Unveiling the Sorceress

by Saskia Walker

  "You must live as the goddess would, if she were a woman."

  "Yes, I feel that too.” What the priestess said made sense to her. The goddess's love was bountiful, her passion immeasurable, her serenity a given. “I must undertake a great task, and I seek the goddess's guidance on the decisions I must make."

  The priestess nodded. “If you have asked for her protection, and have faith in her bounty, she will help you."

  "Thank you, for your words.” Elishiba looked from the kindly, wise face of the priestess, back to that of the stone goddess, taking the simple advice into her heart.

  The priestess smiled and moved on.

  Elishiba lingered a while, until she heard other visitors arrive, then she stood and took her leave, locking into her heart her faith in the goddess, taking Sevita with her.

  Out on the street, the sun seemed even brighter after the hushed, shadowy interior, and they hurried on. They were soon deep within the hub of the Souk, with the scent of spices, rising bread and freshly roasted meats tempting the palate. The bright colors of the goods and the sellers’ costumes were vivid in the sunlight. It blazed off brass ornaments, drawing out the subtlest glossy threads woven into sumptuous carpets, brightly patterned blankets and the great reams of material stacked everywhere. Beads and embroidered head dresses were spread out on the ground, watched over by the hunched figures of wizened grandmothers, who rarely looked up, unless they sensed a buyer approach, or to chase off the scrawny dogs who closed in at regular intervals to cause momentary chaos.

  Instinct seemed to lend itself to their sales and the protection of their wares.

  Further along the street, ripe fruits were heaped on display. The aroma of their fermenting sugars hung heavy on the air, redolent enough to inspire their flavors on the tongue. A young man offered fresh slices of mango, bartering with buyers, hawking his wares. As they walked by, Elishiba stopped to take an offered sliver of the fruit from his knife, sliding it beneath her veils to bite its firm flesh. The flavor melted over her tongue. She indicated to the twins, and they bought some of his wares, pausing to speak with him awhile.

  Elishiba moved on, observing the open doorways of the buildings clustered beyond the stalls, where dusky figures stood in the shadows, watching, and waiting. The seductive music that echoed through the walls and into the streets, made the lusty undercurrents known to the observant. The women were barely concealed by strings of beads or thin gauze curtains, which made them at once hidden, yet totally visible: the women of the Souk, lusty creatures whose wares were more sensual in nature.

  Today they seemed symbolic of everything for sale here, exotic and sensual. The seductive voices from inside the cramped houses seemed to speak to her then, whispering of love and lust. Is this what Sevita wanted her to know and consider? Beneath the hubbub of voices, she almost heard the secret sounds of the women's clothes swishing across stone floors as they danced for their men.

  She breathed deep the heady mixture of life here in the heart of the city. It was here that Elishiba felt most a part of the city, its life, truly, thriving on its energies, its vibrancy. The city was a woman, Elishiba was sure of it. Like the goddess who watched over it, lush and fecund. Deep inside, Elishiba craved that too, to be her essential woman, to know herself and to always be sure of it.

  As the twins meandered off between the stalls, she watched a man approach a beaded curtain, tempted to another vision of life, one of simple pleasures. He was tall and sparely built, but there was a suggestion of vitality in his leanly muscled frame. His features were rugged, his skin dark. He wore his hair held loosely at the nape of his neck. A robe was slung back over his shoulders and the emblem of The Immortals was visible on his breastplate.

  He was one of her men.

  As he stood before the beads, a hand emerged, a female arm, beckoning. The woman's fingernails were long and tapered, stained with red that coiled over her hand in delicate scrawling designs. Bells trailed from her wrist to dance down over her long delicate fingers. The woman gestured her hand toward him, fingers twirling, the bells tinkling, and he smiled, taking her fingers, as she led him inside.

  Elishiba closed her eyes, and imagined, her mind strangely afloat on the seductive atmosphere. She was that woman, drawing a man into her home, taking him for pleasure. He was tall, and as he strode into the interior he bent to kiss her mouth. His name whispered over her lips, and she felt his presence closing on her, the skin on her back alive with the certainty of it.

