Wrath of the White Tigress

by David Alastair Hayden

  Despite having a fever, her mind was surprisingly clear. She called on her qavra, but the amethyst stone wasn't there. Its absence was a pain unto itself.

  On a landing below her Salahn was killing a young woman. He didn't seem to take pleasure from it. However, he took his time, gently carving the girl's flesh so that she suffered. When he noticed that Zyrella was awake, he finished the poor woman with a single slash to the throat. Zyrella guessed the demonstration was meant to intimidate her but hoped the death served at least some greater purpose than that, however foul that purpose might be.

  He stalked toward Zyrella. "Awake at last priestess? You certainly took your time. And I must say, in addition to being far more powerful than I thought, you are quite resilient. Still, you would have died without the magic I used to preserve you."

  She said in a croaking voice that barely rasped free of her throat, "I don't think denying me water and leaving me to the elements helped."

  "I wanted to keep you alive, not make you feel welcome. You are a heretic, after all. A renegade priestess defiling the good name of my temple."

  "You may claim it, but it will never be yours. It belongs to the White Tigress and her people."

  The Grandmaster laughed. "Do you not understand that your goddess is forever bound to me? Because we are united this is now my temple and my home as well."

  "You are not completely one with her, but you could be. With her full being would come her full power. It was that part of her that I called upon in the Shadowland. If I had the strength I could do so even now." She tried to make the last bit sound believable.

  Salahn's eyes burned with indignation. "Do you really think me a fool? Or do you think I am that proud? I am not some petty dictator. Power must be handled carefully. And no, our minds are not melded, and never shall they be. I will not open myself up to her corruption."

  "Her corruption? As if you were the pure one?"

  "I am pure. Purely evil."

  "You enjoy that, don't you?"

  He looked her over carefully. "You look so much like your mother, more than I thought you would. So much like her in attitude as well. I am tempted to rape you now."

  "You wouldn't dare."

  "Yes, I rather would. Have you not learned that what I most enjoy is doing things no one else would dare? Of course, I may have raped you while you slept."

  "You didn't. I would know."

  He rubbed his hands across Zyrella's body, fondling her breasts, teasing the nipples until they were hard, forcing Zyrella to look away. "Isn't it strange, priestess, how the body cannot tell between foe and beloved but simply responds to the proper stimuli. It makes one wonder much about the nature of love, does it not?"

  "There would be much for you to wonder about wouldn't there?"

  "I'm hurt that you think I do not love. I care very much for my daughter, and myself."

  "And your mother."

  "And my mother," he said with narrowed eyes and a grating voice. "The Farseer dared much in showing you my past. Did you see your mother? Did you see how I treated her?"

  Zyrella spat into his face and Salahn chuckled. "Believe it or not, I loved her. I wept when she died."

  "That I didn't see and I wouldn't have believed it if I had."

  "It's true, even though she didn't return my love. When I conquer the Shadowland I will open the Gates of the Underworld and retrieve her along with my mother Jeraia."

  "My mother has gone beyond to the Realm of Light."

  "Then I shall conquer it as well."

  "You dare to challenge Kashomae and the other Great Deities?"

  "Have they resisted me yet? They will be like all the others. Slow to act, lethargic from the slumber of centuries. They will not withstand my hunger and ambition."

  "What you seek is hollow. When there are no challenges left, what will you do? All the power in the world will be meaningless."

  "Have you ever been all-powerful? Has any mortal ever risen as high as I shall? If it is all in vain, I will know and I will see it firsthand." He smiled and ran his hands along the inside of her thighs. Then he grinned again and turned away. "I shall return later. Then you can meet your sister."

  "I know her well enough already."

