by Melvin, Jim
“If you fail . . . and if he takes me again . . . I’ll need . . . a memory of you. Do you understand what I’m saying, beloved?”
Torg held her and then returned her kiss. Finally he stood and grasped her hand.
“Come with me.”
She did not resist.
26
LAYLAH WATCHED Torg ascend farther up the rock wall, holding Obhasa in one hand while the Silver Sword dangled in its scabbard. The stacked stone contained numerous knobs and protrusions, making it easy to climb. Laylah followed, scaling the wall as deftly as the wizard. She and Takoda, her adoptive father, had spent many pleasurable moments during her childhood exploring the mountains near their home in the hidden Mahaggatan valley. She had little fear of heights.
Finally, the wizard came upon a crevice barely wider than his chest. Just beyond the narrow opening was a small chamber. Once they both had squeezed through and were inside the chamber, the glow from Obhasa cast as much light as a torch, as if the ivory staff sensed what she hoped was about to occur.
When they had fled Duccarita, the small company had found clothes in an abandoned shop that had escaped major damage during the carnage. Laylah now wore a full-length super-tunic with a tasseled belt fastened at the waist. Torg stood before her, slowly untied the knot, and removed the belt. Laylah looked surprised.
“Torg, the cave seems to go on for quite a ways. Wouldn’t it be more private if we moved farther inside?”
“These are our only clothes,” he said, chuckling, “and we’ll have use of them yet.”
“Ahhh,” Laylah said.
When their outfits were removed, the wizard placed them on the stone floor and covered them with several large shavings of rock.
“When magic is involved, I sometimes can shield my clothes,” Torg explained, “but in this case, my abilities cannot be trusted.”
Laylah raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hope we don’t start an avalanche and bury everyone.”
Beyond the chamber, a tunnel extended much deeper into the wall. It was barely large enough for Torg and Laylah to enter. The wizard didn’t want to leave Obhasa or the sword behind, so he took one in each hand and crawled naked into the passageway.
Eventually the tunnel opened into a chamber much larger than the first, perhaps ten cubits tall and just as broad. The glow from Obhasa illuminated the room. A fine layer of sand covered the floor. Numerous boulders, resembling crude furniture on a white carpet, lay strewn about. Torg leaned Obhasa and the sword against the wall.
“I have seen this place in my dreams,” Laylah said, looking around. “How did you know to come here?”
“I have seen it in my dreams, as well,” he said.
The wizard approached a spear-shaped slab of rock that appeared to weigh at least forty stones. Yet he wrapped his arms around it and lifted it with ease. Then he shoved it into the maw of the tunnel, plugging the opening.
“This is the best I can do, my love,” he said. “I would have preferred to have taken you to the top of a dune and lain with you on a blanket beneath the stars of Tējo. But I cannot bear to wait any longer.”
“This will be fine. Wonderful, in fact. The time and place mean little,” Laylah said. “You are all that matters, Torgon. You are all that ever mattered.”
BETWEEN THE ages of eighteen and sixty-eight, when Torg was in training to become a warrior, he had made love to many Tugarian women. Though almost all purebred desert warriors were beautiful, the son of Jhana was considered exceptionally attractive even among his own kind, and there was no shortage of partners at his disposal. Many of them were older, more experienced, and very eager. Between sixty-eight and eighty-two, Torg was a full-fledged warrior and then an Asēkha, and his sexual promiscuity increased. But the night after he had achieved Sammaasamaadhi for the first time, he had made love to a Tugar and killed her with the unexpected fury of his orgasm.
After that terrible occurrence, Torg was forced to live in celibacy, going more than nine hundred years without sex—except for masturbation, and even that was limited, because of his explosive propensities. He had to be far away from everyone just to do that.
To say that Torg was ready for Laylah was a gargantuan understatement. And that was only part of it. Even greater in importance was the depth of his love for her. He desired not just the sorceress’ body, but her mind, her voice, her scent, her spirit. To complete matters, Laylah was capable of withstanding his orgasm.
