‘You should have this,’ Jürgen said, turning to Sabra.
She looked startled as Jürgen handed her a good-sized hunting knife, but took it with hands that coloured blue.
‘No, hold it like this,’ Jürgen said, and showed her how to hold the knife in the correct grip.
Cain felt his skin prickle with something akin to jealousy as the hulking German bent over Sabra and showed her a few useful moves.
His jaw tightened, but he did not otherwise say anything. Sabra caught his eye, and gave a bemused smile.
‘Thank you, Jürgen,’ she said eventually.
‘Just use your ability if we find trouble,’ Cain said gruffly.
His words must have alarmed her, as her skin flushed again and the knife she held fell to the floor with a clatter. ‘Okay,’ Sabra agreed, blushing purple. She bent awkwardly in her oversized vest and picked it up.
Cain took it gently from her and sheathed it in its holder at her belt. He allowed, for just a moment, his hand to linger at her side and caress briefly the gentle curve of her hip.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, as much to Jürgen and Christy as Sabra. ‘Now, let’s go and find those Rakshasa.’
***
It was hot and difficult trekking through the jungle — even with his magic to aid them. Using a simple spell, the jungle parted before him like yawning green jaws, but the heat and humidity sapped energy faster than they could gain it.
Jürgen and Christy said little but it was Sabra, however, who surprised him. Her small stocky body was strong, and though sweat drizzled down the sides of her face like rain, she did not once complain.
They stopped, and drank from their water canteens. There was no sign of the government forces, but it was known that they had a magician cloaking them — so they could literally be anywhere. Cain was desperate to know which magician would sell their soul and work for the government against him. It was lower than a snake’s belly. He worked to enhance rights for magical beings so whoever was working for the government must have a powerful reason for doing so. It was disturbing.
He took another gulp from his canteen and wiped away the rivulets of sweat that cascaded down from his hairline. It was a temptation to use a hunting spell to track them down — or he could use a Random Magical Ion Testing Device, but both those things may well alert the turncoat magician of their presence. So Cain decided to do it the old-fashioned way.
The Aufhocker and werewolf travelled through the heavy jungle silent as ghosts, helped by the soft, moist ground, but their natural stealth was an incredible asset. Sabra seemed to slip in and out of visibility. It was an illusion. He knew she was practicing her ability, but as a result she was neither a hindrance nor hazard to them. It was Cain who felt cumbersome and clumsy, but he felt he managed to keep up well. Christy and Jürgen’s tracking ability was invaluable.
They had picked up the track of the Rakshasa very quickly, after they’d left the compound. Fortunately, Rakshasa were dirty little demons who had left a trail of faeces, piss and dead wildlife behind them. The first indication of their track was a peed-on tree. Both Jürgen and Christy were taking it as some sort of competition, trying to identify Rakshasa odours first. Then it had been a dead monkey, eaten down to its skeleton, the bones organised in an odd and grotesque way, hanging from a tree. It had probably been some sort of macabre game, Cain surmised. Then they must have had a shit-fight, quite literally. Splatters of turd virtually painted a long section of track through the jungle, merely re-enforcing everyone’s view that Rakshasa were repugnant and no good for anything. Finally, it had been several dead birds, the plumage scattered for nearly a kilometre as they had plucked and eaten as they walked. Then the trail ended.
***
They walked for a while as the sun began to hang lower in the sky. Cain was up front using magic, while Christy stalked behind him with her weapons at the ready.
After the sounds of Christy’s footfall had faded off into the roar of insects, and Sabra was certain they were alone, she spoke.
‘Can I ask you something, Jürgen?’
Jürgen’s eyes widened, and turned to face her. He nodded gravely. ‘Of course.’
They walked on.
‘When I…I…left,’ she began, feeling Jürgen’s small eyes narrow, ‘how did Cain react?’
Jürgen looked away, and as if embarrassed by the question he stomped a few more steps ahead before turning and holding her gaze.
‘I only ask because I saw him when you were all searching for me, and he just seemed angry…I need to know if…’ she faded off, the words not coming.
