Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (26 page)

Willet moved quickly to obey, but Honor delayed, walking slowly towards an exit in the bushes, not in the least bit reassured, apparently, by Kahtar’s mercy anymore than Willet’s.

Am I really that bad?
But he knew the answer to that question. Obediently Honor moved towards the bushes until he vanished from inside the veil.

THOUGH THE RAIN had increased throughout the day, Kahtar could sense that the clouds to the north were thinning and it would dissipate in the night. Tomorrow would be sunny and warm. Tonight, however, would be uncomfortable and along the windy perimeter of the veil it would be cold, especially for someone soaking wet. The trees that made up the woods under the veil were much older than what now surrounded the countryside outside. This little slice of what used to be hadn’t been harvested for wood, beyond what he’d taken to build his house years ago. Racing past woodpiles and ghosting through the large old trees, he found Beth easily in the dark woods. Scanning for her through the forest, her genetic markers were now almost as familiar as the women in his clan.

Wolves’s whimpering and Beth’s retching would have drawn him even if he hadn’t the ability to scan. While being sick in the middle of the forest, she managed to seem every bit a 21
^st
Century woman. Seated on a stump with her soaking hair held over a shoulder by one hand, her legs neatly crossed and her ever present heels carefully out of the way, she leaned to the side gracefully as her stomach tried to rid the unclean water from her body.

Sensing the bacteria multiplying quickly towards agony, it surprised Kahtar when Beth forced herself to her feet and turned resolutely towards the cold wind that signaled the edge of a veil. Despite the dark, rainy night, she was visible with her light hair and white summer dress. The force of terminal velocity blew her hair back, drying it, and pressed the dress against her body. Fighting against the force of the wind Beth struggled to move forward. The movement as she approached the edge seemed curious, but before Kahtar could decide why, she staggered forward another step. The full force of the veil threw her back and he rushed forward, catching her before she landed flat on her back.

“Honor?” Beth reached to touch his face in the dark, running an icy hand up his cheek and over his cropped hair. Recognizing him, she pushed lamely as he lifted her against his chest.

“Don’t be picky. You need help. You’re sick.” Pressing a hand against her stomach he could sense the turmoil inside and prayed silently, immediately the bacteria began to die under his skilled hand. Beth stopped struggling and leaned her head against him with a groan. The rain had stopped, but it still dripped from trees and Kahtar moved quickly, doing his best to keep her dry, dodging between trees as Beth shivered with cold and pain.

“Don’t you know better than to drink standing water?” Sensing the presence of parasites mingling with the germs made him angry. How could she be so foolish?

“Wait!” Moaning she tried to look around, craning her head in the dark. “The wolf dog.”

“Wolves?” Kahtar glanced back. Wolves was joyously rolling around on the ground in Beth’s sick. “He’s busy, he’ll follow when he likes.”

“We’re near the road.” She whispered. “He’s not very smart. He’ll run in the road.”

“He can’t get there from here.” For some reason he whispered that back to her. After that she didn’t talk, but twice he had to let her slide to the ground until her dry heaves passed.

When they reached the porch, Beth struggled free, walked a few steps and laid down right on the floor of the wooden porch. Kahtar stood there a moment, considered dragging her upstairs and then he went inside by himself. Willet sat on the sofa in the dark, sipping a cup of brack tea. The scent made Kahtar’s mouth water. He hadn’t had a sip of it in centuries.

“Make yourself at home, Cousin,” he groused.

“Didn’t think you’d mind. Do you want me to take guard now?”

“No. I’ll take care of her.”

Grabbing a thick blanket off a sofa Kahtar returned to the porch. Tossing the blanket next to Beth, he lay down on it in his uniform. Uncomfortably soaked through, his feet slid around inside his water filled shoes. Poor Beth looked miserable, curled into her gurgling gut she failed to bite back groans of pain. Trying to be gentle Kahtar pulled her onto his thick, warm blanket and wrapped the edge over them. One hand slid to her belly, and he whispered his healing chant out loud, in The Ancient Tongue. Beth quieted next to him and he knew she was listening to the words, distracted from her slowly receding pain. They were all born with the innate ability to understand the language of their ancestors, though Beth probably hadn’t heard it outside her dreamlike shades.

The night air warmed beneath the blanket and with Beth’s body heat, Kahtar grew comfortable and tired. When her breathing became even he stopped praying. For several moments he lay still. Beth’s heart was tucked down like a beaten dog again, held far from his, but as he lay beside her, he was content and at peace. It felt right. His right arm draped over her and he leaned his face into her damp hair and breathed of her like Honor so often did. A sigh escaped him and Beth nestled tighter against him. Instinct made him pull her close, to feel her against his chest and a thrill shot through him at the contact. Never, in all his time, had he held a woman like this, with intention. He could love her. In fact, he did.

