filled her surroundings, and she saw herself sitting unclad
and shivering upon a bench of stone. In the distance stood a pair of mighty
stone pillars, like sentinels.
The
green light spilled from between them, spreading low across the ground like
fog. It illuminated this strange dream place with a ghostly radiance. A figure
came wading toward her through the glowing fog, a tall shadow, powerful with
broad shoulders and muscular legs.
Elandra
drew in her breath with a sharp sense of alarm. She tried to scramble off the
bench, but found herself unable to move.
Her
paralysis frightened her even more. Heart pounding, she struggled to control
her own fear.
It’s only a dream,
she tried to reassure herself without much success.
Dream or not, it seemed far too vivid and real.
She
found herself increasingly mesmerized by the shadow’s easy, loping stride. Time
compressed to stillness, unable to flow naturally. The man continued to come
closer, yet he seemed quite a distance away. Too far for her to see his face,
which remained concealed by the gloom.
Like
her, he was clad only in darkness. Her skin flushed hot as though she’d ben
dipped in boiling water, yet the very top of her head felt icy cold. She found
herself gripping the sides of her bench with all her strength, and she could
not stop trembling. Her breathing deepened, and her back arched of its own
volition.
Suddenly
she was off the bench, standing tall. Her fear remained, yet it shielded an
eagerness she had never known before. Something inside her seemed to recognize
this half- seen stranger. He walked like a warrior, graceful and strong. She
had never seen anyone as tall. His neck was like a column, straight and strong.
She strained to see the molding of his head and face.
To
see him more clearly ... to gaze into his eyes ... to feel the touch of his
fingertips on her skin ...
She
stepped forward, walking to meet him halfway. Her heart lifted and yearned. She
knew him, had known him throughout the sands of time. He was for her, as she
was for him. Gladness burst through her, and she wanted to sing as she ran. Why
had it taken so long to find him again?
In
the blink of a moment, the distance between them ended. They stood face to
face, breathless and cloaked in the strange shadows.
“Elandra,”
he whispered, his voice
striking like a bronze bell within her soul.
The
light was spreading, lifting around them. In moments she would see his face and
know his name again, this man whom she had loved for all of time.
She
lifted her arms to his neck and pressed herself close against warm skin and
hard muscles.
“Elandra,”
he said again.
“I have found thee, my only love.”
His
lips brushed against her trembling ones, even as she caught her breath for the
kiss that would return her memory.
But
from the corner of her eye she glimpsed a quick flash of yellow light, bright
and foreign to the soft green light at their feet.
Distracted,
Elandra turned her head to look, and her lover vanished like smoke.
“No!”
she cried aloud. She looked in all directions, but he was gone.
Filled
with a sense of loss, Elandra took a few aimless steps. “Come back!” she
called. “Please come back to me!”
She
did not know his name, and her frustration grew. If she could call out his
name, he would come back to her.
“Please,”
she whispered again.
He
did not reappear, and she knew she could search forever through the shadows and
not find him.
Angry,
she turned toward the yellow light and stormed toward it. “Why?” she called. “Why
couldn’t you wait?”
The
light tried to recede and wavered. That’s when Elandra saw it was only a shield
for a woman, motionless and watchful.
Slightly
plump and middle-aged, she was garbed in a long black robe that covered her
entirely from neck to wrist to feet.
“Who
are you?” Elandra demanded. “Why did you interrupt? What are you doing here?”
The
woman’s eyes widened in astonishment that changed to alarm. Without a word, she
gathered up her long skirts and abruptly ran.
But
her flight only fanned Elandra’s anger more. She ran after the watcher,
pursuing her in a wild, zigzagging flight up and down hills and over
boulder-strewn ground. The woman ran awkwardly and not very well. Soon, she
slowed and began to glance over her shoulder more and more often. Elandra
gritted her teeth and increased her stride.
You
are an old gazelle,
she thought, drawing on an old childhood game when
she had been taught by the huntsman how to pursue quarry with her mind as well
as her body.
I
am
the panther, swift and bold. I can catch you.
With
every stride, she gained on the older woman.
By
the time they reached the stone pillars, Elandra was close enough to grab the
back of the watcher’s robe. She yanked hard, bringing the woman to a halt just
short of the gateway.
The
woman twisted in her hold, eyes filled with fear. “No,” she said breathlessly. “You
cannot exit with me. You cannot—”
“Tell
me his name, watcher,” Elandra said.
The
woman’s fearfulness grew. “Impossible!” she breathed. “You cannot see me. You
are not—”
“I
see you,” Elandra said, twisting harder on the woman’s robe. “I have caught
you, watcher. Tell me his name!”
“Yes,
tell,” commanded another voice.
Startled,
Elandra looked around and saw Hecati standing in the fog. The old witch stood
cloaked in murkiness, as though smoke billowed around her. Elandra smelled a
scent of something burning, and knew Hecati’s magic was at work. Strangely, in
her dream she did not fear.
“His
name!” Hecati commanded.
The
watcher tried to pull free of Elandra’s hold. “No!” she said to Hecati, lifting
one hand in a gesture of repudiation. “Begone, intruder. You have no place
here!”
Hecati
threw back her head in laughter, and Elandra stepped closer to her captive.
“Quickly,”
she whispered. “Explain to me why—”
Something
invisible hit Elandra a stunning blow. She staggered back, unable to breathe or
even see. The world spun around her and went entirely dark.
Then
she could breathe again. With a gasp, she struggled up only to find her face
and shoulders entangled in insect netting. Through the tent flap, bright
moonlight shone over the camp and cast a shadow from the silhouette of the
sentry who paced outside.
Elandra
drew in an unsteady breath and shoved her hair back from her face. She was
covered with perspiration and breathing hard. Her nightgown stuck to her damp
skin.
Unlike
the usual sort of dream that faded immediately, this one remained vivid in her
mind, haunting her. Who was the woman who watched? Why had she been in Elandra’s
dream?
And
who had been the man?
Remembering
how she’d responded to him, Elandra blushed in the night. Was she mad to dream
of her future husband like a silly field-hand girl? Hers would be a marriage of
convenience and dynastic alliance. The union would strengthen her father’s
power as a warlord. It would provide her with a home, a name, and possibly
children, but nothing more.