Time to Heal: A Kindred Tales Novel: Brides of the Kindred Read online

“Oh look—he’s coming this way!” Sophie exclaimed. “You don’t think he’s really going to—”

  But before she could finish her sentence, the huge Kindred warrior with the scarred face walked up to the glowing window and simply stepped through it.

  As he left his own world and entered theirs, Caroline couldn’t help thinking how easily he moved. When she and Richard had been transported between worlds, they had been sucked back and forth by a strong vacuum-type force. But Skahr simply lifted his leg and stepped through, like a man stepping over a high fence in a pasture.

  And then he was standing before them and Caroline realized how truly immense he was. Well over seven feet tall, with shoulders twice as broad as hers or Sophie’s, he towered over them looking like a cross between a basket-ball player and a professional wrestler. He was still wearing his leather loin cloth and high leather boots, though at least he had put the five-sided sword back in the sheath strapped to his broad back.

  “Well?” he said, looking down at Caroline and Sophie expectantly. “Where is she? Where is the maiden who can beat any male under the sun?”

  Caroline looked up at him and had no idea what to say.

  Chapter Two

  Emmeline wept as though her heart was breaking—and it was. Though Jamie was a baby born from the awful encounter she’d had with Jack Torrington, she still loved her little boy with all her heart.

  Not for the first time, she wished bitterly that she hadn’t given him up to her mother in the first place. Or at least, not quite so soon. She should have kept him with her for at least his first year so she could keep breast feeding him. As long as she had been holding him and feeding him, he had been a thriving, happy baby who almost never cried. But the moment she had surrendered him to her mother and that awful wet nurse, Higgins, he had become fretful and sickly and—as far as she could tell—he never stopped crying.

  It was too late now to nourish him from her own body—her milk had dried up weeks ago. Though her breasts still ached when she heard him crying, she could no longer give him what he needed. But at least she could still hold him. He always quieted for her when she cuddled him and kissed the downy top of his head with its wisp of white-blond hair, which was unfortunately almost the same color as Torrington’s had been.

  The front door swung open again and Emmeline dried her eyes hastily with her dainty white handkerchief. Perhaps it was Fritz, the old family butler, come to let her in to see little Jamie. He had allowed her to hold her baby last time for a few moments, a sorrowful expression on his usually stern, craggy old face.

  “Oh Miss,” he had sighed as Emmeline cuddled and cooed the suddenly quiet baby while a thin-lipped Nurse Higgins looked on in obvious disapproval. “Oh Miss, if only things were different.”

  “I wish they could be different too, Fritz,” Emmeline had told him. And yet, she could not wish that the attack had never happened for then there would be no Jamie, whom she loved with all her heart. No, what she most wished was that Jamie had had a different father—one who loved and respected her. One who had married her instead of attacking her in the park and then declaring she must be his since he had already despoiled her…

  All these thoughts raced through Emmeline’s head as she looked up hopefully, expecting to see Fritz at the door.

  Instead she saw her mother.

  Lady Agatha Hastings had never been the warmest parent but now the look on her face chilled Emmeline to the bone.

  “Mother?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Do not call me that,” her mother said coldly. “I have no daughter now—not one I can claim in polite society, anyway.”

  “I…” Emmeline didn’t know what to say. “Where…where is Fritz?” she asked at last.

  “Fritz was dismissed without references after your last visit here,” her mother said crisply. “After disobeying orders and allowing an undesirable into the house.”

  Me, Emmeline thought unhappily. I am the undesirable she means.

  “But Fritz is an old man—a loyal servant,” she exclaimed. “He has been with the family since before I was born! What will he do now that you have turned him out? Where will he go?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Lady Hastings sniffed. “Nor do I care. He should not have disobeyed orders.”

  Emmeline supposed she ought not to be surprised. After all, Lady Hastings had turned her own daughter out with no place to go—why should she scruple to treat a servant in the same way? But still, it stung that she had been one to cost the loyal old butler his position.

