by James Silke
“What did happen?”
“I can’t discuss it,” Robin said, ending that topic. He nodded and asked carefully, “While you were with her, did she look at the map?”
“No. She’s exhausted.”
Another nod, and he asked, “When did she last look at it?”
Robin hesitated, frowning as best her smooth forehead allowed, and said, “I guess it was early last night, when she gave me this robe to wear. But it was only a glance. She hasn’t really examined it since she drew it on me.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jakar said, and leaned back against the rock. “I think she’s been lying. I think she knows the way to Pyram.”
Robin started to protest, but gave up and bunched her cheeks frumpishly under worried eyes. “I was thinking the same thing. But why did she draw the map then?”
“Maybe it’s not just a map.”
“You mean magic signs? Like… like before?” He nodded, once.
“Maybe I should wash it off.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaving the decision to her.
She thought about it and said, “I don’t know. She’s hurt. Hurt bad. And she won’t complain about it. She’s very brave, and I don’t know why, but I trust her. And if it is a map, and she does need it, I don’t think…”
“I agree,” he said, interrupting. “But she’s hiding something, isn’t she? You can sense it, can’t you?” She nodded. “I didn’t notice at first. I was, well, thinking about you and me, I guess, and wasn’t concentrating. But I can feel it now, and the closer we get to Pyram, the harder it is for her to hide it.”
“But you still trust her, don’t you?” She smiled weakly in reply, and he added, “Well, if you trust her, I trust her.”
She smiled at that, then frowned again. “But maybe we should tell Brown John and Gath.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure they noticed long before we did.”
“But they didn’t say anything!”
“Wouldn’t be any point. We’re going to need her when and if we get to Pyram, and even if she’s up to something, well, we still have a chance.”
Robin nodded lamely and sat looking off at the mountains with worried eyes.
“Frightened?” he asked.
She nodded without looking at him.
“Good, you should be,” he said. She looked at him, suddenly more frightened, and he added, “Whatever he did to her, he can do to you.”
She took hold of her lower lip with her teeth, held it briefly, then let go and said evenly, “I know that. I’ve known it since we started. But he won’t. He’ll never hurt me, Jakar, believe me.”
Jakar smiled at her for a long appreciative moment, then said gently, “Fluff, be careful. Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to.”
“Are you afraid I couldn’t take it if they didn’t? Afraid I’d be too hurt?”
“Yes,” he said, “I am.”
That made her smile, and instinctively she touched his cheek. She started to pull her hand away, but he caught it, stroking her fingers with his. They looked at each other for a long time before she spoke.
“You’ve changed.”
“Yes,” he said, “I just noticed that myself.”
She grinned. “I guess I’m not going to need any jewels to cure you after all.”
“Don’t be too sure,” he warned with a skeptical smile, then his dark eyes sobered and his voice became intense with passion. “All I can see, all I’ve ever seen when I look at you, is an incredibly rare jewel.”
That melted her, and they gathered each other in their arms, kissing and kissing, like young lovers in the privacy of their hearts, and all around them the world was new.
When the sun was high in the sky, the group still sat in their hiding places, looking across the plain at the Breasts of Veshta. Waiting. They knew they could not move until the light had again died. Then they would cross the open ground, keeping to the shadow-filled valleys and guts between the hills, and ride into the mountains with their movements concealed by night’s bountiful darkness. So they waited, silent and patient, each with their separate, yet single, dream.
Thirty-two
NEW RECRUIT
Tiyy galloped up the mountain road, her dust billowing in the morning sunshine. Impatient. Dirty from a long trail. Leading a detachment of her household guards, a surly bunch wearing leather, steel, dust and violence the way their queen wore her power. Naturally.
The nymph rode bareback, a frothing black and white horse, and was as naked as the animal except for rawhide boots, leather breechclout and sheathed dagger strapped to her forearm. Savage. Regal. Her spiked blond hair flagged wildly and her dark walnut legs wore the trail dust as if it were sprinkled gold.
