Tahj looked at Hurmoz again and knew he was gazing on a dying man. His face was gray, his breath rasping so loudly Tahj could hardly think. Boltar jerked the poor man’s head back even farther. “Drop the sword!”
Resigned, Tahj let go of his sword. Even before the metallic reverberations had ended, Hurmoz made a loud, choking noise and the light went from his eyes.
Suddenly three things happened at once. Tahj dived for his sword at the same time as Boltar relinquished his hold on Hurmoz’s body and it slid, lifeless, to the tile. With an ear-splitting noise, the door gave in, and Radeem flew into the room. Radeem stood, taking in the scene for a second as Tahj clambered to his feet.
Boltar had reached a tapestry and drew it back, opening a door behind it. Tahj and Radeem reached it just as it closed behind him and they heard the clank of a bar being set in place. With a frustrated and exhausted sigh, Tahj slid to the ground, his back to the wall. Radeem, still panting, followed his lead, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the prince.
They heard a sound, and both looked up quickly to see Bagrat’s large form blocking the doorway. His tunic was torn and blood-spattered, but the big man seemed fine. With a grin he announced, “The castle is ours!”
* * *
Boltar spurred his horse to greater speeds as he tore across the desert. The steed’s black, glossy mane matched its coat and whipped back as his feet churned the ground. The thrill of victory he’d felt when he escaped from Tahj and Radeem was short-lived. When he turned to see if he was being pursued, Boltar caught sight of what he was leaving behind. The castle loomed gloriously in the setting sun, the city below tucked in like children gathered around their mother’s skirts. He turned his back on it.
It had been his. And then some whelp came along and just stole it right out from under him. How could this have happened? He’d worked so hard. But one thing was certain—he would have his revenge. He was not to be stripped of power again. He would make sure of that. He would gather an army and return, and, when all was said and done, he would drink Tahj’s blood in a goblet.
But first, first he would make him suffer. He would kill…well, he had already killed all of Tahj’s family. Who then? That stuffed, excuse-of -a-captain, Radeem. Yes. And the girl he escaped with…his men had reported seeing them together in Shiraz. She meant something to the prince; she must. And he knew just where he might find her.
Boltar’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hoof-beats behind him, and he quickly turned in his saddle. He was able to distinguish the pack behind him as his own men, riding to catch up with him. At least a couple dozen. Enough to take Tamook by storm.
* * *
“Let me take our little Keiara. You both need your sleep.”
It was true, Bashea was nodding off, but handing over her precious daughter was going to be like ripping off a limb. She looked away, blinking away the tears welling in her eyes. This was asinine. Keiara would be right across the room. After she made the baby comfortable, Dara came back to Bashea’s side.
“Do you need anything, Bashea?” she asked kindly.
Bashea took her hand. “No. You’ve been wonderful.”
“You’re crying!” she said with mild surprise.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Dara pulled the blanket up to her patient’s shoulders. “She is,” she agreed immediately. “She will have Tahj wrapped around her finger the minute his eyes fall on her.” She meant it to comfort, but she saw a shadow of pain cross Bashea’s face. She stopped fussing with the blankets, leaning in. “You miss him, don’t you?”
Bashea sighed. “Like he was the sun.”
“Hmmm.” Dara paused. “You rest now. I’m going to go get you some more water.” She rose, and when she turned back at the door saw that Bashea was already asleep.
Dara practically ran into Bibi at the door.
“How is she?”
“Resting,” Dara said pointedly. “They both are. Bashea had a rough time of it, but she’s a fighter, through-and-through.” She sighed. “I only wish Tahj were here for her. I almost told her, almost, that Bagrat had gone to bring back her love. But I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case…in case…”
Bibi nodded. “That was wise. If you’d told her, she would have only worried about both of them.”
Dara made a clucking noise and stirred herself, moving with her pitcher in the direction of the well. “They will come home safely. There can be no other way.” Bibi fell into step beside her.
“Keiara is a pretty baby, is she not?”
“Beautiful!” Dara confirmed. “Those big, expressive eyes of Bashea’s. And all that hair!” She laughed, raising her eyes to the desert. She came to an abrupt halt.