  Amshazar.

  Again his image haunted her.

  Spellbound, she felt his mouth brush over hers, heard her own whimper. His hands moved on her body. His fingers traced her spine, holding her attention. It was as if he was all around her, causing tormenting waves of desire within her.

  The sensation was shattered, quite suddenly, by a distant scream. Her eyes flashed open, and she rested her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself, suddenly dizzy and confused by the images that had crept upon her of this man, yet again, and even more confused by the way those images had been broken by a cry, a wild fearful cry. She felt hot and confused, her hair damp against her neck.

  More screams and shouting issued from a place beyond the stalls. A sense of panic was high in the air. People were running in the direction of the noise, calling to each other to see what it was about.

  Elishiba gathered herself. She could not see the twins, and hurried through the souk hoping to find them there. The previously busy stalls had been abandoned, the people running to where the crowd was gathered. As she too closed on the place, she caught sight of Amra and Elra deep in the crowd, hugging against each other. Craning her neck, she struggled to see. Like everyone around them, the twins stared down at the scene beyond.

  "What is it?” Elishiba asked a woman nearby. “What is happening?"

  The woman's eyes were wild with fear. “The boy, he is sick and they were bringing him into Suzin to be nursed, but a shayatin has followed them into the city to claim his weakening heart, his soul."

  A shayatin? A dirt demon, here in the city?

  It was unheard of. Shayatin preyed on people when they were isolated in the desert, or when the city was in danger or under siege. It was not for many years that this had happened, and Elishiba had never witnessed it before. Her heart beat hard in her chest, concern overwhelming her.

  The woman by her side wailed aloud, tears spilling down her face while she gripped Elishiba's arm, her fears tumbling out. “Aleem is cursed. Enemies walk through our gates taking what they want. Our empress will be used as a whore at our enemies’ hands, while our people become victims of thieves and shayatin."

  Elishiba stared at her in horror as she took in what the woman was saying, realizing the extent of her people's fears. It pulled on something deep within her, drawing on her essential womanhood, her very being—that which she had called upon at Sevita's knees. Her heart grew strong, her will more fiercely determined than ever. She clasped the woman tight against her for a moment. “It will not be so, sister. Trust me, it will not be."

  With the promise still on her lips, she squeezed herself between the crowds of onlookers, only halting when she reached the inner edge of the gathered crowd. She could scarcely believe the scene before her.

  A narrow stretcher made of sticks and torn fabric bore the body of a thin young boy. Beside him, the demon rose and sank into the sands, its body forming from the very grains itself. As it lifted once more, grappling at the body on the stretcher, Elishiba saw a screaming skull, eyeless, but with vision all the same. A hollow, hungry mouth and bony fingers emerged from the sand and plucked at the stretcher's edge. The boy screamed and writhed in agony when the demon's finger brushed over his throat, as if it had taken the breath from his lungs.

  Elishiba's skin crawled with fear and revulsion. She stared in horror. The color faded from the boy's face. Grains of sand were pouring into his mouth as the demon moved over his face. Nearby, a woman was on her knees, wailing. The boy's mother, Elishib
a knew it in her heart. Two young men tried to draw her away, but she clutched at the earth with her fingers, powerless, yet unwilling to flee.

  "Gods, help us,” Elishiba whispered, horrorstruck.

  Her attention shifted when a tall, hooded figure in heavy sacking robes emerged from the crowd and taunted the demon, his arms raised as if warning the creature off in a commanding voice. Beyond him she caught sight of a scrawny elder man, with a tufted beard, who stood by his side. The two challengers had apparently come forth to take on the creature.

  A glimmer of hope for the boy sprang into being in her heart.

  On his feet the robed man wore dusty, worn boots, a traveler. His robes, too, were worn and travel weary. He chanted aloud an ancient, foreign-sounding tongue. Whatever it was that he said, it harnessed the demon's attention.

