The Sacred Lake (Shioni of Sheba Book 4)

by Marc Secchia

  A rough tongue scraped the back of her neck.

  Shioni froze.

  Chapter 16: Lion-Hearted

  IT took all OF her courage not to scream. Shioni’s scalp crawled as a lion’s tongue rasped over the puncture wounds Tiffur had dealt her. She frantically tried to assess which lion … lioness, she realised, with a sigh of hoped-for relief. It was Samira.

  “Speak softly, cub,” said the lioness. “I’m going to pretend to sleep here.”

  Fearing to project any thoughts or feelings, Shioni whispered, “As you wish.” Following the lioness’ lead, she wriggled downward. Warm blood trickled down her back. She turned her head until she felt the lioness’ breath on her cheek.

  “I like your name in lion.”

  “Thanks. What does Samira mean … something Hunter?”

  “Dusky Twilight Hunter,” breathed the lioness.

  “Oh! That’s beautiful.”

  “Tell me of this great scar,” said the lioness. Her tongue touched the spot, reminding Shioni so strongly of Mama Nomuula that tears sprang to her eyes. “Tell me of Anbessa, the greatest of lions. And tell me what you are doing here, chained like one of the wicked ones.”

  “The wicked one is the King of Gondar,” said Shioni, and fell to telling the lioness her tale. She spoke until dawn gilded the pit with its very first blush.

  “I will contact your one-armed pride leader,” said the lioness. “But I do not know how. Teach me how.”

  “Samira, it’ll be dangerous–”

  “Since when does a lioness lack courage?” Samira bared one of her canines just long enough for Shioni to appreciate how it gleamed like a pointed dagger protruding from her gum. “But I must bide my time as any lioness stalking its prey. Tiffur is dangerous; but this King, far more so. He rouses the dark spirits and speaks words that burn. Now, cub, instruct me. How do I speak to one who doesn’t understand the common speech of lions?”

  “With writing,” said Shioni.

  “Writing?”

  “Pictures that convey meaning. Here, this is what I mean.”

  Focussing as narrowly as she was able, Shioni sent Samira a picture. The lioness’ eyes widened and Shioni sensed the laughter in her response before she replied, “That mass of chicken-scratchings? Can you not simplify it?”

  “She of the mighty heart and a brain the size of a nut?”

  “I will box your ears like any cub of my own,” snarled the lioness, but her amused tone warmed Shioni’s heart. “Now, if you’re so clever, why can you not teach me?”

  “Right …”

  Carefully, one letter at a time, Shioni began to teach Samira. She had her scratch each word in the sand of the cave, some a dozen times, before she was satisfied. Cave behind forest. Shioni.

  “Sleep,” Samira whispered suddenly, and her golden eyes snapped shut.

  Through slit eyes, Shioni watched Tiffur stretch and yawn in what was clearly his favoured position, a hollow atop one of the large boulders. His lidded gaze passed over the cage, where a lioness apparently slept, dwelt upon the slave-girl for several long breaths, and then shifted on to the rest of his pride. One of the black-maned males was sleeping on his back with all four paws in the air. One paw twitched fitfully as he dreamed.

  Apparently satisfied, Tiffur’s eyelids drooped shut.

  Despite the buzzing of thoughts in her brain, Shioni must have slept, because when she awoke, the shadows in the lion pit had shifted substantially. Samira prowled beneath her. She had been disturbed by the cage’s rising on its rope.

  The pulley creaked its way to the top of the pit, whereupon the King’s grim servants snagged it with a hook set upon a long pole and drew the cage to a firm resting place. They checked Shioni’s manacles, and added a further set to her ankles before opening the cage to let her out. The cut on her back burned as she moved.

  Any misbehaviour and this is what you get, said the hated voice in her head. Shioni staggered as pain ripped through her mind. Come to my throne room, slave-girl of Sheba. Bow to me.

  From the angle of the shadows, Shioni knew it must be near noon. Annakiya, Getu, and Azurelle would be frantic. As she shuffled along, clinking with every step, she put her plan in motion. She would mist her thoughts as with a fog, so that the King would be unable to read them. She walled herself about with hard, strong defences. Shioni did not have great confidence her plan would work–but the King of Gondar needed to know this slave-girl did not wear a collar of her own choice, nor would she give up without fighting like a cornered lion.