Reaching her recruiting depot at the heights of the Breasts of Veshta, she reined up hard and dismounted facing Schraak as he prostrated himself in the dirt before her. All around the compound, the border guards manning the depot did the same: at the stables, at the mouths of the many caves pockmarking the mountainside, and on the small parade ground fronting the caves. She looked down at the small man’s shuddering body as if he were a hole in the ground.
His drab tunic was torn and filthy, and his body was blistered and heaving with exhaustion. He had obviously raced from En Sakalda to meet with her just as she had ordered him to via carrier eagle.
Without speaking to him, she glanced at a nearby group of prostrate, fearful bat soldiers.
Spotting the officer in charge, she shouted, “Get up, Captain.” He jumped up, and she added, “I want armed patrols guarding every trail to Pyram! And I want every caravan, every traveler, stopped! No matter what their credentials. If this Death Dealer is spotted among them, do not attack him, but report back to me here. Immediately! Everyone else is to be killed. Do you understand? No traveler is to reach Pyram alive. And strip the women so Schraak here,” she pointed with a booted foot, “can inspect them. I am not taking any more risks. Now send out your patrols!”
The captain saluted and ran about shouting orders. The sergeants instantly repeated them, and the depot burst into noise and action. In moments patrols were riding off in all directions. When they were gone, only the small depot garrison remained and the area became quiet, motionless. All eyes watched the young queen.
She turned back to Schraak. “So, the girl not only eludes me again, but this time her protector kills Lord Baskt. How did this happen, worm?”
“He… he was stronger,” Schraak said hesitantly.
“What?” Tiyy snapped. “Don’t talk like a fool! Get up! Look at me and tell me what happened.” He struggled up. “They… they fought. With sword and axe. And the Barbarian was truly Lord Baskt’s equal. It was evident to everyone. But when he put on the horned helmet, he was stronger.”
“Stronger?” Her tone was incredulous.
“Yes! It’s true. I swear it!”
She nodded. “This Barbarian is proving to be almost as interesting as the girl. What else have you learned?”
“Cobra rides with them.”
“Cobra?” Her large, sloping eyes were suddenly alarmed. “She’s alive? Are you certain? Why didn’t your message mention this?”
“I wasn’t sure at first. She seemed different. Older. But just before they rode off, I heard her speak and knew it was her.”
“So,” said Tiyy quietly, feeling a sudden new threat and relishing the rush of excitement that came with it, “Cobra is alive… and has somehow allied herself with this brute she had sworn to destroy.” She put her eyes on Schraak. “And you say she looked older?”
“Yes. By ten years easily.”
Tiyy smiled with churlish malevolence. “Then she’s lost her powers! Become a mere woman again! And a foolish, desperate one, at that.” Schraak frowned in confusion, and she chuckled. “It is finally making sense why the girl has come here to hide in my domain. Somehow Cobra is controlling her, as well as this Death Dealer, and leading them to Pyram.”
“But that w
ould be madness,” protested Schraak. “For anyone else, yes,” she said, “but not for the Queen of Serpents. She has always had far more cunning than anyone is entitled to. And with her powers gone, I doubt if there is anything she won’t risk.” Tiyy smiled knowingly. “She is going to try and steal the jewels. There can be no other answer. It’s the only way the slithering bitch can regain her powers now.”
“But she could never reach Pyram!”
“Couldn’t she?” Tiyy asked mockingly. “If you believe that, then you know nothing about the woman you once served.” She looked out over the endless landscape of rounded hills. “She knows every trail in these mountains, even in the dark. So they’ll travel at night to avoid my patrols.” She turned on the small man. “And if she reaches Pyram, she’ll find a way into the castle. She knows of tunnels in the rocks even I have not explored. And the castle garrison is weak, perhaps even too weak to stop this Death Dealer.” She nodded to herself. “He must be destroyed! And here! In these mountains. Tonight!” She smiled ruefully at the dark foreboding entrance of the largest cave. “And he will be. Get a torch and follow me.”
