Running Wild

by Lucinda Betts

  “There’s no time to waste. We need Shahrazad now. If nothing else, she’s a resource we can’t afford to squander.”

  The Sultan gave a big sigh. “You may lead your inhuman women against the shitani,” he said, glancing at the Warqueen. “But you will never command my daughter—or me.” He flicked a hand toward the chamber guards, and they withdrew their swords. “Now, sit and eat.”

  Tahir looked at his Warqueen and realized she asked a question with her eyes: Should we kill them? Between the two of them, they might be able to do it. Kill the Sultan and the Raj first, and the guards might flee.

  But then what? The Land of the Moon would lack a leader, and the Raj’s troops would rally to a camel before they’d rally to Tahir and the Warqueens.

  No, to defeat the shitani, they needed to work together.

  He sat.

  Come to us, my queen.

  She slid her nose toward her knees. She could almost reach. She cocked her head and tried again. If only she could get this bridle off, she could loosen the ropes.

  We love you. The voices sounded stronger now, thicker. More demons were chiming in together for their wretched song in her head.

  Yes, she answered them, rage roiling through her heart. I love you, my pets. Come to me, and I will do as you ask. I will bear your king and teach him to rule.

  You will love us! You will spread your legs for us! You will give us your womb!

  Come to me, she said in her mind. Come to me, and I will be yours.

  Be ours!

  But send only your best specimens. Send only your lords, and send no more than three.

  Only three? But we all adore you. We all want to taste you and raise you to our dais. And we are many more numerous than three!

  But you endanger yourselves, she said. I cannot have your deaths on my conscience. Send no more than three. Then we shall be free to take over the Land of the Moon.

  And then the Land of the Sun.

  And perhaps the entire world.

  The opulence of the Sultan’s study would have impressed his mother, Tahir thought, although she would not have approved of the liberal use of the huqqa so close to a time of important decisions. Thick khansari perfume filled the chamber.

  The Sultan pointed to an elaborate map that filled most of a spacious wall. “They can come from any of these three mountain passes.”

  “Which is perfect,” the Raj said. “Since we have three armies. We’ll place one army at each pass.”

  “We could put all our armies in one place if we knew which direction the shitani were going to use,” Tahir’s Warqueen said in her dry voice.

  “I’ve said I will not endanger my daughter, and I won’t.” The Sultan slammed his fist against his thigh. “I also refuse to repeat myself yet again—for a woman.”

  “This is a wasted discussion,” Tahir said, rising from the embroidered pillow to stalk around the room. “Not only is the Warqueen correct, but all those passes lead to one place—here. If we don’t stop the demons at the pass, we’ll fight them all in your courtyard and in your palace. You couldn’t possibly believe that a good strategy.”

  The Raj shook his head in disagreement. “It won’t happen that way.”

  “Why not?” It took all of his self-control not to yell. “Look at the layout of those passes and valleys. They will funnel every single shitani into this very basin. That is the only logical prediction.”

  “Here, young prince,” the Sultan said, trying to pass the huqqa to him. “Smoke. You’ll feel better.”

  “No, thank you. I’d like my wits about me.” He looked at the map again. “Do you really mean to endanger your children? The women whom you claim to love above all other things?”

  The two rulers looked at him blankly. Finally, the Sultan said, “Our children are not endangered by this.”

  Tahir shook his head. “And you accuse those of my land of not loving their daughters enough.”

  “Our outriders assure us we have at least until noon tomorrow.”

  “And are the shitani so predictable?”

  “They’re not human,” the Raj said, as if explaining something to a very simple child.

  “That’s exactly my point,” Tahir shot back. “We don’t know what we’re fighting. No one has battled shitani in eleven generations.”

  “Our guest seems to feel strongly about this,” the Sultan said to the Raj.

  “He feels strongly about too many things.” The blond man muttered this almost under his breath.

  “If his feelings are so strong, perhaps we should respect him. Let us go prepare our armies,” the Sultan said, his eyes red from the khansari. “Perhaps it is time.”

