Climax of Passion

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Climax of Passion Page 9

by Emma Darcy


  Dead, she thought numbly.

  Finally it dawned on her that she had to go for help. She had to leave him and find people who could rescue him if he was alive to be rescued. If an arm had been pinioned under that great weight... Amanda shuddered in horror at the mental image. She had to get help before it was too late.

  The secret of the crystal caves could not be allowed to be a secret any longer. She couldn’t let him die in there. She wouldn’t let him die in there. Whatever it cost, she would get him out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AMANDA slid, fell, stumbled, scrambled and hurtled down the narrow paths and slopes on the way back to where they had left the horses. Scratches, scrapes, grazes and bruises meant nothing to her. Heedless of any damage she might sustain, her mind was set on one goal and one goal only. Despair and desperation drove her on.

  Wearied beyond belief, she made it back to their base camp before sunset. She could not afford the luxury of sleep. Once she closed her eyes it might be a day before she opened them again. There was only one thing she could do. She had to go on.

  At least coming down the paths and trails had been far easier and faster than going up. She hoped that would hold true for the journey she had to make on horseback.

  She tried to saddle the white Arabian stallion, reasoning he could go faster than the black mare. He wouldn’t let her near him. She fell back on the mare, frantic to keep moving.

  She hauled her battered body into the saddle. She tried knees, hands, reins, everything she could think of, but the mare only circled around, refusing to go anywhere without its mate.

  Amanda cursed like an Arab caravan overseer. She cursed as she had never cursed before. Finally she managed to untether the white stallion and slapped it hard on its rump. It reared high on its back legs. Finally, and by good luck only, it took off along the trail by which they had come.

  The black mare quickly raced onto its heels. Amanda knew she had no control over where they went, how they went, and the speed at which it was accomplished. She could only pray the white stallion would lead them to the nearest habitation so she could beg for a rescue party. If she could make herself understood.

  They descended helter-skelter and Amanda felt sorry for her horse, obsessively intent on keeping up with the riderless stallion in front of them. It wasn’t fair on the mare, but the mare didn’t seem to care that she was carrying Amanda’s weight.

  Amanda understood the instinct that wouldn’t let the female be parted from her male. Wasn’t that why she was pushing herself beyond any rational limits of endurance to keep going?

  She could hardly bear to think of what it must be like to be imprisoned in those caves. Was there a fresh supply of air creeping in from a crack somewhere? Was it enough to last for...however long it took to bring help?

  How powerful were the batteries in the torch? If he was plunged into utter darkness... Amanda shuddered.

  Hold on...hold on...hold on...

  She did so herself.

  I’ll come back for you, her heart said, forever and always.

  The mindless refrains of holding on, forever and always, helped to detach herself from the exhaustion enveloping her. She was no longer in control. The sheer mechanics of riding kept her in the saddle. She was oblivious to where she was, how far she had come.

  The light was fading. She didn’t know what she would do once night fell. Would the horses keep going? Was it wise to risk it? She had to!

  Had to...had to...

  She was numb, numb all over when she heard the helicopter. She had to concentrate hard on focusing her eyes, turning her gaze to the sky. It was too high, too far away for any occupant to spot her. She doubted she could find the energy to lift her arms to wave anyway. Futile effort. The helicopter went out of her line of vision without deviating from its course.

  Despair dragged at her heart. She tried to pick out the landmarks she had taken note of earlier in the day. She thought she recognised a couple but had no real idea what they meant in relation to how far she had travelled from the Gemini Peak. The light was going fast now. She had no choice but to trust the horses to take her where she needed to go.

  She remembered that in the days of Genghis Khan messengers had been tied to the saddle. She wished she had taken the same precautions. If she stopped, dismounted, she suspected the black mare would take off with the white stallion and leave her alone.

  Impossible to contemplate such an outcome.

  She caught herself reeling and forced herself to sit upright again. Darkness nearly on her. Have to stay awake, she told herself. She twisted the reins around her wrists, a warning tug if she should start to fall off. Sound of the helicopter again. No use to her. She didn’t bother looking for it this time. No energy for that. It couldn’t land here.