  “He only let me in for a little while to hold Jamie,” she protested. “He saw how very unhappy I was and he knew that Jamie will only stop crying for me.”

  For a moment, her mother’s icy demeanor broke and she became more animated.

  “If you wanted to hold him, then you should have married his father,” she snapped, her cold gray eyes flashing. “Lord Torrington was perfectly willing to wed you, as you well know! You could be wife to a future Earl right now and soon to be a Countess if you weren’t so stubborn! Instead you had your cousin Richard call him out and shoot him, which did nobody any good!”

  “It did me some good.” Emmeline spoke in a voice that was quiet and controlled, though she felt like shouting. “He outraged me, Mother.” She lowered her voice still further. “He raped me! How could I marry a man who would do such a thing, just so he could go on doing it legally the rest of my life?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous and melodramatic, Emmeline,” her mother sniffed. “You act as though you are the only woman to ever suffer through such treatment. The marital act is never pleasant. Do you think I enjoyed conceiving you? No, I most certainly did not!” she went on, before Emmeline could answer. “But I didn’t try to have your father shot. I bit my lip and did my duty and endured until he was finally tired of me and went back to his…other pursuits.”

  As a resident of a brothel herself, Emmeline knew exactly what her mother meant by “other pursuits” though she didn’t like to think of it.

  “Mother—” she began but Lady Agatha held up a hand.

  “I told you not to call me that anymore,” she said severely. “And furthermore, I do not wish you to come to Hastings Hall again. It will cause talk.”

  “What?” Emmeline could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “But…but you promised when I handed Jamie over to you that I might visit him sometimes,” she protested. “How can I see him if I am forbidden to come to Hastings?”

  “He is not your concern any longer,” her mother said coldly. “Leave him to Higgins—she is well equipped to care for him.”

  “No, she isn’t—he is ill and she’s not doing anything about it!” Emmeline exclaimed. “I can tell by the sound of his cries—”

  “You can tell no such thing,” her mother snapped. “I had Dr. Mullins out only the other day and he pronounced the baby’s condition to be perfectly healthy.”

  “Dr. Mullins is nearly eighty and almost blind,” Emmeline said. “He can’t see past the end of his nose—let alone well enough to examine a sickly baby! You need to get someone else—someone younger.”

  “You mean like your cousin Richard?” Lady Hastings raised an eyebrow critically. “What a pity he abandoned you and went to live among his kinsfolk. Not that I would allow him back into Hastings Hall after he killed your only chance at respectability.”

  Her mother’s words cut her to the quick. It did feel like Richard had abandoned her—though with all the kafuffle about his missing wife, Caroline, and the way Lord Harkens had been hanged for her murder—though no body had ever been found—she didn’t blame him for absenting himself. But she did miss him terribly—he had been the only member of her family who still talked to her and treated her like a person instead of a disgrace.

  Oh Richard, she thought sadly. Where did you go? You’d soon set things right with little Jamie if you were here—I know you would!

  If her mother would allow him to see the baby, that was—which wasn’t at all certain. Speaking of Lady Hastings, she was leaving now.

  “Goodbye, Emmeline,” she said frostily. “Please do not come back. Ever.”

  “But—” Emmeline began, but her mother was already gone, shutting the solid front door of Hastings Hall in her face.

  There was a finality to the gesture that shook Emmeline to the core. For a moment she wanted to cry again. But then she bit her lip and forced herself to lift her chin. No matter what her mother said, she would see her baby again, she told herself. She hadn’t survived this long on her own by being a wilting violet. Somehow, she would see him and make certain he got the medical attention he needed.

  She just wasn’t sure how, exactly, that was to be managed.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you certain all these garments are necessary?” Skahr frowned down at himself. He was wearing leg coverings which reached to his ankles as well as a white shirt which buttoned down the front. There were also other garments which went over his arms and torso called a “waistcoat” and a “frock coat.” These strange articles of clothing covered his arms to the wrists and since he was used to being bare-chested, he found them most uncomfortable.

