by Diana Green
“But why? You’re so strong with magic, and I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Magic can’t cure this ailment, because magic caused it.” Mari grimaced, fighting down another coughing fit.
Saba waited, baffled by her friend’s words. Had someone cursed her with an incurable illness? Who would do such a thing?
“When I was young,” Mari continued wearily, “I didn’t think there was a limit to what magic could achieve. I was arrogant and reckless, tampering with forces I should have left well enough alone.”
The old woman sighed, momentarily closing her eyes. “Someone I loved died, and I couldn’t accept their loss. So I tried to bring them back from the dead. I failed, but the attempt was a terrible mistake. In defying the balance of life and death, I ripped a temporary hole in the fabric of the world. That action planted the seed of a deadly tumor inside me. Over the years it has gradually grown, and now that I’m old and tired, the tumor is spreading quickly.”
“Surely there’s something we can do.” Saba clasped Mari’s hand, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a good person! You shouldn’t have to pay for a mistake so long in the past.”
“Oh, my dear, I can’t escape the consequences of my actions. Much worse could have come from my folly. At least it’s only me and not others who must pay the price. Take comfort in the fact I’ve lived a fulfilling life, and I’ve known this day was coming for many years. My greatest regret is that we don’t have more time together. There’s still much I want to teach you.”
Saba shook her head. “Don’t waste energy on my training. I think that’s what wore you down and made you vulnerable in the first place. Your health and recovery should be our first priority.”
“At the most we can buy a few more weeks.” Mari squeezed her hand. “The final outcome is unavoidable, regardless of what we do.”
“A few more weeks is better than nothing. Save your energy for self-healing.”
“Very well. But there is a task I must ask you to complete for me.” Mari’s gaze sharpened. “It will take you away from the valley for a short while. I promise to hold on until you return.”
“I want to be here, caring for you! What could be more important than that?”
“Years ago I took an oath. I must honor it now, Saba, and you will do this for me. Please. It is very important.”
“I’m listening.”
“For decades I have kept a detailed record of my craft, all I’ve learned and mastered. That book is my most precious possession, and I want to pass it on to you.”
“I’m honored…truly. But why must I leave the valley?”
“Over the past weeks I’ve been making a copy of my book. I need you to take it to a secret temple, high in the mountains, and give it to the women living there. They are called the Sisterhood, and I owe them much.”
That explained the nights Mari sat up late writing by candlelight. But what was this temple, and who were the Sisterhood?
As if reading the questions in her eyes, Mari continued. “The Sisterhood is an order of priestesses who keep alive the old ways. There are three hidden temples remaining in Altera, one for each of the jinni goddesses. The one I’m sending you to honors the Viper Queen as patroness of magic users and healers.” Mari gave her a thoughtful look. “Perhaps after I’m gone, you’ll return there to study. With your patience and calm nature, you might suit the place better than I did.”
“You were a student at the temple?”
“In my youth, yes.” Mari’s gaze grew distant. “I was proud and restless then, not fully appreciating the privilege of studying with the priestesses. It’s a quiet life, dwelling so separate from civilization. I wanted more.”
“So you left?”
“After the attempt to resurrect my lover, they couldn’t allow me to stay.” She shook her head. “I don’t blame them for banishing me. The responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders.”
“Will they welcome a copy of your book?”
“Oh yes! I promised it to them, before I departed the temple. You must understand, a great deal of knowledge has been lost over the centuries. There are few in the Sisterhood now, and they need every possible resource. It would be a crime to cheat them of my life’s work.”
“But can’t this wait?”
“I pledged that before I died I would give the Sisterhood my book of power. I will not fail them again.”
“Surely it makes no difference if they wait another month or so.”
“I swore a blood oath, Saba. I must honor it…to the word. And you will be my messenger.”
“As you wish.”
“Good.” Mari patted her hand. “Go fetch Jehan, so we can discuss the journey.”
“She’s coming with me?”
“The temple lies deep in the mountains. It wouldn’t be wise to travel such country alone. There are wolves, lions, and even more deadly creatures like gahuhl, to contend with.”
Saba shuddered. “I thought gahuhl were myths.”
“No. They’re real, though few people in this day and age encounter them.”
“Aren’t they supposed to be half demon? How do we protect against something like that?”
“There are ways, just as with any predator,” Mari assured. “Gahuhl are as mortal as you and I, whatever their origins might be.” She squeezed Saba’s hand. “I wouldn’t send you on this errand if I wasn’t sure Jehan could keep you safe. Now go fetch her so we can prepare.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tarab’s new foal looked healthy, frolicking about in the early morning sun. Although Jehan regretted missing a birth in the herd, at least there had been no complications. She scratched Tarab between the ears, complimenting her on a job well done. Both mare and woman watched the chestnut foal as he gamboled past them, kicking up his heels with joyful energy.
Feeling bittersweet pride, Jehan studied the grazing herd. If only her father could be here to see this fine collection of horses. He would know she’d learned well and remembered all he taught her. Perhaps one day, she’d realize her dream of breeding and training horses for a living, rather than relying on the dangers of banditry.
“Jehan!”
