A Warlord's Lady (32 page)

The soldier flinched and looked around him, his wide startled eyes seeing straight through the increasingly large crowd of Rakshasa surrounding him.

Blood dripped from the wound and ran down his cheek, and the female Rakshasa licked the blood clean from her claw with a slow leisurely gesture.

Quick as a flash the man spoke into his radio in hurried, frightened Thai. The Rakshasa crowded closer around him and Sabra knew that within a moment the young man’s life would be at an end. Was that fair? She found herself wondering: Did he have parents? A wife or girlfriend who would miss him?

‘Stop,’ she heard herself bark.

Cain turned sharply to face her, disbelief exploding on his face.

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘They must die.’

His voice held no sympathy, and she remembered exactly what he was — a Warlord.

The air hung humid and cloying around them and Sabra felt sweat bead on her lip and dribble between her breasts. She couldn’t condone senseless killing — didn’t that make them just as bad as the government?

‘Really?’ Sabra asked. ‘Let me try something first, please?’ she implored. ‘Maybe we can do this without killing anyone.’

Cain looked unconvinced but gestured for her to try and she felt that all too familiar swell of affection for him.

She walked up to the soldier who was shuffling backward and dabbing worriedly at his cheek.

Taking herself to that deep untouched part of her inner self, she tried to envision a scene that she could impress on the soldier’s mind.

The floor was strewn with bodies, Rakshasa writhed over each other feasting on the dead, large maggot-laden flies buzzed around their ears.

The soldier let out a startled cry and looked around, staring at the conjured scene. He wrinkled his nose and gagged, sour vomit pouring from his mouth.

All the while, Cain, his generals and the Rakshasa watched on, amazed and bemused.

The soldier’s voice became increasingly hysterical as he chattered into his radio. The response that came back sounded perplexed.

The solider looked around wildly again, unable to come to any sense with what he was seeing and what he was hearing.

Cain touched her arm, and she felt her body react as if his touch had electric voltage. ‘I am impressed at your growing talents, but we still cannot let him live. I don’t know what this man sees but he is going to return to his commander and then they will know something is awry.’ Cain’s voice was gentle but firm. ‘We must put him out of his misery.’

The soldier had begun to stumble, falling over imaginary corpses, and gagging intermittently.

Sabra had the sinking feeling that she’d just made things worse for the poor unfortunate soldier.

‘No,’ Sabra said, ‘please, don’t.’

It was too late though; Cain’s Rakshasa had descended on the man, and within a second the retching and crying sounds had died, replaced by horrified screams and the sound of blood splattering on the floor.

Sabra looked away.

Cain grasped her arm. ‘Don’t look away. This is war, remember that, Sabra.’

She lifted her eyes and absorbed the terrible scene. ‘He wouldn’t have hurt anyone!’ Sabra felt her own bile burn up her throat. ‘He was just scared. He didn’t have to die.’ Her eyes were riveted to the gory scene before her.

‘Stop second blaming yourself,’ Jürgen said brusquely.

Sabra turned and stared at him. A mountain of a man, he still made her skin crawl. She had nothing to say in response.

‘Remember, scared dogs are often the first to bite,’ he added. ‘Let’s go and get this over and done with.’

Cain gestured for the Rakshasa to continue on their way and Sabra struggled to maintain her concentration. It seemed wrong to slaughter all the soldiers. They weren’t to blame for their government’s shitty choices,
were they
?

‘Cain…’ Sabra interrupted again, but fell silent immediately. Beyond the walls, the forest teemed with soldiers and militia — and that was not all.

The scent of magic was thick in the air, not the sweet scent of pure magic but something acrid and corrupt.

Behind them Mags gave a hiccuping cough. ‘Faustus!’

Cain turned and stared at her, and Sabra’s concentration faltered. She looked up and saw, strung limp and tortured between two trees, the magician she recognised as Faustus hanging unconscious and dripping blood.

‘Faustus!’ Mags screamed and ran towards him.

Sabra felt her jaw drop, and as it did, 30,000 irritated Rakshasa suddenly became visible.

It took Sabra a moment or two to realise what had happened and by the time she had — chaos reigned. Bloody entrails painted the scene. The stench of suddenly loose bowels overpowered the rotten scent of corrupt magic.

