Longing's Levant

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Coward!” Rabin yelled.

  Evann-Sin turned at the angry shout. He found himself almost toe to toe with Kaibyn Zafeyr.

  “It is as I thought,” the demon said. “Your father does not claim you.”

  “Did you even have one or were you the drizzle off some hyena’s prick?” Evann-Sin challenged.

  Instead of provoking Kaibyn Zafeyr, the question seemed to amuse him. “I might well have been for I never knew who my sire was.”

  “What a shame,” Evann-Sin snorted, and pushed past the other man.

  “The Magi want us to work together, to be a coalition against the alliance, but if you are going to be prickly over something as insignificant as whose cock made you, this isn’t going to work, boy,” Kaibyn told him.

  Evann-Sin narrowed his eyes. “It is not an insignificant thing that the Panther sired me, but I have no desire to discuss it now or ever again. Is that understood?”

  Kaibyn shrugged. “Whatever you say, warrior.”

  “Nor do I wish to have it discussed outside my hearing. Do you understand that as well?”

  “Aye,” the demon sighed. “You take the fun out of it, don’t you?”

  “It isn’t a humorous matter!” Evann-Sin snapped.

  “So,” Kaibyn said, turning away. He drew the word out in a long sigh. “What do we do first?” He looked back at the warrior. “After I punish Dakhla.”

  “Can you lay that vengeance aside until we have done what we need to do?”

  The demon thought about it for a moment, and then grinned nastily. “Aye, I suppose I can. Perhaps time will give me more vicious ideas with which to discipline that treacherous bitch.”

  “I have a few disciplines I would like to set in motion, myself, so I will not try to discourage you from exercising yours, but I believe the greater good is more important than the revenge we seek against a few deserving women.”

  Kaibyn grinned. “Say the word, and I will take delight in helping you teach your women a lesson they will never forget.”

  “If they live that long,” Evann-Sin mumbled.

  “You would slay them?”

  “Nay, but my woman might.”

  At the mention of Tamara, Kaibyn felt another pang of jealousy ripple through him but pushed it aside. Such emotions were new to him and he found he did not like being envious of any human male.

  “So, Oded wants to live forever,” the demon stated. He hunkered down on the sand and used his finger to draw a haphazard design as he thought.

  “And an alliance with Lilit will accomplish that, but what is it they plan?”

  “According to the Magi whatever they are scheming will change the world as we know it.”

  Evann-Sin folded his arms over his chest and stared out across the undulating sand. “How is it we know the world?” he asked.

  “Depending on where we live and how, that is different for each of us,” Rabin said as he joined them.

  “Perhaps it is not the world then, but the quality of life we should be considering,” Evann-Sin mused.

  “Well, my life was spent seeing to the needs of lovely women,” Kaibyn replied. “My un-death will be spent much the same way, I’m thinking.”

  “Our hearts beat, our blood flows, we breathe and eat and procreate,” Evann-Sin said.

  “Well, we did,” Rabin corrected. “Now, I find I’m not hungry at all. How about you?”

  Evann-Sin shook his head. “There are jobs for which certain people are suited. There are gifted ones and those with talents.”

  Kaibyn lifted his head then slowly turned his eyes to Evann-Sin.

  “What?” the warrior inquired, instinctively knowing the demon had hit upon the answer.

  “Slave or freeman,” Kaibyn said quietly. “King or peasant, woman, man or child. They each have something in common.”

  “That being?”

  “They think,” Kaibyn stated, coming to his feet. He dusted his hands together. “Even a man in chains is free to have thoughts of one day being liberated. A freeman may envision one day owning more of his world and sets out to make that happen.”

  “But if they have no thoughts, no dreams or opinions or feelings…” Rabin whispered.

  “And instead have but one purpose in life, and that is to see to the needs of that bastard Oded and the Hell Hags?” Evann-Sin queried.

  “No one with whom to wage war,” Kaibyn continued. “No voices of dissention or denial. Nothing but a world of mindless, soulless workers making Oded’s life a virtual paradise.”