  “Yes, absolutely,” Kat said with certainty. She and her friend Sofia were the two women from this world who were getting him ready to enter the world where the maiden he was seeking was to be found. Apparently her name was “Emmeline” which was strange but lovely, Skahr thought as he tried to get comfortable in the new outfit.

  “I do not understand why I should be made to wear such clothing when my hides are much more comfortable,” Skahr remarked.

  “Because in the world you’re going to, clothes make the man,” Kat explained patiently. “You see, Emmeline’s world is sort of analogous to our own world back a few hundred years ago in the Victorian era. During that time, everyone was very prim and proper and wearing the right clothes was extremely important.”

  “But they are so constricting,” he protested. “What if I need to draw my sword and fight?”

  To illustrate his point, he pulled his five-sided great sword from its scabbard and made a practice sweep through the air. Sure enough, the fabric of the linen shirt and the black coat pulled most uncomfortably, inhibiting his swing.

  Kat winced and took a step back.

  “Hey—careful with that thing, big guy! I like my head right where it is, not rolling across the floor, thank you very much!”

  “I would never endanger you,” Skahr told her, frowning. “Like all Kindred, I hold female life to be sacred. And I have perfect control of Biter”

  “Uh…Biter?” Kat and Sophia both looked mystified.

  “My sword—it’s name is the Foe Biter,” Skahr explained. “Do you not name your weapons here?”

  “Nope.” Kat shook her head. “Sorry. But then, we don’t have the need to carry weapons around the Mother Ship—we’re safe here and we believe that leaving blasters laying around is a bad idea.”

  Skahr nodded thoughtfully. “A wise decision in times of peace. But even so, you have no need to fear my sword.” He handled it lightly as he spoke. Kat had an unruly wisp of hair sticking up from the top of her head. With a flick of his wrist, he trimmed it neatly away so that a few auburn strands drifted down to the floor.

  Her blue eyes widened as she watched the hairs fall.

  “You handle that thing like it’s light as a feather! Seriously, how much does it weigh?”

  “See for yourself.” Skahr handed her the sword, hilt-first, with a nod of his head. He would not normally allow a stranger to hold his blade—which had been given to him with great ceremony during his manhood rites—but he was doing his best to be courteous to his hosts, who were helping him on his quest.

  He had been surprised to arrive, not in the world where the maiden of the prophecy could be found, but in another world entirely. The people here lived in a giant metal ship which they claimed was floating in the sky. Though Skahr had seen no evidence that this was true, he was willing to believe it. It was probably just another kind of magic and the Goddess knew, he had seen enough of that in his lifetime not to discount the beliefs of others.

  Despite their odd claims, everyone here seemed to know of the one he sought and they were eager to help him find her. One of her kinsmen, a male named Richard, had even settled here with his bride. So Skahr was content to accept their offer of help and prepare himself to go into the world where she could be found. And in the meantime, he was on his best behavior.

  Kat took his sword by the hilt gingerly, gripping the leather-bound handle with both hands. But she was unable to hold it upright.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “It’s so heavy!” Her arms shook and the point slowly sagged towards the metal floor.

  Skahr rescued it before the floor could be scratched and slipped it safely back into his scabbard. Truly the females of this world were extremely small and weak. Back in his own world, Maeve or any one of her Zonian warrioresses could have at least held his blade aloft—though he doubted they could have swung it or used it effectively. Still, they had the height and strength to at least give a male a fit challenge in a fight and Skahr was certain the maiden he sought would be the same.

  She will probably be bigger than Maeve, he thought. Perhaps even bigger than me. I must be prepared for the challenge she poses.

  He must also be prepared to lose in combat for the first time in ten cycles. According to the prophecy his mentor, the Old One had been given, the maiden he sought could beat any male—including him. Though he did not relish the thought of being beaten, Skahr didn’t cringe from it either. In fact, he was looking forward to fighting a worthy opponent. It would be good to be challenged. Even if he must yield to Emmeline in the end, he would first give her a fight she would never forget.

