Part 39 (1/2)
”No, he's not. Tragar is.” Emily lifted her chin and glared at the High Priestess. ”And you're going to let me go to him right now or I'll drink every bit of this nasty-smelling sap. I don't care if it kills me-it's better than the life you have planned for me.”
Mother Chundra glared back at Emily, her eyes cold.
”You are bluffing,” she said coolly. ”You will do no such a thing. So if you are finished making a fool of yourself, we will continue.”
”Fine-don't believe me?” Emily lifted the ragged, oozing end of the plant stem to her lips. The acerbic scent of Drain-o hit her nose and she winced but didn't let the smell stop her. Inside she could feel the other turning restlessly. Emily expected her to protest but instead, she felt only approval.
”Do it-you're right,” the other whispered in her brain. ”Death is better than a life of slavery and a bonding without love. Anything is better than losing Tragar.”
Emily was glad they were in agreement for once. She tilted the stalk and squeezed, waiting for the first oily drop of Black Milk to fall on her tongue...
”Stop!” The deep, male voice thundered through the Sacred Grove. It startled Emily so much she nearly dropped the stalk of Bitter Sorrow. Looking up, she saw a commotion in the a.s.sembled priestesses who had gathered to watch the ceremony. As she watched, they parted, their pure white robes separating like waves in the ocean to let someone through. A large figure dressed all in black came striding down the aisle.
Emily's heart leapt.
”Tragar!”
”Emily...my Khalla.” He reached the front of the aisle and dropped to one knee before her. ”Forgive me,” he said, looking up earnestly into her face. ”Forgive me for not doing all in my power yesterday to stay with you.”
”I forgive you-you're here now,” Emily whispered.
”Which does you no good, since I will simply have the Temple Guards remove you again. This time, permanently,” Mother Chundra declared. ”Guards-”
”Stop!” Tragar roared again. He rose to his feet and faced the High Priestess head-on. ”I invoke the Right of Conflict to win this Khalla-to-be as my mate.”
”You what?” The High Priestess looked completely nonplussed. ”There is no such thing. You cannot-”
”Actually, High Priestess, there is and he can.” Brother Hurx-the Council member with the long gray beard spoke up. He and Brother Gr'nir had been whispering together behind the priestess's back and now he stepped forward.
”What are you talking about?” Mother Chundra demanded. ”How dare you contradict me?”
”I must speak the truth of the Law-it is my office and my function,” Brother Hurx said gravely. ”The Right of Conflict is an ancient law which has not been used for over one hundred cycles-since before you yourself came to power. But it is still valid.”
”It allows one candidate to challenge another for the right to the Khalla-to-be's hand,” Brother Gr'nir said, taking up where the other priest had left off. ”And once it has been invoked, it must be followed through-preferably in the Arena of Conflict.”
”The Arena of Conflict?” Mother Chundra looked more confused and angry than ever.
”The gra.s.sy area behind the garden which you turned into the Dancing Pavilion,” Brother Hurx clarified. ”In ancient times, it was used exclusively for contests such as this.”
”But...but this cannot be!” Mother Chundra looked angrily at the other two Council Members. ”This male is not worthy-he is a blasphemer!”
”And he's not under your thumb, isn't that right?” Emily demanded. ”Isn't that the real reason you don't want me with Tragar? Because I love him and he loves me and he won't automatically follow your agenda?”
”How dare you?” The High Priestess was giving her a murderous glare. ”You cannot do this! You do not decide matters here-I do!”
”In this, I am afraid you do not, Mother Chundra,” Brother Hurx said mildly. ”As Brother Gr'nir and I explained, once the Right of Conflict has been invoked, it must be carried through.”
”But this male-”
”Was named a candidate by you, yourself,” Brother Gr'nir said blandly. ”Had you rejected him outright and not so named him, he would have no right to invoke the ancient law. But since his candidacy was acknowledged by the High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council, he is well within his rights.”
”I suggest we all go immediately to the Arena where this matter can be settled in combat,” Brother Hurx said.
”We...I...” Mother Chundra seemed to be at a loss for words. Clearly, Emily thought, she was used to the other two Council Members just falling in line and doing everything she said. The fact that they were backing someone besides her seemed to have left her momentarily at a loss.