  “But how would they accomplish it?” Rabin asked.

  “By setting the Daughters of the Night upon Oded’s warriors and turning those men into thralls,” Tamara said softly, and the men turned to her as she came toward them.

  “Thralls who would in turn make other thralls until there are no free thoughts and no free men left,” Rabin said.

  “And once that has happened, our queen will turn on her former ally and relieve him of his freedom, as well,” Tamara told them. “She will make him One with the Blood to serve her.”

  “Or drain him dry as a husk and be done with it,” Kaibyn snorted.

  “I can see that happening, too. She enjoys tormenting men more than being pleasured by them,” Tamara agreed.

  Evann-Sin nodded. “So it is the Hell Hag and not the Kebullian madman who is behind this?”

  “I believe so,” his lady replied. “For now, she needs Oded’s help in bringing the tribes of this world under her command. There are too many for the Daughters of the Night to take on. But once he has served his purpose, his usefulness at an end, she will discard him.”

  “And the entire world will be nothing more than fodder for those Hell Hag leeches!” Rabin grumbled.

  “How do you propose we stop this from happening, wench?” Evann-Sin inquired.

  “Who cares if Oded is sucked up into that bitch’s maw?” Kaibyn chuckled.

  “How do we save the world from being enslaved?” Evann-Sin clarified.

  “Aye,” Rabin said. “I have family and friends I have no desire to see crippled by the yoke that bitch plans for them!”

  “We could assassinate Oded,” Kaibyn said on a long sigh. “I will gladly take that assignment.”

  “There are men far worse than Oded,” Evann-Sin said. “The Panther, in his way, is far more wicked. If Oded is eliminated, would Lilit not go after another powerful man with whom to ally?” He grimaced. “Would she not go after the Panther?”

  “I may be wrong, but I believe the plan has been in motion for some time. She’s already chosen her plan of attack,” Tamara said. “We were not the only scouting party sent out from Bandar. I know of at least five other teams of Daughters who have been gathering information for our queen.”

  “That was why you were at the inn?” Evann-Sin asked.

  “We were supposed to be on pilgrimage, but in every village where we stopped, one of our group took note of how many people lived there, and what sort of protection, if any, they had. When we returned to Bandar, Sylviana reported the findings to our tribunal scribes.” She shrugged. “I thought it an odd assignment but our queen has ever been concerned with how many uninitiated there are.”

  “Keeping her finger on the enemies’ pulse, eh?” Rabin asked.

  “To drain it dry when the time comes,” Evann-Sin said and shivered. “What, if anything, does the woman fear, Tamara?”

  “She’s a blood-drinker so she fears being staked out in the broiling sun and left to die,” Kaibyn said between clenched teeth. “I know that feeling well!”

  “The rays of the sun can kill her?” Evann-Sin inquired.

  “She will turn to ash at the first touch of sunlight,” Tamara replied.

  “That is why the bitches warned her,” Evann-Sin grated. “I suppose I should be thankful she did not have the chance to drain my blood.”

  Tamara shivered. “Being her thrall would have been a fate worse than un-death, warrior.”

  “We’ve talked a
round this long enough,” Kaibyn said. “How do we stop Lilit, wench? I have business of my own to tend to.”

  “First, we need to know how many—if any—of Oded’s men have been turned,” Tamara replied. “Those who have been will need to be laid to rest for they are but walking dead.”

  “I am the eyes and ears of our little group,” Rabin remarked. “I can handle that part of it. I can go to Kebul and…” As Tamara frowned heavily, the dark man asked what concerned her.

  “Did you hear the name of the Daughter who took your life?” Tamara asked.

  “Does the name ‘Reva’ ring true with you, lady?” Rabin countered. At Tamara’s nod, he cocked one shoulder. “That was the one.”

  “How many were with her?”

  “Three, four,” Rabin answered. He patted his chest as though counting the stab wounds that had slain him. “Three plus the killing blow.”