  “I don’t think you’re going to be able to bring that thing with you into Emmeline’s world,” Sophia said, breaking his train of thought and surprising him. “People don’t exactly, um, brandish huge long swords where she lives.”

  “Do they not?” Skahr looked at her, surprised. “Then how do they engage in combat?”

  “They don’t,” Kat said bluntly. “They’re all about good manners and taking tea and bowing and curtseying and keeping a stiff upper lip.”

  “What?” Skahr looked at her, frankly amazed. “I am sorry, Kat, but what are you speaking of?”

  “Oh, it’s no use dressing him up this way if we don’t teach him how to act,” Sophia exclaimed. “It’s like sending Conan the Barbarian to take tea with the Queen! It’s never going to work unless we have some kind of etiquette class.”

  “You’re right.” Kat nodded. “Skahr needs to know how to act like a gentleman—and I know just who can teach him—Richard. He knows the correct manners better than we do.”

  “I need to act like a gentle man?” Skahr frowned. “Why must I be gentle? I am going to meet a maiden of formidable skill and strength. She will expect me to give her a good contest or she will not respect me and come with me to heal our Peace Crystal.”

  “No, no, no!” Sophia exclaimed. “You’re not going to fight Emmeline—you’re going to protect her!”

  Skahr didn’t like to contradict her—she was, after all, one of his hosts here in this strange metal ship and the mate of Commander Sylvan, their leader as well. So he simply nodded his head, though he knew she was wrong.

  The prophecy had clearly stated that he was seeking a maiden who could beat any male under the sun. And any female who could beat Skahr would have no need of his protection—though he would happily join his sword with hers and fight any foe she faced if it would induce her to come back to his world and heal the Peace Crystal.

  “We really do need an etiquette class before we send Skahr over,” Kat said again. “I’ll call Caroline and ask her to set it up with Richard.” She looked at Skahr. “And in the meantime, you have to do something else with your ginormous sword. You can’t go brandishing it around in Emmeline’s world—you just can’t.”

  “You can leave it here, if you want to,” Sophia offered. “We’ll take good care of it and no one will even touch it—I promise.”

  Skahr nodded his head deferentially. Again, he didn’t believe they understood the truth of the situation but he was unwilling to offend his hosts. However, there was no way in the Seven Hells he was going to leave his sword in the hands of even the most well-meaning strangers.

  “If you feel it is a problem, I can make it…less obtrusive,” he offered.

  “Less obtrusive?” Kat eyed his great sword skeptically. “How? Are you going to tie a ribbon or a bunch of balloons to the end of it to disguise it?”

  “No need for disguises.” Skahr reached under the white linen shirt he wore and found the small leather satchel he had tied around his waist. From it, he withdrew a tiny pinch of magic dust. The light green powder was actually the ashes of a holy fire, made using the rare star wood from the Bervoten Forest beyond the boundaries of his land. The Old One, who was also their Clan’s Shaman, had given him some before his journey to the other world.

  “Who knows if our magic will work in other realms?” he had said to Skahr. “But I wish to give you every advantage I can on your quest.”

  Now, with a whispered incantation and a prayer to the Goddess, Skahr sprinkled the pinch of magic dust along the length of his blade and requested what he needed mentally.

  Smaller, he thought. Small enough to wear at my belt instead of on my back. Please, Goddess.

  For a moment nothing happened and he was certain that magic must not work in this strange world in the ship made of metal. But then the five-sided blade began to shimmer and then to shrink. As Kat and Sophia watched, wide-eyed, the five-sided great sword, which was longer than Skahr was tall, was reduced to the size of a dagger which could readily be tucked into his belt.

  “Perfect!” Skahr nodded in satisfaction as he looked at the magically shrunken Foe Biter.

  “Wow—how did you do that?” Kat demanded. “I thought your society was pre-industrial!”