These Bidi forces were ill-trained; they held their weapons like children carrying toys to play-fight. Even so, it would take all of the Hamada warriors to conquer them because of their numbers. Keeping close to the buildings at the perimeter, I studied the men. Most were young, in their late teens or early twenties, but some were older—gray haired and pot-bellied. My concern about the older men being experienced was unfounded; the balding, overnourished Bidi wielded their swords and spears just as poorly as the young men. Occasionally, a few women were among the clusters of soldiers, but they appeared equally untrained. Pulling forward my Maciji vision, I studied the people’s core energy—yellow—so, like everything else in this desert realm, they would die by the blade.
But they were gathering, unlike anything I’d ever seen in the last half-dozen years I’d been observing the Bidi, and while they were unskilled and overindulgent, they were not nearly as lazy as I’d previously believed. Idleness and indolence were easy to fall into—for those with a life of plenty. Need, like we had in Kankara, the last remaining city of Sakari, was a fantastic motivator for ambition and enterprise.
I finished my surveillance and started back to the gate with the heavy news of a tough battle ahead. We would triumph over our enemies, but there would be casualties. As I darted toward the wall, my stomach tightened. I flicked my tongue out to taste the air, and hunger ripped through me. When was the last time I’d had a good meal? I couldn’t even remember. To return to Kankara with an empty belly bordered on stupid—no, it would be stupid. Especially, when I was in the middle of copious amounts of food.
I skirted down an alley, right near the open-air market, the scents driving me crazy—even as a serpent—and pushed into the shadows. I studied the darkness ahead using my eyes and heat pits, but only cool blue hues filled the dark alley; there was nothing alive occupying the narrow space. I twisted, letting the heat and shift of bones and sinew rule as my body elongated and widened, and my extremities formed. The seconds stretched, the shift to man always took a little longer, and then I rolled my shoulders back and straightened, freezing when I heard a gasp behind me.
Rashi. I was a fool.
In the harsh sunlight, the pale skin of the people from Sakari would stand out, declaring us as other. But I was Maciji, a magic-shifter, and I’d spent the last two years in the sun so my skin was tan like a Bidi. Besides, it was night, and in the darkness—this far back in the alley—I would blend in. Except I’d just shifted from serpent to man without looking behind me.
I turned, my hands going to my daggers, but my jaw went slack and my hands dropped to my sides, empty. A vibrant core of orange radiated from within the other person. Orange? No, more like orangish-red. My vision shifted immediately, and I continued to gape with the confirmation of who—or rather what—was in front of me. “Frozen pits,” I swore. “Who are you?”
The young woman was stunningly beautiful, and my gaze traveled from her fiery hair—the same color as her core power, over her wide green eyes, silky skin, and lush mouth, down her body, from the exposed cleavage of her low-cut tunic, to her tiny waist and—I shook my head—high cut skirt, showing most of her toned thighs. Her boots were supple leather and came up past her knees, so fitted they were like a second skin. I blinked, pushing my eyes to use Maciji power again, but the previous vision didn’t change.
Impossible. I stepped forward, and the young woman stepped back, a normal response to a man advancing on her. I fumbled for a fraction of a second, wondering if I’d spoken in Saki the first time. Shock held my tongue and then, in Bidi, I said, “Who are—”
“Who are you?” she asked in perfect Saki. She dropped her hand to her hip, where a dagger was tucked into a leather sheath, and grabbed the hilt. “Why are you here?”
The young woman looked a lot like one of my kind, almost exactly like, in fact. But not at all like one of the Saki.
The Saki had dark hair and dark eyes, but the Maciji’s skin darkened with enough sunlight, much like the Bidi. At first glance, one might believe we were all the same species. But the difference was in the concentrated color in the core of our bodies. Where the Bidi were hues of yellow, and the Saki were shades of blue, the Maciji had a core of red light, and only the Maciji could see the energy of others.
