* * * *
"I need you, Amshazar."
Amshazar groaned with longing. Her words rang through him, quickening him to his vitals. Why, he asked himself, why was he overcome by such urgent desire when danger lurked all around them? When she had said those words, and he'd seen the look on her face, his loins immediately began to flood with vigor, his entire body straining to be close to her. He wanted her, yes. And badly. But there was something else in him, relief. The painful doubts he'd endured when he thought that he had estranged her after her handmaid's murder. The relief he felt, knowing that was behind them, was great.
Their destiny was carved, and where it led he could not tell. But beyond that the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to know more of this woman. This woman who had kept him awake at night since he had first laid eyes on her, and when he did sleep, he dreamt of her. He needed to understand this. He needed to know what this emotion was that haunted him constantly. It was not a mistake, he told himself, what had happened between them. He had wondered, after that fateful night in the desert. But now, he was sure of himself.
Her voice was so warm and vibrant when she whispered her need. It hummed like a firefly on the wings of the night, as redolent and vivid as the physical heat she was emanating. She smelt fresh and alive and he tasted pure pleasure on her lips. He moved her up against the wall, lifting her easily against the hard surface. She gripped his shoulders in both hands, breathing fast, her eyes wide. He wanted to get her out of her clothes, to feel her need trembling through her naked body, to answer it with his own, but there wasn't time.
"Elishiba, I love you,” he murmured as he kissed her skin, his hands lifting her skirts. “Since I first met you I have wanted you. Our time is short, but I need this as much as you do.” He stroked his hand over her lush, intimate flesh, his phallus growing rigid when he felt it give beneath his fingers, and the dew of her desire seeped onto his fingertips.
She moaned in response to his words and actions. “Gods, Amshazar, what are you doing to me?"
"Taking pleasure in you; you are so ripe for this.” He continued his mastery of her senses, stroking her bud until she was shivering with torment, her mouth open, and her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Oh yes, my sweet Elishiba, you are ready for this."
Her knees buckled and she moaned loudly when her climax suddenly shuddered through her. Her eyes were bright and feverish and her left thigh drew up around his flanks. “Amshazar, please,” she moaned, a plea in her voice, hands clutching at him when she felt his hardness nudging into her. “Join us."
He groaned aloud, thrust deep into her, reaching for her exquisite embrace on his shaft. Oh, how her body molded inside, he savored how each move he took reverberated through her. She gasped as he probed deep, her breath panting harshly against his face. He held her with his hands around her buttocks, angling her body against the wall within his grip, reassuring her that she was safe in her abandon. “Elishiba ... you are on fire."
"Yes, my love,” she responded, her eyelids lowering, “to have you there inside me, it's so intense.” Her legs locked around his hips, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
At the base of his spine, a fierce thud threatened to undo him. His extreme arousal was being heightened by her words and the small gasps she gave through the breath of space between their open mouths. He began to take deep strides, reckoning with control, wanting to release himself to this binding passion, yet wanted to take control of it and make it endure. With each movement he made she uttered a breathless cry, her body fast rising to pitch again. Her passion undid him and he rode her faster, her body shunting against the surface of the wall, her breasts up-tilted under her tunic, the nipples jutting through the fabric.
He felt the clutch, the warm embrace of her sheath as it tightened on him, and he could hold on no longer, his seed spilling even as he pulled free.
"Amshazar,” she whispered, and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. “Oh, Amshazar."
He kissed the tear away, cocooning her against him, holding her safe. He kissed her over and over, hungry to make the moment last, to feel every ounce of her softness, to reassure himself she was real and safe in his arms for as long as he could, strengthening her with his caresses, strengthening them both through their bond.
Even when he felt their nemesis taking action, like a swarm of death ghouls descending upon them, he fought for every tender moment.
Chapter Eleven
The wrench when it came was painful, as if in parting with him she was doing it forever. Amshazar held her until they heard voices rising up from the balcony down below.
