Lionheart

by Kate Roman

  Roy’s heart skipped a beat. He kissed Ash lightly, then laid a hand on Ash’s jawline. “Do you want to leave?”

  Ash shook his head. “Not that. Never that. Tell me, are you sure you’re strong enough to travel tomorrow?”

  “Provided we rest often, the journey should be simple.” Weak though he might still be, Roy had plenty of ideas about what kind of rest would refresh him for the coming journey. He leaned in and took another, deeper kiss.

  * * * *

  This time when the knapsacks were packed for travel, it was Roy’s turn to insist the load was shared equally. “I’m better every day,” he reminded Ash gently as he took a bundle of meat and stowed it in his own bag.

  “I know, and I’m glad of it,” Ash agreed, wrapping the remaining pumpkin in a cloth and packing it. “But you can’t blame me for worrying about you, you know.”

  Roy supposed that was the truth.

  They made the journey in stages, stopping every hour. Roy tried to set his normal pace, but Ash obstinately refused to keep up with him, and in the end, Roy submitted to the slower speed. By the third hour, he was glad of it.

  The day was hot and sweat ran freely down his brow. He was trying to drink sparingly but was uncomfortably aware that he needed more water than usual. But his canteen was nearly empty, and they were a good mile from the nearest spring.

  Ash led them into the shade of some thornbushes, looking worried. “We’re not resting enough,” he said firmly, reaching for Roy’s canteen. “And we’re short of water. The village is too far, my friend. You’re not ready to travel.”

  Roy ran a hand over his face, wiping off the sweat. He was afraid Ash might be right. When Ash pushed him down onto the cool, shaded earth, he sat without complaint, lowering his head and breathing deeply.

  Ash walked a little distance away, raising his head and looking this way and that, as if listening to sounds Roy couldn’t hear. “Where’s the nearest water?”

  “There’s a spring…a mile downhill, set back from the path. There’s a rock with creeper…something with flowers. Anyway, there are always bees there.”

  “That way?” Ash pointed.

  Roy nodded, then sat up with a sudden burst of strength as he realized what Ash intended. “You can’t go alone. You’ll get lost, or hurt, or—”

  “Roy.” Ash knelt and put a hand on Roy’s chest, keeping him still. “There’s no choice. You can’t go a mile with no water, not without bringing on the fever again. Rest, and trust me.”

  “I do trust you. But you don’t know the veldt.”

  “I’m learning.” With a quick grin Ash poured the remnants of the canteen into a tin mug and placed it at Roy’s side, then opened his pack and pulled out half a dozen wild plums. “These will slake your thirst also, and the sugar in them may help.” He hesitated a moment, then kissed Roy softly. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Before Roy could protest, he was gone.

  Roy fought back fear. He knew Ash was right, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of Ash alone on the trail. He slowly ate a plum, then closed his eyes. “Mambokadzi, if you have magic indeed, watch over him. Don’t let him come to harm.”

  As Roy fell into a doze, a shadow passed over his resting place, and a Bateleur’s jarring screech sounded as if from a great distance. Then Roy let the shade and fatigue carry him away.

  The snarl of a lion summoned Roy back. His limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, and he lay on the warm earth, aware he should be frightened but unable to summon the strength, or the will, to move.

  The clearing was empty, and according to the position of the sun, little time had passed since Ash had set off.

  The sound came again from just past a pair of ironstone tors guarding the trail. Roy could hear something large and heavy coming slowly toward him. Roy stared, mesmerized. The trilling cicadas sounded loud in his ears, rising and falling, thrumming in time with his heartbeat, taking up a counterpoint to the heavy pad of paws coming up the trail.

  With a snarl, a male lion bounded into view. Roy’s heart pounded. He was in terrible danger.

  But the lion spared him barely a glance, then mounted one of the tors, climbing up and perching precariously on the summit.

  Then, with a mighty roar, it leaped to the ground and vanished into the trees.

  Ash, Roy thought. He summoned all his strength, but hard as he tried, he could make no sound. There was a flash of gold from the edge of the clearing, and Roy held his breath, staring. The lion was near, prowling through the vegetation. He had never heard of a big cat behaving so strangely, especially not in the heat of the day.

