Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (22 page)

WHEN BETH PUSHED the door open from the water closet, she saw Honor trudging through the backyard weighed down with her luggage. The dog went for him, barking furiously at his bizarre shape.

“Shut it, Wolves! Beth? I know I’m the big strong man, but give me a hand here? I think the strap on this bag is going to guillotine my hand off.”

Heading for him, she couldn’t stop the sardonic remark, “That’s not a big thing for your kind is it? I imagine someone could glue it right back on for you in a minute.”

“Not if Wolves eats it first.”

Beth laughed, she couldn’t help it. For some ridiculous reason she could picture the whole thing. She grabbed her biggest suitcase and pulled the telescoping handle out, setting it on its wheels. An overnight bag fit perfectly on top of it and she pulled a third bag over a shoulder and headed back to the bathhouse.

“I didn’t know they did that.”

It made Beth laugh again, she admitted, “And I can carry them all when I have to, though it isn’t pretty.”

Inside the shed Honor lit lanterns on shelves, cleverly placed mirrors reflected the light around the big room. Honor stacked Beth’s suitcases on top corner shelves. Pointing to a door he said, “The bathtub is in there, there is hot water, you’ll be able to figure it all out. Kahtar just has this thing about toilets inside, the rest of us are more civilized. Um, I’ll wait for you outside if you want to take a bath? Then I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

“I can’t sleep in that—”

“No, you don’t need to go in the house. It’s just a collection, Beth, honestly, Kahtar’s hobby—to coin a phrase that usually doesn’t apply to Covenant Keepers. Of course he is Warrior Chief, it makes sense he’d be into old weapons.”

“None of this makes sense.”

“Hey?” Honor stepped right up to her and hugged her close, it felt good. The touch of his heart sweet and honorable, just like his name. She felt safe with him, and her eyes welled with tears.

“Don’t be scared. So many of us wanted you to stay right from the start, we want you to be happy with us. We’re good people.”

He meant it. She could sense the truth in his voice and she hoped that they really were good people. The problem was, good or bad, they weren’t her people. They were a cult. How on earth could that possibly be a good thing?

BETWEEN FIGHTING OFF his shade of Golgotha, to repeatedly scanning towards the pond to check Beth, Kahtar couldn’t fall asleep. Beth lay in the hammock strung under a huge old weeping willow, huddled beneath a heavy buffalo blanket. Wolves had circled beneath her, fussing, until she’d hauled him up to sleep against her. It shocked him that she could bear to have the foul dog huddled against her, that she’d even touch him with her bare hands. It surprised him even further when she fell right to sleep with an arm draped over that mangy dog. Two of his warriors stood watch in the night, keeping too close to Beth. Kahtar felt fairly confident they just wanted to feel the touch of her romping heart while she slept. There was no other reason they’d spend the night standing at the head and foot of the hammock, his orders had been strict, to let her run if she chose to.

The shade of Golgotha descended, in full, three times that night. By the time Kahtar’s feet hit the floor his head was already pounding. Downstairs he found breakfast early, and instead of his usual slop prepared by plebes, the best cook in the clan had sent a big basket of rolls stuffed with cheesy eggs and meat. Kahtar had time for his usual morning run, the daily beating by Old Guard in the back barn and a bath before he finally sensed Beth stir. To Kahtar’s surprise, she didn’t try to escape.

PINK RAYS OF light shot through the summer sky and reflected the rising sun in the surface of the smooth pond. The green willows a bower as their branches touched the earth around the hammock. Kahtar made his way to the pond, of course Honor Monroe was already there offering Beth breakfast. She stretched under the thick buffalo robe and accepted a flaky pastry from the young warrior. It was as large as her head. Wolves’s nose popped out of the top of the blanket to sniff hopefully.

Honor had dressed for the day in the normal fashion of Cultuelle Khristos. Similar to what Kahtar wore, a sleeveless linen tunic and leggings, the undyed fabric a plain cream color. A sword dangled at Honor’s waist and Kahtar noticed Beth seemed to purposely keep her smooth curtain of shiny hair angled to block that fact. Even at first light her hair fell neatly into place, and she behaved as though she often slept in a hammock surrounded by Warriors of ilu. Looking over the wisps of fog curling low over the surface of the pond, at the beautiful green fields and trees surrounding her in all directions, she carefully avoided studying the warriors, their clothing or weapons. Kahtar wondered if she noticed the abnormal quiet and the clean air, but she seemed determined to ignore what she didn’t want to know. Beth made polite conversation when he approached.

“This is the life.”