  Shioni came shortly to the King’s throne room. He stood before his onyx throne, a huge man dressed in layers of fine cloth and a long, red robe. Thumping his snake staff on the ground beside his boots, the King boomed, “Kneel before your King, slave.”

  “I am not–”

  “Silence!” The King raised the staff. “Disobedient slave, you know what I can do to you.”

  He threatened, but did not strike. Why? An idea flashed through Shioni’s mind. Could she bait him? Could he be weaker than she thought? Limited in power? Even Kalcha had her limits; reduced from eyes of blazing red fire to eyes that appeared ordinary. But one thing made her hesitate. She sensed a malevolence which was not of the King himself. It was the staff in his hand! Something … vile and unclean, a thing ancient long before she had been born, was captured in its jewelled red snake-eyes. Was it alive? She sensed a hideous appetite; a creeping, slimy, corrupting power contained therein, which made her flesh crawl even to think about it.

  She knelt. She did not grovel. Forcing a quaver into her voice, she begged, “O-O great King, p-please don’t send me back to the pit. The l-lions … I’m scared.”

  “Did my pets play rough?” he gloated. “Poor slave-girl. Your Princess begged for your life, the little fool. See this.”

  And suddenly, he swept aside the barriers she had erected like so much soggy injera bread, and a scene flashed into her mind: Princess Annakiya pleading with King Meles to release Shioni. The King seemed genuinely puzzled. “She ran away?”

  “She was taken. Shioni would never, never run away. One of our warriors was struck–”

  “From behind, my Captain tells me.” The King held out his huge hand. “I am sorry you lost the girl, Princess, but my reports say she had bizarre powers. She vanished into the night like the mists. I can instruct my men to search for her, but I fear this creature may be too crafty for them. My ancestors claimed the power to change themselves into animals at will. Perhaps she has the same? Perhaps she simply flew out of the Palace grounds?”

  With a lurch, the scene shifted back to Annakiya’s chambers. “General, you can’t tell me you believe this … this pile of hyena droppings?”

  The General looked at Annakiya, whose eyes were red-rimmed with crying. “Strange,” he growled. “Something is not right. The latch was opened from within, the warrior struck down from behind as the King said. There’s one footprint outside the window, then nothing. She could have been taken away, but by what? Or whom?”

  “That beast Meles has her, I know it,” Annakiya burst out.

  “He seemed … baffled.”

  “He could be torturing her right now, right beneath our noses.”

  “Yet, the evidence suggests she left of her own will.” General Getu shook his head. “And she has run away before. Maybe this was her solution to the crisis … but how she achieved it …”

  Shioni found herself wrenched back to the King’s underground throne room. The huge man was chortling, “Ran away before? That ‘beast’ Meles? How precious your owners are! They trust you as little as I.”

  “They won’t abandon me.”

  The King aimed the snake staff at her. “Tell me your secrets, girl. Where do your powers come from? Spirits? The ancestors? Tell me!”

  Cold fingers seemed to grip her mind, rummaging through her thoughts and memories. Shioni recoiled, instinctively sweeping an imaginary wall of fire at the intruder. The King flinched as though she had slapped him.
He surged forward, shaking the staff, sending volley after volley of powerful attacks battering her mind like boulders rolling down a hill, but Shioni’s anger burned through it all.

  She knelt, swaying and panting, gazing at the King of Gondar opposite. He was perspiring. She could smell his awful, malodorous sweat right across the room. His face had turned a pasty grey. But he had control again. He had trapped her inside her mind, and he could force her body to do whatever he wanted.

  “You crafty vixen,” he gasped at last. “You lured me in! I will not make that mistake twice.”

  Step by tottering step, the King approached her until he could raise his boot and shove her over onto her side. She thought he might trample her like Dusky had intended to trample the slave-girl Yeshi, but instead, he smiled down at her and said, “I’ve a surprise for you, Shioni of Sheba. One that gives me the greatest pleasure to reveal. Behold, your fate.”

  An image formed in the air before her. She saw Kalcha. The witch-leader of the Wasabi had been restored to her former strength. Her eyes blazed. Strange, magical energies crackled between her fingertips as she gazed apparently into a bowl of water or a mirror, directly at the pair of them.

  “Ah, my brother in all things foul and immoral,” she greeted the King. “You bring me a rich gift. Hello, Shioni. It has been too long.”