”Come, the sooner we begin, the sooner the victor can be declared,” Brother Gr'nir urged her. ”We must hurry-the Khalla-to-be may slip into the fourth stage of her Tenrah at any moment.”
”Very well,” Mother Chundra snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. ”But I am not pleased about this. And there will be a reckoning for it-you may depend upon it.” She glared at Tragar and Emily and then swept down the aisle, looking neither right nor left as she went. She was followed by the other two members of the council, Turra, Lit'aal and Daro, murmuring earnestly together, and the twittering flock of priestesses. Emily and Tragar found themselves bringing up the rear.
”I'm so glad you came,” she whispered, looking up at him. ”I was about to do something, well...desperate.” She held up the stalk of Bitter Sorrow.
”Poison!” Tragar grimaced and took it from her, throwing it down on the gra.s.sy floor of the grove. ”I too, was about to do something desperate when I got a call from Xen'dex. He was the one who told me about the Right of Conflict.” He smiled and cupped her cheek. ”That was when I decided to come back and do what you asked me to do-to fight for you.”
”Tragar...” She put her hands on his broad shoulders and looked into his eyes. ”Thank you. But why don't we just run away from here? Look, everybody else is going out to the Arena. Let's just go get in your s.h.i.+p and make a break for it.”
His face looked serious. ”I cannot. I must win the right to have you, Emily. And even if there was no sacred oath involved in invoking the Right of Conflict, you still need to stay here through the end of your Tenrah.”
”Why? What's here that I can't get anywhere else?” she demanded.
”The lovesuckle vines growing in the breeding suite,” he said, taking her hand in his. ”Their blossoms breathe out a fragrance that make the pa.s.sage from Vlammen to Hel much easier and less dangerous. Their scent contains a chemical your body needs when you begin to go into your breeding cycle.”
”All right.” Emily squeezed his hand. ”We'll stay. But I want you to know, you're the only one I want in that breeding suite with me. You're the only one I want to...to breed me when the time comes.”
His golden eyes flashed.
”I would not have it any other way, my Khalla. Now, come-the Arena awaits.”
Chapter Twenty-eight.
The Arena area was a large, gra.s.sy circle with benches on either end of it that reminded Emily of every high school sporting event she'd ever been to. Daro was already there, standing beside Lit'aal who was gazing up at him with an expression of mingled fear and admiration on her face. For the first time, Emily wondered uneasily, what exactly this Right of Conflict involved. Was it just a hand-to-hand combat kind of thing? Or was it some kind of duel to the death?
She didn't like to think about that. Though she didn't want Daro for her chosen mate, he was a nice guy and she didn't want him killed either. But she could foresee no other outcome of a death match with Tragar. He was, after all, a trained a.s.sa.s.sin. And he looked so much more deadly, standing there all in black in the pale Rageron sunlight, his long hair blowing in the wind and his golden eyes gleaming.
The High Priestess and the two other members of the Holy Council were conferring in whispers at the far side of the arena and the other priestesses had already taken their seats like spectators at a sporting match. Turra was standing behind the High Priestess with her arms crossed over her boney chest, the same sour look on her face.
”It appears that everyone is a.s.sembled-it is time.” The look on Tragar's face was grim but calm.
”Tragar, be careful!” She gripped his arm hard. ”I wish you didn't have to do this.”
”But I do.” He cupped her cheek gently. ”And I want to-it will be my honor to fight for you, my Khalla.”
”But-”
Before she could finish her sentence, Emily saw a strange sight. The gra.s.sy arena was located on the edge of the plateau the Temple and its various adjunct buildings was built on. A few feet from the wide circle, it sloped down sharply into a steep hill. Now, coming over the crest of the hill, she saw four people-two men and two women.
The men looked to be Kindred-or something like Kindred, anyway. Both were extremely tall and muscular although one of them had slightly pointed ears. Both of the women had red hair but they didn't look like sisters. One was tall and slender with long auburn hair that fell in waves down her back. The other had a riot of coppery-red curls that blew in the slight breeze. There were strands of gold in her hair that made it glimmer in the pale sunlight like a s.h.i.+mmering ma.s.s of rubies. She was tiny, Emily saw-no bigger than a large child. But she had the full b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips of a woman and she moved with ease and confidence. In fact, right now she was moving directly towards Emily-all of them were.