  "But she doesn't know you at all."

  ~~~

  The arduous trek across the Sheflar Wastes took two weeks and required most of their supplies. With Rahazakir's guidance, not a single step went awry. At the foothills of the Eastern Mountains, grasses and wildflowers pierced the arid soil, along with an abundance of swollen succulents. For five days, Rahazakir led them north, until they came to a crescent valley at the base of the mountains.

  After scanning the terrain with a confused look, he cursed. "My sense of direction has left me. I don't know which way to go. All I do know is that we're close."

  Jaska grinned and pointed. "The temple lies in that direction."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because Avida will rise over the mountains at midnight, just there. If we go that way, I'm certain we will find the temple."

  As the sun set, casting the city of Kabulsek in hues of gold and fire, a false priestess sang a lilting prayer to the White Tigress. The notes fell over the city like the evening's shadows. Mardha hummed along, enjoying every note as she stood facing her half-sister.

  Zyrella felt as if she were gazing into a warped mirror. The face before her was sharper and perhaps more beautiful, but it was marred by sadism. Zyrella's amethyst qavra hung down between the breasts of this foul creature, beside Mardha's crimson-streaked, topaz qavra.

  "Dear sister," Mardha purred.

  "Shame of our mother," Zyrella replied. "And spawn of a devil."

  Mardha leaned forward and kissed Zyrella on the forehead. "Poor dear, the hot sun has befuddled you. I'm certain you don't mean to be rude to me on our first meeting."

  "I'd kill you if I could."

  Mardha chuckled and turned to Salahn who was standing behind her. "See her spirit, father? Surely we are kin."

  "I know we're kin," Zyrella said. "I watched him rape our mother. Did you know that was how you were conceived?"

  "I've known that for as long as I can remember. And I must say, the loss was hers if she didn't willingly give herself to Father as I have."

  "You're twisted and sick."

  "To you perhaps. But to me, I'm sensible. You see, there's no better way to embrace your existence than to enjoy every pleasure available."

  "You will enjoy nothing once Jaska kills you both."

  "Jaska will not destroy me," Salahn said. "He will come to me and I will use you against him."

  "He will choose killing you over saving me."

  "Possibly, but his choice does not matter. All that counts is that you shall be my weapon against him. A weapon that will rebind him to my will, utterly and forever."

  "You cannot use me against him."

  "You have had sex with him have you not?"

  Zyrella looked away. "So what if I have?"

  "You don't know what you are, do you?" Salahn said.

  "A priestess of the White Tigress."

  Mardha took Zyrella's chin in hand and forced eye contact. "Haven't you noticed the unusually strong bond between you and Jaska? Our mother's legacy binds you to him. You and I have a fault within our blood that causes us to take life-force from our lovers.

  "It is a rare trait passed down from one of the elder races. Only a few people with a similar trait can withstand this drain, and those few are always drawn to us, just as we are to them. Jaska is one of those, as is Father. They are always people of power. Jaska will hate me now, and this weakens my connection to him. But we can use the bond between the two of you to bind him securely. Then he will be mine again."

  "Are you going to bind me as well?"

  "Afterward, yes," said Salahn. "You will become my newest lover."

  "And perhaps mine as well," Mardha hissed. "That will be a new wrinkle in my life, to make love to my holy sister, to use her as a
toy for my every whim." Mardha leaned in and grasped Zyrella by the hair. She drew their heads together, and their lips touched. Mardha murmured with pleasure as she slipped her tongue into Zyrella's mouth, flicking it against clenched teeth.

  "Mardha, no!" yelled Salahn, realizing what was about to happen.

  He was too late. As Mardha squeezed through Zyrella's locked jaws and thrashed her tongue against Zyrella's, their inherited traits flared to life. Their spirits grappled, each trying to feed on the other. Mystic fire shot through their veins and scalded their minds. Their lips locked, and neither was able to move as bright, visible energies encircled them--tangling threads of searing life-force. In that moment, to the horror of each, they were a single person with merged memories, ideals, and aspirations. They were a single, hate-filled creature.

  And almost they were something more, some ancient being of terrible force and alien mind.

  Salahn dashed forward and grabbed each half of this sorcerous circuit. With the skin of his hands melting from energy that burned him but didn't harm either woman, he tore them apart. He set Mardha down and dispelled the energies roiling around them. Both were paralyzed, their catatonic eyes staring at an empty sky. Their breathing became dangerously shallow and wavered.

