A Warlord's Lady (27 page)

Finally, they reached the place where Sabra had discovered the Rakshasa. There was a sentry close by, armed with a Magical Ion Testing Device and submachine gun. Sabra sidled close to him and pointed through the trees to the direction of where the Rakshasa were imprisoned in the cages. He could feel the long naked length of her burn against his clothing. He fought to maintain his own concentration and took a careful glance at the sentry. The Magical Ion Sensing Device was inactive, and a fair distance away, so Cain renewed his spell to allow him a better view.

The sight before him made his blood curdle. He inhaled deeply trying to allow the heat of his rage to wash over and dissipate before he did anything rash.

The Rakshasa were injured, and groaning. Their thick viscous blood had soaked into the ground around the cages. It was difficult to kill the Rakshasa, but they were easy enough to
hurt —
and they had been hurt badly.

Cain’s first instinct was to go in with guns blazing, the Tommy gun hanging from his shoulder would have taken out a large number of the soldiers, but they were not his priority. Sabra’s hand tightened on his arm lending him strength. He would not shoot soldiers. They were minions, and Cain did not make a habit of shooting minions.

The turn-coat magician, however, would receive no such mercy.

Quelling his simmering rage, Cain slunk further back to scout the camp — he needed to find who the magician was, and see just how he could manage to take them out. He needed more time to think.

He touched Sabra on the shoulder, and wordlessly gestured that they move away to think of a plan. Alas, as he did, a bird squawked and fluttered in its roosting tree behind them.

They froze, and he saw Sabra fade into invisibility.

The soldiers’ heads snapped up.

‘You hear something?’ one asked.

‘Animals. Lots of animals here.’

The other soldier didn’t look too perturbed, but Cain remained still, hoping they would not catch a whiff of his magic or activate the Magical Ion Sensing Device.

As he waited, his eyes drifted once again to the cage of unconscious Rakshasa, and one was beginning to move, rubbing its one eye sleepily. As it did, in a shimmer of clear magic, a magician appeared. He was tall, Caucasian and dressed in a completely inappropriate suit and tie. He stood out like dog’s balls, neat and civilian amongst the mass of jungle camouflage soldiers and tents.

Cain narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look. The magician’s hair was dark and slicked back from a sharp face. He raised a hand and ran it down the length of the metal bars of the cage. The stirring Rakshasa reared back and hissed, its one eye red and enraged, and threw itself against the bars screeching angrily in Hindi.

Cain saw the magician smile and shake his head ruefully. Then without so much as an obvious gesture, the Rakshasa was bodily flung back into the cage where its head cracked hard against the opposite bars and slumped atop its fellows.

Cain felt impotent anger rise again. How dare this magician betray magical-kind like this? For what purpose? He wished then that Hexa or another thriae was here to fly in and scout for him, but he knew better. The swarm had offered him two of their number to face their deaths with him, and he couldn’t ask for more.

‘You over there!’ Shock made Cain’s head jerk upwards. ‘You!’

He glanced over at the slick magician, momentarily startled before he realised that he was speaking to the soldiers who were hovering nearby.

‘Get away from the perimeter,’ the magician barked.

The two soldiers looked at each other with incomprehension.

‘What did he say?’ one asked the other in Thai.

The other shrugged.

‘For heaven’s sake, get away from the perimeter. Cain Dath is out there.’

I would never harm them, unless directly threatened, fool
.

The two soldiers did not move, and the magician stalked up and started speaking in magically translated Thai. ‘Get the fuck away from the perimeter.’

‘Why didn’t you say?’ the shorter of the two replied with a snort and they both stood up and stalked back into the depths of the camp.

At the same time the magician walked up to where they had been, and he stood no more than two metres from Cain.

The magician inhaled, and through his enhanced vision, Cain watched the nostrils of his long straight nose flare. His eyes, dark blue gems, glistened in the darkness. He sniffed again, and Cain knew that he had been scented. If the magician uttered the
videat veritatem
spell he would be uncovered. His heart hammered, willing Sabra to stay invisible, and he held his breath. It seemed like a long moment that he waited, his eyes locked on the lips of the magician. As the sharp lips curled to reveal white teeth there was a bellow from behind.