  The lion wove in and out between the trees, heading back toward the tors. Then it disappeared behind a tree, and Roy lost sight of it. He stared desperately around, frightened—then saw Ash. He was mere feet from where Roy had seen the lion, and he was walking in an unconcerned manner toward the trail.

  All at once, Roy’s stupor left him and he scrambled to his feet. “Ash! Ash!”

  Ash’s head snapped up and he started to run.

  “Roy! Is everything all right?”

  “There was…a lion, roaring on the trail…”

  Ash arrived at Roy’s side and took his arm, steadying him. He held out the canteen. “Drink.”

  Roy took the canteen, staring into the trees. There was no sign of the lion. He sipped the water greedily, then dropped back to the shade beneath the thornbushes. “Did you see the lion?”

  Ash shook his head. “No. I didn’t see it or hear it. Are you sure?”

  Roy hesitated. In the grip of fever, his imagination could produce many worse things than lions. “I don’t know.” He sipped more water. “You found the spring, I see. And you’re back very fast.”

  “Yes, the way was easy.” Ash put his arm around Roy. “And when I reached the spring, Onai was there. When you feel well enough, we should go on after all.”

  Roy recapped the canteen and handed it back. “Agreed. Never wise to argue with Mambokadzi.”

  They made their way slowly along the trail, and Roy stayed alert, looking for traces of the lion. He found nothing until they were nearly at the spring. He stepped off the trail to relieve himself and froze, staring. Fresh lion dung, less than an hour old. He studied the ground further, and found a place where the beast had leaped to a rocky outcrop. There was a tuft of golden hair, as though the animal had rolled in the sun…then nothing more. Hard as Roy searched, he could find no tracks to show which way the cat had gone.

  “It worries me,” Roy said, returning to the trail where Ash waited patiently.

  “I saw nothing.” Ash looked contrite. “I don’t know how to read sign yet or to notice things well enough. But it seems it doesn’t want to attack us.”

  “Most things don’t. You hear a lot of garbage about man-eaters and the like—and even more garbage about the power of man over the beasts and how they won’t attack a white man. The truth is, animals are shy. They stay away from what they don’t understand. And that’s why they stay away from men, unless you go out hunting them. An animal will attack if it’s hungry, if it’s frightened, or if you get between it and its young. This lion has no reason to attack us. But I’d sure feel better if I knew where it was.”

  They heard the spring before they saw it. The recent rains had over-filled it, and a tiny waterfall trickled down the rocks, splashing into a rock basin below. A number of birds cavorted on the rocks, and on a branch of the heavy creeper that covered the small cliff perched a black eagle with piercing green eyes, surveying the goings-on.

  Roy grinned. Onai looked like nothing so much as a policeman watching the antics of a group of yahoos, wondering which one to arrest first. Roy moved forward, surveying the soft ground at the edge of the water for lion prints, and a puff of tiny white butterflies exploded from the clump of grass under his feet.

  Ash exclaimed softly. “I thought I frightened them off earlier! They’re beautiful.”

  “They stay near water.” Still s
miling, Roy watched their spiraling flight. “When we go to the river, you’ll see colored ones.”

  “What are those?” Ash came up beside him, pointing at a flock of red-and-brown birds using the spring as a paddling pool.

  “Mambokadzi calls them husvu,” Roy replied absently. “I think they’re a type of starling, myself. I can’t see any lion tracks here, Ash.”

  “You look for shumba everywhere he’s not, crazy white man.”

  Roy jumped, looking around. “Mambokadzi?”

  There was no sign of the shaman woman anywhere. Roy glanced at Ash, who shook his head minutely.

  Mambokadzi cackled with laughter. “If you’re too blind to see me, you’re too blind to see shumba. But go to the Finder’s Tree, wait, watch; even you will see what comes.”

  “The Finder’s Tree? What’s coming?”

  “Go. Watch with your eyes, ears, and nose. Then you know,” Mambokadzi said cryptically. Onai screamed once, then launched herself into the air, and, as one, the small birds followed suit.

  Ash watched the birds depart, the same strange half-smile Roy had seen earlier on his face. When he met Roy’s gaze, the smile deepened. “I think that’s our cue.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You heard her too, right?” Roy took the canteen from his belt. He unscrewed the top and took a sip.