  She heard the three demons chuckling in her head as they approached. She tasted their thoughts, their desires. She saw through their eyes.

  We love you, our queen! she heard. We’re almost to you. And they were; they were in the hall now, sneaking past the guards—just as she would in a moment or two, if all went well.

  And I love you, my little darlings, she said to them. Come to me. Free me. Take the key from the guard. She filled her mind with an image of the key, the heavy weight of it. I hope you’re strong enough, my darlings. I hope you’re worthy of your new Dark Queen.

  We can do it, they cried, and they did. She tasted the thought of a demon as it stole a key. She saw the dull gleam of metal, just as the demon saw it. The guard didn’t know, hadn’t seen the green hand reach up and wrap overlong fingers around his key ring. The guard hadn’t felt the weight leave his hip. The guard didn’t hear the demonic cheer inside her head as the shitani capered down the hall. We did it, they cried. We are worthy of you!

  As she heard their small feet scurry down the hall toward her, she slipped off the bridle. In three heartbeats, she lay huddled in human form on the cold floor, but the bridle was hot in her hands—just where she needed it.

  “My darlings,” she crooned. They wouldn’t be able to speak in her head so easily now that she was no longer in pegaz form. Oh, God’s eyes, she hoped they wouldn’t be speaking in her head at all. “My darlings,” she said quietly as she stood. “I’m here. I’m waiting for you, my lovelies.”

  The key turned in the lock. How they managed to reach it with their short height, she didn’t know. She didn’t really care. But as the three of them swarmed in to her, she bent down to them, let them scurry up her arms like large kittens. “You’re so lovely,” she said, kissing each of them on their cold green heads. “So lovely.”

  And, ignoring the dagger Tahir had given her, she tightened her grip on her bridle.

  The creatures on her arms cackled and lay their ears flat against their heads. What might be smiles crossed their thin lips, and they…they were almost cute.

  Hardening her heart, she stroked a warty back. “I am yours,” she said.

  The creature on her shoulder caressed her cheek with its lizardlike fingers. Its eyes glowed orange as it met hers, and then it cast its dark spell.

  In a heartbeat, her blood turned thick with desire—like it had when Tahir had kissed her in the courtyard, like it had when Tahir’s hot tongue lathed her breasts in the Flower Taker’s chambers.

  Her lips craved Tahir’s, as did her breasts and thighs—her core. She imagined his smell so clearly it was like his arms were wrapped around her, her nose buried in his shoulder. She imagined his face so well she could almost trace the curve of his cheekbone, the slight hook of his aquiline nose, the glory of his dangerous new tattoo. She imagined his skin and hair so well she could almost feel the warmth of his skin beneath her palm. She could almost feel the silky weight of his hair as she brushed the dark strands away from his face.

  She wanted him to fill her, to complete her.

  “I am yours,” she said to him, knowing he was nothing more than an illusion brought about by the dark shitani magic. “Lick me.”

  And they did. She knew their overlong fingers were sliding her clothing from her. She knew their alien skin slid over hers. Bu
t it didn’t feel that way. Instead, she felt Tahir’s warm fingers undress her. His warm lips caressed her shoulders. His cock pressed against her thigh, and his hand slid through her hair.

  “Oh,” she said as his lips traced the curve of her ear. “I love you, Tahir. Where are you?”

  Our queen! she heard in her head. We love you. Let us give you our seed!

  Shahrazad wanted to cry. She’d thought they wouldn’t be able to invade her mind when she was in human form, at least not yet, not so easily. But they could.

  With dread in her heart, she realized that they’d already scaled the Amr Mountains. The demons were already invading her land.

  Lick me, she said, and if she sounded curt, they didn’t seem to notice. My toes crave your tongues.

  Our seed, they countered. You need our seed. Your toes don’t need us.

  But they want you.

