Wrath of the White Tigress (27 page)

"I must go."

"Ride to the lesser canyon," said Goat Shaman. "The sandstorm will be worse there, but the Stain may reach the greater canyon before you." He bowed deeply. "May the gods be with you."

Rahazakir rode toward the sloping canyon of a small river that had been tributary to the larger before both had dried up long ago. The torches of the Yritti camp bobbled in the distance like shrinking stars and then were gone. Except for faithful Yumiryo, Rahazakir was utterly alone.

The strangers from the south were trapped in the canyons. Goat Shaman had foreseen only that much, but Rahazakir was a pathfinder and needed nothing more. Only those born with that gift could lead the tribe. A pathfinder's skills were essential for finding oases and keeping them ahead of the Stain.
 

The most dangerous times were when terrain forced the tribe onto a new track. In a few weeks, they would reach the heart of the hazardous Sheflar Wastes and have to do just that. The Stain would take an angle on them, and the danger would increase further. Worst of all, if Rahazakir were lost in this gambit, a new chief would have to be chosen and there weren't any good candidates.
 

After a half-day of heavy riding, Rahazakir reached sight of the unnatural sandstorm and the Stain. From the ground to a hundred feet up, the latter was a black bruise on a shadowed sky, a night without moon or stars. The storm winds barely touched him here, yet they raged about the canyon in an expansive vortex. It had lingered there for many hours now, as if waiting for the slower-moving Stain to overtake it.
 

The Stain had to be the unnatural sandstorm's origin. Had it foreseen what the Bright Spirits had? Was it trying to keep the strangers from helping the tribe?

With the rising sun lightening the sky behind him, he said a prayer to his ancestors and veered toward the front of the storm. He pulled a silk mask across his face and fastened a shield of thin glass to a wire frame beneath his burnoose hood.
 

Soon dust clattered against his face-shield. Winds howled about him. He patted Yumiryo with soothing strokes. She had her head lowered, her eyes masked by blinders. With their movement slowed by the headwinds, they pushed on, down into the canyon where the winds were weaker. Sand rained down onto them. Several times Yumiryo slipped, but she didn't falter.
 

Despite his fear of the Stain, whose darkness he could feel, Rahazakir kept his breathing regular and emptied his mind. His instincts led him toward those he must save. He only hoped he was going to get to them in time.

Jaska and Zyrella slept fitfully for several hours while the storm raged. When they awoke, they guessed midnight was near. Sand was piling up as it poured inside the mouth of the cave. Luckily, the floor rose up in the back half.
 

At first, Jaska sulked, angry with himself for being powerless against Salahn. But soon he was staring at the wall, wringing his hands and cursing himself.
 

Zyrella knelt behind him and casually set her hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I was a fool to think I could defeat Salahn. I can't even face him without paralyzing fear."

"Each time you confront him and come away, you will be stronger. Trust me."

Jaska shook his head. She put a hand to his face and turned it toward her. She stared deep into his eyes. "You are the strongest-willed man I have ever known and your heart is pure. You won't fail again."

She wrapped her arms around him. Comforting him had been her intention, but her heartbeat quickened and her mind clouded with arousal. She pressed her breasts, nipples tightening, against his back. She rubbed her hands across his chest and put her face against his. A single, cold tear was pressed against her flushed cheek.
 

Zyrella thought he would pull away. Instead he released a sigh like the moan of the winds outside and sank into her arms. She had stepped over the edge, both of them had. There was nothing left to do but fall. And it was strange, for they had stared over the cliff for so long and yet the falling seemed so quick and easy.

Jaska reached back and ran his hands up along her legs and hips, onto her buttocks. He pulled her in close. She ran her hands down his stomach, grasped through layers of cloth, and felt a growing hardness.
 

Suddenly, Zyrella arched backward. She felt as if his erection had already thrust into her, rising forcefully through her spirit meridian, pausing for a moment at each chakra until the tip pierced her mind. Her head swam, cool and empty. White light poured through unseeing eyes, the world glowing with unity. Her sex trembled and vibrated, fluttered and thumped like the wing of a hawk caught in a trap.

She slumped down, eyes screwed back, breaths coming in violent shudders. Her skin tingled, cold pins pricking every nerve.
 

"You all right?" he asked.

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "I have never felt more alive." She moaned as another wave of orgasms ricocheted through her.
 

"Can you give me what I need?" she asked.

He turned around and faced her. His eyes were puddles of gold surrounded by marble, like the altar of a tantric temple. "Yes."
 

They stripped from their clothes. Their lips met. Their souls mingled with their tongues. Seconds turned to minutes. Jaska was lost in passion and felt neither guilt nor terror. For the moment, he was free from his past, as if it had never happened. Their spirits coiled together, and he was aware that something more than mere sex was occurring, something mystical, intoxicating, mind-altering.

Her pale olive skin glistened beneath him. His cock bobbed and ached with need. He roamed all over her body with his lips, gauging her response, learning those spots she liked best. And then he thrashed the full pink lips of her sex with his tongue and gently tugged with his teeth until she again convulsed with orgasm.

Jaska entered her and they were a tangle of flesh with sand and grit, coarse and sharp, scratching between them. The experience was more energized than any ritual she had ever performed. Zyrella feared she would burst from the spirit-force he projected into her.

~~~

Jaska collapsed and rolled beside her. Zyrella fell into his arms, straining out a smile. Almost painful orgasms racked her body and continued to do so for nearly an hour. The storm still raged outside. Demons could fall upon them at any moment, even Salahn himself, but they didn't care.
 

Neither spoke about what had happened. What could be said? They had failed against the passion they had so long resisted. What surprised Zyrella was how empowered she felt, like a goddess with a million worshipers. As for Jaska, he had never imagined that this fearful union would bring him such calming peace.

As they lay together fulfilled, both suspected, through some strange intuition, that they would never experience this again. Neither spoke of it. They simply clung to each other, savoring every minute.