  ~~~

  Zyrella awoke within a plush bedchamber. Sunlight and fresh air filtered through open windows. Leaves rustled outside along with the plashing of a fountain. Beneath the silk sheets, delicate silver chains fastened her feet and hands to the iron frame of an expansive bed. The chains hung loose from their cuffs, so that she could shift around and lie comfortably. Not that she could move around much. Breathing was hard enough. Each breath left a burning sensation within her throat and lungs.

  Salve glistened on her skin. She could tell she had been unconscious for days because the blisters on her skin had mostly healed. A ringing pulse in her head left her nauseous. She felt drained, even of the will to live. She hoped this wasn't how Ohzikar felt after sex with her.

  Three slaves entered the room unaccompanied, though she suspected guards waited in the hallway. She guessed that she was in the palymfar compound but couldn't be certain. The slaves cleaned her skin with soft sponges and cool water before applying fresh balm. Once finished, they propped her up on some pillows and fed her fruit and bread which she barely managed to chew and swallow.

  She could tell from the looks on their faces that they felt sorry for her. One even made the hand-sign of the White Tigress, close to her breast where no one but Zyrella could see it. They knew she was a real priestess. They would help her as much as they could. Zyrella felt hopeful, but then she considered where she was and knew there was nothing these poor slaves could really do.

  "How long since I was brought here?" she asked.

  The one who had made the sign whispered, "Three weeks, good lady."

  ~~~

  Zyrella slept for days, waking only for food and toilet. Neither Salahn nor Mardha visited her, though a disreputable-looking physician visited her twice and seemed pleased with her progress.

  Once she had the strength to sit up on her own, a squad of palymfar arrived and escorted her to a garden terrace within the palymfar compound. She was allowed to walk around and stay there for as long as she wanted. They repeated this trip each afternoon. She would walk until she lacked the strength. Then she would lounge and meditate beneath a willow.

  Often she worried about Ohzikar. Clearly, Salahn thought Jaska still alive. But what of Ohzi? Had he survived the explosion?

  Thinking about the Stain made her skin crawl. It was worse than the touch of Salahn for it was an evil more primal and inhuman. When she had cast her power against it, she had felt as if something else had entered her, some bright force like a god, but not any that she had ever known before. Yet again, she was left puzzled that she could wield powers that should be beyond her.

  And now she could no longer doubt that she was some sort of vampire that could drain the life-force out of men. Or at least most of them.

  ~~~

  Mardha recovered faster than Zyrella, due to better treatment and sex with Salahn. As soon as she felt well enough, she stormed into Zyrella's room, accompanied by her personal guards. The mistake in what had happened had been Mardha's, but Zyrella knew that wasn't how Mardha would see it.

  Mardha ordered the palymfar to hold Zyrella down. She drew a crescent-bladed dagger, straddled Zyrella, and chanted a simple spell. The blade glowed with searing heat.

  Responding to a glance, two palymfar forced Zyrella's right hand into Mardha's grip and held it steady. Mardha removed Zyrella's little finger. The blade sliced through easily, cauterizing as it went. Zyrella watched with horrid fascination, feeling no pain until the finger was a small bloody piece of flesh lying on the pillow beside her head. She stifled a groan.

  Mardha wasn't finished. She removed the same finger from Zyrella's other hand. Then she pulled back the sheets and lifted the gown Zyrella was wearing. Drawing the blade across the skin of Zyrella's stomach, she carved a large X that centered on her navel.

