10,000 Suns

by Michelle L. Levigne

  "Do you really believe that, Elzan?” Challen whispered.

  "Yes.” He shivered, hearing a hollow ring in her voice. He held out the cup to her. She raised her hands, but instead of taking it from him, she pressed her hands around his.

  Flame raced through his body at her touch, but not desire. This was the roar of a gold refiner's fire, scorching through him, devouring the dross.

  "Then drink and give your life to Bainevah. And to me.” Her voice filled the room. Challen raised her head and her eyes held the entire night sky of stars.

  Elzan had no control over his body. He trembled as the cup touched his lips. He opened his mouth and let the wine thick with spices fill it to choking. He swallowed and struggled to fight down the purely physical terror that shuddered through his body. His conscience was clean, he knew. He had not asked for this duty, had not grudged his father the throne, had not prayed for his illness. His only sin was joy—and lust—at the thought of enjoying Challen's sweet body. He wouldn't be punished for that, would he?

  His body reacted to the fire that filled the very air, the sense of giant, unseen hands holding him still. His body was like a mindless animal and would not listen to the pleadings of his mind and reason.

  Matrika shrugged out of the ceremonial robe, revealing Challen's body in all the slim, ivory, and fiery-golden glory Elzan had envisioned. She took the cup from his hands and led him to the bed. A mere brushing of Challen's hands over his body, and his clothes and ornaments fell away in a heap.

  "You truly please me, Prince of Bainevah. You struggle against your hungers and fears and study to know what is right. You discipline your body and your mind to obey that knowledge. For that, you have suffered and will suffer. For that, you will be blessed and you will bless Bainevah.” Nothing of Challen showed in the woman's smile, in the blazing glory that radiated from her body like the corona of the sun.

  Elzan complied when she pressed him down on the bed. He wondered how he could complete the ritual as he stretched out on his back. Then he felt aching desire grow as Challen's body straddled him and Challen's hands brushed over his body, leaving icy fire in their wake. This wasn't the pleasure he had known in the concubines’ hall and longed for with Challen. It burned. It sucked at his flesh, taking and leaving nothing in return.

  "She is yours, Prince of Bainevah,” Matrika whispered. “A pure heart, willingly given. Treasure her, because she will be the greatest reward you and Bainevah shall ever possess. When she warns and commands, remember that I speak through her. Obey her, and know joy. Disobey, and know you have condemned Bainevah to generations of struggle and suffering."

  The ache roared and burned through his body. Elzan felt himself falling away as his body gave up all his strength to her.

  * * * *

  Challen couldn't move, couldn't breathe as she saw the entire kingdom spread out before her. She saw the wastelands where the Chadrasheeri raiders hid when they nibbled at the borders of Bainevah. She saw the mountain cities of Dreva and a vast army preparing—an army gathering in the middle of winter?—aimed directly for Bainevah, where a poisonous green light suddenly flared to life like a beacon.

  A beacon to guide the enemy to the heart of the land.

  The beacon seemed to be made of shadows, sucking all the energy from the stars and fires and lamps around it.

  Challen shuddered.

  She saw rivers and underground streams and seeds waiting to burst into life. She saw the sprawling city and the many small villages connected to it with thread-like roads. And over it she saw a vast web connecting all into one cohesive unit. Bainevah. Held together with a power that pulsed in the sudden darkness that wrapped around her.

  Challen fell but felt no fear, only a sensation of suddenly growing small. Warmth seared her body from the inside, driving away the cold and doubts and terrors of the misty future. She kept falling and the web of power vanished, making her cry out.

  "Remember,” Naya whispered. She emerged from the darkness and held out her hands, and Challen felt warm and safe and supported. She felt like she had as a child when a nightmare woke her and her mother comforted her.

  Then Naya vanished. Challen floated in mid-air. The chamber coalesced around her and she looked down to see Elzan, drenched in sweat, his eyes tight shut, his mouth open in a soundless shout of pain. Matrika in Challen's body crouched over him in the bed, her hand cupping his face, making him shudder.

