A Warlord's Lady (30 page)

Some faintly aware part of her felt something gush from between her legs, cramps wracked her body and her spasms renewed.

The thriae watched her silently before they buzzed slowly back to the lamp.

Sabra dragged herself to her feet. Another gush of warmth poured from between her legs. She ignored it, and its meaning.

She turned and grabbed the telephone, then hobbled over the semi-formed Shadow Man, averting her eyes from the deteriorating decapitated head. Her eyes caught the card under the bed.

‘What is that?’ she asked.

They shrugged their tiny shoulders. ‘We are prophetic, but not all-knowing.’ Hexa sounded angry. ‘We were meant to
die for you
. Our deaths were seen by the swarm…’

Sabra stared at them. ‘So you had your own Swarm prophecy?’ she asked softly, ignoring the rich musty stench oozing from the Shadow’s corpse.

‘We did, and it…has…not come to pass.’

Sabra frowned, trying to understand the ramifications of their words. She could not.

Her brain hurt, and the warm gushing between her legs distracted her with alarming thoughts. She felt she walked the cusp of madness at that moment. The things she had seen, the things she had done…she shuddered again, and tried to ward away a hysterical meltdown. As she moved she tried to distract herself from increasingly frenetic thoughts and bent down to pick up the paper from beneath the bed.

Her heart sped up again when she realised what she held.

The copy of Cain’s prophecy. Her eyes absorbed it, and her need for him struck her like a physical blow.

Cain had believed these words all his life and had been waiting.

‘Oh my Lord.’ Her hand trembled.

Despite her exhaustion and discomforting cramps, questions whirled like a cyclone through her mind.

Sabra bit her lip and looked down at the paper. It was decorated in familiar Lao style, curling scripts and highly stylised naga’s woven around the border. It was beautifully done and deserved its place within a glorious leather-bound tome, not discarded beneath her dusty, unmade bed.

As her blurry mind registered the words on the paper a new pain exploded — this time in her heart.

The prophecy was a beautifully written work filled with elaborate riddles. There was no mention of eggs or even of the woman’s power. Cain was right. This prophecy spoke only of one warlord’s love for his woman.

Me. How did I not see it?

She bit her lip and turned the card around, and for the first time saw something written on the back in Cain’s curling script.

How had she not noticed it before? Her eyes devoured the message.

The words were lyrical and the emotion and meaning behind them so rich that they shone in her mind like gold. Her heart ached anew as her eyes reached the last line.
Sabra, whether this prophecy refers to us or some other warlord in the far distant future — I still believe you are my rainbow, now, always and forever…I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you.

Believe me, please.

Cain x

Tears ran down her face, rapid and hot.

She wasn’t the woman in this prophecy, she knew that.

But she
was
a warlord’s lady.

Cain’s lady.

She felt her lip quiver. ‘Oh God, I’m not the one who has been waiting all this time…’ She paused, her body still shaking. ‘He is…’

Her throat tightened and she dropped the prophecy, her head swirling. As the pains cramped through her she let out a low moan and fumbled for the mobile telephone.

Cain sipped at another whisky, willing it to numb his disappointment.

Jürgen and Christy had gone. He’d given them funds to re-establish themselves elsewhere, and he had ordered them to go. He expected them to obey.

Another sentinel tree’s scream echoed though the valley, followed by the clatter of gunfire. Were Christy’s crew still trying to defend the compound? The thought brought a pinch of fury. They’d better not be wasting their time. He could uncloak the compound, hand himself over and it would be done.

Then what? Who would protect those who need protection?

He shook his head and rubbed his temples — how had it all gone so wrong?

In the past week Cain had spent countless hours ensuring safe haven for a variety of beings and those too weak to defend themselves. Who would see to their upkeep? Who would keep the governments off their tails?

The Magical Mafia? No. They cared for money, not life.

No one would help them.

But how can I do it alone?

Interrupting this thought came the ringing of his mobile telephone. He hesitated — there was only one person it could be. He gnawed at his lip thoughtfully before reaching over to answer it.

‘Hello?’ he said, knowing instinctively it was
her.

