Blade's Destiny (Ishtar's Legacy Book 3)

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Come,” Bashaa called to Tirigan. “We shall begin.”

  With a meaningful glance in Asharru’s eyes, Tirigan whispered to her, “I’ll see you after the crossing.”

  Well, they weren’t really going to cross to the other side of the lake.

  Bashaa explained that they would cut crosswise across the lake in one direction and Laliya and Asharru would take the other side and then all four of them would double back, returning to this location.

  That would satisfy the Blood Ceremony’s need for a sacred bath.

  Asharru nodded to him and then began to unlace her sandals. Once she’d kicked them off, she moved to her robe. He looked away, giving her privacy while she shifted forms. Though, he could still feel when she called on her gryphon magic.

  A warm wave of it rolled across Tirigan’s skin. Briefly, he allowed his gaze to be drawn back to her.

  The big, beautiful gryphon with her black fur and red-banded feathers stood in Asharru’s place.

  Laliya approached the beast, then bowed. Once. Deeply.

  The ritual had begun.

  Acting with ritualistic care, Laliya circled the gryphon. Slowly and respectfully, she reached for Asharru’s left wing, carefully feeling along it and separating out one of the primary flight feathers.

  With only a slight hesitation, she gripped the feather and gave it a swift jerk. The feather came free, and Laliya bowed to the gryphon. For her part, Asharru just stood patiently awaiting the next tug.

  Laliya bowed in acknowledgment and took two more from that wing before moving to the other side to harvest the same amount. After the six feathers had been removed, Asharru reached for the shorter feathers covering her breast and plucked a few more with her beak.

  Understanding that the Crown Princess wanted to gift Tirigan with more feathers, Laliya moved forward again to strip out another half dozen feathers the length of his hand. But Asharru still stood, allowing the priestess to remove another dozen smaller feathers.

  It was very generous.

  Later, Laliya would sew them into a calf-length ceremonial skirt that all Blades wore to denote their status as the favored one of their monarch and the gods.

  While Tirigan wasn’t thrilled to wear another fancy costume, he was touched by the number of feathers Asharru was willing to surrender for him.

  Asharru broke with tradition then and padded over to him on silent paws, her lion’s body moving with a flowing grace that was mesmerizing to watch. When the massive beast reached his side, she rubbed her face against his chest.

  While her tail flicked in feline humor, she reached out and batted a paw at the fringes of his robe.

  “Unless you’re suddenly overcome with modesty, you should strip before going into the water.” Her voice was deeper, gruffer but somehow still sounded like Asharru. Then she gave a deep, rumbling purr that was quintessentially gryphon.

  Laughing, he relaxed. Though, he hadn’t even realized he was tense until then. Modesty was something he’d lost years ago. Undoing the belt cinching his robe in place, he dropped it on the floor and then grabbed the robe’s hem and pulled it off over his head.

  Naked but for a loincloth, he held his arms wide and allowed the gryphon to step closer and scent mark him, which wasn’t part of the ritual but he sensed it was something she needed to do.

  When she’d satisfied herself that he smelled like her, she stepped back, but not before the soft caress of her feathers had forced a couple very unmanly sounding chuckles from him.

  When she’d put enough distance between them, the big gryphon reared up on her hind legs, wings spread for balance. A shimmering light surrounded her body as she shifted. When the brilliance dimmed, Asharru stood before him, naked and lovely and seemingly completely unaware of that fact.

  She grinned at him. “Who would have guessed the mighty Tirigan would giggle like a girl from a little tickle?”

  “Those were not giggles!” His stern tone was ruined a moment later by a grin. “Though, there is a great deal you don’t know about me.”

  A twinkle entered her eyes. “That sounds like a challenge. You know gryphons hate a mystery, yes?”

  “Perhaps I am challenging you.” Tirigan needed to stop, but there was just something about Asharru’s nature that drew him in and snared him. And, worse, he didn’t feel the need to struggle and escape her web.

  She was dangerous to both his heart and his free will without even trying.