  “Then it was Sagira, Oriel and Luka with Reva,” Tamara said. “Sylviana, Lanoi and Trista were with me before we met up near the inn. None of those women have ascended to the Blood yet so none of them will be aware of your presence, Rabin. Only those Daughters who are One with the Blood could detect you, and they never leave Bandar.”

  “And this matters because?” Kaibyn encouraged.

  “We must find out just how many teams of my sisters are about and where they are scouting,” Tamara replied. “And if any warriors have been turned beyond those at the Kebullian court.” She laid a hand on Rabin’s shoulder. “Your first task should be to seek out my sisters and report where they have been and where they are going next.”

  “They won’t see me, eh?” Rabin asked.

  “No.”

  “Then why can you?”

  Tamara blinked. Her lips parted and she looked to Evann-Sin for the answer.

  “I don’t know, wench,” her lover told her. A frown settled on his handsome face.

  “She shouldn’t be able to see me, either,” Kaibyn mumbled. “I, too, am Undead.”

  Shaken by her knowledge, Tamara staggered back into the tent, her face blanched white. She started as Evann-Sin entered behind her and flinched as he took her into his arms.

  “What is it, beloved?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

  “By all rights I should not be able to see them,” she said. “How is it that I do?”

  He could feel her trembling against him and lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her brow. “Perhaps the Magi have a hand in this.” When his lady looked up at him, he put a finger under her chin. “I imagine they knew we would need your help.”

  “Only the Undead can see the Undead,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears threatened to spill from her stricken eyes.

  “Then how is it I see them, too?” he asked gently.

  Tamara sucked in her breath. “You do, don’t you?” At his slow nod, a tremulous smile hovered upon her lips. “And you are not Undead.”

  “As close to it as I ever want to be, though,” he said.

  She eased out of his embrace. “I was fearful my life had been taken while I was unconscious,” she admitted.

  “You are very much alive, wench,” Evann-Sin assured her. “I can feel the hot blood throbbing through your veins.”

  The tent flap slapped aside and Kaibyn entered. “Riders are headed this way,” the demon stated. “The darkling has gone to investigate.”

  “My guess is her Sisters are coming back for her,” Evann-Sin suggested. He grinned. “Now they’ve screwed up their courage.”

  “You rising out of the night as you did scared them, that’s for sure,” Tamara agreed. “It took them until now to realize you were no specter.”

  “Best make ourselves scarce, warrior,” Kaibyn said.

  “And where do you propose I…?” Evann-Sin started to ask but Kaibyn reached out, took his hand and the two of them vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving Tamara stunned.

  Chapter Seven

  Evann-Sin was disoriented as he fell to the ground. The world was spinning about him and he was violently sick to his stomach. Twisting to his side, he gagged though there was no substance in his belly of which to be relieved. Lying there—straining—he grabbed handfuls of desert sand in an effort to anchor himself to the earth.

  “You’ll get over it,” Kaibyn smirked.

  “Wha…what did you do?” Evann-Sin managed to ask.

  “I have always had the ability to travel time and space at will once night falls,” Kaibyn stated. “Now, I find I can move even faster than I suspect human eyes can follow.” He grinned hatefully. “Faster than a human male can comfortably accompany me, apparently.”

  Brain reeling, completely off-center, Evann-Sin eased himself to a supine position and closed his eyes to still the rampant nausea. His fists still clutched handfuls of sand. He lay there panting, willing his vertigo to leave. “Where are we?” he whispered.

  “Just outside the gates of the Akkadian palace,” Kaibyn replied. “Your men will see to you.”

  Evann-Sin opened his eyes. “What?” he croaked. That was fifty miles from where he had been but a moment earlier.

  “You take it easy and I’ll see to the wench.”

  Before the warrior could react, there was a harsh rush of wind and he was alone, the shouts of the guards running toward him all but drowning out the laughter floating back from the demon’s departure.

  Throwing up an arm to shield his eyes from the bright glare of torchlight thrust toward him, Evann-Sin felt hands on him, inspecting him for wounds. Ignoring the worried questions of the Chief Guard, the warrior was helped to his feet. He grunted as his knees gave way beneath him and two guards grabbed him under the armpits to keep him from pitching forward. His legs dragging uselessly behind him, he was unceremoniously carried toward the palace gates.