‘Faustus!’ The name was boomed across the camp and all activity halted.

The magician whirled around, giving Cain a chance to smell the rich floral odour of his magic. He’d smelled it somewhere else, he was certain.

‘What do you want?’ the magician barked in a clearly British accent, as a massive military officer with the Laotian emblem emblazoned on his camouflaged breast stalked up to him.

This individual he
did
recognise. It was a man who made Cain’s blood curdle in his very veins. Built like a rhino on steroids, Teyvada Sommai was the head of the Laos Special Militia. The man had more lives than the proverbial cat, and had escaped every assassination attempt Cain had ever thrown at him. This was the man who had callously murdered and tortured his mother. Cain’s hand itched to grab the Tommy gun. Sommai was easily within killing range.

For a few moments Cain could feel nothing but a volcanic eruption of hatred. He inhaled deeply to clear his head. He wanted to kill him, to avenge his mother and the countless other innocents this man had tortured. Yet he knew it would not be wise to expose himself and die here, without succeeding in anything.

He could feel Sabra hovering close behind him and was glad she was out of sight. Her presence was strangely soothing, and it brought him back to his senses.

Teyvada Sommai’s appearance in the jungles of Laos indicated only one thing. Word was out — the prophecy was active — and the government was more intent than ever to stop it.

‘Yes?’ Faustus, the magician, turned to face Cain’s nemesis, his tone dry.

Sommai stalked up to him, a frown rippling over his brow. ‘Those Rakshasa, they must be exterminated.’

He was little more than three metres away from Cain — and he didn’t realise it. All Cain had to do was reach for the Tommy gun and without anyone being the wiser, annihilate the bastard.

Such a temptation.

Yet Cain did nothing; he knew in his heart that Sommai’s time would come soon enough, but for now, listening and gleaning information was a better course of action.

Faustus cocked his head, assessing Sommai before looking back towards the stirring Rakshasa.

‘Exterminate them? So you keep saying,’ Faustus replied. ‘Alas, I don’t follow your reasoning.’

Sommai’s round deeply-lined face creased further, his shoulders stiffened and his already broad nostrils flared to mighty proportions.

‘Dangerous beings should be destroyed, or they’ll breed more of their kind and…’

Cain wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the magician’s smooth jaw flinch slightly, though it may have been the light playing in the shadowy depths of the jungle and nothing more.

‘Their kind?’ Faustus enquired lightly. ‘Do you mean
demonkind?
Or
magical-kind
? You really ought to be careful to make these distinctions…or one might cause offence.’

Sommai’s jaw tightened. ‘
Demonkind,
of course.’

‘Of course.’ Faustus agreed, but didn’t make to move.

‘Well? Will you exterminate them? Our weapons can tear them apart, but they’ll just heal. Your magic could…’

Faustus’s muscles visibly tensed beneath the designer suit. ‘Are you asking me to do your dirty work, Sommai?’ His voice turned cold.

‘I am asking you to do your duty,’ he growled, ‘for the good of
human
kind. We have a deal.’

Faustus rubbed his chin and inclined his head, his eyes glinting wickedly in the darkness. ‘
Human kind?
As a magician, I walk a very fine line…I will say this only once more. Be careful with your words, Sommai.’

‘You have a duty!’ Sommai growled.

‘My duties were never specified, and those that were certainly did
not
include the extermination of bound Rakshasa.’

‘Well, just get rid of them! Take them into your
Mafia
then, surely they could use them — but just get them out of Laos.’

Faustus laughed. ‘You ignorant man.’ He shook his head. ‘If you had any inkling beyond your mundane, mortal, magic-less existence, you would be able to discern that those Rakshasa are
oath-bound.
’

Sommai cursed in Lao under his breath. ‘So they cannot work for you?’

‘Put simply, no.’ Faustus shook his head.

‘Then they are worthless, kill them.’

‘No.’ Faustus growled.

‘You…you…’ Sommai spluttered, ‘deny my request?’