"Hurry,” he said, his glance flitting from the roof space outside the shutters, back to the doorway inside the room. “The guards are coming for us now. Mehmet means to force the ceremony to get what she wants."
Panic hit her fast. “Now?"
He captured her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. “Hold steady to your goals. Do not doubt yourself, no matter what happens. Your cause is just; don't let yourself be manipulated by cold-hearted victims of greed. Remember what is possible. The gods are with you, as am I.” He smiled, although it was fleeting.
Elishiba tried to grasp what he was saying, noting in particular his reference to the gods, but at the same time she could hear the voices downstairs growing louder. Her thoughts went to Yoshi. Then she saw movement at the rope ladder that still hung over the edge of the roof.
Amshazar noticed it too. He put one hand against her shoulder, took a fleeting kiss, and then nodded her toward the doorway that led into the palace. “You go that way, I will delay them. There's no reason why we should make this simple for them."
"Amshazar?"
"There is no time. Remember what I said; remember the power in the sorcery that we shared. You have the ability, and that will be a great surprise for Mehmet. You have the advantage. Trust in yourself, and know that I love you.” He turned away and was gone, hastily closing the curtains and shutters behind him.
Elishiba stumbled toward the inner doorway. She opened it cautiously, her heart beating fast as she glanced up and down the corridor outside. A candle stood in a sconce outside the doorway. Had Amshazar left it there, had he suspected this would happen?
The corridor was dark and much narrower than those below, with frequent doorways along it, presumably storage rooms like the one she had just come from. Left or right? She pushed the feeling of inevitability that crept up on her, the doubt that she could make any difference at all. In its place, she remembered Amshazar's words. He had told her not to doubt, and he'd said that the gods were with her. If Mehmet wanted to push the issue of marriage without further discussion, then Elishiba would make it as difficult as possible for her.
She darted left, away from the light, following the corridor, pausing whenever she heard footsteps echoing behind her. She felt her way along the walls in the gloom, but she used the time to prepare herself. She thought of her people, Tariq and her father. Basim and Fahima, who represented so many others in her heart.
I will not buckle, she told herself. I will not let them down.
A creeping suspicion came over her—she felt as if she were not alone. She paused. The skin on the back of her neck tingled with awareness, the palms of the hands growing damp. In the darkness ahead a fire leapt to life, as high as a man. From it Sibias emerged. He raised his arms, and the flames crumbled to ashes around his feet. He laughed aloud and looked at her with glowing eyes—eyes filled with evil. His appearance had changed—or had it been revealed? The white tendrils of his long hair and beard moved in a medusa-like cacophony of snake heads, tiny white asps that watched her like so many more eyes on her.
"The Empress of Aleem is lost.” He chortled at his own declaration, and then clapped his hands. “Your presence is needed in the temple. Allow me to help you find your way.” There was a sneer in his expression, a cruel laugh in his voice.
She had never seen him so blatantly a master of the dark arts, and
knew now that it was he who had Amra's blood on his hands. He'd covered his tracks well that night and fooled them all, but the pretence had seemingly gone as he undertook Mehmet's handiwork within the safety of her palace.
Instinctively, Elishiba turned away. As she did a gaping pit opened in the floor at her feet. Strange contorted creatures—half human, half animal—jostled below her. They reached up with claw-like hands and frenzied jaws to snap at her. She snatched at the wall, wavered on the edge of the pit, glancing beyond where down the corridor torches flared and Karseedian guards poured around the corner.
She felt Sibias's hand on her shoulder, his breath against her neck he leaned close against her. “The emperor awaits his bride."
"Is that what Mehmet told you to say?” she retorted.
He hissed at her in response, his fingers biting harshly into her shoulder. The Karseedian guards beyond the pit backed up, shifting against each other, their eyes wide as they took in the sight before them.
"You think you can persuade Mehmet to listen. You are a token,” Sibias whispered to her, “a mere key to a vault, Elishiba. That is all."