  The demon paused and lifted its shifting sand-formed skull, turning in the direction of the stranger. Elishiba watched in awe. The shayatin had understood what the stranger had said.

  Hope thrummed in her chest.

  "People, give me your strength, focus on the boy,” the hooded figure shouted in the direction of the crowd.

  Some of the crowd fell to their knees, as if willing. Others backed away, too afraid to be involved. Elishiba stepped forward, her heart beating fast, her feet moving of their own accord.

  The hooded figure seemed to focus on her, but she could not see his face. He reached out a hand in her direction, and between them a powerful force grew. It was immense, tugging on her very innards with its strength. It was happening so fast, she could barely make sense of it. Her body reacted, her response forming out of her need to help. The man was using her to assist him in his cause, she realized. And then the crowd seemed to sense it too, and she felt her torso heating fast, as if there was a burning rock lodged in her chest.

  Between her and the stranger a fiery glow grew.

  Voices lifted in concern, but she was locked into the experience and only faintly heard them. The stranger held her attention, directing the pulsing force between them, with one hand. It swirled out from him, only to be spooled back and reinvigorated from within her.

  Hot and vibrating inside, her chest ached. A fearful moan escaped from her lips, but she could do nothing but give of herself, as she watched him raise the other hand, and move it through the air, before lashing it out in the direction of the shayatin.

  Cries issued from the crowd.

  The force between her and the stranger lifted and flashed out, harnessing the shayatin in a net of light, enmeshing him to the spot, and forcing him down into the sand from which he had formed. The demon fought the interference, bony fingers locked into the glowing light around him, mouth open in an angry sneer.

  The crowd huddled back, as light arced between the hooded figure, the crouched demon, and Elishiba.

  Her limbs were shaking, her chest now painful with the force that was running through her. She lost sight of the crowd around her, aware only of the hooded man and their joined purpose. All of her desire to protect and love her people was funneling out of her into the atmosphere, and challenging the demon. She felt the resistance of the demon attempting to feed back into her heart.

  Two against one, the hooded figure was using her.

  But who was he? The words flitted through her mind even as she wilted under the force of the experience. In her heart she knew, but before she had time to acknowledge the truth of the matter, the power reached a sudden, higher pitch. Her arms shook, her body surging with energy.

  The creature's forearms bent backwards, its hollow eyes turned toward her now, its mouth open in a fierce grimace. The arc of light strengthened, she felt the hooded figure forcing it so, and her body shuddered, her head spinning. A scream emerged from her mouth, a violent release of emotion, a shout of fury and victory.

  Grains of sand spilled from the demon's head. It was disintegrating before their eyes. As the demon sank into the earth, becoming nothing but dust, the boy beside him moved, his body jerking, breath sucking back into his lungs. He sat up, coughed and spewed dust and bile.

  His mother rose to her feet, staggered forward, as a cry of joy lifted from the crowd.

  Elishiba gasped for breath, triumph flooding her senses, her attention on the hooded figure. He had drawn her into his actions, used her and shown her what she wanted to know—how to help. He seemed to be alone now, for the older man had disappeared from his side. He pushed the people who clustered around him away, directing their attention to the young boy.

  The stranger walked in her direction. As he closed on her his head lifted, and he grabbed her by the hand, drawing her away and directing her behind a cart laden with goods.

  Her legs were weak and her feet heavy. She staggered after him, her scarf slipping from her head as she went. She clutched at it with shaking fingers, trying to pull it back into place.

  "Hurry,” he said when they got beyond the cart. “Leave this place before your identity is revealed."

  The sound of his voice ran over her, calming her spirit like cool water to burning skin. For a single moment she caught sight of those now familiar hawk-like eyes within the gloom of his hood. Her heart leapt with certainty, with sudden understanding.

  "Be on your way now,” he urged.

  "But Amshazar, you saved the boy,” she stated joyously, breaking into a smile.

  "We saved him,” he responded, securing the scarf where it had fallen from her face, his fingers brushing the side of her cheek as he did so. “Now go, back to the palace. We must not be seen together."