My father said he’d always known I’d have Maciji power, and he’d been preparing me to be Hamada ever since I could walk—since only the elite warriors came to Zafi. When I turned twelve and was accepted into the ranks, Kyan had brought me to Zafi to see the core of power—his and King Traj’s, but those were the only red ones I ever saw. Kyan said I should keep the Maciji power secret until after I’d gone through the metamorphosis—then I would be able to see anyone’s core and other Maciji would be able to see mine. A week later he and King Traj were killed.
I blinked, coming back to the present, stunned. There in the alley was another Maciji—which was impossible. Because there were no female Maciji. They didn’t exist; the power never showed up in women. Ever. My father had been certain it was impossible. But there at her core was a vibrant orangish-red spark of energy like my father’s and King Traj’s . . . just like mine.
She blinked, and her breaths grew shallow, but she drew her blade and spun it with telling dexterity. “I asked you a question,” she said, her voice just barely trembling. “I expect an answer . . . viper.”
I flinched at the Bidi insult in our language and raised my hands in surrender. “My name is Jäg. I just came for food.” I pointed out toward the market and added, “I was hungry. But I’ll leave, no problem. I didn’t . . . I wasn’t trying to cause trouble.”
The beautiful redhead pursed her lips, staring me down. After a stretch of several seconds of awkward silence, she nodded and then twirled her blade before sliding it back into its sheath. With a shake of her head, she said, “It’s not safe here for your kind. You need to leave Datti.”
I nodded, still trying to figure out how she could be here. I’d been to this world, Zafi, at least a hundred times in the last dozen years, but I’d never seen anyone like her before. “I’ll leave, right now—”
“Ariya?” a man said, stepping into the alley carrying a lantern.
The young woman, Ariya, hissed, her gaze darting to the man as she grimaced.
Before I could register her intent, she closed the distance between us, backed me against the wall, and then pressed her lips to mine. I froze, and she—Ariya—slid one hand up my chest, and with the other, she grabbed my hand and put it on her waist. “You better make this good,” she mumbled against my lips. “They will kill you if they find out what you are.”
I brought my other hand up, pushing it into her long hair, and with the one at her waist, I pulled her closer. The warmth of her body seeped through her clothes to me, and the curve of her waist and soft skin made me very aware of her. My response heightened, and I trailed kisses over her jaw and then over her exposed neck to her ear. “Why are we kissing?” I murmured.
Instead of answering, she rose up on her tiptoes, eliminating the distance between us as she rubbed against my body. My mind emptied, completely. I forgot we were faking. I forgot I was in danger. I forgot my freezing name as I ran my hand down over her hip and nipped at her lip.
She released a soft moan, and the world fell away. I ran my thumb down her arm, wanting to find a way to take her with me, or escape with her, even knowing nothing else about her— she was sunshine and warmth, the perfect balance for me.
“Ariya,” the young man snapped, right behind us this time, and then he shoved her, trying to force her away from me.
Instinct reigned as I slid my left arm between us and plucked her blade from the sheath. Stepping in front of her, I extended the blade, touching the tip to the man’s neck. I sucked in a breath, my thoughts barely clear, but I managed to remember where I was and which language to speak. “What do you—”
“It’s fine, Jäg,” Ariya said, sounding only mildly put out as she sidled next to me. She slid her arm around
my waist and, with her free hand, pressed my arm down. She glared at the young man and said, “We’re not on duty for another hour, Heval. I told you I’d meet you at quarter past.”
The young man stared at Ariya, his shock morphing into the rage of betrayal. His golden eyes hardened, and he clenched his jaw, but the tension continued to spread over his exposed shoulders and down his arms to his fists. His anger shifted to me, and I tensed. If he drew a weapon, I’d kill him.
While I was on the tall side for a Saki, several inches over six foot, Heval was as equally tall and built. He wore weapons at both hips and two strapped to his back, but his awkward shifting from foot to foot was either a ruse, or he was nervous. My bet was on the latter.
He jutted his chin at me and said, “What T-squadron are you from? I don’t remember seeing you at any of the meetings lately.”