  Shioni would have bit through her lip with horror, but the King’s hold denied her. Kalcha! Her deadly enemy; the wickedest foe Sheba had ever faced. Kalcha’s hand rested on the head of one of her giant pet hyenas, one that Shioni remembered well–Aduk. Anbessa had nearly killed him at the battle of the Mesheha River, but now both Aduk and his mistress looked fit and well, to her dismay. She could only stare fixedly at the witch and wail silently in her mind.

  Kalcha leaned closer. “We’ll meet soon, Shioni.”

  “I will deliver the slave-girl as agreed, Kalcha,” said the King. “What about your end of the bargain?”

  “Yes, my King, it shall be done for you as you ask. I shall deliver all the riches of West Sheba into your hand. You will trample the King and his whelp Prince Bekele beneath your boot, and have the Princess for your wife if you wish.”

  The King’s laughter burbled forth horribly. “I think I’ll collar her like this one here, Kalcha.”

  “Delightful,” agreed Kalcha, laughing too.

  That was the last Shioni remembered before she fainted.

  Chapter 17: Azurelle’s Ride

  A tiny Hand slapped her cheek repeatedly.

  Shioni tried to reach up to swat the pest. “Go away.” She succeeded only in hurting her wrists, still manacled behind her back.

  “Shioni!” hissed a little voice.

  “Quiet,” rasped the low, sweet growl of Samira. “They’re coming back. Hide yourself.”

  With a groan, Shioni willed her eyes to chink open. She was back down in the pit, in the cage, and a cold, wet body had burrowed its way inside the tattered remains of her shirt. Ugh–Kalcha, the King of Gondar … her head felt like the inside of an overripe papaya. And this little wet thing?

  A fingernail pricked the soft skin of her stomach. “Listen up, stupid.”

  “Azurelle?”

  “Who else? Keep your voice down. And act normal.”

  “Act normal?” When she wanted to jump up and down and shout her happiness to the roof of the cavern? Actually, she was too sore to jump anywhere. “Zi, how did you get here?”

  “You’re sounding squeakier than me.”

  “I’m happy. But how did you–how did Samira …? And why?”

  “Inside her mouth.”

  “You’re soaked with lion spit? Ew, Azurelle, that’s disgusting.”

  Muffled in the cloth as she dried herself vigorously, Zi said, “Shut your trap. You’ve no idea how humiliating this is for me. You should’ve seen Annakiya’s face when that lioness appeared in her apartments! But no-one else speaks lion. I came to investigate and report back to the General. Now, you’ll be explaining yourself, young lady.”

  Shioni stifled a chuckle at Zi’s accurate imitation of Mama Nomuula telling off a slave-girl. “Azurelle, I didn’t run away.” And she began to explain, very quietly, keeping a suspicious eye on the shadows in the pit as the hot afternoon drifted on and on. The cave was stifling. The remains of her tunic top stuck to her skin. At least her legs were free of manacles, so she could move around a little, but she wished for a sip of water to wet her tongue. She had not eaten since the previous day. Much more of this and her stomach would climb out of her throat to find some food.

  When she finished speaking, Azurelle said, rather huffily, “You must think I’ve a brain the size of a fly. Huh! Given the chains, the cage, the lion pit, and so many cuts and bruises on your body that you look like you’ve seen the inside of a lion’s mouth, too–don’t you think I might have figured out you weren’t doing this for fun?”

  Shioni chuckled. “Fine, Azurelle. I’ll admit it, butterfly-people have teeth.”

  “Good.” The fingers pinched her skin. “So, exactly how do we spring you out of this animal trap?”

  “Shh. Danger.”

  Tiffur stalked purposefully out of the shadows. Shioni’s heart lurched. “Who are you speaking to, cubling?” he enquired, with a suave menace that suggested she was in deep trouble.

  She retreated to the middle of the cage.

  “What do you have tucked in your coverings–a rat? A little bird?”

  “Nothing. I was practising my magic.” She pushed at Tiffur with her mind. Hackles rising, the lion smashed the bars of the cage with his right forepaw. “Don’t try your tricks on me, cubling.”

  Shioni gave him a harder push. “Leave me alone, Tiffur.”

  Tiffur would not be pacified, she realised. His suspicion blazed as he lunged at the cage, rattling the bars. When she backed up, he ran around the other side and took a swipe at her from there. If she did not keep moving, he’d take a few more strips off her hide. The cage was not large enough for her to keep out of his reach.