  And by God’s own eyes, she wasn’t lying. As their tongues slid erotically over her ankles and wrists she desired their spell. It was like heit coursing through her blood. It was like the khansari she’d smoked with the Flower Taker.

  Except it wasn’t. It was more.

  As her hand grasped the cold metal of the bit, she craved more. My toes first, she managed. My hands. My neck, my breasts…

  Breasts, they agreed. So delicious. So full. So firm. Think of the milk they’ll make for our new king!

  For an instant, she saw Tahir’s face, his eyes locked on hers and loaded with intention, with love. He smiled for an instant, and the sides of his eyes crinkled. She melted into the delicious brown of them. She melted into his arms. And then your seed… she said. And then I want your seed.

  The Warqueens were impressive, Tahir knew. Even the Sultan would have to agree. As they rode in formation, their horses moved in perfect synchrony, as if they were linked with their minds. One left front foot rose, and all such feet rose. One rear right, all rear rights. Each woman wore an implacable expression and identical uniforms.

  Beside them, just outside the palace walls, the Raj ir Adham’s army galloped their horses in crazy circles, shouting and yelling and sending the dust swirling. They swung their spears and scimitars above their heads, shaking them as they galloped. Some of the men threw their spears with mighty force into the sand dunes, wasting them.

  “Look at them,” the Raj said, admiration clear in his voice. He rode an overly muscled dun horse with a beautiful head. The creature’s lines bespoke a noble lineage. “They thirst for battle.”

  “Prince Tahir,” his commanding Warqueen said to him with a bow as she interrupted. “Since the pegaz cannot help us, may I have your permission to send out two riders? Perhaps they can determine if the shitani have arrived.”

  He nodded. “If your riders find them,” Tahir instructed, “don’t look them in the eye. Don’t let them touch your riders. That’s how they enthrall their victims.”

  “Very well,” she said, and she started to ride back.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She rode back toward him.

  “I’m going to insist now that the Sultan release Princess Shahrazad,” he said so only she could hear. Over the whooping of the Raj’s men, that wasn’t difficult. “Please send two warriors—I doubt he’ll acquiesce.”

  “I’ll send the two best.”

  He nodded, and she left.

  Within heartbeats, two Warqueens rode toward him through the pack of yelling men. “Have you been apprised?” he asked, and they nodded as one. “Then let’s find the Sultan of the Land of the Moon.”

  “He’s on the far side of his courtyard, Prince,” the darker skinned Warqueen said.

  “Lead the way.”

  And they did, bringing him through the raucous soldiers to the Sultan.

  “My lord,” he said, Kateb prancing proudly beneath him.

  “Yes, young prince.” His own bay horse looked as fast as the wind.

  “I must insist that I see your daughter now.”

  “But…” The Sultan held out his elegant hand, indicating the thousands of soldiers. “We’re about to ride to war.”

  “And yet I must be assured of her safety.”

  “You doubt the safety of my palace?”

  “With humble apologies, I’ve seen what you do to recalcitrant women. I’ve seen Haniyyah’s head—your own niece’s head—on your Pike Wall, and although your daughter seeks nothing but the future safety of her land, I fear for her.”

  “I won’t tolerate such impertinence,” he said, reining in his horse until it pranced in place. “I won’t stand it. I—”

  “Sire,” one of the Sultan’s men shouted. “The demons! They’re here!”

  “I want Princess Shahrazad released right now.”

  But the man ignored him. “Attack!” The Sultan shouted with all the strength of a younger man. “Ride on and attack!” He galloped off, leaving Tahir in his cloud of dust.

  Tahir turned toward his two soldiers. “Go inside the palace, and find Princess Shahrazad.”

  “How do we find her?” one asked.

  Tahir ran his hand through his hair. “The palace guards will know. Choke one until he tells you.”

  Their tongues hypnotized her, filled her with a sleepy sexual energy. They wrapped around every part of her body until she was lost to herself. When her half-closed eyes focused enough to see, she saw…nothing. No skin. No braids tumbling over her shoulder. No tanzanite in her belly button. They’d lapped her until she was soaked, from both their juices and her own.