  "Please!” Challen struggled against the power that held her aloft. “Don't hurt him. Punish me instead."

  "Healing sometimes causes pain, Kena'Naya,” the woman said, speaking with a voice that sounded like roaring rivers and bird song and the sighing of the wind. “He is purified and made ready. Now it is your turn. Do you pledge yourself to Bainevah, to me, to him? No matter what it costs you?"

  "Yes.” She shivered as she began to fall and the room spun around her. “I was born to serve. My mother came back from death to birth me—what else can I do but obey?"

  "Oh, innocent one.” The woman laughed, and the pulsing threat of annihilation left her voice. “There is always a choice. You have chosen well and wisely. Be happy. Be free to take all the joy you can this day, and for many long days and moons and years to come."

  Challen cried out as sensation burst through her and she suddenly had a body again. She shuddered, aching as if her body was one massive bruise. All her muscles felt as if she had climbed a mountain for hours. Tension coiled deep inside her belly. In another moment, it would break free and tear her to shreds with the force of the release.

  Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging them, but she opened them anyway. She knelt over Elzan, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders. He took a deep breath. The lines of torment left his face. A shuddering sigh escaped him and he opened his eyes.

  "Challen?"

  "Elzan. Help me! Something is tearing me apart inside."

  "We need to finish this, while Matrika's power still flows through you.” Elzan sat up, gathering her into his arms while she was still astride him. The hardness of his arousal, pressed between them, sent a sweet throb of fire through her body.

  "Finish?” She cried out when he caught a handful of her hair, holding her head still, and captured her mouth in a hard kiss. The aching pressure deep inside grew stronger as his tongue invaded her mouth.

  Challen understood and honeyed intoxication flooded her. She wrapped her arms tight around him. The heat of his body only escalated the fire in her belly. She gloried in the feel of his smooth, hard muscles and sleek skin, drenched in sweat. Elzan's hands roved over her body, hungry and rough and possessive. Then he grasped her hips hard enough to bruise and lifted her. She opened her mouth to protest, erupting with a shriek as he settled her down on top of him again and slid inside her.

  Shudders wracked her body and flames seared her blood. Challen clutched at Elzan and harsh whimpers tore her throat. She felt him bucking underneath her, heard him shout, but she understood that he felt no pain.

  She fell forever, wrapped in a numbness that soaked into her flesh and bones and then her mind. Challen gasped for breath, and suddenly even that small effort seemed too much. Hands reached through the encroaching darkness to hold her. Hot, strong, trembling hands on her shoulders.

  She opened her eyes and looked down at Elzan lying under her while she knelt astride him. He was flushed, sweating, kohl smeared and dripping down the sides of his face into his ears and hair. She felt his heart racing to match hers, felt the gasping struggle of their bodies to breathe. Felt a bruised throbbing deep between her legs.

  "Challen?” Elzan's arms trembled as he held her upright.

  She tried to speak. Her lips managed a weak smile that threatened to break. She collapsed on him and he tucked her head under his chin, his arms tight around her.

  "Elzan,” she whispered, wanting something but unable to grasp that part yet. He seemed to understand, and slid her off him to the blankets next to him. She shuddered at the sticky sound as the
ir bodies separated into two entities again.

  She wanted to stay joined with him, and that made no sense because she felt weak and hollow and ached all over, not just between her legs. She wanted to curl up and sleep, yet all the images in her mind kept churning, wanting to be spilled.

  Spoken. That was it. She had to tell Elzan. She opened her eyes and found him leaning over her.

  "Challen? Please. How do you feel?"

  "Tired.” She smiled at the rasp of her voice. “Empty."

  "My Father warned me you might be this way when the Mother left.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Lie still and let me take care of you."

  Challen almost laughed, because she was unable to do anything but lie still. She felt the warm blankets he wrapped around her, the gentleness of his hands, but as if through a thick membrane that cushioned every sensation.

  Elzan brought wine. He propped her up with pillows and helped her sip, then tore bits off a honeycake and fed her. She closed her eyes, and a moment later opened them again as a chill washed over her. Elzan had pulled back the blankets. Vaguely, she remembered she hated feeling cold.