She forced a dry laugh, the muscles in her feet and legs tightening as she wavered on the edge of the pit. “You'd do better to think of me as a vast wall than a key, for that is what I intend to be."
She averted her eyes when she felt the cold, scaly skin of an asp moving against the side of her face. As she did she heard Sibias chant in a foreign tongue and then her body was spun harshly from his hand and down, down, into the pit.
Her vision shifted, became a swirl of darkness dotted with bright hungry eyes and open jaws. She braced herself, grappling with her hands for something solid to cling to, grappling inside for the sorcery that she had learned, to combat his spell. Anger flared up inside her and a web of white light enclosed her, but it was all happening too fast. Her body stopped spinning and dropped. She shut her eyes tight. Her body hit a soft mattress. Her eyes flashed open and she found herself back in her allotted chamber. Sibias had transported her back to the chamber below. His sorcery was powerful, could she even hope to equal it?
She rose up onto her hands and knees, gasping for breath. Sibias stood at the end of the bed. His arms were folded across his chest, his appearance somewhat more normal. Several servants and guards stood by, Folami one of them. There was no sign of Yoshi.
"You're wasting the Empress Mehmet's time.” He flicked his fingers and Folami ran forward at his bidding, a mound of fabric balanced in her open arms. “You will be dressed and taken to the temple where a simple ceremony will unite Aleem to Karseedia forever.” There was no doubting the promise and the pleasure in his tone.
A bolt of anger hit her, anger in the face of injustice. “I came to Lhastari in good faith to represent my people, but I will not proceed, not without the negotiation I was promised in coming here.” She rose up on her knees, sparring with him deliberately.
"Your voice is a mere wisp on the wind.” He waved his fingers in the air, clearly relishing his power. “And I advise you to hurry yourself, if you care at all for the safety of those you hold dear.” He chanted again in the strange foreign tongue and drew a circle in the air with one finger.
In the space he had marked out, Elishiba saw a vision of her people. Elra, Kerr, Yoshi, and Xerxes bound in chains, being herded through the palace. She felt hot and cold all at once, her belly churning. “You cannot do this,” she murmured, as she stared at the strange vision, slumping down onto the bed in shock.
Sibias clicked his fingers. The vision disappeared. He lifted the fabric Folami held in her arms and tossed it onto the mattress where Elishiba knelt. “Move,” he bellowed, “or each and every one of them will die a slow and painful death because of your tardiness."
With a satisfied grin, he took his leave.
Elishiba stared down at the fabric with blind eyes, frozen in the face of his threat. Folami reached out to her with a sympathetic hand. Ducking her head down to meet Elishiba's gaze, her soft brown eyes encouraged Elishiba to move.
Elishiba nodded and took the offered hand, her mind working furiously as she rose to her feet. Could she really hope to change this situation, when the Karseedians held her people, in exchange for her subservience? Could a spell protect them? Could she even risk that? Whatever way she addressed the problem, it felt like a maze without escape.
Don't doubt yourself. Amshazar's voice echoed in her mind as she rose to her feet. The simplest of spells can trip your enemy.
"Kind Mistress Elishiba, let me help you,” Folami said, attracting Elishiba's attention again.
Elishiba noticed the other servants were busy. One warmed a dish of incense, while the others seemed to be preparing jewels. Elishiba nodded, seeing honesty and concern in the woman's eyes. She wanted to help; Elishiba could see and sense that.
"Tell me about the temple, describe it to me,” Elishiba requested in a low voice. She didn't want to be taken unawares as she had been with Sibias in the attics.
Folami nodded, and then took the handful of jewels that one of the other servants passed to her. “Please lower your head, kind Mistress,” she said, and then in a hushed voice, “It is a huge temple, built into the palace itself."