  Darkness. At least she had the stars as her companions. She had to ensure he would see them again. The link between them couldn’t be broken. Their togetherness was written in the stars. He had told her so. She believed him.

  Body sagging. Rolling in the saddle. If she could rest for a moment. Close her eyes. So hard to keep them open. Just for one moment. Mustn’t fall off...

  A shout snapped her awake. She had slumped across the horse’s mane. She dragged herself up. The mare slowed to a tired walk. Amanda couldn’t see the white stallion. There was the drumming sound of hooves clattering towards her. Someone coming. Voices. She had found help. At last!

  That thought was enough to sustain her wretched body, stirring it to an awareness of pain. None of it mattered. Only the message she had to deliver mattered.

  Other horses steamed and stamped around her. Berbers talking across her in Arabic, taking the reins from her hands. She didn’t have the strength to resist. She grabbed the pommel of the saddle to steady herself.

  ‘Stop! Listen!’ she cried. ‘Does anyone speak English?’

  ‘You will come with us,’ one of them replied.

  ‘No.’ Amanda shook her head dizzily. ‘I need help. We have to go back. To the Gemini Peak. Up there a man is trapped in one of the caves.’

  ‘There is no order but the order of Xa Shiraq. You will come with us,’ came the inflexible reply.

  ‘But the man will die.’

  ‘Undoubtedly. In the meantime, you will come with us.’

  ‘No, I won’t,’ Amanda yelled hysterically.

  Her plea fell on deaf ears. ‘It is not a matter of choice,’ she was told. ‘You will go to the helicopter.’

  Through the dizzying waves of fatigue, Amanda grasped one thing clearly. Using a helicopter to transport her bespoke power. ‘By whose order?’ she asked.

  ‘It is the order of Jebel Haffa, who fulfils the will of Xa Shiraq.’

  ‘These are the men I must see,’ Amanda said, trying to drive conviction into her voice. ‘I will use their power to have my way. Take me to the helicopter.’ She hoped the words sounded as brave as the ideas behind them were.

  Her horse was urged forward. The Berber riders were beside her, behind her, in front of her. She no longer had the reins. There was no room to dismount even if she mustered the strength to do so. She was comprehensively trapped by the escort.

  ‘How long will this take?’ she begged in utter desperation.

  ‘Our orders are that we are not to be swayed by anything you say,’ came the flat, relentless reply. ‘We must not listen to any words you speak.’

  ‘Oh, that’s really great,’ Amanda grumbled, frustration eating into her courageous facade.

  She closed her eyes, silently and bitterly cursing Xa Shiraq. He must have found out she was no longer with Mocca and the convoy. He must realise he had been betrayed by the man now entombed inside the Gemini Peak. Xa Shiraq had entrusted that man with the task of seeing she never confirmed her father’s discovery. Now her impossible task was to convince Xa Shiraq to go to the help of his betrayer.

  The helicopter had probably been searching for them when she had seen it pass overhead. It was certainly no coincidence that
it had been sent to this area. Xa Shiraq had been checking out the worst scenario he could think of and he’d come up trumps.

  ‘Where is the helicopter going to take me?’ she asked, hoping for some enlightenment.

  ‘To the sheikh’s palace at Alcabab.’

  The vision of Mocca’s invoices to the palace rose in Amanda’s mind.

  ‘Will I see Xa Shiraq himself?’ she asked, keeping her tone light to hide the despair she felt.

  The Berber shrugged. ‘It will be as he wills.’

  It was hardly a conclusive reply. Nevertheless, it did make sense that Xa Shiraq would want to question her. She wondered if he would order a public trial for her crimes. Unlikely, she decided. He wouldn’t want her blabbing about the crystal caves to all and sundry in an open court. Amanda was only too well aware of how much trouble he had taken to hide their existence. She would be spirited away, never to be seen again.

  Yet she would surely get the chance to talk to him face-to-face. She would tell him all, plead with him, appeal to his finer senses of humanity. She would convince him to rescue the man who had served him loyally and faithfully for so many years.