  "Forgive me,” he whispered. “It is required...” Elzan showed her the cloth destined for the sacrificial fire.

  His touch was soothing as he wiped the bloody smears from her belly, gentle as he lifted her legs to clean her and wipe the healing oil over the faint aching that throbbed and died under his hands. Challen watched him, drowsy and faintly amused by the strain on his face.

  "What's wrong, Elzan? It didn't hurt that much,” she offered, when she wondered if the sight of her blood made him ill. Now that she could think clearly again, Challen realized the tearing of her virginity had been nothing compared to the overwhelming experience of being inhabited by Mother Matrika.

  "Hurt?” His mouth worked as if he would say more, then he shook his head, covered her again, and moved out of her sight.

  Challen managed to get up on one elbow. He had his back to her, and she realized through the dissipating haze in her mind that he cleaned her blood off himself now. She watched him, awake enough to admire the play of lean muscles in his back and down his thighs. He picked up his discarded kilt and wrapped it around himself. He flinched when he turned and saw her watching.

  "What's wrong?” she repeated.

  "Wrong?” Elzan shook his head and came back to the bed. He sat down, close enough their hips touched. “The King didn't warn me about this part.” He stroked tangled hair out of her face and his pained look turned rueful. “I want you, Challen. It's torture to look at you and touch you and want you—and even if you were eager, I can't. There's nothing left inside me."

  It took a moment for what he meant to seep through the comfortable haze around her mind. It took a moment more for Challen to realize that sound was her laughing, breathless, barely enough to move the blankets covering her.

  "I'm sorry,” she managed to gasp, and struggled to free a hand from the blankets to reach out to him, as if touching would convey what words couldn't. “It's just that I understand completely how you feel."

  He caught her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Elzan's face crumpled into a tired smile that echoed the shock still enfolding her. They had both been prepared, as much as human words could convey. Being inhabited by Mother Matrika, purified by her touch, used for the good of their land, was beyond explanation or preparation.

  That reminded her.

  "Elzan, Bainevah is in trouble."

  "Not after what just happened to us."

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he held tight and pressed a kiss against her palm. “Our enemies gather to march on us. Dreva and Chadrasheer are both threats."

  "They are always threats."

  "I ... saw it. The Mother showed it to me when she came in.” She frowned and tried to find the words to tell what she saw.

  Bit by bit, she scraped at her memories, giving Elzan the details. It was a laborious process filled with long silences. He never pushed, never showed any impatience. He fetched wine for them and meat rolls and grapes. He wrapped them both in blankets and held her close, holding the cup for her when she was too distracted with her vision to do it for herself. When Challen reached the end they held each other, listening to the storm howl beyond the dome.

  CHAPTER 15

  "The Mother gave you this vision for a reason, but how do we use it?” Elzan mused. “She warned me that generations will suffer if I don't heed your words. But how do we use your knowledge? What do we do first?"

  "Prepare the armies?” she whispered.

  "But who can we trust with your vision? That beacon you saw, poisonous green light in the heart of Bainevah, means there is a traitor. We were brought here for a reason. I am most glad of that,” he added on a whisper. He stroked loose hair out of her face, his touch turning to a caress that sent a humming through her body, pooling in that spot that still ached.

  "You will be Crown Prince now. You can act and few will stop you. The King trusts you. He will not gainsay your orders."

  "If only I had you next to me as my advisor."

  "You have my Father."

  "Hmm, yes, and I need to have a word with him about how little concern he showed for you.” Elzan turned them so she lay on her back, caught in the curve of his arm, and he leaned over her. “He loves his secrets, doesn't he?” He cupped her cheek and chin in his hand and his touch sent a warm trembling through her. “I can imagine him laughing in secret while I ate myself alive with frustration because of a lovely scribe's daughter who was beyond my reach."

  "I told him about you. I wish he had said something to me. When I'm free of the Sanctum, you can be sure I will have some words for my Father.” Challen laughed, knowing Shazzur would only be smug and lecture her on trusting him.