For the first time in close to a millennium, Torg was in a position to release his pent-up frustration with a woman he had loved over a series of lifetimes, extending further back in time than even he could conceive.
Now, as he stood naked in front of her in the rock chamber, he fought back tears of joy, despite an internal conflict. He had been taught that all things were impermanent. That all things had a beginning, middle, and end. You could no more grasp desire than you could flee from aversion; doing either eventually caused suffering. Sister Tathagata believed that sexual passion was just one of countless hindrances to the attainment of enlightenment, a state that eliminated suffering forever. Torg had learned all these things. But when he took Laylah in his arms, these teachings seemed to lose their meaning. Was enlightenment superior to this? It didn’t seem possible.
Torg cupped the back of her head and looked down at her beautiful face, her wide eyes, her flushed cheeks. When he pressed his lips against hers, he felt like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks suddenly seated at a table laden with a feast.
He lifted her marvelous body in his arms and laid her on the blanket of sand, kissing her lips, her neck, her nipples. He placed one of his hands between her legs, her wetness tantalizing him. Using the tip of his index finger, he applied pressure. He knew what to do. It was just that—over the centuries—he had been denied the chance to do it. Laylah cried out.
She reached for him and guided him toward her opening. When he entered her, all other sensations were overwhelmed. He began to howl like an animal; she did the same.
They climaxed together.
Blue-green energy erupted from every pore of his body. Her white fire met it with equal force. The room superheated, causing the rocks to glow and the sand to melt into glass. Obhasa fell to the ground and flopped about like a fish stranded on a beach. The Silver Sword remained in its original position against the wall, unaffected.
Torg screamed. Laylah screamed. The sounds merged into one. For a few mindless moments, all forms of suffering ceased.
WHILE TORG and Laylah made love, the efrit that nestled in the sorceress’ abdomen did not stir. Vedana had trained the creature to react only to sexual abhorrence, and nothing that resembled loathing was occurring, so it continued to sleep blissfully in its warm chamber, oblivious to what was about to happen.
When they climaxed together, the efrit was incinerated.
27
A SHORT TIME before dawn, Lucius fell asleep in a seated position on the floor of the hollow, the last of the company to succumb to weariness. Like ants returning to the mound, the Daasa had long since crept into caves and crevices. Bonny slept beside him, her face seemingly content.
A sound similar to rain falling on dry leaves woke Lucius. At first unable to overcome his exhaustion, he struggled to open his eyes. But then something small and hard struck him on the forehead, startling him awake. When he tried to stand, pain swept through his recently healed arm, making him so dizzy he sagged against a boulder. Soon after, a salvo of pebbles showered down from above, clattering like pea-sized hail.
“Avalanche,” Lucius shouted, grabbing Bonny’s hand and yanking her to her feet. “Get under cover!”
Still in a daze, the pirate woman grunted something nonsensical and then yelped when Lucius dragged her toward the rock wall, where they stumbled beneath a ledge and rolled smack into a dozen Daasa, still slumbering peacefully despite the disturbance.
Now Bonny was awake, and it was the first time Lucius had seen her angry with him. “Lucius, what in the world are yo
u doing? You nearly pulled my arm out of the socket. It’s just a few pebbles falling off the wall. Maybe there’s a goat up there or something . . .”
But even as Bonny stated her case, a tremor shook the hollow, causing the pirate woman to clasp her hand over her mouth. Even the Daasa were awakened, their purple eyes bleary and confused. The tremor lasted only a few moments before all went silent, except for a tinkling of stones that continued to fall from high above. Lucius and Bonny remained crouched by the Daasa, waiting to see what else might occur. Finally a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Master Loo-shus? Miss Bonny? Where are ya? Are ya hurted?”
Then Lucius saw Ugga’s grinning face peering under the ledge. The crossbreed’s small eyes met the firstborn’s. “Ya are all right,” he said happily. “I is glad to see ya. Was there some kind of earthquake or something?”