  Ash, walking a couple of strides ahead, stopped, and turned back. “Mambokadzi? Yes.”

  “You see her?”

  Ash shook his head.

  “Good. Makes me feel better when it’s not just me.” Roy returned the canteen to his belt. “You’re taking this remarkably well, you know.”

  “What, you mean the mysterious old woman we can hear but not see, despite the fact she’s likely miles from here?”

  “Yes. That. A lot of people would find that…problematic, at least.”

  Ash looked out across the savanna with eyes that seemed too old for his face by far. “A lot of people,” he said finally, “aren’t me. Ever since I arrived in Rhodesia, I’ve felt as though it’s been trying to teach me something.”

  “And what’s that? What’s Rhodesia trying to teach you?”

  Ash smiled slyly. “Let’s just say Mambokadzi talking through her bird isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened so far. Anyway, what do you think she meant?”

  Roy regarded Ash thoughtfully. “About what’s coming? I don’t know. As for the rest…she said I was looking for the lion everywhere he wasn’t. Said I was too blind to see him.”

  “The lion. Shumba?”

  “You catch on fast. Look, there’s the tree.” Roy pointed. The Finder’s Tree was nearly directly below them, its bare branches stretching up to the sky in silent supplication.

  The sun was high, and both men were sweating profusely. A half-hour’s scramble down the steep slope brought them out onto the veldt less than a mile from the baobab.

  “There.” Roy pointed to a small stand of mopane trees a hundred yards distant. “We’ll rest in their shadow.”

  Ash nodded and set off. They arrived gratefully into the shade between the straggly trees, and Ash pulled off his shirt, toweling his body roughly with the cloth.

  Roy followed suit, then sipped from his canteen and handed it to Ash.

  Ash hefted the canteen and raised his eyebrows. “Still nearly full. How are you feeling?”

  “Better than ever. Since we left the spring…” Roy shrugged. “I don’t feel the fever anymore.”

  “Mambokadzi,” Ash said, watching him.

  “It can’t be. She wasn’t there.” Roy ran his hand roughly through his hair. “Hell, what am I saying. Of course it’s her.”

  “Whatever it is, you’re well. That’s what matters.”

  Roy nodded. He felt well. So well, in fact, that the sight of Ash, shirtless, his body streaked with the red African dust, sent tendrils of desire snaking right through him. He tried to ignore his filling cock and tossed his shirt to the ground. “Nap if you want,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse to his own ears. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Ash sank down onto a boulder. “I’m not sleepy.”

  Roy grinned at the predatory look in Ash’s eyes.

  “Nothing will come in the heat,” Ash said roughly. “We have nothing to do but wait.”

  Wordlessly Ash held out both hands. Roy came willingly, crossing the distance between them to stand between Ash’s parted knees.

  Ash looked up at him hungrily, then slid his hands back, squeezing Roy’s ass. “Come on,” he said breathlessly.

  With hands that trembled, Roy unfastened his belt. Conscious of Ash’s gaze, he undid his pants. Ash released his butt and pulled Roy’s trousers down to pool around his knees.

  Ash growled appreciatively. Roy groaned as Ash leaned in, breath hot on the sensitive skin of his cock. Ash took his balls in one hand, lightly stroking them, as the other hand slid up his leg, finally stopping again on his hip.

  Slowly, Ash pulled Roy forward.

  The wet heat of Ash’s mouth nearly undid Roy right away. He struggled for control, wavering on his feet as Ash took him deep. Then Ash had him by both hips in a tight grip, drawing him forward, deeper than Roy could ever have imagined.

  He snatched a glimpse of Ash’s wide eyes, focused and satisfied, Ash’s mouth stretched around his swollen shaft; then he let his eyes close. His head fell back as he gave himself over to sensation.

  Roy came with a roar that would have done a lion proud, filling Ash’s throat with spurt after spurt of sticky seed. Ash sucked at Roy a little longer, until with a hoarse cry Roy toppled to his knees against the boulder. Ash pursued, leaning down to claim Roy’s mouth.