~~~

Ohzikar, Bakulus, and Lharro had wedged themselves into a crevice that blocked the worst of the winds. An overhang kept the sand from falling on them. Crammed into a tight space with two others, Ohzikar thought it the most uncomfortable night in his life.
 

The animals huddled in a clump at the entrance to the narrow cleft. Two camels died, suffocated by the sands. Another seemed close to death.

Ohzikar worried about Caracyn and the other Arhrhakim more than Jaska. If anyone could survive this, Jaska Bavadi could. Zyrella was another matter. Though he knew she could take care of herself, he still worried about her. There was nothing in the world more important to him than Zyrella.

Even though it was noticeably lighter with the sun up, they still couldn't see through the haze. Just as Ohzikar was thinking that they should brave moving, a voice came to them, garbled by the winds. Altogether they called out in response, not caring if doing so brought demon or enemy. The voice grew louder in return. Soon four riders emerged through the haze.
 

Bakulus squirmed free of the cleft and waded into the storm. "Caracyn!"

Caracyn raced past the others and leapt down. As the twins embraced, all three Arhrhakim exchanged ritual handshakes. Ohzikar examined the slender man with them, who was dressed in a goat hair burnoose and pants with leather wraps on his hands and neck. A glass shield protected his face.
 

"We must continue!" the man shouted. "Get your mounts and let's go! The Stain is closing on us!"

Ohzikar dumped the supplies least needed. With a sigh, he cut the throat of the struggling camel. The beast's feeble eyes went cold. He stepped over to the stranger and asked, "Who are you?"

"Chief Rahazakir of the Yritti. You must trust me."

"Where are we going?"

"To find your other companions."

"How?"

"I'm a pathfinder. My intuition will guide us."
 

Ohzikar had never heard of such an ability but had little time for doubt. Once he was mounted, Rahazakir spread a rope lead among them. "If you let go, you will become lost."

"There may be demons out here," Ohzikar warned. "And worse."

"Your companions told me. I'm not concerned. Demons and sorcerers are nothing compared to the dark cloud behind this storm. It is an ancient evil that pursues my people, only now it seems determined to reach you as well. And unfortunately, your friends are much closer to the Stain than we are."

~~~

Salahn's demons lurked outside the cave Jaska and Zyrella camped in. Despite their might and hatred, they hesitated out of fear. Fear of the powerful ones within the cave whose energies had surged in the night. Fear of the encroaching black cloud more pure in its evil than their own vile hearts. They told themselves they simply awaited the right moment and knew they must soon attempt it. Salahn's binding on them was strong. Defying him wouldn't be pleasant.
 

The demons had been lost for some time, despite their powerful senses, but the energies these two humans wielded had drawn them here. And then frightened them as if the roles of demon and human had been reversed. But at last, they worked themselves into a seething rage, cursing humans and becoming hungry for their tender flesh.

~~~

Even through the sand haze, Ohzikar could see the Stain bleeding into the sandstorm above, with a single strand slithering down into the canyon and moving toward them like the tentacle of some eldritch god. With its approach, the sandstorm weakened.

"It goes for your companions!" Rahazakir yelled. He urged Yumiryo on but then pulled her to a halt when he caught a glimpse of three winged beasts swooping down toward a cave. "Demons!"

Ohzikar continued his charge at full gallop, tulwar drawn, shield on his back since the wind made it cumbersome. The twins drew swords since their bows were useless in the storm. The Arhrhakim readied their steel-tipped spears. Rahazakir drew his
paylar
spear, a six-foot oak staff with a sharp blade fixed onto each end.
 

The war shouts of three different cultures pierced the storm.

~~~

Within the cave, Jaska and Zyrella dressed and prepared to go back out, knowing they must flee the black cloud that would soon be upon them. As they neared the exit, they sensed the demons. Jaska urged the unknowing camels and horses ahead as he drew his saber. Zyrella readied her staff and chanted.

The demons swept into the entrance and landed. The way was too narrow for flight. The mounts panicked and backed away, unable to turn around. The maddened demons tore through them out of necessity. Flesh, bone, and blood splattered as the beasts collapsed beneath hellish claws and fangs.

Jaska began a spell of banishment. Though he wasn't strong enough to banish demons as powerful as these, the spell could weaken them. And while steel couldn't kill demons, it could maim and debilitate them for a short while, long enough for escape. If he could defeat them in combat.
 

Zyrella put a hand on his arm. "I'll handle them. Your love has given me strength. I can feel the power of the goddess within me … and something more."

"Your goddess named me her wrath."

"And that you shall be."

The demons rushed toward them. Zyrella shouted words of power and a white luminescence blossomed from her staff. The demons recoiled, and the light shot forth as a searing beam.
 

The demons unleashed cawing screams as flames erupted from their scales. Putrid smoke filled the cave. Scales cracked. Body fluids and unwholesome flesh sizzled. And then the demons were burned husks, barely twitching, and already fading as they were drawn back into the Shadowland.
 

~~~

A white brilliance bathed Ohzikar as he reached sight of the cave. The light blinded him but did no other physical harm. He felt his every doubt, his every misdeed brought to mind and examined as if by some judging deity. Whatever power it was, it found nothing wrong and released him. The light also struck Rahazakir. The examining power felt exactly like the touch of the Bright Spirits. He endured it bravely, for he had already passed the test of his ancestors. Within moments, he too was momentarily blinded yet free.