  “Help me corral this rat,” he snarled. Several more of the male lions appeared from the low tunnel which led into the lion pit. The door had been raised, leaving the lions free to come and go as they pleased. They surrounded her cage.

  “Get General Getu,” Shioni said, between clenched teeth. “Get him and a bunch of warriors in here. Warn him about the King and the lions.”

  “Got it,” said Azurelle.

  Shioni dodged the swipe of a paw and twisted to avoid another from the other side. The lions worked as a team, stretching their paws between the bars. Beyond, she saw Samira lurking. Now, if she could just get the Fiuri to Samira without her being eaten … there might be a chance. If she could distract the lions.

  “You’re a coward, Tiffur,” she taunted him. “You’re nothing but a mangy baboon covered in a lion’s pelt. Come and get me, you ungainly, worm-eating ape.”

  “Shioni, what in the name of all Sheba …?”

  Shioni hopped across the cage like a frog. Tiffur roared, shaking the cage with his powerful forepaws. He darted around the other side, knocking one of the other lions out of his way, shoving his paw through the bars. She hopped again. “Too slow, you furry slug. Can’t catch me.”

  Azurelle tumbled out of her shirt. In a flash she was gone, running across the sandy floor of the cavern as the male lions tangled with each other, snarling horribly. ‘Go, Azurelle,’ Shioni breathed. If only her beautiful wings worked, she could have escaped easily. Her tiny legs blurred. But Tiffur was faster. He pounced; Samira flashed light-pawed across the space between them, scooping Azurelle up with a deft twist of her neck. The huge lion cuffed her as she passed by, opening four red streaks on her flank as if by magic.

  “Stop her!” he ordered.

  In a trice the larger males had her cornered. Samira’s tail lashed back and forth. Her powerful leg and shoulder muscles bunched and rippled as she backed up slowly. She sprang across the pit, an enormous leap, but Tiffur half-caught her with a
blow of his shoulder as she flashed by. Another lion came through the entryway, blocking her escape. Again, they forced Samira to back up, snarling, but through teeth neatly clenched. Shioni held her breath. She could only imagine how Zi felt in there; how easily she might lose a leg or an arm. But, if they trapped the lioness, Azurelle was as good as dead.

  Tiffur pounced! His rush bowled the smaller lioness over. She rolled, clawing wildly at his chest, twisting around with all the amazing flexibility of cats, but another lion had dived in too and he landed on her belly. Azurelle shot out with the gasp of her breath.

  Samira yowled as she tore between the larger male lions, sleek and vengeful, quick of tooth and claw. But Tiffur stood between her and the half-stunned Fiuri. Almost casually, he brought his paw down on Azurelle as she struggled to her feet. She disappeared with a muffled cry.

  Suddenly, Shioni found herself at the bars, screaming, “You son of a lame goat! You toothless, milk-drinking mouse catcher! Come over here and fight me, you overgrown warthog.”

  All those insults she had been practising in her mind simply flooded out of her. Tiffur half-turned, shaking his mane in fury. His roar bellowed out, deafening in the confined space.

  “You declawed, subservient slave of humans, you’re more a slave than I’ll ever be!” Shioni belted out a scornful laugh. “You’re no lion, you’re a cave-dwelling worm. Anbessa would vomit in disgust if he saw what you’ve become. You’re king of nothing but this little patch of sand; a tame, belly-crawling, fawning bootlicker. Come over here, tame kitty-cat. Shall Shioni scratch your tummy? Little kitty want to play?”

  At last, unable to bear her insults and forgetting all about the Fiuri, Tiffur whirled and threw himself at the cage in a frenzy, shaking the entire frame until several of the bars cracked audibly. He clawed at the lashings, gnawed at them, and bit at the wood until he filled his mouth with splinters.

  Samira gathered her body, and leaped upward; first onto a boulder, and then a vertical leap Shioni could hardly believe, at least four times her height in one bound. Her gaze jerked about the pit. Azurelle was gone. Did Samira have her? Tiffur had a bar in his jaw, worrying at it like a hound on his favourite bone. Up there, Samira scrabbled against bare rock, unable to find enough purchase even though she had the claws of all four paws to rely upon. Suddenly, she leaped again, backward off the side of the pit, and twisted in the air to come to a clawing, desperate landing on the thick rope which had lowered the cage.