Six or seven corrupt magicians began to advance on Cain, but Sabra wasn’t prepared to be parted from him again, so she stepped in front of him in a ridiculously protective gesture. One of them curled a lip at her, raised a hand and began to utter something under his breath — she didn’t hesitate. In a flash, Sabra renewed her concentration, and she knew by the magician’s bewildered expression that she and Cain had disappeared from sight.

Cain offered her a lazy smile of appreciation, as the Rakshasa raged on. Clearly visible to all now, they were more beast than humanoid and they tore with unmasked delight into the increasingly bewildered troops.

Mags, exposed and vulnerable, ran beneath Faustus.

‘Faustus, wake up!’ she yelled. ‘What’s going on?’

Faustus peeled a bruised eyelid open and looked around blindly.

Mags’ face contorted and she screamed to no one in particular, ‘Get him down. Save him!’

***

Covered by Sabra’s ability, Cain was not concerned about being caught or even sensed by a Magical Ion Sensing Device or the government’s corrupt rogue magicians.

He took a look at Faustus, who was badly bruised. The previously well-groomed, handsome and angular face was swollen and bleeding. Cain knew without being told that the other government magicians were draining his power.

His gaze flickered rapidly between Faustus and the government’s rogue magicians. Where had they come from? None of the faces were familiar but they all were speaking in fast, accented English.

Maggie’s screaming brought him back to sensibility — he turned and faced Sabra. She looked wide-eyed and scared, her skin mottling grey and green in instinctive camouflage, though her ability had them well disguised already. Her eyes lingered on a dying disembowelled soldier to her left.

‘Can you make me visible to Faustus?’ Cain asked, his voice faint beneath the screams and chatter of gunfire.

‘No, I’m…struggling as it is.’ She burped, and he heard vomit follow through.

He held her shoulders as she retched.

When she’d calmed slightly and her heaving had died to a few wet and chunky coughs, he glanced back up at Faustus.

He was awake now.

‘They’re all in on it,’ Faustus groaned. ‘All the governments. All of them, not just Laos, but everywhere. Australian…everyone.’ He gave a scream as one of the government magicians smacked him with a whack of magic. He screamed and sagged on his bonds, and blood rained down on the forest floor.

‘Get him down!’ Maggie shrieked as a smack of magic hurtled into her back and the world exploded with the scent of burnt flesh. She collapsed and crawled towards Faustus who hung moaning above her.

Cain hesitated.

‘Maggie,’ Faustus groaned, ‘The Family, Hollis, the police…all of them are in it. Get away. Get away now.’

Cain turned to Sabra. ‘Can you use your ability on him as well?’ Cain asked, but as he spoke he realised she could not. Sabra looked small and shrunken with the effort; her face was greying and her hands were shaking

Without waiting, Cain cut Faustus down, and the man landed with a wet thump in the leaf litter.

As he fell, the other corrupt magicians raced up and took to him with offensive and painful magic. Faustus curled up trying to defend himself. Maggie screamed and reared up from her prone position on the leaf-littered ground. She lurched towards the offending magicians, her face contorting and elongating with her shift.

A soldier close by noticed and turned his sub machine gun towards her.

Although he didn’t want anyone to sense him in the fracas, Cain sent a shield of power around Maggie and Faustus; the attacking magicians stared in confusion.

It was then that an all too familiar face appeared from the mayhem in the jungle.

Sergeant Hollis. His grey hair glistened in the mottled sun and he surveyed the macabre scene with dispassion.

Cain could feel Sabra’s reaction to his presence and she backed away. As Hollis turned, his gaze found Maggie and Faustus, cloaked as they were by Cain’s power.

‘They’re here,’ he barked in his Australian accent, strong amongst the panicked cries of the soldiers. For a moment, something reptilian slithered over the sergeant’s face. ‘Dath is here and the Chameleon. I can smell the bastards.’

The sergeant’s reptilian eyes narrowed and flashed red in Cain’s direction, and it was then that Cain realised what he was truly up against.

***

Sabra heard herself whimper in shock — Hollis was here, in Laos. Yet he was nothing like the Hollis she’d known in Australia. Her ability seemed to fail her and she could see herself momentarily reflected in his dead eyes.

What the hell
was
Hollis?