There was a heavy silence on the end of the line, and he could hear the whistling of thriae in the background.

‘Cain…’ Sabra’s voice whispered down the line.

He closed his eyes and relished the soft timbre of her voice.

‘I…’

‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently.

‘No…’ she moaned. ‘Shadow’s dead, sorry.’

A spike of panic hit Cain and fear chased the alcohol haze from his brain. ‘Are you hurt? Are there shadows with you now?’

‘Just come,’ she moaned again. ‘Please.’

‘Okay,’ Cain said gently. After all, there was nothing left to protect here.

***

In a storm of shimmering magic, Cain arrived in the Geraldton apartment. He was tired and defeated, but it didn’t matter. As he left, he had lifted the cloaking spell on the compound and expected that the militia would be tearing it apart within the hour.

‘Sabra?’ he called. The room was dark, only a bedside lamp offering any warmth. His eyes surveyed the scene with mounting alarm. Grey gore and the decapitated body of a semi-corporeal Shadow Man lay collapsed on the floor. The smell was musty and pungent. He looked around wildly.

‘Sabra?’

‘Here.’ Her voice was weak and breathy. He walked further into the room and saw her lying on the bed.

In the faint light of the lamp her face was pale, her chromatophores faded of colour.

‘What happened to you?’ he asked, and walked towards her, his boots squishing on the floor.

His heart squeezed in his chest as she turned to look at him. Her grey eyes were solemn, and a wry smile sat ill on her face. She reached over and caught his hand in hers.

He frowned and glanced down at their hands. His were tanned and dark, and they wrapped tightly around her whitish one — and then he saw it.

The ring.
Glittering innocuously in the pallid light, his ring sat perfectly on the finger of her left hand. He felt his face crumple in a frown.

‘What? Why now?’ Confusion clamoured in his head, but he watched her carefully for her response.

Sabra licked her lips, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. ‘I read your note, just now…’ She spoke so softly that he had to dip his head to hear her better. ‘I didn’t see it until…until…after…’ She groaned.

‘Until after you killed the Shadow Man?’ he asked tenderly, unable to keep a note of pride from his voice.

A wet-sounding laugh gurgled in her throat. ‘Yeah, that.’

‘Didn’t need me to come riding to the rescue after all?’ He tightened his hand around hers.

She laughed wetly again. ‘I just wish I’d known about the prophecy all those months ago.’

‘I’ve been a fool. I should have told you.’ Cain sighed.

‘No, I understand why you did what you did.’ She smiled then and his heart buckled.

‘She needs your help.’ A whistling voice came from their left. Surprised, Cain turned around and saw Hexa looking weak but alive near the lamp.

He stared at her for a long moment saying nothing. How was it that the thriae still lived?

‘We live,’ Hexa said. ‘Your woman saved us.’

Cain was silent, unable to speak from astonishment.

‘We are as surprised as you,’ Hexa said.

‘What does this mean for us? The prophecy?’

‘It means that we may not be those prophesied,’ Hexa replied.

He looked at Sabra and her eyes were closing.

‘How much did the Shadow Man take?’ he asked, brushing an errant lock of hair from her face. She smiled in her doze and he found himself smiling dumbly in return.

‘Not so much that it cannot be replaced.’ Hexa hesitated, flew in front of Cain’s face and set him with a serious stare. ‘However, she is bleeding profusely. I do not know about human reproduction but she is lying in a pool of her own blood.’

Cain’s eyes rushed over Sabra, and he dropped her suddenly lax hand and peeled the covers from her.

Sickness churned his stomach as he registered the blood that flowed from between her thighs. Like the thriae, he too was no expert in the subject of female reproduction, but it seemed like a lot of blood for an ordinary menstrual period.

‘Why is she bleeding like this?’ he asked quietly.

‘It appears that she is miscarrying, as the shadow sucked the life from her womb before taking hers.’

He closed his eyes and shuddered. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Nor did she, not truly. She suspected only, and now it is gone.’

The listless depression that had dogged him persistently morphed into something much the opposite. Anger flushed through him. ‘That shadow took my child?’ He stared down at the grey puddle of goo.