I squeezed Ariya’s waist, partly hoping she’d fill in for me. To kill this jackal would be gratifying, but the fight could jeopardize my long-term goal of revenge. For all his bluster, he was a few years younger than me, which meant he’d had nothing to do with my father or King Traj’s death.
“You know he won’t tell you, Heval,” Ariya said with a shake of her head. She narrowed her eyes as she continued. “Just like you’re not supposed to tell him. It’s rule number two.” She held up two fingers and then stepped between us, her back to me. “You should stop now; anyone can see he’s not a demon-viper, and if you persist, you’ll only embarrass yourself more.”
Heval stiffened, his glare dropping from me to her. “That was uncalled for.”
Ariya sighed and looked up at the darkness. “Fine. I’m sorry,” she said with as much sincerity as the frozen tundra of Sakari. “Please forgive my rudeness, Captain.”
The blond young man stared at my savior. “I’m not going to forget this, Ariya. I don’t care if your father is Maki or how well-trained you think you are. You’ll never amount to a true warrior.”
Ariya drew another knife—a small round blade the color of night—and held it in a reverse grip, edge out. I still held her other weapon, which meant I’d missed that blade on her—strange because she didn’t have a lot of hiding places to begin with. She kept the knife low, in a defensive hold. And just as sure as I’d been about Heval not knowing how to fight, I knew Ariya did.
“Get out of here,” she snarled. “I’ll report at ten.”
She turned her back to him then and, with her eyes flashing fire, said to me, “Come on, Jäg. Let’s go finish our date.”
Date? I’m not sure where she came up with that idea, but it didn’t matter. Rules of engagement demanded I not turn my back on the enemy until the threat was eliminated or resolved. I continued to stare at Heval, narrowing my eyes until he turned and went back down the alley the way he’d come.
Ariya blew out a long, slow breath. “I really hate him,” she muttered. She straightened and forced her mouth into a smile. “Sorry about kissing you like that. I couldn’t think of any other reason I’d be in an alley with a man—at least not any other reason that could keep you safe.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, holding the knife out to her, hilt first. “I don’t think I was in danger from the . . . captain, was it?” I shook my head and released the blade to her, admiring her dexterity as she sheathed the weapon. “But I appreciate your effort on my behalf.”
She snorted. “You’re—we’re lucky it was just Heval. He’s too proud to admit he doesn’t know something. Anyone else would’ve brought you in.” She pulled me deeper into the alley. “Let’s get you out of here before night patrols start in earnest.”
I followed after her, and we ducked down another alley, even more narrow, and I had to follow single file to avoid tripping over the mounds of garbage. I forced my gaze away from her feminine curves and shook the remaining passion from my head. “Wait,” I said, realizing I was blindly following her to who-knew-where. “Where are we going?”
Ariya stopped and faced me with a glare. “Really? I just saved your life, and now you want to ask if you should trust me? Don’t be a dalcop, Jäg. I’m going to save your life, again.”
What the hoarfrost? I had no idea what a dalcop was, but I could infer. I followed behind because her determination rang genuine, which I’d never encountered with a Bidi. “Where did you learn to fight?”
“My father,” she answered, tugging me down another alley. She pulled to a stop a moment later. “This way,” she said, pushing me to go back the way we’d just come. “There are soldiers coming that way.”
Ariya passed by me on her way out. I glanced down the narrow passageway and saw nothing until I blinked, forcing my eyes to shift. There they were. Four yellow sparks—the men far in the distance. If her reddish core weren’t enough, she’d just confirmed she had Maciji sight.
“Why are you here? In Datti?” I asked, jogging to catch up. “How long have you been here? Who are your parents?”
She glanced back at me and asked, “You think you know what I am, right?”
“Yes,” I answered. I wasn’t sure how, but there was only one possibility. “You’re Maciji.” But she didn’t answer, and doubt trickled in. I tried to think of any other way she could be something else, but there was no other option. “Right?”
“No,” she said, tossing her impossible answer over her shoulder as she continued to lead me to the entrance of Datti. “My father was. But my mother is Bidi, from here. Papa said one day you’d come for me.”
