Prisoner of Shera-Sa

by Reese Gabriel

  She recognized Komen-tah’s voice, his arrogant tone, at once. The skin on the back of her neck crawled as he strode past, taking up his place at the altar beside the priestess.

  “My lord.” The priestess melted, putting her lips to his.

  Komen-tah, wearing nothing but a loincloth of black leather and black leather armbands, ran his hand up and down the side of her body. He was a specimen of sheer physical delight. Ribbed abdomen, perfectly sculpted pectorals, and deliciously shaped ass. He was also, she was quite sure, a force of sheer malevolence. Bending his muscular, bull neck, he whispered a word in the woman’s ear.

  Minarra heard it clear enough.

  “Adoration.”

  The lovely priestess fell to her knees, kissing Komen-tah’s crotch.

  “She worships me, now,” explained the prince. “I am the only god in Shera-Sa. You will worship me, too.”

  “I’d tell you to go to hell,” said Minarra. “But they’ve probably already sent you back.”

  Komen-tah laughed. “You have spirit. I like that. Perhaps I will make you one of my personal slaves when I conquer the earth.”

  “You and what army?”

  Minarra regretted her choice of words. She’d already gotten a hint of that army, in one of her earlier visions.

  Growling, the prince pushed aside his loincloth, took his priestess by the hair and shoved her head onto his erect, mammoth cock. Nearly a foot long, she absorbed it in submissive delight. “You wish to see my power? Very well.”

  Taking the snake belt from Minar-ra, he snapped it straight. At once it turned into a staff, long and pointed, tipped in emeralds. This in turn, he pointed to the sky. Thunder cracked and the blue heavens opened to reveal a swirl of red, bleeding clouds. A host of chariots emerged, with black-armored warriors. After this, men on horseback, their faces covered with silver masks. They held the glowing swords she’d seen earlier. Behind them, foot soldiers, ancient in bearing, but holding odd energy weapons, like lassos that at once protected them and allowed them to strike out at the enemy.

  She saw war now, war upon war as one by one the nations of the earth fell to this strange new power. A power Komen-tah had found in his earthly life, but had somehow been prevented from using. It had taken the sinking of his entire city, but the black magic of Shera-Sa had never overwhelmed the earth.

  “This is my kingdom…my destiny,” he cried.

  Minarra saw the millions, the billions of people, on their knees to this madman—surrendering submitting. It was no wonder the gods had destroyed him.

  “I am…the only god,” he shouted. His fine buttocks were pumping furiously. His eyes were rolling in his head. Minar-ra was swallowing his come, gulping it down. When he’d subsided he pushed her away. She put her head to the ground before rising once more to her knees.

  “Don’t defy me,” warned Komen-tah pointing his finger at Minarra. “You will obey and you will obey now. Submit your mind to me, let me in!”

  “I can save your lover,” said Minar-ra, reiterating her own softer appeal for Minarra’s alliance.

  Two things occurred to Minarra simultaneously. First, they needed her for some reason. If they could conquer the world already, they would have. They’d been after her for some time, luring her with dreams, trying to scare and bully her. What power exactly did she have that they needed her to surrender?

  Secondly, it dawned on her that Minar-ra could not read all her thoughts. She was blind to one thing at least. Love. It was alien to her. Foreign to both of them. Love would be the shield she’d wrap around her secret thoughts, her plan.

  She loved Seth Macallister. And that would save them both.

  Minar-ra looked at her curiously, head cocked.

  “What is it?” Demanded Komen-tah of his sexual surrogate.

  “She is…holding back.”

  Komen-tah stepped toward Minarra. “You have not learned…”

  Minarra stepped backward to the edge. “Stop where you are, or I will jump.”

  “You would never kill yourself.”

  “To prevent your mad scheme?” She challenged. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  Komen-tah frowned, uncertain.

  “My Lord,” said the priestess, “let me intervene…let me serve.”

  “Very well, but be quick about it.”

  “Minarra,” said Minar-ra, with her mind-soaking voice. “Cooperate with us and I will spare the life of your Mummy Hunter. I will see to it he is returned safely home.”

  Minarra focused on her deep feelings. How she’d felt about Mac from the moment she had laid eyes on him. Behind this cloak, she reasoned it out. Gaining protection for him now would mean nothing if these two gained control of the whole earth. Neither Mac nor anyone else would be safe, ever again. Still, she must appear to go along until she could see a way to defeat them.