Elishiba was disappointed. She'd hoped it would be outside, in the city perhaps, like their temples in Suzin. But the Karseedian rulers were not so eager to share with their people. That much had been obvious when they approached the palace the day before. The inhabitants and the city itself looked poor and neglected, compared to the inner domain of the palace.
Folami placed a heavy collar of gold coins around Elishiba's neck, arranging it over her shoulders as she straightened up. “Inside the temple there is an effigy of Hurda, the god of war. It flanks one wall,” she continued. “His open mouth is where they offer,” she paused, and their eyes met. “Sacrifice."
Elishiba swallowed, remembering the disturbing image Sibias had shown her. She took a deep breath and as she did she realized the smell of incense was heavy in the room, its perfume heady. Her suspicion grew—was it a vapor that would make her docile? The air was growing thick with it.
Another handful of jewels was brought to her.
"We must hurry, lest the incense makes me sleepy. Tell me more,” she encouraged.
Folami nodded, her gentle brown eyes acknowledging Elishiba's suspicion about the incense. She lifted a thread of coins and weaved them into Elishiba's hair. “I have only been there once, but I found it a stifling place. There is only one doorway in and out that I know of, and the entrance is near to the chambers of the Emperor. I am told this was because the emperor's father had a great allegiance to the god of war, although the Emperor Hanrah himself does not go there often."
Folami grew silent when the other servants moved around Elishiba, placing ornamental bangles on her arms and around her ankles, replacing her soft kid slippers with embroidered ones. Elishiba barely noticed. She took shallow breaths, imagining all the while the place Folami described, preparing herself.
Folami shook out the material she held, folded, in her arms: a massive veil of sheer fabric, dotted with glinting threads that spangled gold and silver light across it. For a split second, Elishiba saw a star-filled sky reflected in its threads, and felt Amshazar's body brush against her own. Then it was gone. The sensation lifted her and she knew with deadly certainty that she had to walk further into Mehmet's trap in order to destroy it, for that was what she intended to do. As Amshazar had pointed out, she had the advantage, for she had skills Mehmet was unaware of.
She believed. She had to.
The veil was shaken out between four of the servants, and then lifted over her so that it fell into place over her head. It hung down as far as her hips, to trail her back and brush the floor behind her.
Elishiba didn't care to look at her reflection when encouraged to do so. In her mind and heart, she was dressed for battle. She braced herself for it.
* * * *
Mehmet had never seen her son so
disheveled and fretsome. Granted, he had always disliked the temple and the necessary acts of worship that went on there. However, he looked as if he was practically losing his mind with whatever ailed him. He stood in the center of the temple gesticulating wildly at Amshazar and the Aleemite prisoners, his hands shaking, his eyes flitting anxiously.
"You cannot treat people this way,” Hanrah declared, pointing at the gallery where Amshazar and the assembled Aleemites were on their knees, heads bowed. Behind each prisoner a Palace guard stood, his sword's point at the back of the captive's neck warning against any rash move.
"I can,” she replied, savoring the thought of the high esteem they would gain from the god of war, when these bodies were offered as sacrifices to him. He would imbue their future efforts to win power and land with good fortune.
"Settle yourself down, Hanrah.” She pushed him toward the throne that had been set up for him, the seat from which he would take the hand of his bride.
He buckled under her aggressive gesture, and then leapt back at her, snatching at her arm. “Mother, you cannot force people to do things against their will."
"Yes, I can. Now lower your voice, you are making a spectacle of yourself. Don't let your people know how weak you really are."
"I do not wish to marry her,” he declared.
"Ah, so it is yourself you're afraid for. I thought you were concerned for your special ally, Amshazar."
"I am concerned for him.” Hanrah shook his head. The situation really had upset him, foolish boy. She wondered how he'd react when he realized she'd run his forbidden courtesan out of his hidden den and had him within her grasp as well. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Hanrah, it will be an extremely short marriage, in name only. Remember that. But I do need you to do this one simple thing for me."
Unveiling the Sorceress Page 19