Bibi looked in the same direction, shading her eyes with one hand. She saw a cloud of dust on the horizon. Dara squeezed her arm.
“Horsemen! Traveling fast.” Her smile was as bright as the setting sun. “Go get Parvais and Gaspard.”
* * *
Bashea stirred in her sleep. She had been dreaming of Tahj, high up on a throne, smiling down on her. But when she climbed the steps to him, the stairs just kept getting longer and she couldn’t reach him. She was carrying Keiara, wrapped in blankets. Bashea gazed down into their child’s sleeping face, but when she looked up at Tahj, he was frowning at her. “Here she is!” he cried, his voice an open accusation.
Bashea opened her eyes. Someone was standing in the doorway, holding the flap for someone else to enter. It was a man. There were loud noises outside, shouts…and fighting. Bashea sat up on her elbows, clutching her blankets to her chest. When Boltar ducked inside the tent her face froze in disbelief.
“Ahhh. We meet again,” he said, his voice smooth, clearly reveling in the girl’s terror. “What’s this?” he queried angrily, having spotted Keiara’s bed.
“No!” Bashea wailed, sitting up too rapidly. The world began to spin and she gasped, the pain was so great.
Boltar picked up the child, who woke, but didn’t cry. “A daughter,” he said, clearly delighted with his find. “Is it his?” he asked coldly.
Bashea’s mind reeled. He was touching her baby, her Keiara. What was she going to do? Grimacing, she struggled to her feet, fighting the wave of pain threatening to overtake her. Boltar handed the baby to his henchman, who had let the tent close behind him.
“Is it his, I asked?”
Bashea stood, her mouth hanging open for a second. Then she screamed. “Help me! Somebody help me!”
Boltar crossed to her in two great steps, wrapping one arm around her and covering her mouth with his other hand, squeezing her mercilessly. “You will tell me, woman!” he threatened. When she didn’t answer, he brought his face within inches of hers. “I don’t need an answer. I can tell you whored around with him just as you did with me.” Bashea raged against him and fought to free her hand. “Ahh, yes. You were a fighter. What a turn-on that was.” He licked his lips, sneering at her, but then seemed to make an attempt to rein himself in. “This will end where it began, then.” He released Bashea, but the scream never left her lips as he backhanded her so wickedly she spun, and flew across her bed, face down. She didn’t move a muscle. It was strangely quiet for a second, and then they baby started to cry.
“Give me the child!” Boltar ordered, marching across the tent, an evil smile on his face.
The soldier who had found Bashea stood stunned. But after being witness to what had happened, he had no intention of crossing Boltar. He held the baby out, and the enraged man snatched her from him, holding the baby like a bag of sugar while she cried.
* * *
Tahj and Bagrat were headed back to Tamook with the rest of their crew, those who had survived, which, happily, were most. Tahj left Radeem in charge, with intentions of coming back and crowning him king, but right now he just wanted to get home to Bashea. Home. That sounded good.
Bagrat was beside him, in the lead, and was animatedly describing
some of the action he’d gotten into during the fight.
“And then I took his head,” he chuckled, “and forced it into my knee and almost got caught by the other one’s blade, and that would have been the end of Bagrat, I’ll tell you, as it was aimed at my neck, but I….”
Cyrus galloped up to their side. “What’s that?” He nodded forward, and their heads swiveled as one to take in what he was gaping at.
“Oh, by heaven. We left them alone.” Bagrat spurred his horse into a gallop, racing forward.
Tahj was still squinting in the direction Cyrus had indicated, and could now make out a dust cloud and smoke.
“Bashea,” he whispered, his throat hoarse. He kicked his stallion and flew after Bagrat as fast as he could.
They were still a ways off when they heard shouting, the sound of swords meeting, and children crying. Having the head start, Bagrat reached the battle first. He saw a soldier dragging Dara forward and dove off of his horse on top of him, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck.
Tahj didn’t stop to get involved in the skirmish, heading straight to Bashea’s tent instead. He swung off of his horse before it even stopped, and it continued on, riderless.