Schraak hurriedly found a torch, rejoined Tiyy at the mouth of the largest cave and led her inside holding the flaming light in front of him.
Muffled fluttering greeted them and thousands of small eyes peered out of the hovering shadows of the huge cathedral-like cave. Schraak hesitated nervously, and the guttering torch cast moving light over row upon row of bats hanging from the rimstone ledges, stalactites and pillars, knobs and warts. Recruits for the nymph’s army of bat soldiers awaiting induction and transformation.
The pair moved deeper and deeper into the meandering cave, tromping on a dark brown powder, millions of years of bat guano many feet deep. The cave grew smaller and smaller, and at the deepest point they crossed over a natural bridge of rock, spanning a stream, and entered a low tunnel. They followed it and came to an interior cave over a hundred feet high. It was silent except for the voices of wind passing through unseen flumes and holes.
Schraak used his torch to light an oil lamp carved out of the rock wall and it guttered to life, casting an orange glow into the cavern. It appeared to be empty. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, but the ground was cleared except for the deep mold of bat manure. At the sides, smaller caves and tunnels opened onto darkness, and at the back, a barred wall caged off a large shadowed gallery.
A door at the base of the cage wall was chained shut. Inside the cage was a throne large enough to seat a pair of well-endowed elephants. It was carved out of stone and inlaid with colored stones in the shape of cyphers and numerals and signs. Pillows, each of them large enough to serve as a bed for a child of six, were heaped on the seat.
The pair stopped before the chained door, and Schraak looked uncertainly from the empty throne to his queen. Her dark cheeks had turned hot under their orchid rouge, and her erect breasts looked suddenly untamed, as if a man would be smart to find a whip and stick before getting in bed with them. He hesitated, peering curiously into the cage and asked, “Is someone there?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Lord Menefret.”
He turned sharply, gasping.
She smiled. “Yes. The transformation is almost complete. All he needs is one more feeding.”
“But you’re not strong enough.”
“I have no choice,” she interrupted, her quarrelsome eyes turning on him. “This Death Dealer must be found and killed tonight.”
“But what if you weaken? He could drink you dry!”
“I am aware of that. That’s why you’re here. You know my strength is not what it should be, but the others do not. And they must not know. If,” she hesitated, “if I do weaken, you must take me out of the cage, and not let anyone see me until I have recovered.”
“But it’s too great a risk.”
She smiled at that and said, “What you fail to understand, Schraak, is, the greater the risk the greater my pleasure. Now, open it!” Her breathing began to race, and her pointed breasts heaved with budding cruelty. “Open it!”
Schraak set his torch on a rock, hurriedly ran the chains through the grillwork, tossed them aside and swung the iron gate open with a noisy squeak. Tiyy nimbly slipped under the low arch, and he closed the door behind her with a discordant clang.
Slowly, he backed up to a fallen stalactite, and trembled. His grey blistered flesh was slick with slimy sweat, and he smelled of fear.
With swift agile leaps, Tiyy mounted the rocks forming the base of the huge throne and stood facing it. Gasping. Expectant. The front edge was level with her petulant breasts. She took hold of it and muscled her body up, swinging her legs onto the seat. There she stood slowly, peering into the shadows of the gallery. Stretching sensuously, she sprawled on her back among the massive pillows, abandoning herself to their comfort. Against their massive proportions, she looked like a live toy doll.
Removing her mouth harp from her breechclout, she played a haunting phrase three times, then tucked it back in place and waited. Flushed. Body subtly undulating with anticipation.
There was no sound but the faint drip of a stalactite somewhere. No movement but guttering torchlight too weak to penetrate the deep shadows filling the back of the gallery. Then a speck of light glittered on something wet sixty feet above the throne. A pair of small eyes.
Tiyy smiled coyly and said huskily, “Yes, Lord Menefret, it’s me at last. Now come down here! Quickly! Today you will feed as I promised you you would feed… and tonight you will have powers like none of my lords has had before.”