‘He was angry,’ Jürgen replied, his German accent thick. ‘He had tried to give you everything you desired. Yet, you ran. This did make him angry.’
Sabra felt her heart close a little at Jürgen’s words. ‘So he wasn’t…sad?’
She tripped over an exposed root and found herself caught by Jürgen’s massive hand; she didn’t thank him, her mind was whirring.
Surely if he loved me as he claimed — leaving would have made him more sad than angry?
Jürgen looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘He was sad,’ he agreed and released her arm.
‘How do you know?’ Sabra asked softly.
‘He seemed lost. He wanted you so much and he cared for you. He wanted you to be happy and he failed. My lord is not used to failure.’ Jürgen paused. ‘Were you sad?’ he asked.
Sabra felt her words hitch in her throat. ‘I was devastated.’ She nodded. ‘Haven’t you read the book? When I found those other women…I couldn’t bear the notion of sharing him.’
Jürgen frowned. ‘What other women?’ he asked.
They walked under a low-hanging tree, and a fat droplet of water landed on the leg of Sabra’s camouflage pants and soaked into the thick fabric. She stared at him.
‘The women who give themselves to him. I’ve seen them.’
Jürgen laughed. ‘Ah, the mighty harem?’ he snorted. ‘Sabra, no, you never had to fear sharing him. Our warlord is a man of honour — never doubt that. Everything he does has a reason, and usually a good one. There has been no other woman since you, and you can stake your heart on that.’
She closed her eyes and gnawed on her lip, precariously close to tears.
Damn hormones.
‘Are you lying to me?’ she asked, but she knew the answer.
‘Of course not,’ Jürgen retorted, outrage making his blond eyebrows shoot into his hairline.
She had only one more question.
‘Does he only want my eggs?’ she asked. ‘Like the government and the mafia do?’
Jürgen’s face reddened. ‘I would imagine the last thing my boss was considering when he met you was harvesting your eggs. Rutting you senseless perhaps, but Cain does not believe in breeding programs and scientific research on living beings. It’s exactly what he fights against.’
She’d had him wrong all along. She wiped away an errant tear and stared off into the jungle; the sun was setting now.
It took her a moment to realise, but Cain had stopped walking and she nearly collided with him.
‘I can smell something, but it’s not Rakshasa,’ Christy growled. There was no sound — they could not hear anything above the wild roar of jungle insects. The malodorous stink of the Rakshasa had simply disappeared into the heavy foliage around them.
‘They’ve gone to the other side,’ Jürgen muttered, kicking at a rotten log and watching it disintegrate beneath his boot. ‘Turncoats. You can’t trust a demon.’
‘Yes, you can,’ Christy retorted. ‘I’ve got demons in my crew and they’d never betray us.’
‘Yes, but they are not Rakshasa, are they?’ Jürgen reminded her. ‘Rakshasa are vile.’
Christy opened her mouth to say something, but clearly found herself in unwilling agreement with the statement so fell silent.
‘Any ideas, my lord?’ Jürgen asked, watching Christy rolling her shoulders as if releasing a tense muscle. The gesture c
aused her tank top to display a strip of her heavily muscled abdomen. Cain watched Jürgen’s pale eyes linger there for a second longer than they should.
***
Jürgen’s sexual interest had been aroused by Mags being in season and it made Cain uneasy. He thought of the female Aufhocker. She was locked in one of the more comfortable cells and guarded by Christy’s crew. She’d stoutly refused to say who’d sent her or how she’d got to his compound. No mean feat. Cain did not condone torture in general, but he figured a few days sans food may warm her up; Aufhockers were notoriously hungry creatures.
He watched Jürgen again, his guard’s pale blue eyes were still hungrily following Christy as she paced around like a caged wolf. He felt a modicum of relief that his gaze was not following Sabra, but not much. He wondered what they’d been talking about together. The thought made him uneasy. Jürgen’s state of sexual arousal was dangerous. Cain doubted he would make any advances on Sabra, but did not trust him entirely and Christy was unpredictable at best. No, he would not leave Sabra alone with Jürgen or Christy.