  “Run for the Healer,” the Chief Guard ordered. “The Commander has been attacked!”

  “Where is Aswad? Where is his horse?” someone shouted. “Has the beast been slain?”

  “It looks that way. This is terrible news!” the Chief Guard said.

  Evann-Sin did not attempt to correct the Chief Guard. He knew his men would be looking for the culprits who had dumped him outside the palace, but they were more concerned for his stallion than they were for him for the horse had come from the personal stable of the king.

  “Even though I, personally, come from the loins of that damned king,” Evann-Sin mumbled.

  “What is he saying?” a guard asked.

  “He is talking out of his head with the pain,” the Chief Guard replied.

  Pain? Evann-Sin thought. No, it wasn’t pain he was feeling but an anger that was growing with every sick breath he took. As his head hung down on his chest and the world was still cantered off to one side, shifting in strange jerky motions, he realized he was sweating profusely and was still so sick to his stomach he had to swallow to keep from gagging. But it was the anger right down to the toes of his dusty boots that kept him from passing out.

  He’s with my woman! he thought and bile crowded his gullet.

  “Lay him down gently!” the Chief Guard hissed and Evann-Sin became aware he was being placed on his own bed. Someone was tugging at his boots while another was bent over him, tugging aside his robe.

  “Was he stabbed?”

  “Where is his mount?”

  “Will he live? Should we call a priest?”

  “Who would dare lay hands to the King’s High Commander?”

  The questions were flying fast and furiously over his head as the warrior tried to focus on first one face and then another as they moved across his line of vision.

  “The king!”

  Immediate silence sucked all sound from the room and the next face that sailed into Evann-Sin’s sight was that of King Numair, one thick black brow cocked as he studied the man he had never acknowledged as his son.

  “How seriously is he hurt?” the king asked quietly.

  There was a shuffling sound as another face loomed in
Evann-Sin’s sight. It was the Healer.

  “I have not examined him yet, Your Grace, but I see no blood,” the Healer replied.

  “As soon as you know his status, I want to know!”

  The Healer bowed out of Evann-Sin’s line of vision with a quick agreement to do as he was told.

  Bending further over the prone warrior, the king lowered his voice. “Get well quickly, boy. We have work to do.”

  There was a light pressure on Evann-Sin’s sword arm, a firm but reassuring grip that passed as quickly as it had been applied.

  Staring up at the face that retreated from him then disappeared, Evann-Sin released a breath he had not realized he held. Not once in his entire life had the Panther spoken any words directed at him. On previous occasions, commands, suggestions or reprimands concerning him had gone to men standing nearby but never had they been aimed at the warrior.

  “Strip him so I may see the extent of his injuries.” The Healer’s command brought the warrior’s mind back to the there and then and he mumbled he was not hurt.

  “Keep your dirty hands off me, you pervert!” Evann-Sin snarled, trying to push the Healer’s hands away.

  “He keeps babbling,” a guard stated. “I have yet to understand one word of what he is trying to say.”

  “I am unhurt,” Evann-Sin repeated but his voice was weak and sounded garbled to his own ears. Rather than try again, he gave himself up to the cool wash of air that flowed over his naked body as his clothing was removed then closed his eyes as professional hands prodded here and there.

  “There are no wounds but he is very ill,” the Healer pronounced.

  “Poisoned?” someone asked.

  “Of course not,” Evann-Sin mumbled.

  “That may account for his condition.” Snapping his fingers, the Healer ordered a purgative to evacuate his bowels.

  “No!” Evann-Sin hissed, trying to get up but his head began a wild spinning that caused his eyes to cross. He felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him down.

  “Bring a measure of tincture of chalk,” the Healer added. “We must purge his system.”

  The thought of chalk being poured down his throat brought back the nausea and Evann-Sin twisted violently to the side, gagging.