Calling out her name, Tahj dashed into the tent, only to find it empty. A sense of panic flooded him. He went back out and searched the crowd. He saw Parvais breaking a crate over a soldier’s head in defense of a fellow tribesmen. He saw more of those who had come with him from Avistad jumping off their horses and getting into the fray. Then he saw Bagrat hugging Dara. He crossed and took a hold of Dara’s arm.
“Bashea, where is she?”
“Oh, Tahj! They’re both inside.” She motioned to the tent behind her, and Tahj ducked through the flap. His stomach turned hard when he saw Bashea lying sideways across her bed, half on it, half off.
“No!”
Dara and Bagrat entered behind him and Dara screamed. Bagrat held her.
Tahj prayed the worst hadn’t happened. He crossed and turned Bashea over gently, a hand flopping loosely beside her. The right side of her face was red and looked swollen, and her lip was bloodied. Tears came to Tahj’s eyes, and his heart clutched with fear. He took one of her hands, and with his other hand smoothed the hair back from her face and tried to speak, though his throat was tight. “Bashea…my love…”
Her lips moved, pronouncing his name.
“Bashea!” His head fell to her chest.
Bashea opened her eyes and stroked his hair. “Tahj?” she said in amazement.
“Yes, I’m here.” He kissed her hand, swamped with relief.
Bashea struggled to sit up. “Keiara!” Then suddenly her memory came rushing back. “Oh! He took her. Oh, Tahj! He took our baby!”
“Who?”
“Boltar! He was here.” She struggled to her feet.
“Bashea, you’re in no shape to—”
“He has our baby!” she repeated frantically. Her brow creased, and then she gasped. “I know where he took her!” Her eyes were wide with the discovery. “He took her to the well, Tahj.”
Tahj disengaged his arm, giving hers a reassuring pat. “I’ll get her back, Bashea. I promise.” Even as he said it, he prayed it wasn’t a lie. He turned and swiftly left.
When Tahj stepped back out into the light of day, he saw a riderless horse running by. He reached out to grab the reins, and then mounted it.
“I’m going with you.”
He looked down, and Bashea was by his side, reaching up to him. Bagrat came out, rubbing his ribs and looking angry.
“No, Bashea. Stay here with Bagrat.”
She stuck out her chin, her eyes firing. “I’m going with you,” she demanded, her words spoken with icy clarity.
Tahj knew precious moments were ticking away. He also knew with Bashea at the well he would have two people there he’d have to protect. Having little choice, he offered Bashea his arm and pulled her up. “Hyah!” The horse tore through the dusty spaces between tents, weaving through tent tethers and combatants alike. It was as if their ride knew where she was going.
When they had skirted all the fighting and came around the last tent, they saw Boltar’s robes, black and red, blown back by the breeze as he marched across the fire circle, their child in his arms. When he heard their horse, Boltar ran the last several lengths to the well. He took the baby, and, holding her by the neck with one hand, extended her over the well. Keiara flailed her tiny fists and kicked her legs, crying the bleating cry of a newborn whose lungs aren’t big enough for a full cry. The blanket fell from her, fluttered briefly, and was swallowed up by the black of the well.
Tahj jumped from the horse. “Stop!” His eyes connected with his daughter’s, wet and wild from crying, and his heart was seized. He had never beheld anything more beautiful in his life.
“And why would I want to do that?”
Tahj found he was speechless. At the time when he needed his words the most, they failed him. Bashea slid off of the other side of the horse and took a few teetering steps forward, holding one hand out in front of her.
“Please,” she begged, her voice ringing with emotion. “I will do anything, anything you want.”
Boltar paused, studying her for several seconds. As their eyes locked, Tahj looked from one to the other. Bashea was desperate, quivering; Boltar was…tempted.
“But you already have, my dear, remember?” His voice was a sinister whisper. He started to turn back toward the baby, but Bashea screamed, throwing herself on the ground.
“Please, don’t hurt her!”
Bashea hoped it would provide the distraction Bagrat needed.
Bagrat had ridden his horse through a little copse of trees that extended into the desert to the right of the well and then approached, crawling, for the last part, on his stomach, so as not to be seen by Boltar. Bashea saw Bagrat as he slinked across the sand, a great love filling her heart. Bagrat, her big brother, he would save her baby.