  Which meant the time was now. Now.

  Now! a shitani cried. Now, we fill you with our seed.

  The floor beneath her back and thighs was no longer cold. It burned with her heat. Yes, she answered. Fill me.

  Long fingers grabbed her thighs and tugged. Finally we can enter! We can enter!

  Yes, she answered. Enter.

  The weight of Tahir’s dagger still rested at her hip, but that wasn’t the weight she sought. She sought the bridle, and her fingers brought the bit to her mouth. The coppery taste of the iron filled her mouth, as cleansing as cool, pure water from a well.

  But she could see their green cocks. By God’s own eyes, all three of them were planning on fucking her at once. We love you, they cried. Our Dark Queen, our Black Mother, we love you!

  Before they could penetrate her, before their long, green cocks could pollute her womb, she changed.

  Our queen! one cried as her expanding equine form squashed it flat against the flagstone floor. Save us! What is happening? Save us!

  But she would not.

  Sharp pain attacked her invisible wings. Was it demon teeth or the crushing walls? She didn’t care. Instead, she barreled out the door they’d opened, demon spit dripping off the tips of her wings. She squashed a second shitani beneath her hooves. The third clung to her back, but only for a moment. She scraped it off on the door frame and then pummeled it with her hooves. Not one of them managed as much as a squeal in their death throes.

  “What was that?” she heard a guard ask.

  “I don’t know. Get the ropes ready in case it’s the princess again.”

  “She can’t knock down that iron door.”

  “Well, I heard something.”

  Shahrazad stood silent as the soldiers retrieved more ropes. But then they walked around the turn into her hallway. On invisible legs she raced toward them with the speed of the Sultan’s fastest courser, wings tensed and outstretched.

  Her feathered appendages hit them in the chest like battering rams, knocking them to the ground, gasping. But she wasn’t finished.

  When she reached the end of the corridor, she spun around, waiting for the men to stand. She’d crush them beneath her hooves if necessary, but if they left on their own accord, so much the better.

  “What…was that?” one of the soldiers asked the other.

  “Can’t…breathe.”

  “You think this is what happened to Khufu?” the first soldier asked, slowly climbing to his feet. “Befor
e the shitani disemboweled him?”

  “You see…shitani?”

  “I don’t see anything,” the first soldier said. “But something knocked me right on my ass—and you, too. And why does the place suddenly smell like gardenias?”

  “My granny used to tell me that shitani smelled of gardenias.”

  “Why would they smell like—”

  Shahrazad screamed, using parts of her vocal chords no horse had ever used. The eerie sound pierced the brick walls and echoed down the hall, making bits of adobe fall from the ceiling.

  “I’m getting out of here,” the first soldier said, his voice clearly shaking.

  “I’m going with you.”

  For good measure, she ran down the hall again, screaming like some supernatural being. She held her wings higher so that when she passed the men, they felt the breeze—but they saw nothing.

  And by the time she reached the opposite end of the hallway, they were gone.

  Which was a good thing. Because when she inhaled, she smelled shitani—thousands of them. And she heard them in her head. Not their voices—no, she heard their feet scrambling over palace walls. She heard teeth gnashing. She heard them pouring through the small, barred windows into this very corridor.

  Collecting her hooves beneath her, she ran like lightning through the summer sky, praying to God that he held her dear in his eyes even as her father didn’t—because if the soldiers had closed that huge gate locking the prison off from the rest of the castle, she was doomed.

  But she needn’t have worried. The gate stood wide open, and Shahrazad ran under the arch, the pounding of her hooves echoing the pounding of her heart.

  As she galloped through the corridors toward the main gate, her wings brushed against the walls. She ducked her head to get through some of the doorways, but they all stood open. Where were her father’s guards?

  As she entered the palace’s main entryway with its graceful stairs leading high into the minarets, she found two Warqueens, fierce with their swords drawn. One held the soldiers who’d been guarding her.