  Roy tasted his own cum, bitter on Ash’s tongue as Ash kissed him deep and hard. Finally Ash pulled away, breathing hard. The look in his eyes was feral, urgent, holding nothing of the soft, young English gentleman. Roy’s heart thrilled as he stared into the gaze of a lion; then Ash tore feverishly at his own pants, releasing his engorged cock.

  Letting his head loll on Ash’s thigh, Roy licked at the shaft as Ash stroked himself slowly. Ash hummed his pleasure, speeding up the rhythm.

  Roy whimpered needily, inhaling the musk of sweat and sex. As though driven by Roy’s urgency, Ash gave a hoarse cry, then pumped his hips, dislodging them both onto the ground as his seed spilled across his hand and over Roy’s chest.

  Roy landed on his back with Ash poised above him. With a hungry whine, Ash leaned down and took another kiss, then slowly traced his hand across Roy’s chest.

  Where Ash touched, Roy’s skin tingled. Looking down, Roy saw that Ash was rubbing the white smears of cum into his skin. He licked his lips, staring. The expression on Ash’s face was one of profound concentration, as though the task was vital.

  Thinking of the lion, Roy wondered if perhaps it was. He closed his eyes as Ash kissed him again, softer this time. “Ash,” he whispered.

  There was no answer for a moment; then Ash sat up slowly. “That was intense,” Ash said unsteadily.

  Roy opened his eyes and sat up, sliding an arm around his lover. “With you, it has been from the beginning.”

  Ash grinned at that, looking down. Roy found himself thinking about the lion from his dream, and Ash’s sudden appearance a moment later; the lion at Thornside and Ash’s confused and bloodstained daze when Roy reached the cave. Mambokadzi’s story.

  Men weren’t lions. Roy shifted a little, getting comfortable in the dust. Roy looked over at Ash, his gold, tousled hair and too-old eyes. It was madness, surely; a hangover from his malarial fever. Except, Roy’s treacherous mind whispered, that the lion came to Thornside before your malaria returned.

  Ash caught Roy’s gaze and looked at him questioningly.

  The words were on the tip of Roy’s tongue. But really, how would it sound? Are you now, or have you ever been, a lion?

  Roy shook his head.

  But as they took turns dozing and keeping watch through the rest of the day, Roy thought of Ash’s unexp
ected strength, his ability to manage in the wilderness alone. That and the fact that Ash’s arrival on the veldt had coincided with the appearance of the young gold lion who acted so strangely.

  And then, of course, there was the question of Thornside. The Haywood brothers were out for blood. Lion blood. If Roy’s suspicions were correct, like as not they’d unknowingly take their blood relative’s head as a trophy. Roy shivered despite the day’s heat.

  Even if Ash didn’t prove to be a lion—and let’s face facts, the little voice said, what are the odds?—Roy’s own dealings with Gerald Haywood led him to believe that should Ash prove to be no more than a beautiful, confused young man, he faced at least as much danger from his family as from anything out on the veldt. Probably more.

  Roy looked over at Ash. He thought hard about all the things that had happened since the war, since he’d come to Rhodesia and given his fortune over to the veldt. He thought about that and the way Ash felt in his arms, skin against skin, his breath hot and gentle in Roy’s ear; the soft, urgent sounds Ash made when Roy was moving inside him.

  Roy thought about all these things and more, and told the little voice in his head to go to the devil. Even without any explanation at all, if Ash was a lion, Roy would have him just the same and hang the consequences!

  * * * *

  At last the sun sank lower, the heat of the afternoon giving way to evening. When Roy woke, Ash sat watching the baobab, his back against the scrawny trunk of a mopane.

  “Should we go closer?”

  Roy scrubbed sleep from his eyes, taking in the inadequate shelter cast by the mopanes. “There’s no cover out there. We should stay here.”

  Ash nodded. “Can we make camp here?”

  “We could, but I don’t like it. We’re only an hour from my compound. I think we spend the night there. It’s safer, and it’s defensible.” Roy stood up, shading his eyes against the sun and staring across the veldt.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s something out there,” Roy said tightly. “And whatever it is, it’s coming this way.”

  Ash scrambled to his feet and looked out across the veldt. “Lions?”