  "Free of the Sanctum.” Elzan's smile faded. “I hate him,” he groaned, leaning down so his forehead touched hers.

  "My Father?"

  "Your husband."

  "I don't have a husband."

  "Your betrothed. The one who will take you to his home tonight if he has any sense."

  "I'm not betrothed,” Challen whispered, delighting in the pain she heard in his voice. “The only man who touched my heart was my friend, the scribe."

  "Truly?” Elzan whispered. “Challen ... I can't ask you to wait for me. I could never make you a concubine."

  "Your mother doesn't seem to mind."

  "My Mother...” Elzan drew back, and she missed the warmth of him. “She says they love and they are happy, and the truth is different from appearances, but—"

  "You will be Crown Prince. Your duty is to Bainevah, first. Putting desires before duty is the crime that caused many kings to harm Bainevah in the past.” Challen took a deep breath, listening to the sense of rightness inside her, stronger and surer than any vision. “When you are able, send for me and I will gladly be your concubine."

  "Only in name.” He slipped the ram's head ring off his hand and put it on her thumb, pressed her hand closed around it and sealed it with a kiss. “You are my wife, from this moment. You hold my heart and I will never give it to another. I swear it. If I am king, I promise your son will be my heir."

  "You shouldn't make such promises."

  "I swear it, Challen. I swear it by your blood and my seed on the cloth for the sacrifice. I swear it on the bed under us and the gold of the ten thousand suns above us. I call on them as witnesses."

  Challen sat up abruptly, feeling as if all the air had fled her body. She stared, first at the box holding the cloth stained with her blood. Then at the suns painted on the ceiling. She ignored the chill air against her bare flesh, the blanket sliding off her breasts, the gooseflesh crawling all over her.

  "Elzan ... ten thousand suns shall witness it,” she whispered. A gasp of laughter escaped her when he only frowned. “The Prophecy! The pure blood of the wise will be spilled by the young ram, and ten thousand suns will witness it. The young ram. Not the king, but the son of the king. The nex
t king."

  "What could be more pure than the blood of a virgin?” he whispered. “The pure blood of the wise. You are very wise. My love.” He slid his arms around her and drew her close against him for a kiss that burned down into her belly and sent a wave of fire out to her fingers and toes. When he drew back long moments later, he was as wide-eyed as she. “The Prophecy meant us. Here, in the Sacred Marriage. But then the Flame follows. I always believed it meant destruction for the Three."

  "If the first part wasn't death, the second could be a blessing. Maybe—maybe a child from us?"

  "A child. From us. You're my wife, Challen, because the Mother ordains it, yes?” He bent his head, his lips parting softly, poised to kiss her again.

  "She told me to take joy today, and for the rest of our lives. She blesses our love.” Challen closed her eyes as he captured her mouth in another kiss that left her trembling, hollow inside.

  His mouth stole her breath and every thought while his hands pushed aside all the blankets of their warm cocoon. She was aware of the chill air, but it meant nothing because a sheet of flame seemed to wrap around them. It scorched her as his hands slid over her bare skin. She wrapped her arms tight around him. A melting sensation pushed away the residual ache, bringing a muffled laugh from her that died in Elzan's demanding mouth.

  * * * *

  Elzan smiled as he woke, remembering laughter. Lemon and a faint aroma of purifying incense touched his nostrils. He stretched and felt the warm body next to him. He slid an arm around the soft form, finding a shoulder draped in silken hair that held the sweet lemon scent. His questing hand continued over soft skin and firm muscle. A drowsy murmur answered his caress and his companion snuggled closer to him.

  Opening his eyes, Elzan sat up and looked down on Challen. She smiled softly in her sleep, just as he had hoped. He licked his lips and found them faintly sore. That prompted a smile, remembering what felt like hours of kisses, driving themselves breathless, laughing between gasps for air. He leaned down to kiss her, pausing to brush hair off her face first. She snuggled closer against him, curled up on her side like a child.