  “How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” She asked, making sure not to agree too easily.

  “You have my word,” said Komen-tah. “As a god.”

  “Forgive me if I’m skeptical,” she said dryly.

  “I will share my sight with you,” suggested Minar-ra. “You will be allowed to watch as he is preserved.

  That had possibilities. If Minarra could get into the priestess’s mind as the priestess was in hers. “That might work,” said Minarra. “But I need to know what you want from me.”

  “Take a guess,” Komen-tah grinned. He was holding his cock, fully erect again, as if nothing had happened.

  “You must take My Lord’s semen, and join us.”

  So that was it. He needed to join forces with a living being…he needed her soul, or whatever was inside her that gave her the spark of life. For all their bravado, these two clowns were still stuck in the land of the shadows. They were powerless, like any other ghosts.

  “Will you be…gentle?” Asked Minarra, feigning the part of awestruck maiden. “You are so…virile.”

  For all his supposed omniscience and omnipotence, Komen-tah proved as easily deceived by his own ego as any other male. “This is true…and I will not lie—no mortal female can be fully prepared. But if you submit, utterly, if you worship me, I shall be merciful as your god.”

  “Thank you…My Lord…it’s…it’s been on my mind, you know? I’ve fought my desires, so long…”

  “All females must yield eventually. Minar-ra did also. She resisted once. Now she has learned.”

  Minarra glanced at her name’s sake. Was there an ounce of fight left in the ghost priestess? Could she turn these two against each other?

  “I-I’m scared,” said Minarra, seeking to make herself appear as harmless as possible.

  “Fear is good. Remove your clothing,” he ordered. “On your back. Spread your legs in preparation.”

  “And Mac?” She reminded.

  “I shall tend to him now…behold. Minar-ra, make it so.”