  Or would Xa Shiraq leave the man to die miserably of thirst and starvation in the deep black vaults of the crystal caves?

  ‘Help me off this horse,’ she demanded when the troup of cavalry halted at the helicopter. Bravado seemed to be her best recourse in this situation.

  ‘No.’ It was the Berber captain who spoke.

  ‘How am I to get off it then?’ she asked.

  ‘Fall off it,’ he prompted unsympathetically.

  ‘Why won’t you help?’

  ‘It is forbidden to all men to touch you,’ he said.

  Amanda swore again in the most unladylike manner. In her present condition there was no way she could maintain any dignity without assistance. If this was a deliberate act of humiliation...

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ she said in biting anger. ‘You are not to listen to any words I speak, you are to say as little as possible to me, and you’re not to touch me.’

  ‘That is correct,’ came the unemotional reply. ‘That is the order of Jebel Haffa to the will of Xa Shiraq.’

  Amanda gritted her teeth. Words were useless weapons. She was faced with brick wall adherence to orders. If she was to get to Xa Shiraq, she had to make it to the helicopter by herself.

  Somehow she managed to slide herself around the neck of the horse. It galled her that she presented anything but a dainty picture. The Berber men looked on expressionlessly as she eventually staggered onto her feet at ground level.

  Amanda was more riled than she had ever been in her whole life. She was being treated as an outcast. A pariah. Purdah in its cruellest form! She felt the steam level of her boiler rising.

  ‘Take me to Xa Shiraq,’ she demanded. ‘I’m going to give him a fair whopping piece of my mind!’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KOZIM found it very stressful when Xa Shiraq maintained silence for longer than five minutes. Kozim found it so stressful that he timed Xa Shiraq’s silences so he could be quite sure whether to feel stressed or not stressed.

  What was even more stressful was when Xa Shiraq accompanied the lack of speech with the tapping of his fingers. It meant the sheikh’s mind was working in mysterious ways that would inevitably confuse him. Kozim could then lose respect by giving the wrong answers.

  Xa Shiraq’s respect meant a great deal to Kozim. Indeed, it was imperative he keep it. To Kozim, it was the most important thing in his life.

  He decided a safe comment was in order to prompt the sheikh into talking again. This would almost certainly diminish the build-up of stress.

  ‘I had all the trash cans in the sheikhdom intimately examined and scrutinised,’ he said.

  The black eyes focused on him with nerve-tingling intensity. ‘Why did you do that?’ The voice gave no indication of approval or criticism.

  The question spread uncertainty through Kozim’s mind. ‘I wondered if a rare jewel might be found.’

  The fingers tapped again. ‘Did you find any jewels, Kozim?’

  ‘No, Your Excellency.’

  ‘Don’t bother doing that again.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Kozim said miserably. ‘Most unfortunate.’

  ‘The geologist’s daughter requires attention, Kozim.’

  ‘I thought it would come to this,’ Kozim said quickly. ‘Will I block payment of the bills?’

  Xa Shiraq’s mouth curled sardonically. ‘No. Mocca has an extensive family. It behoves us to give an occasional boon to such people. From such matters, legends are born.’

  Kozim blinked. It was extraordinary how Xa Shiraq knew everything. Even the least significant of his people in Alcabab did not escape his attention.

  ‘Fire must be fought with fire,’ came the grim announcement.

  ‘That’s so wise,’ Kozim hurried to agree.

  ‘The woman has gone too far.’

  ‘Women always do.’

  ‘Entombing people goes beyond good-natured fun.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘It calls for the most severe retribution.’

  Kozim had some expertise in the field of retribution. ‘Beheading was a favorite device of the British monarchy for many centuries. Henry the Eighth had a certain natural flair...’

  ‘I need worse,’ Xa Shiraq growled. His fingers tapped a particularly strong rhythm.

  ‘The unspeakable or the unmentionable?’ Kozim asked. ‘Which do you prefer?’

  ‘Both!’ Xa Shiraq said decisively. ‘She should suffer both!’

  ‘Wise,’ said Kozim. ‘You are not only esteemed, respected and loved for the qualities of mercy and justice, but, oh, so very wise.’