  “You two, stop flirting and get on with the ceremony,” Kuri called from where she was stationed at the entrance. “I don’t like how we’re trapped down here with only one escape. The sooner this is over with, the safer Asharru will be.”

  Kuri’s reminder was like a bucket of cold water, and Tirigan nodded sharply as he stepped back.

  “Shall we?” he asked Asharru.

  “Yes.” But she leaned in closer to place a kiss on his cheek.

  Her gentle touch took him by surprise. “What was that for?”

  “For being my Blade and my friend.” Honesty and happiness shone in her eyes.

  “It is my heartfelt honor.”

  Smiling, she stepped forward into the water.

  Still confused over his reaction to a simple, innocent kiss, he reached down and fumbled with his loincloth’s ties twice before managing to get them undone. His heart should damn well know better than to soften towards anyone, even her. With a shake of his head at his own foolishness, he shed his loincloth before following her in.

  Bashaa and Laliya shadowed them into the pool, but his attention remained on Asharru. It always would be. No matter what was going on around him, a part of his mind would still be trained on her.

  That power would only grow in strength once he was an anointed Blade.

  Unaware of Tirigan’s inner turmoil, Bashaa began chanting the ancient prayers, calling on the gods to bless and cleanse the new Blade, to make him worthy to serve his monarch and the great goddess Ishtar.

  And since Tirigan was male and might also host the God of the Harvest during the Sacred Marriage, Bashaa added a secondary prayer, beseeching Tammuz to find the Blade a worthy host.

  Tirigan sincerely hoped that last part wasn’t necessary.

  The chanting and bathing went on at some length, but Tirigan’s eyes and focus strayed toward Asharru more times than he could count until, at last, they’d both returned to the point where they’d entered.

  Together, he and Asharru walked toward one of the benches side by side, the very image of unity against any adversity as the ritual demanded. Once at the bench, Bashaa and Laliya dried them with towels and anointed them with oils while chanting more prayers. Afterward, they clothed Tirigan and Asharru in simple, unadorned loincloths.

  Kuri and Hunzuu came forward then. Hunzuu holding a torch that Kuri used to purify the ancient blade. Once the metal glowed with heat, Hunzuu returned to his spot by the door, his sword in hand, ready should their enemies strike while Tirigan was indisposed.

  The guardswoman then held the blade out carefully to Asharru. The future queen carried it to a kneeling Laliya, who held a bowl of blessed water. At the touch of the hot blade to the sacred water, more than steam hissed up from the surface.

  Magic flared, rising from both the dagger and the water. Moments later, a heated wave of power rolled over them all.

  This was the magic of Ishtar. Warm, heavy, and potent against his skin, it was laced with knowledge and potential. It was also reminiscent of the electric charge in the air just before a violent storm unleashed its fury upon the islands.

  Asharru bowed to the shimmering blade and then carefully lifted it from the bowl and walked over to Tirigan, the knife held out before her.

  Tirigan acknowledged her with a nod and then turned to straddle the bench, presenting her with his back. As if sensing the magic in the knife, the mark of Ishtar flared with a matching power.

  There was the soft rustle of fabric, and then Asharru was settling behind him on the bench. He sensed her hesita
tion a moment before she huffed out an amused snort.

  “All those scrolls, training, and lessons, and never once did anyone mention how this is supposed to work with a female of average height and her strapping big Blade. What? Am I supposed to climb you like a monkey?”

  Tirigan smirked at the image and her exasperated tone. “Perhaps if I lean down and you kneel…”

  “We’ll try that,” she said sourly.

  She shifted closer until her inner thighs pressed against his legs. The soft warmth stirred his body into wakefulness and made his blood surge. Humor vanished, replaced by an old familiar heat. Then one of her hands came to rest on his shoulder and that innocent touch—she was only using it to aid her balance—had a specific body part rearing to attention.

  Asharru shifted around behind him until she settled with her legs resting to either side of his. Then he felt her lean back. A breath hissing through her teeth was the only sound as she made the first cut. A moment later the coppery scent of blood reached his nose.