I was puzzling over the orange-tinge to her core, the color-combination suddenly understandable, and her latter words took a moment to process. Wait. “Me? Your father said I’d come for you?”
We arrived at the city wall, twenty feet high, and I continued to study her. She’d brought me to a section between two watchtowers where the lights didn’t quite stretch to break the curtain of darkness, giving me the perfect opportunity to shift. How much did she know?
She turned and faced me, rolling her eyes as if my question was ridiculous, but I could barely remember the question when she spoke.
“Not you personally—your kind. Maciji.”
Your kind—not ours. I stared at her, my jaw dropping as more than just her words sunk in. She’d led me here, to the only break in the Bidi’s surveillance, because she knew. The awareness sucker-punched me. I’d never heard of our races mixing but not because we couldn’t. The evidence stood right in front of me, and I wondered what other impossibilities were actually possible.
“What was your father’s name?” I asked, both excited and terrified at the same time.
She glanced right and then left before meeting my gaze. “You’re not here to take me with you,” she stated. “And you’re not here for something to eat. So why would you risk your life coming to Datti now? Why would you even come to Zafi?”
I was missing something important, really important, but my thoughts spun out of control with my questions. I mentally grasped for the right words . . . “What is happening—”
The loud gong of a bell rang through the air, so loud it reverberated through the ground and into my body. Shouts from the tower on the right followed the bell, and Ariya’s eyes widened.
“Go,” she mouthed and pushed me toward the wall. She kept her arm outstretched, pointing at a hole at the base of the wall—a hole just big enough for a small rodent—or a snake. She grabbed at something on her belt and shoved it in my hands just as a door at the base of one tower opened and men poured out. “Now.”
“Will you be safe?” I asked, tucking the little pouch into my belt. I had no idea if I could take her with me, but I wasn’t about to leave her here to suffer. If I needed to defend her, I could—
She leaned forward and hissed in my ear, “Yes. But if they find you, we’ll both die.”
A fraction of a second later, an echoing of shouts rolled out from the tower on the left.
I nodded once and spun into the darkness. In one fluid movement, I shifted into a snake and darted through the opening. A
s soon as I was outside the scope of the lights, I changed my form again, this time into a lupier, a spotted great-cat, and sprinted into the night.
Chapter Two
Once I was away from Datti, and the lights were swallowed by the desert night, I slowed my pace. My mind, however, continued to race. Did my father ever know about Ariya? She would’ve been young when he died. And who was her father? The idea that we might be related made my stomach turn, and freezing pits, I hoped not. There were more Saki who’d came to Zafi—not just Kyan and King Traj, almost a dozen who’d been killed by the ambush at the gate. But how many of the Hamada who came were Maciji? And why tell me all Maciji were men when Ariya’s father obviously knew otherwise? All the knowledge I’d previously held was in doubt, but who could I trust? Had my father lied, or did he know? Or were the myths perpetuated because no one took the time to question them?
I arrived at the gate between Zafi and Sakari and bounded up the bridge, shifting mid-stride as I crossed the halfway point—when I heard voices. I straightened and cursed as the bitter cold of my world slammed into me. I’d become so preoccupied I’d forgotten to stop for my pack and my cloak buried in the sand. I skirted to the side of the unit of Hamada, their blue cores as icy as the rocks of our world. Another ten of them marched single file down the bridge toward Zafi, and I frowned when one of them gloated about the Bidi getting what was coming to them.
Bracing myself for even more bitter temperatures, I ran the last few measures of the bridge and across the frozen and snowy tundra of Sakari to the paling of Kankara. The dark gray stone rose into the air, so high only fools and children bothered trying to see the top, and the natural fissures in the rock were wide enough for anyone to get through. At one time, there must’ve been guards stationed at the breaks, but the posts had been abandoned for years; our weather was sufficient to dissuade anyone from invasion—if that were even possible. Rashi, I didn’t even want to come back most days.
The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 31