‘Sommai, I am not your soldier, and I’m certainly not your man. I never will be. I am here on sufferance. Only to assist you so that I may locate Sabra Westwood for
my people
. It just so happens that my purpose suits yours. Let us get this straight. I am in no way interested in your quest to destroy the Warlord Dath — I simply want his woman. The chances are, however, that if I assist you with capturing him, I shall find her. Let me reiterate, in case you do not understand. I do not care in the slightest for him or his prophecy. Now, with all that being said, I will not be killing
any
demons, other than those that get in my way.’

‘Then…’ Sommai seemed to wilt.

‘Do not interrupt me, I have not finished,’ Faustus snapped.

Cain found himself liking the mafia magician more than he should.

The military man visibly balked at the verbal rebuke, and his eyes glistened with malice.

Faustus ignored him, and spoke simply. ‘Do you know anything at all about the Rakshasa, Sommai?’

Sommai’s shoulders slumped minutely. ‘No, very little.’

Faustus clicked his tongue in disapproval. ‘Then I would advise you to get your hands on some books and learn more about your alleged
foes.
’ Faustus paused and turned. Cain felt the magician’s cool blue eyes flitter over the section of forest he stood frozen in, before he turned and faced Sommai once more. ‘Rakshasa, once oath-bound, are physically unable to break their oath. If as I suspect, these Rakshasa are bound to Dath, then to him they will return. The urge to flee and return to him will be strong. There will be nowhere on this earth that they could not find him. My suggestion to you, Sommai, is to simply release them and watch. Follow their trail and you will undoubtedly find Cain, and subsequently I will find Sabra.’

Cain felt his heart wither at the magician’s words. It was true. Too late, he realised that Faustus was an admirable, worthy and highly dangerous foe.

Sommai gave a curt nod. ‘I will take your advice on this matter and notify our men of the change in plan.’ He stalked away, his boots squelching on the wet humus of the forest floor.

Faustus shook his head and waited until Sommai disappeared into the bosom of the camp. For a while he stared over the camp, watching generals and other men surround Sommai and listen intently to his briefing. It did not take long, and the men soon began to settle for the night. Faustus stayed motionless, watching as men traipsed into the trees to urinate, others unrolled sleeping bags, and the activity began to lessen.

Behind Faustus, Cain and Sabra waited quietly. Cain’s body felt jumpy with holding himself motionless for so long. Surely the magician felt the same? His shoulders were tight, and rigid.

‘I know you’re there, Dath.’ The magician suddenly spoke, without turning his head.

Cain said nothing, but stared at the man’s back.

Faustus continued. ‘I see Maggie has failed.’

Cain winced.
Failed what?

‘Release Maggie, and give Sabra to me, and you could save yourself a lot of trouble. You may have heard — I care nothing for these governments and their fears of your prophecy and power.’

Cain heard Sabra’s breath catch in her throat. He groped behind and grabbed her cool bare arm, gave it a squeeze and remained silent. Eventually Faustus turned, his shiny black shoes squelching on the wet forest floor and his eyes staring blindly into the forest. ‘Let’s not play games,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘I could say one spell and find you, as you so clearly have done to me. Be a man, Cain, or are you simply unable?’

Cain’s teeth grated with irritation. He was no less a man, and found any insult to his manhood particularly annoying. For a moment he wanted to give into the dark violent urges and knock those shiny white teeth from the magician’s jaw for the slight — yet he didn’t.

‘We will release the Rakshasa in the morning, and they will lead us straight to you…’ Faustus frowned. ‘I would rather not endanger the people secluded in your compound — Maggie South included — but I will if I have to.’

Cain flinched. He thought of Sabra, the women, the infirm and even Maggie hidden in the dungeon.

Was it fair to risk their lives?

There were weapons aplenty in the camp and the sheer volume of men would make short work of any of the sentries and guards he had left caring for those at the compound.

He could not let it happen.

With a soft utterance he sent a wild smack of magic into Faustus’s chest.

The magician’s face exploded with surprise and the scent of burning cloth filled the jungle as he careered onto his arse.

‘Fuck you,’ Cain growled, allowing himself to become visible again. ‘I could no more hand Sabra over to you than murder my own kin,’ he snarled.

Faustus was wheezing and gripping his chest where his suit had been destroyed, and bubbled and burnt flesh was visible.

‘Come and get me if you must, but you’ll never have Sabra — or my compound.’