Despite the pain in his arm, Lucius couldn’t help but smile. He crawled out and looked around. If there had been an earthquake, the damage was minimal.
Soon Bard and Elu joined them. A whining Rathburt followed, claiming that rocks the size of watermelons had hit him in the head several times. Somehow Lucius found the complaints almost comforting. The Daasa also emerged, still sleepy but not overly distressed.
As the hollow filled with light from the morning sun, Rathburt looked around, perplexed. “Has anyone seen Torg and Laylah?”
Everyone became concerned.
“Elu will find them,” the Svakaran said. Then he sprinted along a stone trail that angled up the steep wall.
“Wait, you little booger!” Rathburt shouted. “We didn’t say you could go trotting off . . .”
But Elu paid no attention, clambering up the side of the wall with impressive ease. As they looked farther upward, they saw Torg and Laylah climbing down. Elu met them halfway and gave them both hugs. Then all three followed the trail back to the floor of the hollow. When the wizard and sorceress approached, Lucius could have sworn they were blushing.
“Where have you been, Torgon?” Rathburt snapped. “Have you been drinking or something?”
Ugga’s ears perked up.
“Do ya have some beer?” he said hopefully.
Torg and Laylah chuckled.
“No beer, my friend,” the wizard said. “It might be a while before we have any more beer. But I’ll treasure the moment when I can share some with you again.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Rathburt said. “Where have you been? Didn’t you feel the earthquake?”
“I felt it,” Laylah said, barely suppressing a giggle.
Now Lucius was certain: Torg was blushing. For a moment, Lucius experienced a torrent of jealousy, but it fizzled away as soon as Bonny wrapped her arm around his waist.
“The good news is, nobody is hurt,” she said. “But now that it’s daylight, we’d best get going.”
“Can’t we at least have something to eat?” Ugga said, pounding the head of his axe on the ground for emphasis. “I is starving.”
“We brought enough from Duccarita to last a few light meals,” Lucius said. “But I have no idea how we’re going to feed the Daasa. I don’t even know what they eat.”
Even as the firstborn was saying those words, he noticed that the Daasa already had begun to file out of the hollow.
“I’m starting to think the Daasa can take care of themselves,” Bonny said. “The rest of us should eat something quick and then get moving.”
THEY FOUND THE Daasa climbing in a thick stand of trees, chittering raucously as they feasted on unripe acorns and pine nuts. Their dexterity amazed Laylah. She watched them scramble along the thicker branches as deftly as squirrels.
Torg had kissed her on the cheek, whispered some pleasant words in her ear, and then trotted off with Elu to do more scouting. Their company was still less than a league from Duccarita, which was dangerous territory. Though the Daasa had routed most of the golden soldiers in the area during their cleansing of the city, there was an ever-present threat from Mogols, wolves, ghouls, and other less-numerous monsters.
Despite their dire circumstances, Laylah couldn’t help but feel wonderful even in the direct sunlight. The aftermath of their lovemaking still glowed inside her, and her stomach felt light. In fact, everyone seemed in a good mood. The Daasa were cheerful, Lucius and Bonny were inseparable, and even Bard was looking stronger. On top of everything else, it had become unseasonably warm for so early in spring. Laylah could almost imagine that the bad times were behind them.
When Torg returned with Elu, Laylah’s heart skipped a beat. Just seeing his face again almost caused her to swoon. She rushed over and hugged him, causing the Daasa to chitter even louder. For a moment Torg smiled and hugged her, but then his face grew serious.
“A great force marches from the east, no more than five leagues distant,” the wizard said. “I didn’t believe that such numbers were amassed this far from Avici, especially after the demise of Duccarita. I cannot determine the makeup of this army, but I would guess that our numbers are evenly matched. Our choice then is to meet them in battle on the open plain or attempt to outrun them.”
Torg turned to Lucius. It amazed Laylah how much taller he was than the firstborn. She had always thought of Lucius as a large man.
“What are your thoughts, General?” the wizard asked. “Do you have any idea who and what we’re facing?”