“It is.” If pretending made her comfortable, Kahtar saw no reason to force reality on her. The fact that her hand trembled clutching the roll, made him wonder if she still feared for her life. Wolves’s eyes were glued to the breakfast roll, but he rubbed his head against Beth’s chest, as though to offer comfort. Stepping closer, the damp grass wetting his suede boots, Kahtar determined he’d find a way to reassure Beth. Then Honor stepped forward and boldly smoothed that already smooth hair. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, and Kahtar suddenly wished with all he had that he’d thought to make the gesture. The thought of Beth’s cheek against his hand, her heart pressed against his made the words he was going to speak evaporate from his mind.

Beth bit the roll and her eyes widened in surprise. She sat up, the buffalo blanket dropped to her lap revealing the yellow dress she’d slept in, and Wolves rolled right out of the hammock with a thump.

“Is this meat?” Beth’s words came out around the mouth full of food, as though afraid to swallow.

“Yes.” Honor explained, “But it is clean meat, not like you’re used to.”

Chewing and forcing down a swallow, she shuddered slightly. “Is this buffalo?”

Kahtar couldn’t help it, the chuckle just shot right out. Four warriors stood at her beck and call, she was supposedly their prisoner but it seemed more like they were hers. Beth’s brows drew together at the sound, but she ignored him. Honor tucked her blanket neatly around her and gently shoved Wolves away with his boot, reassuring.

“You mean like this buffalo blanket? No, it’s venison.”

Doubting that fact soothed a vegetarian, Kahtar headed back towards the house. He told himself he’d lived thousands of years without a mate, and that wasn’t likely to change. Beth’s heart only danced around the periphery of his now. She’d felt the touch of other warriors now, most notably Honor’s. Kahtar’s had simply been the first. That was all it had ever been. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but like it or not he would put his disappointment aside because duty called, and duty always came first.

APPROACHING HIS FRONT porch Kahtar sensed Abigail Adit before she even shot out of a brief tunnel of dark and light, to step inside the veil. Tripping forward and smoothing her ever present olive drab dress, she crunched over the gravel driveway in her orthopedic shoes, her sharp eyes darted, searching.

“She’s not here to get acquainted with the clan, Abigail, technically she’s a prisoner.”

“Oh there’s a brilliant plan. We’ll surely win her over by locking her up. I didn’t come to see about her though.”

“This is the first time you’ve ever come to my house, you expect me to buy that?”

“I don’t really care what you buy, Kahtar Constantine. I’m not one of your warriors so watch your tone, I am an Elder. I came because the Old Guard won’t show themselves in front of that Orphan until she’s part of the clan.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well, they found genetic markers for that Berwick you’re looking for, at a storage place in the city. There were several tanks of liquid hydrogen stored there.”

“Shades of War!”

“The Old Guard got rid of it, blew it up or something dramatic. It’s in the news. The Mother said for you to keep that clan away from here. I think she was pretty surprised that warrior got away from you. It was just the one man wasn’t it? Oh, and she said for you to keep the Orphan safe too.”

Heading up the steps into his house Kahtar pulled his tunic over his head while he muttered to himself. Abigail clomped up the stairs right behind him, following him to the second floor while he peeled off clothing and even when he stood in the middle of his bedroom half naked.

“The Mother is sending emissaries to Scotland, putting out feelers trying to locate that Berwick warrior’s clan.”

“Oh for the love of all that is…” Yanking off his leggings he stood to face Abigail. “There are some pretty old Arcs in Scotland they could be really big. We know he’s trying to start his own Arc. If they need a second Arc, that means they’re a lot bigger than us.”

“The Mother has a good reason, Kahtar. She thinks Berwick’s a rogue warrior, off to start his own clan without permission. Think about it, what clan needs two Arcs?”

Tromping to his armoire Kahtar tossed a clean police uniform onto his bed, pulled open a drawer, and tugged shorts on. The Mother was an intelligent woman. He would never dismiss her thoughts without reflection.

“So The Mother thinks Berwick’s own clan might help us track him down?”

Abigail trotted to his side and shook out his shirt, holding it towards him.

“Catching on pretty quickly for a warrior. Think about it a bit harder. Berwick came hunting this Orphan to create an Arc. Joining with her wouldn’t be sanctified in most clans, Kahtar.”

“That’s true.” An Orphan of the Inquisition with a dodgy genetic background wouldn’t be welcome in most clans. “So The Mother thinks if we find Berwick’s clan, they’ll send their own warriors to hunt him and he won’t be our problem?”

Abigail sniffed, “Precisely. How many Warriors of ilu would stockpile liquid hydrogen? If we can get their help they will surely take care of their own. At any rate maybe you killed all his accomplices the other night.”

Pulling on his trousers he eyed Abigail. Quick and clever in her own right, she had absolutely no battlefield sense.

“A Warrior of ilu does not go into battle with his entire legion in the front lines.”

“Oh dear. They’ll be nearby won’t they?”

“Yes, Abigail, near and well hidden, if Berwick has enough warriors to start his own Arc….”