She turned and looked at Cain; his eyes narrowed, then he seemed to grow broader before her eyes.

‘What is he?’ she whispered, but her words went unanswered.

‘Rakshasa, get him.’ As Cain gave the abrupt order, several Rakshasa flew at Hollis. They moved with lightning speed, streaking across the forest floor.

Suddenly, the sergeant was no longer a hulking mass of grey anger, but a writhing mass of small demons.

Sabra felt a whisper of cold down her spine, and knew her ability had failed. They were visible to all and sundry. She ducked when she heard a round of gunfire, ignoring the fear and tiredness that threatened to floor her.

Cain must have sensed the shift for he acted quickly. His muscles tensed and he crouched low, making his way swiftly to Mags and Faustus who, unlike the rest of them, were still shielded by his spell.

Sabra stood there, a little ridiculously, wondering what on earth to do. A sudden hot splash of blood splattered across her face. It was vile smelling. She swallowed a squeal of alarm and wiped it away, trying not to gag. Then she found herself encased in cool, metallic-smelling arms. A naga had pulled her to the ground and was shielding her with her large serpentine body.

Gunfire perforated the area again, and the naga’s body jerked above hers.

For a moment Sabra fought utter panic as the weight of her protector became impossibly heavy. She struggled beneath the dead weight and looked to her left. The gunman — a wild-eyed man in dark green camo — was taken down by yet another horde of Rakshasa.

As she tried to wriggle out from under the dead naga, she saw Cain whispering furiously to the semi-conscious Faustus. Faustus nodded weakly. Turning to her right, she saw Hollis throw a decapitated Rakshasa into the bushes while grappling with another. A second later another crippled demonic body flew off in the same direction. With mounting horror she watched him pull the creatures from his body with single-minded viciousness. He was bleeding badly and his lower lip appeared to be hanging by a tendril of skin, where Rakshasa had tried to tear it from his face. The resulting appearance was grotesque, to say the least. She could see his white teeth glinting in the mottled light. His eyes fixed on
her.

‘Cain!’ Sabra yelled, as she wriggled with greater ferocity from under the heavy weight of the dead naga.

Before Cain could turn to assist her, Jürgen and Christy burst forth from the jungle. They were covered in blood and gore, but their faces showed their excitement.

‘Troops are withdrawing! Rakshasa rock!’ Christy screamed gleefully. But the grin fell from her face when she caught Cain’s eye.

His face was taut, and his head quickly swivelled to the right where the rogue magicians were aiming a spell at Christy and her crew. With superhuman speed Cain sent a bolt of magic towards them. His muscular arm flinched and jerked. The bolt of power that exploded from his extended hand gave an almighty bang.

The government magicians let out a scream of alarm. Clearly untrained in magical warfare, they were incinerated instantly. Cain didn’t hesitate and threw another at Hollis, who was now only metres from them. The smack of power hit Hollis square in the chest. On an ordinary man the blow would have killed him instantly, but Hollis did not even bat an eyelid, though blood exploded and his internal organs erupted into the open.

Cain cursed in speedy Lao, then uttered a powerful protective spell to shield them all.

Behind Cain’s protective shield, Sabra finally crawled out from under the dead naga, quietly muttering her thanks to the slumped bleeding body. Without waiting she ran to Cain and collided with him, his body big, warm and comforting beside her.

‘What
is
Hollis?
Who is Hollis?’
she cried. Through the shield of magic she could see Hollis was prowling around the outside of their shield, testing it occasionally with a light tap.

More and more Rakshasa attacked him, and some began gnawing at the entrails that dribbled out from the hole in his body. He didn’t even flinch.

‘I can hear your questions,’ Hollis snarled. ‘They ring around my head like flies.’

He seemed bigger somehow and increasingly inhuman.

‘Why are you doing this? What the hell are you?’ Sabra screamed, and she noticed Christy tut-tut and shake her head, presumably at her inane questioning.

‘Why? Why?’ He laughed insanely, and gestured at the blood-splattered forest around them. ‘For this!’

They all faltered, looking around at the horror and destruction.

Who wants this?
she wondered.

It was Faustus who finally spoke. ‘He’s a Sonneillon demon.’ His voice was weak.

‘Sonneillon demon?’ The name was unfamiliar but left a bad taste in her mouth.