  Mardha held the blade in front of Zyrella's face and glared into her eyes. Then she spun and left the room, leaving the severed fingers on the pillow. Zyrella had called on all her training to blot out the pain and to restrain herself from speaking. She would show no weakness to her half-sister. When the last palymfar left the room, she passed out.

  ~~~

  Letting Rahazakir lead them, Jaska followed absently, lost in thought. By the time dusk arrived, the mountain path grew so steep they were forced to dismount. The path had become nothing more than a track for mountain rams. The footing was rough and treacherous with sliding scree and jagged rocks. Before long, their thighs burned and their ankles hurt.

  In the dark of early night, the light of the Bright Moon struck the mountainside, and the ghostly Temple of Avida shimmered into existence: pure white marble formed into a dome between two twisting towers with tall spires. The temple lacked doors and windows, and there was no path leading up to it.

  "I don't see any way to get up there without climbing," Ohzikar said.

  Though his talent had abandoned him earlier, Rahazakir tried again. Immediately he felt the familiar pull. "This way," he said, leading them upward and to the north. After several hours of hiking, they came to a solid rock face, and Rahazakir shook his head. "I'm sorry, but my talent leads me no further."

  Jaska felt the rock face, looking for a secret doorway and scanning for any trace of sorcery. "This must be it. I feel magic here, but I don't know how to pass beyond."

  "Perhaps there's an incantation," said Hyrkas.

  "The Farseer didn't mention one."

  "A prayer to the god, then?" Bakulus suggested.

  Ohzikar nodded. "An offering would be wise regardless."

  "I have nothing to offer," said Jaska, "except the blood of my enemies. Whatever light Avida gives me, I will shine upon their evil."

  Suddenly, a gleaming arched doorway appeared along the rock face and illuminated the mountainside. Shielding his eyes from the glare, Jaska turned to Ohzikar. "I need my old qavra before we go on."

  Without hesitation, Ohzikar handed it to him.

  Jaska transferred it to a pouch at his waist. "You trust me with it?"

  "If I can't trust you, I can't trust anyone."

  Jaska took a deep breath. "Let's go then." He tested the doorway, passing his hand through the warm light and bringing it back unharmed. He stepped through. Ohzikar followed, but when he touched the doorway, it was nothing but glowing rock. Cursing, he moved aside so that the others could try. They were also barred from entering. Ohzikar said a prayer to Avida and made a vow similar to Jaska's. That didn't work either.

  "Well," said Hyrkas, "this part is his destiny and not ours."

  "We'll set up camp within sight of the doorway," Ohzikar said, taking charge instinctively. "Chief Rahazakir, if you need to return, feel free to do so. We can find our way back to your people."

  "I will think on
it. I need some sleep first, whatever I decide."

  Ohzikar watched the doorway, thinking of Zyrella and Jaska as well. A hand fell onto his shoulder. He turned and met Hyrkas's gaze. "Do not worry," the Arhrhakim said. "He will return."

  ~~~

  Jaska watched his companions through the doorway and saw that they could not follow. He decided not to risk going back out, just in case he couldn't come back in. He had no choice but to go on without them. Whatever lay ahead was something he must face alone.

  The pure white marble walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel held a brilliance that was nearly blinding. Jaska's steps echoed oddly, the sound bouncing up through the tunnel. The slope eventually transformed into a winding staircase that went up into the mountain, but then later the staircase transformed back into a tunnel.

  A radiant figure appeared ahead. Jaska shielded his eyes and glanced between his fingers. It was like a man, but he could tell little more than that. A quick scan with his qavra revealed a strong magical aura. Not that of a demon, though it was similar. He waited, but the figure neither moved nor spoke.

  "Who are you?" Jaska called out.

  A familiar voice countered, "Who are you?"

  "I am Jaska Bavadi, and I have come to see the Keeper of Swords."

  "I, too, am Jaska Bavadi," replied the figure, "and I have come to keep you from reaching the Keeper of Swords."

  Jaska shook his head. "You can't be Jaska Bavadi!"

  "Neither can you, creature of filth."

  "Then you admit that you are not?"

  "I am as much that man as you are, Slayer."

  Jaska drew his saber. "I demand that you let me pass!"

  The figure drew his sword with equal skill. "I will never give in to your demands! Be assured of that!"

  Jaska approached warily. His strange opponent, whom he now assumed was an Avida-djinn, matched him stride for stride. Jaska chanted spells of speed and strength. Sparks glowed through his qavra. His opponent did the same. Jaska could just make out lavender sparks within a clear stone at the figure's throat.