She was sitting on an exposed root of a large sentinel tree, gnawing on some dried fruit they’d brought along, and she looked small beside his guards and infinitely more fragile.
‘Jürgen, Christy,’ he addressed them. ‘I will take Sabra with me, go concealed, and scout further. It’s likely that the government forces have the non video spell cloaking the troops — so you’re not going to be able to see or smell them — but Sabra can use her ability and get a closer look.’
‘I can?’ She sounded surprised.
‘That wise boss?’ Christy asked, clearly nonplussed. ‘She doesn’t know much about the jungle and her ability isn’t all that reliable, is it?’
Cain gritted his teeth. ‘She can always camouflage the ordinary way.’
Sabra looked at him sharply.
‘But how will you find them, if we can’t follow their stink, then how do you propose to find them?’ Christy asked boldly.
The question made Cain’s jaw tighten involuntarily. Christy must have noticed the gesture and winced, looking away guiltily. Shaking his head, Cain turned and swiftly gestured to Sabra to follow.
He knew instinctively that the troops were close. Despite Jürgen and Christy’s dislike of them, Cain held a deep fear for the Rakshasa. His generals were unaware that the converted Rakshasa had sworn a demonic oath — unbreakable by all the laws of nature to protect and serve him. So although it looked as if the Rakshasa had, for all intents and purposes, absconded with the enemy forces — Cain knew it was impossible. This fact alone made his blood heat with anger. How had they even caught the Rakshasa? Who was responsible for this outrage? And more importantly, what had they done to the Rakshasa to stop them returning to him?
Chapter 17
The jungle was black as a devil’s soul. What moonlight the heavens offered was obscured by the rustling canopy of the jungle and the thickening clouds above. The loud roar of insects had shifted to a soft hum as night swept its skirts over the country, but Cain strained to hear something else, to give a hint of where the troops may be, or even his Rakshasa.
Using weak but helpful spells to enhance stealth and night vision, they crept through the undergrowth. Twice large spiders had scurried over his limbs but he’d flicked them away without a flinch. The last thing he was concerned about were spiders; there were bigger foes afoot in the jungle tonight, and time was of the essence. Sabra had been stoic, not even releasing a squeak when a large moth brushed past her face. She’d been trying her ability, but whether it was nerves or something else, the ability seemed to fail her.
This did not fill him with confidence.
However, as long as they could locate the Rakshasa and call in reinforcements, all would be fine.
Shortly, they came across a glittering stream, where the water rippled and tinkled in the dreary darkness. Here the wet earthy scent of the jungle was all around him, but then, for the briefest of moments, the scent of something else jolted his olfactory awareness. The sugary, nearly floral scent of magic wafted through the humid air and hung there, almost intangible but still enticing.
Cain gestured for Sabra to still, and froze where he stood. The cool waters of the stream soaked into his boots. Cloaked in the non video spell, he knew they were invisible, but his own magic could easily be scented if the government forces had someone trained to detect it.
He heard the definite sound of heavy footfall not far to his left, then the rustle of cloth, and then the sound of pattering water.
Someone was taking a pee. The odd bittersweet odour of urine drifted upwind and met with Cain’s nostrils; he turned and followed the scent. The sound of splattering urine continued, until Cain presumed they were almost upon them.
Quietly, Cain uttered the videat veritatem spell. It was a spell he’d rarely had need for. The wording was cumbersome, and it required significant concentration. Yet if it worked, the spell would allow the caster and anyone he share the sight with, to literally see the truth. It lifted the veil of magic, and showed what was really there. As he whispered the last words, a whole new scene began to materialise before his eyes. Where dark jungle had once been, a huge man of indeterminate race stood not two metres away. The noisy urinator — Cain supposed — was busily tucking his penis back into his pants. Cain grimaced at the scene hoping Sabra couldn’t see as well as he could. The man quickly turned and clomped away through the jungle. Cain followed stealthily. The man soon passed through a tight gap of trees, and pushed through some lush foliage. Through the gap left behind, Cain could see an impromptu camp set-up. Camouflage netting was spread underneath the canopy of the forest and men stalked about with red-bulbed lanterns and torches, each busy with their own activities. He glanced to his right, where there were sentries spotted everywhere. They were all holding Magical Ion Sensing Devices. For a moment, Cain closed his eyes, realising he’d nearly unwittingly walked them straight into the enemy camp.