Hearing her name, she turned and saw Saba waving from the far side of the herd. The princess still appeared wary of horses—despite her riding lessons—and it came as no surprise she preferred not to walk through a group of two dozen, all untethered.
Jehan hurried over to Saba, enjoying a rush of giddy anticipation. The previous day had been spectacular. Never before had mere kisses moved her so deeply, awakening feelings she’d believed long since extinguished by her rough passage into adulthood.
Her amazement knew no bounds. After all she’d been through, life still held potential to surprise her. And what a surprise the princess was! Nothing could have prepared Jehan for the flood of emotions this woman evoked—euphoria, tenderness, wonder, protectiveness, and heady desire, to name only a few.
Needless to say, she longed for more than just kisses, but this newly blossoming relationship couldn’t be rushed. Saba deserved patience and the space to choose each step. Until only a month ago the princess’ life had been incredibly restrictive, allowing her no prior experience of physical intimacy. Pressuring her into bed was out of the question. Jehan wanted everything between them to be perfect.
“I’m so glad to see you!” Saba exclaimed. She seemed somehow fragile this morning, her face paler than usual, eyes red from crying.
Jehan drew her into a warm embrace, treasuring the feeling of holding her close. Saba leaned in, as if seeking comfort.
“What’s wrong?” Jehan pressed kiss to the top of her head.
“Mari is worse this morning. She may only have a few weeks left to live...but I can’t bear to lose her.” Saba voice broke, as a sob shook her body.
Jehan held the princess tighter, a hollow ache spreading in her chest. Why did this have to happen now? Hadn’t there been enough death lately? Surely even the most morbid of gods must be
satisfied.
“I’m sorry.” Saba partially pulled away, wiping her wet cheeks. “I shouldn’t burden you with this.”
“Yes you should.” Jehan reached out to her. “I want to be here for you…to be your solace and strength, if you’ll let me.”
Saba’s brown eyes widened.
Didn’t she realize how much Jehan cared for her?
“You’re very important to me, Saba. I hope you know.” She searched for the right words to express her feelings. “I don’t think of you as some passing fancy. You’re so much more than that. I want to understand everything about you…to be your true friend and not just your lover.”
Saba’s cheeks flushed pink. “I feel the same way.”
Jehan hugged her again, torn between grief for Mari and gladness at this lovely miracle in her arms. “Tell me what I can do to help. Anything at all.”
“You can come with me to the secret temple of the Viper Queen, to deliver Mari’s book of power.”
“Oh…all right.” Jehan definitely hadn’t expected that response.
“Mari wants to talk it over with you as soon as possible. She’s hoping we can leave this morning.”
“This morning?” There went Jehan’s plans for a leisurely day recuperating from the caravan raid. “Is it really so urgent?”
“According to Mari, and I can’t bring myself to refuse her. She’s done so much for me.”
“For me as well,” Jehan agreed.
She returned with Saba to Mari’s house, where the old woman drew them a map to the secret temple. Despite wishing for a longer rest between journeys, Jehan couldn’t deny her curiosity to see an ancient temple of the jinni goddesses.
The trip would take them deeper into the mountains than she’d previously ventured, and even the slim risk of encountering gahuhl must be considered. She rarely saw the creatures, as they avoided groups of armed humans, and Mari’s protective spells kept them from the outlaws’ valley. But gahuhl could pose a threat to lone travelers, especially in the higher mountains where they made their lairs.
She and Saba would need to take turns watching through the night and bring bags of salt, for pouring protective circles around their camp. A large fire and supply of torches were also advisable, as gahuhl hated flame even worse than salt. They avoided direct sunlight, hunting mostly in the dusk.
Gahuhl looked almost human—standing semi-upright with two legs and two arms—but their faces were elongated into rat-like muzzles. Gray skin, yellow eyes, and long claws only increased their monstrous appearance.
Some people claimed gahuhl bites were venomous, while others swore the creatures could smell a human from miles away. Their exact origins were unknown, although popular folklore blamed them on illicit relations between humans and demons.
Jehan doubted this, as she’d seen no evidence of demons existing. They seemed as much a creation of human imagination as the current pantheon of gods. When in doubt, a rational explanation usually served best. Gahuhl were probably animals, just like any others.
Preparations took less than an hour, and the two women rode out by midmorning. As they traveled higher into the mountains, a brief rain washed the air clean, making everything shine and sparkle with moisture.
Saba’s mood visibly improved. She gazed about with unmistakable pleasure, commenting frequently on the animals and plants they encountered along their route. Living so long confined to the palace gave her a hunger for the larger world. She took delight in the towering stone pinnacles, the flight of ravens overhead, the agile ibex picking their way among the steep ledges and clumps of swaying red poppies.
Riding beside her, Jehan saw the mountains anew. They were indeed a beautiful place, full of natural artistry. Too often she took such things for granted, focusing on what must be done, rather than savoring the moment. Saba’s wide-eyed appreciation felt like a gift.