  He glanced over his shoulder in time to see her bring the tip of the blade to the upper swell of her left breast where she made a second shallow cut. The twin cuts were soon channeling blood down between her cleavage.

  With her jaw clenched and a determined look on her face, she leaned forward, shifting positions again until she was draped over his back, her breasts crushed against his shoulder blades.

  “Take this,” she whispered in his ear as she handed him the dagger. A moment later he knew why as her thumbs massaged some of her blood higher up along his neck even as more slowly trickled its way down his spine.

  Already a tingle was growing. Then Asharru’s breath blew warm against his neck as she started to speak.

  “Ishtar, this night we come together to renew the pact between the ancient gryphon kings and you, oh great Queen of the Night. Your Blade has been anointed with queen’s blood as the ancient rites demand. Bless him now with your power so that we may serve you to our fullest potential and never fail you.”

  At the start of Asharru’s prayer to Ishtar, Tirigan had bowed his head, but as the tingle running along his spine swiftly changed to heat and then a fiery ecstasy, his spine bowed with the pleasure of it, and he narrowly missed cracking skulls with Asharru.

  “Easy,” she whispered, “It will be over soon.”

  She shifted, then in a surprising move, she used her superior gryphon strength to pull him back against her, sealing her front to his back to assure enough blood soaked into the skin running along his spine.

  The power continued to build within him. It felt…felt like nothing he’d ever experienced. As if Asharru had reached deep within him and was stroking his soul. He shuddered and gasped for breath.

  Her arms slid under him, wrapping around his chest and locking him in place when he would have bolted to escape the power rising within.

  “I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this,” he managed to spit out between his clenched teeth.

  During his time with the priests, he’d learned of Ishtar’s many aspects. She could be a bringer of life, a healer, or a wager of war. During a traditional blooding ceremony, it was an aspect of battle magic that forged the ties between Queen and Blade. But the magic invading him, filling his soul, was more than just the burning rage of battle magic.

  This was too warm, too rich. Wild swirling magic that reminded him of sultry heat, frenzied passion, and spasming release.

  But Ishtar had other powers at her call. And this power fit with what was summoned during the Spring Rites.

  Here? Now? They wanted the Sacred Marriage now?

  Oh, Goddess, please not yet.

  Let me enjoy my freedom for just a little longer.

  Chapter 31

  A large, warm hand came to rest heavily upon Tirigan’s shoulder, and then a voice that was power itself, flowed rich and musical over his senses.

  “Blade, fear not. You will always have your free will, and I’m not here to demand the Sacred Marriage. Not yet anyway.”

  At the contact of hand to shoulder, the magic swirling through his body increased tenfold, a great swelling wave of energy that had nowhere to go. Forcing his head to turn, he fought his locked muscles until he was able to look upon the being standing next to them.

  His eyes took in the sight of four vast wings first. Then the voluptuous form framed by the radiant glow bleeding off each feather. A shimmering transparent garment did little to hide the goddess’ figure and Tirigan dragged his gaze back up to her face.

  Eyes glowing with power and ancient knowledge looked out at him from an ageless face.

  Then Ishtar smiled and winked at him and another wave of great magic flowed from her into him, caressing every bit of his skin before sinking deeper into his body.

  His lungs seized as he forgot how to breathe.

  Throughout history, Ishtar had only ever appeared in person a handful of times during Blooding Ceremonies. Each of those times, she’d later demanded the Sacred Marriage.

  “Be calm Blade. I have said I did not come for that.” Ishtar flicked her wings, stirring up a gentle breeze. It wasn’t enough to cool the sweat from his body, but it told him she was real, not some magic-induced vision.

  Behind him, Asharru stiffened. “Great Ishtar, we are tremendously blessed by your presence.”

  The goddess inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Monarch and Blade, you have both had more difficult paths than I would wish, but you are together now, and soon you will be too powerful for your enemies to find a weakness in your defenses.”

  Ishtar’s voice flowed around the chamber, seeming to come from all directions at once, from everywhere and nowhere.