‘It did.’ He shook his head and was about to utter a healing spell over Sabra when there was a rapid knock on the door.

The spell left him momentarily dizzy, but he regained his composure quickly.

‘Police.’ A stern voice barked through the door, ‘We were notified of a domestic disturbance, and are here to investigate.’

‘She made quite a noise when the Shadow Man attacked her,’ Hexa explained.

‘And they’ve taken this long to get here?’ he whispered back angrily. Sabra’s eyes flew open and widened, and her skin flushed purple then back to pale.

‘Shhhh,’ Cain murmured, and stroked her forehead. ‘It’s okay.’

‘If it’s the police, we’ve got to get out of here. It will only be a moment until Hollis arrives,’ she whimpered.

‘No, it’s just the ordinary police, not Hollis — it couldn’t be.’ Cain tried to calm her but felt his mind whirl. Where could he take her? Back to Laos?
That
seemed like a bad idea, but clearly they couldn’t stay here. It would be only moments before the police brought out a Random Magical Ion Testing Device, and the magic he used to place a ward around the apartment would be discovered.

‘Please open the door,’ the policemen called as he rapped on the door again.

‘Take me with you, wherever you go,’ Sabra said, lurching up and gripping Cain’s hands again. ‘I don’t want you to leave me again.’

‘Well, that
is
nice to hear.’

‘Agh,’ Sabra groaned, and clutched at her belly.

‘Here, let me help that,’ Cain murmured, ignoring the more insistent knocking on the door, and gently pushing Sabra to recline on the bed. He lifted her soiled nightdress to expose her belly. Her underwear and the skin of her thighs were painted red, and he felt a quick moment of panic. She caught his disturbed gaze and her skin instantly mottled rainbow with embarrassment. Tenderly, he rested his hands on her lower abdomen. He wasn’t a healer by magical training, but he had enough skills to stop bleeding and minimise trauma.

As his hand lay on the rounded flesh of her lower belly, he felt himself shiver. Memories of their times together danced through his head. He saw her curled in his arms and heard her sighs when she came. He lowered his head and pressed in gently, willing her to heal. Strangely, his patient coaxing of her body rewarded him with a moment of clarity — something he’d been lacking when it came to
her
.

In a gentle shimmer and sweet smell of spice, magic travelled into her body, weaving through her flesh and blood, finding those ruptured blood vessels and clotting them where her body could not. He looked away from her belly and his eyes met hers. For the first time, he found himself understanding
her
. He could understand her confusion, her hurt — but most of all — he understood her fear.

The door hammered again. ‘If you don’t open the door we will be forced to enter,’ the policeman yelled.

Cain threw an irritated glance towards the door, and then returned to meet her gaze once again. He found her watching him with solemn grey eyes. He released his hands and uttered a cleansing spell. In the shimmer of his magic, the blood and gore disappeared from her and the bed. She blinked, and blushed, and his eyes fell to the thin cotton nightdress she wore. Her nipples puckered beneath it and he felt heat roar over his body, coating his bare arms with a sheen of sweat. Without another thought, he uttered an extra spell and conjured clothes for her.

Soon she was dressed in a soft grey sweater and loose black linen pants. Her hair was still dishevelled, and marks of tiredness stained her face and wrinkled her brow — but to him she’d never looked lovelier.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured and sat up, running a clearly nervous hand down her bosom. His gaze was riveted to the gesture. She crossed her legs with a slight wince and rubbed her abdomen.

‘I didn’t expect that,’ she said.

‘No,’ Cain replied gently. ‘I’m sorry for everything that has happened, Sabra. I wish things had been different.’

He hesitated, unsure what to say next. What did she want from him? She was wearing the ring, but what did that mean? What could he say?

Sabra shook her head and her skin flushed vermillion for a moment.

‘Take me to Laos,’ she finally said.

These were not the words he had expected. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, not certain he’d heard correctly.

‘I want to go back to the compound. I want to get to know you. I want to fall in love with you again.’

The door was hammered and gave an ominous crack.

‘Again?’ His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.

She looked down. ‘I…’

The door cracked and heaved, and Cain sent an irritated spell of protection at it.