  She felt tenderness in his touch, her senses heightened as they were from what had happened. And then he was gone, moving swiftly away, taking the opposite path to her. She wavered in his wake and clutched at the edge of the cart for support, watching as he disappeared.

  "You knew it was me,” she whispered to herself, taking in the implications of all that had happened. Her skin was alive with sensation, her mind humming with possibility. Inside, a fragment of that hot rock still flamed in her chest, and with it the certain knowledge that she must find out who he really was, and make him teach her to use the power.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of the horn echoed down from the tallest spires of the palace, alerting the people of Suzin. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was past its zenith, and the moment of the emperor's daughter's departure was almost upon them.

  Elishiba ignored the mournful sound, focused as she was on Amshazar, and the activity surrounding the departure. She looked for Amshazar's face in the crowd. Questions, unresolved plans, and above all hope, echoed through her mind. When she had returned to the palace the day before, he was nowhere to be found and she never had a chance to speak with him, to question him about what happened in the market place. Word had quickly spread about the occurrences in the city. It seemed that some of the onlookers were now calling the mysterious salvation the work of a lord-sorcerer, an expert magus. Was that what he was? she wondered, her belly fluttering with expectation. She bided her time because she knew instinctively he had meant only her to see and to know more. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, not even Yoshi or the twins. However, the strange, incomplete knowledge the day before had brought about made her stronger.

  The vast traveling party was almost fully assembled inside the palace gates. The retinue of servants and equipment for the trek, together with the vast amounts of possessions that seemed to have been arranged to make her future life more acceptable, had taken hours to organize. The caravan included both Karseedian guards and a troop of The Immortals headed by Xerxes, as well as her intimate courtiers—Elra, Amra, Yoshi and now Kerr, too. She had told Yoshi and the twins to stay in their homeland, but they would not be parted from her. Even Yoshi, who hated to travel—and was currently causing chaos in her efforts to mount the large, docile camel that had been organized for her to ride—even she was ready to leave, but also determined to return to Suzin. She had sworn to Emperor Ramsis that she would return to him with Elishiba by
her side.

  Elishiba hoped it were true.

  Leaving her father was the hardest to endure. He reassured her that they would be together soon, but she found little comfort in his words. At least Yoshi and her closest companions were with her.

  And Amshazar?

  Again she scoured the faces of those gathering to leave, and her heartbeat tripped when she saw his figure cutting a path through the crowd. He strode to a large white horse and mounted. As he lifted the reins in one sure hand and stroked the horse with the other, he looked her way. Their eyes locked. He nodded at her quickly, almost imperceptibly, when they made eye contact.

  Her blood heated instantly, and a sense of surety descended on her. For the first time she felt truly ready to take this task on, deep down, like a certainty she was doing the right thing. She needed that surety, she realized. Turning to Xerxes, she signaled she was ready. Her father hastened to her side and her young half brother, Tariq, with him.

  "You must keep Aleem safe, while I am gone,” Elishiba whispered, as she bent to kiss her stepbrother.

  Tariq nodded, and then hurled himself into her arms.

  "Look after Father, and make your mother proud of you,” Elishiba added, as she ran her fingers into his soft curls, fondly.

  "Come home soon,” Tariq demanded.

  "As soon as I can.” She stood and kissed her father quickly, turning away from them before the pain started again. She and her father had spent an hour alone earlier that day, discussing details, saying their goodbyes.

  As she turned, she saw that an argument had broken out between Xerxes and Sibias. Seeing her watching, Xerxes walked to her side. He wore the polished chest piece of The Immortals’ battle attire, as did all his men, marking them out as fierce, devoted warriors. Despite her vow not to wage war, a sense of pride blossomed in her heart. “What now?” she quizzed.

  "He is insisting you travel in their royal palanquin.” His eyes gestured right, where a covered podium was mounted on a camel. Although pleasing to the eye, it looked like a ridiculously uncomfortable way to travel for long distances. Looped back, heavy curtains would be dropped down on the occupant, blocking their view of the outside world.