  Kozim glanced quickly at Xa Shiraq. The deadly resolve in those all-knowing black eyes made him shudder. Once more he reflected how glad he was that he was not the geologist’s daughter.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AS SOON as the helicopter landed in the palace grounds a swarm of women came forward to help Amanda. They lifted her into a richly ornate sedan chair that could have been commissioned by an empress of Rome. Although she welcomed the softly piled comfort of silk and satin cushions after the rigours she had been through, it was a painful reminder that the man she had left behind had nothing but cold, hard stone to lie on.

  No-one would listen to anything she said. The women were as deaf as the Berber men to her pleas, to logical argument, to any compassionate understanding of the situation. They were unswervingly persistent in following their own schedule and Amanda simply didn’t have the strength to resist the ministrations that followed her arrival in what had to be the sheikh’s harem.

  She was stripped with gentle but firm efficiency, pushed and pressured into a spa pool and thoroughly lathered and washed as though she were a baby. In truth, she felt as helpless as one. Her hair was shampooed and brushed dry. Her thoroughly cleansed body was massaged with some wonderfully soothing body lotion.

  Her guilt at accepting such treatment was appeased by the thought that it had to be against all protocol to be presented to the sheikh looking the way she had. Fighting this process would only cause more delay in getting to Xa Shiraq. But it was agony thinking of what might be happening up in the crystal caves.

  She was clothed in a simple gown of white silk. She was urged into eating a thick creamy soup. It seemed sensible to comply since she couldn’t afford to be weak from hunger. The soup was delicious and filling. Her tastebuds told her it was a mixture of seafood. As she ate, the drowsier she became.

  She awoke in a luxurious bedchamber, lying between satin sheets, and it was broad daylight. A woman attendant smiled benevolently at her. Amanda wanted to scream and rant and rave at the appalling passage of time that represented untold suffering for the man she had to save.

  ‘How do I get to Xa Shiraq from here?’ she demanded, with little hope the woman would understand.

  She didn’t. Or pretended not to. S
he made a swift exit from the bedchamber and before Amanda could swing her feet to the lushly carpeted floor, a whole team of twittering servants poured into the room to start the pampering all over again.

  Amanda kept repeating the name of Xa Shiraq to no effect whatsoever. The women insisted she dress in a long-sleeved caftan-style gown. It was black and reminded her of the burnoose that she hoped was providing some warmth for Upgrade if he was still alive.

  She went into rebellion. She couldn’t, wouldn’t eat anything from the platter of exotic fruits provided for her breakfast. She wouldn’t drink her coffee. She searched for a way out of the harem. There was none that she could find quickly.

  In anguished frustration she cried again, ‘I must get to Xa Shiraq. I have to see him. Please...can somebody help?’

  A reply came from the oldest woman in attendance. ‘A messenger was sent that you are rested and well, Princess.’

  ‘How long will it be before I’m granted an audience?’ Amanda demanded, ignoring the odd form of address to her.

  The woman shrugged. ‘It may be a day, perhaps a week, a month or two...who can tell the will of Xa Shiraq?’

  ‘I can’t wait that long!’ Amanda protested. ‘I have to talk to Xa Shiraq within the hour.’

  A gong resounded from somewhere close. The women burst into excited twittering. The older one who had answered Amanda in English moved to the locked door at the far end of the room and opened a peephole. There was a quick exchange of Arabic. The woman turned to address Amanda.

  ‘The time has come. An escort awaits to lead you to the sheikh.’

  Amanda barely stopped herself from running to the door. It was unlocked and opened for her before she reached it, but a few more seconds weren’t about to make any difference. She knew she had to control her seething impatience. It was paramount that she impress Xa Shiraq with reasonable behaviour or he would undoubtedly scorn anything she had to say.

  The escort of four men was in ceremonial military dress. They marched along on either side of her. It looked like a guard of honour, but Amanda had no delusions about that. She wondered if it was supposed to lull her into a false sense of confidence before the axe dropped on her neck. Xa Shiraq certainly had no reason to welcome her presence in his country, let alone his palace.

 

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