  The goddess’s gaze locked onto a spot a short distance away before swinging back upon Asharru. “Tammuz is coming, and he will bless the Blade with added strength, even as I will aid you, future queen, strengthening your already powerful magic so you will have the ability to wake all the Lamassu, even the ones countless other kings and queens were unable to rouse. Do you willingly receive my gifts?”

  “Of course, my goddess,” Asharru agreed as she eased away from Tirigan.

  “And Blade,” Ishtar turned her attention to him, “you, too, shall receive my blessing.”

  Before he could formulate a response, a second power, one the reminded him of sweet, freshly turned earth, green growing things, and newly cut hay, suddenly filled the cavern. It surrounded him, but unlike Ishtar’s fiery power, this one was cooler and somehow mellower, though no less potent.

  “My beloved wife,” Tammuz said as he appeared on Tirigan’s left and gazed across to where Ishtar stood. “As always, you rush into things. Give me a few moments to gain the Blade’s permission before you claim them both as yours.”

  Tirigan was likely still in shock from the appearance of two of the gryphon nation’s most powerful gods suddenly appearing during the Blooding Ceremony, but his bemusement allowed him to take in the presence of this second god without fear.

  Tammuz, dressed in a simple fringed, ankle length skirt and a wide belt made of hammered gold looked more like a human youth born of a noble family than a god, Tirigan decided. Though, the illusion might have been because Tammuz presently lacked Ishtar’s wings and radiance, though the harvest god was often depicted with such, so likely could appear in any form he chose.

  Ishtar snorted, but her expression softened into a look of love as she gazed upon the harvest god.

  “My beloved, I have missed you,” she whispered, emotion thick in her voice.

  “And I you,” Tammuz said. “But if you rush headlong into this situation, you risk losing everything you seek to gain.”

  Ishtar huffed. “You are wise, as usual. Speak with the Blade. I shall begin on the young queen.”

  With that Ishtar turned her attention to Asharru. “Are you ready to receive my power?”

  Asharru nodded and then voiced her agreement as well.

  “Good, let us begin.”

  “Blade Tiriga
n,” Tammuz called, drawing his attention fully to the youthful-looking god. “As Ishtar has said, we are here to bless you with our power, anointing you, so you will be strong enough to face your enemies and win. Do you understand and agree to this?”

  “Yes.” Tirigan wasn’t so foolish as to turn down a gift that might one day save Asharru and his friends’ lives.

  “Good.” The harvest god looked Tirigan over once with a chuckle. “I see, Ishtar has made certain her Blade’s soul is housed in a pleasing form. And you are strong and healthy, capable of acting as my host during the Sacred Marriage. But there is more to consider than just the physical health of the host, isn’t there? There is an emotional component as well.”

  Tirigan wasn’t ready, and the god must know that, but what right did he have to deny the gods who’d created him their chance to briefly reunite during the Sacred Marriage?

  Tirigan bowed deeply. “I am your servant.”

  The god’s lips twisted into a grin. “Yes, servant, but not a slave. Remember that. Remember that you have a choice. I will not take an unwilling host during the Sacred Marriage.”

  Tirigan blinked in surprise. He’d never thought his destiny was something he could control.

  “But you and Ishtar wish us to take part in the Sacred Marriage?”

  There was a twinkle of humor in the harvest god’s eyes. “Of course. What male, be he man, gryphon, or god, wouldn’t want to lay with one such as Ishtar. I have missed my wife.”

  Tirigan couldn’t deny that Ishtar’s very presence could stir a man, but that didn’t mean he wanted her in that way, even if he was only acting as host for the harvest god.

  “Ah! You already only have eyes for your Asharru. That is good.” The god clapped him on the shoulder. “Come, we shall talk first, and then you can make your decision.”

  His bemusement only growing, Tirigan allowed himself to be led a short distance away from where Ishtar was already sharing her power with Asharru.

  “Blade Tirigan, I am aware of what you have already lived through in your young life. And while Ishtar and I very much hope you will act as a host, I’ve never forced a Blade or Gryphon King into being my host if he hadn’t first heartily agreed.”