“Honor?” Beth murmured low.

The moment soured, and Kahtar started to pull away, but as his hand slid away, Beth grabbed it and pulled it tighter around her.

“Stay.” She whispered, barely audible.

Desperate enough for contact with this woman, whose heart beckoned even when it hid, he did as she asked. As he fell asleep with a sigh of absolute contentment, Kahtar succumbed and whispered into her neck. “Sweet Beth.”

“Mmmm, you.” He heard as he slipped away.

DESPITE HIS WET clothes, he slept comfortably. Kahtar dreamed about Beth and sank deeper and deeper into a blissful oblivion. Of course it didn’t last, always his sins caught up with him. There was no escape from the two thousand year old shade. There was no escape from the hills of Golgotha. It was different this time. A faint, prolonged rumble seemed to follow Longinus in the shade, where he thrust the cursed spear yet again, and blood poured down his arm. In the shade Longinus seemed oblivious to the strange sound but asleep on the porch, Kahtar wasn’t. It kept him half outside of the shade, in two worlds at the same time. Blood ran down Longinus’s raised arm, still warm it splashed across his lips and the sound changed. The rumbling faded, and it was replaced by a faint roar.

There wasn’t thunder, not yet.
That thought roused Kahtar, held the shade at bay for the first time ever, and he opened his eyes to a muffled roaring sound, trying to place it, confused as his shade faded.

What does this mean?
It took several minutes for his mind to turn slowly from his horrible past.

Under the buffalo blanket Kahtar lay damp, slightly chilled with the warmth of Beth gone.

Her stomach
, he remembered. Scanning for her he admonished himself, he’d fallen asleep before tending to her thoroughly. Rising to a sitting position, Kahtar scanned towards the latrine despite the fact that it was an intrusion. It was empty
.
Then he scanned towards the pond, wondering if she’d gone to the hammock. Tossing the blanket off he rose to stretch, considering his options. If she insisted on trying to escape the veil, he hoped she’d quit drinking standing water. It was then, as he considered the fact that drinking water out of a mud puddle was downright stupid, and that Beth was not a stupid woman, that the sound from his shade clicked into place in his mind.

A car. In surprise he looked towards the driveway, even in the dark of early morning his eyes could make out that only his cruiser sat there. The convertible was gone. Swearing he banged through the screen door, and looked at the iron maiden where he kept keys dangling on the little nubs that jutted out near the eye-holes. Only the cruiser keys were there. His mind raced.

She’d been too terrified to walk through the doorway to sleep in a bed, but Beth had gone into the house to get keys, had taken them right off an instrument of torture. Willet pushed the kitchen door open and with a fresh mug of brack tea in his hand.

“Kahtar? Was that a car?”

“Beth took it! Where the blazes were you?”

“Making breakfast. Call Old Guard.”

“They don’t do cars or Orphans! You know that! Have them drop warriors along the highway. We have to stop her! Put on one of my uniforms. Hurry!”

Willet’s mug of tea hit the floor, spilling the liquid over the floor boards. In the faint morning light it looked dark red, like blood. Horror seized Kahtar. Berwick would be waiting for her, if he found her…
Dear Sweet ilu. Please. Protect her.

THE POLICE CRUISER didn’t move nearly as fast as the Saab, and Beth had a good head start. Flying at top speed out of the veil, Kahtar knew he’d been played. Beth had simply been biding her time, waiting for a chance to escape. Why hadn’t he seen it? What about her as he’d tried to force her to leave town had ever hinted at a woman who would mournfully mope? A woman who would wander aimlessly in the woods, stumbling towards an impossible escape? A woman who’d drink dirty water from a mud puddle? Part of him admired her cleverness, he wasn’t often had. Another part of him was horrified. Even if Berwick didn’t find her before they did, the clan didn’t give second chances. Shoving that thought away he focused on recovery and damage control.

A roaring battle cry tore through his head as Willet summoned the clan’s warriors.

The point of no return.
Every available warrior was now called into action, away from their assigned posts. Beth had gone too far. With the gas pedal all the way to the floor, Kahtar’s cruiser screamed towards the highway. This was the opportunity Beth had been waiting for and he had been foolish not to have known it. The image of her moving along edges of the veil flitted into his mind, her head bobbing forward then back. She’d been smelling it! Beth understood how to get out of a veil! How was that possible?

Kahtar had been a fool not to have warned her of the danger, of the consequences of an escape attempt. He’d considered it an impossibility! In frustration he slapped a palm against the steering wheel, scanning as hard and far as he could, but he sensed no hint of her organic composition. His scan cut through trees, cars, houses, and warriors popping into thin air at the blink of Old Guard, hundreds of them in the miles his mind could stretch. Yet there was no sign of Beth White. The Orphan had bested the entire clan, including him, a warrior with thousands of year’s experience.