There was a fluttering sound, then the eyes dove forward, and a large bat swooped into the guttering light.
It darted and dove in the air above the throne, its wings flapping, swimming through the air rather than floating. A faint high-pitched clicking came from it, and grew louder and louder as the sound echoed around the cave. It swept through narrow crevices and small loops of hanging stone, passing within inches of jagged rocks in a display of aerial acrobatics. Strong. Proud. Grotesquely beautiful. Then it dove at Tiyy and came to a hovering stop in front of the throne.
A vampire bat.
Its fluttering wings were a full two feet wide and made of thin, almost transparent membrane. Its body was a dark grey-brown. Blunt muzzle hung low between pointed ears and flaming-red eyes. A tiny onyx earring dangled from one furry ear, a black triangle with three red circles on it.
The creature darted off, then back, this time brazenly hovering within inches of the reclining nymph’s face. Mouth spread displaying long fangs. Eyes horrid with hunger.
Without flinching, Tiyy smiled directly into the ravenous eyes and whispered, “Patience, my lord. Patience.”
The furry vampire bat clicked excitedly, and its dark tongue shot out. There were tiny grooves on its underside and in the lower lip, drinking straws that ran back down the throat.
The Nymph Queen’s eyes thinned with desire. Her orchid cheeks pulsed. She stirred languorously beneath the bat, sinking back against a pillow and turning an inviting bare shoulder to its mouth.
The bat fluttered and dropped onto the fleshy perch, its clawed feet holding the nymph’s sacred flesh without breaking the skin. Its wings spread wide casting deep shade across her heated face, and fingerlike wingtips embraced her, holding her by neck and hair.
Tiyy moaned slightly, and her lips parted, her breath now coming in sharp gasps.
The grotesque muzzle opened wide, displaying a dark pink mouth filled with sharp teeth, and the upper incisors buried their razor-sharp tips into her earlobe. Tiyy groaned, and her knees gathered up around a pillow, the pleasure of the brutal kiss so great she could barely bear it. Then the tongue lapped the wound, drinking her blood.
A warmth flooded through her and she surrendered to its ecstasy. “Yes! Yes! Drink deep. Tonight you must be strong.”
In reply the vampire bat bit deeper. She gasped with pain and took hold of its chest, holding it in check. She let it drink, then gasped, “All ri
ght! That’s enough.” It continued, and she pushed at it, gasping weakly, “Stop. I’m growing faint.”
The bat let go, then bit her neck, sucking hard. She shrieked in fear and began to beat at it, shouting, “Schraak! Schraak!”
The small man ran for the gate and fell.
Tiyy rolled across the throne, the bat clawing up ropes of her blond hair and scratching cheeks and shoulders. “Stop! Stop!” she howled, and finally forced him off.
He darted into the air, and shot back at her as she sat up, dropping lustily on a thrusting breast. She screamed and fell back beating at him. Her blows had no effect, and his incisors dipped into a lower swell, drinking ravenously.
“Aahhhhhhhh!” she moaned, and the strength went out of her arms. They fell to her sides like speared birds, and she sank back among the pillows in total surrender. Groaning with pleasure. Thrusting her opulent flesh to the sucking tongue.
When Schraak came through the gate, the spectacle of the vampire rodent embracing his holy queen stopped him cold. All color was draining from her body. Panicking, he started up the rocks, shouting, “Stop! Stop! He’s murdering you!”
Tiyy’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked uncertainly, her eyes fogged and vacant. Then they focused on her own shoulder. Its dark walnut flesh was turning white.
“Arrrrggggh!” she screamed, and viciously thrust the bat away, rolling onto her hands and knees.
The bat swooped and dropped on her back, driving her forward. She fell off the throne and rolled on the hard ground. When she looked up, Schraak had disappeared. Then he burst back in, thrusting his torch at the bat. It let go of her back, darted aside and up into the blackened shadows, squealing in complaint.
Tiyy stumbled down the rocks, and Schraak gathered her in his arms, then carried her out, kicking the gate shut behind them.