“On a day like this, I can’t help but be optimistic,” she said, turning in the saddle to smile at Jehan. “I don’t believe Mari’s fate is set in stone. Surely the priestesses at the temple know something to help her. And I can petition the Viper Queen for aid. Mari said her power lingers in places of ancient worship, like the temple we’re visiting.”
“Hopefully so.” Jehan wished she could offer more substantial encouragement, but these mystical affairs defied her understanding. It left her at a loss for how to help, beyond the simple service of escorting Saba where she needed to go.
Riding through mountainous terrain was tiring, and by evening both women felt glad to stop. Jehan found them a semi-sheltered campsite, on the leeward side of a rock overhang, and they used the last sunlight to gather a bountiful supply of firewood.
As night closed in, they sat beside a comforting blaze, relatively safe within a thickly poured circle of salt. Jehan found herself recounting stories from her childhood, something she’d rarely done with her companions. Somehow Saba opened a door to the softer places in her heart, allowing her to drop her guard and share openly.
“That constellation, over there,” she said, pointing high in the northeastern sky. “My father named that one after my mother. He told me it didn’t matter if others called it the Weaver. For us, it would always be Zahran…my mother, working at one of her paintings.”
“He must have loved her deeply.” Saba scooted closer, slipping an arm around her waist.
Jehan nodded. “Yes. It was hard for him when she died. I’m grateful he remained loving toward me rather than growing bitter with grief. He was a fine man, a great soul as they say.”
“I’m sorry he was taken from you.” Saba sounded ashamed.
“It wasn’t your doing. You are not defined by your family.”
“Thank goodness! I’ve been told most of my life what a great man my father is. But I think the opposite is true. He’s a petty tyrant, who cares for nothing but his own pride and ambition. All the palace lives in fear of his rages, even his favorite son. Sadly, Fahir will probably turn out just like him.”
“Well, at least Asab Kah Akbah did one good thing in his life. He fathered you.”
“That’s a kind thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.” Jehan turned, pulling her into a kiss, letting all thoughts of the past go as she surrendered to the sublime present. Saba tasted better than cool water on a blazing hot day, her full lips soft as satin, her dark hair falling in a curtain around them. Nothing else seemed to matter but being together like this.
Later, as she watched the princess drift off to sleep in the warm glow of their campfire, an unfamiliar peace flowed through Jehan. Not for a long time had she felt this right about anything. There was a quality so true and vital to her bond with Saba, as if she’d been waiting years for this puzzle piece to fall into place—a blessing powerful enough to balance out the misfortune and hardships of her youth.
~*~
Saba woke with a start, realizing the sky already grew lighter in the east. It seemed she’d only dozed off a few minutes ago, but the entire night had passed. She sat up rubbing her sore muscles, while nearby Jehan fed another branch to the fire.
The Falcon glanced her way and grinned. “Good morning, Beautiful.”
“You were supposed to wake me for a turn at watch!”
“I couldn’t bring myself to disturb your sleep. You looked so peaceful, and it’ll be another hard ride today.”
“But that means you were up all night.” Saba frowned. “You’ll be exhausted.”
Jehan shrugged. “I’m used to this sort of thing. Besides, I can sleep once we reach the temple.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! We probably won’t get there till tomorrow.” Saba rose, forcefully folding her blanket, disturbed by Jehan’s overprotectiveness. Did she imagine Saba was incapable of doing her share? “Tonight, I am absolutely taking first watch.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Oh yes, it is.” Saba’s chin lifted. “I don’t need pampering from you or anybody else.”
“Fine. I was just trying
to be nice.”
“Well think of a different way. I don’t want to be a burden, like some pet you have to carry around in a basket. I want to be a true partner.”
Jehan’s expression softened. “Of course.” She stepped closer to Saba, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. It wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.”
The two women drew together, forehead to forehead, arms entwined.
“Keep in mind, I’ve never courted a princess before,” Jehan gently teased. “I’m bound to make mistakes.”
“But I’m not a princess anymore,” Saba answered with mock seriousness. “I’m an apprentice witch…and don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
They kissed, the last of their tension easing away. It was certainly difficult to stay aggravated when life offered such sweet bounty.
As the sky gradually brightened, Saba prepared tea and they shared a quick breakfast. She was just cleaning up—while Jehan saddled the horses—when a movement on the opposite slope caught her eye. She straightened, trying to get a better look.
A pale creature scuttled quickly across the northern mountain side, keeping to the predawn shadows. It seemed to glance in her direction, its appearance uncannily human. This must be one of the gahuhl Mari had warned about.
A shiver ran across her skin and she called to Jehan, pointing out the creature before it disappeared. Together they watched as a second gahuhl appeared from a cleft in the rock and followed the first one beyond the far ridge.
“I wonder if there are any more.” Saba rubbed her arms, wishing the sun would rise quickly.
“It’s hard to know. I’ve only ever seen one at a time, but today we’re riding into new territory. I haven’t been this deep in the mountains. For all I know they hunt in packs up here.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Oh…sorry.” Jehan gave her a sheepish grin. “I really don’t think there’s cause for worry. If gahuhl bother our camp tonight, we’ve got the torches Mari enspelled for us. They’ll burn bright enough to scare off anything from here to the Nissian border.”