“Everything I know about our . . . I mean . . . Invictus’ forces in the gap is several weeks outdated,” Lucius said. “Before I fled Avici, Invictus patrolled Gamana with just a few thousand—and of those, most were Mogols and wolves. After Laylah and I escaped, we all know that he sent Mala’s army after us. But with the onset of war so close at hand, I can’t imagine he will send too many more into the gap, unless his obsession with Laylah is so immense that he no longer cares about the siege of Nissaya.
“As for the makeup of the approaching foe, most of the deadly monsters of Mahaggata are in Avici. The mountains themselves have probably never been safer.”
Bard walked over to Torg, the color in his cheeks returned. “Why can’t we just sic the Daasa on them and be done with it?” he said. “They killed five times their number in Duccarita. And ya said this army is only about our same size.”
“Thus far, the Daasa have shown us two things,” Torg said. “They like to kill pirates and Mogols—and we all know the reasons for that. And they will protect us if we are threatened. But we don’t yet know if we can send them into battle without provocation.”
“Nor should we,” Rathburt blurted, far louder than needed, it seemed to Laylah. Then he lowered his head and said no more.
Torg raised an eyebrow and started to speak, but Lucius interrupted.
“Though the enemy is closer than we’d like, we still have a good head start. I say we continue toward Dhutanga and see if we can outrun them. If they gain on us, then we’ll make a stand.”
“Let’s go then, as fast as we can,” Torg said, “and see if the Daasa will follow.”
28
TORG HAD NOT told them the full extent of his confusion. Even from great distances, he usually could surmise the makeup of an army. But the force that approached from the east produced signs unlike he had ever encountered, kicking up a cloud of dust even thicker than a division of armored infantry. Despite their size, mountain wolves treaded lightly, barely leaving tracks of any kind—as did Mogols. This didn’t mean that a few wolves and savages might not be among this new enemy, but there had to be other things, as well—large, clumsy, or both. Torg could think of only three possibilities: trolls, elephants, or giants. None of these options were good.
To make matters worse, other evils besides the druids lurked to the west within Dhutanga, meaning they were sandwiched between dangers. Vampires, ghouls, goblins, and—worst of all—great apes almost as large as snow giants hunted along the forest’s perimeter.
Torg took the lead, trotting out of the trees into the gap’s open plains and establishing a stro
ng pace—not fast by Tugarian standards, but faster than the approaching army was proceeding—and then turned to see how well everyone was doing. The Daasa kept up easily, chasing after him on all fours. Laylah, Elu, Ugga, and Bonny also stayed close. Even Bard seemed able, though he still was weaker than normal. But Lucius was not a man built to run, and Rathburt . . . well . . . was Rathburt. The slump-shouldered Death-Knower immediately started whining about his sore legs and bad back.
Torg slowed their pace to a fast walk. Lucius did fine after that, though his Mogol war club was weighing him down. But Rathburt continued to struggle. Still, as far as Torg could tell, the mysterious army was not gaining on them.
A voice like, and yet not like, his own whispered inside Torg’s mind. Shouldn’t you see for yourself what follows you? As he mused over this, it began to make sense. It would be safer—for all of them—if they went back and had a look. Not they. YOU. Go by yourself. That way no one will slow you down.
“Do you know this land?” Torg said to Elu in an odd-sounding voice, startling the Svakaran.
“Elu has been here once or twice, but it was long ago. He remembers little.”
“And I’ve never been farther west than Duccarita,” Lucius said.
“I has been there, but I was different then, and I doesn’t remember,” Ugga said.
“I was just a boy when I was last there, and it was even longer ago than when Elu was here,” Bard said.
Even Bonny’s mastery of the terrain extended only a few leagues outside of the City of Thieves.
Then, as a group they turned to Rathburt, who instantly became defensive.
“All right, all right, I’ve been this way before, a couple of centuries ago. But who cares, Torgon? You’re our guide, not me. I’m sure you’ve entered Dhutanga a million times . . . a billion. You were probably there before there were trees.”