He breathed deeply and opened his eyes, thanking the gods for their kindness. And he surveyed the scene, the videat veritatem spell allowing the sounds of the camp to roar around his ears, startling him with its intensity. This fact alone proved just what kind of magician he was up against — to cloak forces of this number, with this level of skill and power was no mean feat.
Cain became conscious that in maintaining his non video spell his magic scent may be detected. Cain hugged close to a particularly large tree, trying to spot the Rakshasa. They didn’t appear to be anywhere. He turned to face Sabra. Her eyes were wide.
‘Sabra, see the camp?’ he whispered, gesturing to the camp and ensuring the spell still encompassed her. ‘I can’t get any closer without my magic being detected. I need you to do something.’
***
Sabra felt her guts twist cruelly with nerves. ‘You do?’
Cain nodded and pulled her closer to him. ‘I need you to camouflage and skirt the perimeter. I don’t want you to go into the camp, but simply scout and see where the Rakshasa may be.’
Sabra nodded. ‘You want me to use my ability?’
‘Yes.’
She felt her stomach pinch again. ‘I…don’t know.’
‘You’ve done a great job so far. Just try. Otherwise your ordinary camouflage will do. You won’t set off any Magical Ion Sensors camouflaging.’
Sabra felt herself nodding absently.
‘You just have to scout for me,’ he repeated.
‘Okay.’ She struggled to get her ability to work, but she felt too nervous. Several long moments went ticking by — yet nothing happened.
‘It’s not going to work,’ she moaned, and stared up at his dark eyes, shadowed by the early evening gloom.
Cain’s face twisted with disappointment that he tried to hide.
I will not let him down, she decided.
‘Help me out of this,’ she said and gestured to the Kevlar vest.
Cain stilled before her.
‘I need to be naked to
camouflage the ordinary way,’ she reminded him ruefully.
Cain’s hands hesitated, but eventually they moved to remove the Kevlar.
‘Let’s be quick,’ Sabra said. She had a natural fear of being discovered semi-clad and unable to camouflage. It was better to be naked or not, never both at the same time.
With the Kevlar vest gone, Sabra could breathe easier and began to feel a little more confident, though perhaps she should have felt more worried.
Cain’s hands fell listlessly to his sides as she lifted her top off. Clad only in her black bra, and her camo pants, she felt self-conscious. Cain hesitated, and knelt down on the ground before her. The gesture at this time was nothing short of bizarre.
Was he going to propose?
What is he doing? she wondered as she looked down on his dark glossy hair. He looked up at her, his eyes flashing in the dark.
‘Ummm,’ she said, blushing and placing a modest hand over her breasts. ‘What are you doing down there?’
He gave a quirky smile. ‘I’ll undo your boots,’ he said, and his fingers began deftly undoing the laces as she set about removing her bra.
Within a moment her feet felt the cool, moist leaf litter beneath her toes and she slipped the camo pants down.
Cain stood and took a few awkward steps away, being careful to avert his eyes.
‘You’ve seen it before,’ she reminded him softly. ‘Many times, actually.’
She watched in the gloom, Cain’s shoulders tighten. ‘I am giving you your privacy,’ he grumbled, still not turning to face her.
Sabra was now naked except for her black knickers. She didn’t hesitate. Swiftly she slipped them down her legs and stepped out of them.
The cooler air of the night scurried over her nakedness like silk and she felt herself shiver. She felt stronger, a little more powerful. Camouflaging was something she could do, and do well.
Cain still had his back to her, and she found his sudden sense of modesty frustrating. ‘Thank you for the privacy,’ she said, ‘I’m naked now. You can turn around and I’ll camouflage so my nudity doesn’t burn your eyes.’ She’d meant to sound teasing but it sounded a little bitter.
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