Bashea was sure her heart had stopped beating. She watched helplessly from afar as Bagrat made his move, screaming just as Bagrat started to rise, and Boltar was about to spin in his direction. For those few seconds, it was as if the world stopped turning…and then Bagrat had her; Boltar turned back to Bashea, and Bagrat snatched the baby from the overlord. Bagrat’s hands, strong from the field and sure, pried Boltar’s from Keiara’s tiny neck and he scooped her up, bringing the baby to his chest triumphantly.
Tahj rushed forward, his sword drawn, and Bagrat ran toward Bashea, to get his niece to safety. Boltar pulled a dagger from somewhere inside his sleeves and swung with all his might, driving it into Bagrat’s back. The big man let out a heartrending cry of both confusion and pain and fell to his knees, his eyes wide with astonishment.
Bashea’s mouth fell open, the tears that had threatened before spilling onto her cheeks. Not Bagrat! “No,” she cried softly, her voice shaking.
Bagrat pitched forward, but caught himself, one hand in the sand, one wrapped protectively around Keiara, who had stopped crying. Bashea pushed up on one arm, mirroring his position. Bagrat, breathing heavily, stretched out his hand, holding the baby out to her. Bashea shifted, takingKeiara from him, drawing the child to her bosom. She gazed at Keiara, amazed to find her unharmed.
Bashea looked up. Maybe a foot in front of her, her big brother’s hand had cradled her sweet baby. Now, her eyes followed her brother’s to the ground, as she repeated quietly, “No, no, no…” She crawled to his side, shaking her head slightly as if to will it all away.
“See, Bashea,” Bagrat said, his voice weak, “I saved her.” He held on for a few more seconds, and then shut his eyes.
* * *
As Tahj rushed forward, he saw the flash of the blade in Boltar’s right hand. He screamed, but it was too late. Boltar plunged it into Bagrat’s unprotected back. The only thing he could think was, I should have moved faster! It should have been me. I started this.
Wasting no time, Boltar pushed Bagrat away and drew his sword in order to me
et Tahj. With all his strength, Tahj swung his sword over his head and brought it crashing down. Boltar met it, but the force of the blow drove him to his knees. With a yell, Tahj kicked him in the midsection and Boltar flew back, smashing into the well. Tahj heard the sound of bones breaking. He had never wanted to kill a man before, but he wanted to see Boltar die, wanted to hear him take his last breath, wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes.
Bracing himself with the well at his back, Boltar was able to rise unsteadily to his feet, but his breathing was raspy. He took a weak swing at Tahj, who parried it easily, his face cold. Boltar showed no fear, although it was clear now the fight was over. His face only showed his endless contempt for Tahj. He stumbled, feeling along the stone of the well to right himself.
“I am the king!” Boltar raged. “You will never be king.”
“I have no desire to be king,” Tahj said simply.
This seemed to confuse Boltar for a second, but then he again thrust his sword at Tahj. This time Tahj only batted it away, sending it flying through the air. Boltar eyed him, then rose to his full height, letting go of the side of the well. The only sounds that could be heard were Bashea’s low, mournful cries and Boltar’s harsh breathing. Tahj tossed his sword into the sand near Boltar’s and raised his hands in invitation.
Boltar gathered himself and charged, his eyes sparking. Tahj reached out and grabbed the man’s head, thinking about the good people he had killed—Kadeesh, his mother, his father, Hurmoz, and now, possibly Bagrat—and brought his knee up into the man’s face. Boltar stood, bent over and wobbling. Tahj kicked him, using his whole body, throwing his hands backwards as he did, and Boltar’s body flew through the air and crashed against the well. He landed in a seated position, his head cocked to one side, blood dripping from one corner of his mouth, his eyes open but lifeless.
Tahj turned away in disgust.
EPILOGUE
Bashea bounced the baby on her shoulder, hoping to get him to stop fussing. He was teething, she’d put money on it, as he babbled, drooled, and complained in equal measure. She was standing talking to Bibi and Dara, having just finished breakfast, when Keiara tugged at her skirt.
Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) Page 20