  Minar-ra stood at her Lord’s command, raising her arms. At once the scene went dark. Winds swirled about them and as the merely human Minarra clenched her eyes tightly she could hear the voices, of Hassan and the others. His prayer, and the talk of the medic, mingling, with Mac’s low groans.

  ~~~~~

  Opening her eyes again, she was there. She sat up on the bedroll they’d laid her on. Clambering to her feet, she ran to Mac’s side.

  Mahmoud drew a breath. Light glinted off the end of his blade. “My hand,” he cried. “It is possessed.”

  Mahmoud shook his head as the blade began to dance at his fingertips. “I…this isn’t me,” he insisted as the scalpel did its work.

  In seconds, the bullet popped out. “Give me some gauze,” said Minarra, attempting to keep him on track. “Get the one in his shoulder.”

  “But…the blood.”

  Minarra slapped down the gauze. Instinctively she knew the wound would be instantly healed now, and the blood replaced. Sure enough, a second later she took the material off and found nothing, not even a scratch.

  It was the
same with the shoulder. In a matter of minutes, the man had been healed of two serious wounds.

  “Min?” He sat up, groggy, but very much alive. “What the hell happened? We were out in the dunes…”

  She blushed, thinking what they’d been doing out there. “Yeah, we were.”

  “Thank god,” he pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe.”

  Her heart went to her throat. This felt so good. If only it could be permanent. If only she hadn’t made that bargain. Maybe they’d forget. Maybe that part was all a dream…

  * * * * *

  Mac held onto Minarra for all he was worth. She had saved his life. He didn’t know how, but he was sure it was her.

  “It’s a miracle,” Mahmoud was crying.

  Hassan was weeping, a gesture of uncharacteristically deep emotion for a man like him. Several of the others were on their knees in prayer to various gods of their religions.

  “Min…oh, Minarra, I love you,” he gasped.

  Minarra went limp in his arms. He called her name again. She did not respond. Instinctively, he knew where she was. Sucked into that dream world of hers—whatever it was that was sucking her in from Shera-Sa. “Hassan,” he called out. “Come here quickly.”

  Hassan helped him to lay her back down. He knelt on one knee and examined her pupils. Frowning, he took her pulse. Twice he nodded, gravely.

  “What is it?” demanded Mac. “Tell me already.”

  “She has the sight,” he explained. “And now she is deep in trance.”

  Mac listened as Hassan told him of the old legends of the priestess Minar-ra, controlling the minds of certain persons, drawing them into the desert. He’d heard much of this before, from Roger. Roger had taken more and more to the occult in his later years. Mac had always wondered how healthy that was, especially for Min. It was bad enough that Roger had named her for that ancient priestess in the first place.

  That kind of thing could haunt a person, even swallow them whole.

  A chill grabbed Mac’s spine. What if she had been swallowed? What if her mind was trapped somewhere now? He had to find some way to bring her out. “Hassan—I need to be put in that trance, too.”

  He shook his head. “That, my friend, I cannot do.”

  “But I can.” This from Mahmoud, his face strangely luminescent, his voice oddly calm.

  “No.” Hassan spoke sharply. “It is too dangerous.”

  “You can really do it?” Mac grabbed Mahmoud’s upper arms, ignoring Hassan.

  He nodded. “Something passed through me, something…used me… It came down a pathway. I felt Minarra’s presence go down that way. I…you could follow it. If your heart is in tune with hers.”

  “Why should I believe any of this?” said Mac.

  “You shouldn’t,” Hassan said quickly.

  “I was apprentice to a shaman,” Mahmoud defended his credentials. “Before the army. “I acquired some sensitivity. But Hassan is correct. There is no proof one way or the other.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Mac said.

  “But there is a risk,” said Hassan. “You have not told him that, Mahmoud.”

  Mahmoud nodded. “It is true. If you follow the woman and are not bonded to her, the others will seize you.”

  “The priestess,” said Mahmoud. “And the prince. Her lover. They seek to reawaken. The legend says they must co-habit with a human soul, a sympathetic energy source. This will allow them re-birth in flesh, with all the powers they once held.”

  “Minarra is the one I love,” he said simply. “I am prepared to die for her.”

  “But she must accept you, my friend,” warned Hassan. “If she has any negative feelings toward you…she will not be able to hold you. Your soul will be torn to shreds. And hers.”

  Mac put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “And if I do nothing…she will die anyway. And all of us besides.”

  Hassan nodded. “I accept your logic.”

  “Good. Mahmoud, tell me what I need to do.”

  “Nothing,” said Mahmoud, putting his hand on Mac’s forehead. “Other than close your eyes. And take a deep breath.”

  “I don’t have to click my heels three times?”

  “Eh?” Mahmoud missed the Wizard of Oz reference.

  “Never mind,” Mac shook his head, taking the requisite breath.

  “Concentrate,” whispered Mahmoud as Mac closed his eyes. “And concentrate on Minarra. Think of what you feel for her…your desire to be with her.”

  A vision of her flashed in his mind, the way she’d been when he’d first laid eyes on her. Feisty, challenging, sexy as hell, without the least awareness of her power over men. That had been Roger’s doing, keeping her sheltered like that from her own sexuality.

  Mac imagined his first conversation with Minarra. The heated debate over the age of the Sphinx, and whether it could have originated with a civilization prior to the Egyptians.

  She’d been so animated, her pupils dilated, those ruby lips so very serious. “So what do you think?” She’d asked when she’d laid out her thesis.

  “I think I’d like to kiss you,” he’d replied.

  From there it was a blur, from the first taste of her all the way to now. He registered in his life two realities. Her presence, which was light, and her absence, which was dark.

  “Yes,” Mahmoud said, reading his mind. “This is the path to follow…she is ahead of you. Keep concentrating.”

  Mac focused himself, even more tightly, on an image of Minarra’s face. Those eyes of hers, the deepest blue he’d ever seen. The dimples, the tiny lines by her mouth, at once playful and guarded. The dual, paradoxical nature of her expressions, hopeful and tragic. Her chin, so delicate, yet noble. Always, though, it was back to the eyes. That is where a man lost himself.

  Mac allowed himself to drift into them. Another set of eyes within eyes, closed, and he was at a deeper place. His own heartbeat was loud and clear.

  “Find your body now,” said Mahmoud. “A body within your body…gravity… weight.”

  Mac hung in the air of nothingness, lost in the blue eyes, and then, suddenly, he felt himself harden like a stone. The bottom dropped from beneath him. He was plunging, down into the depths of a bottomless black hole. He tried to scream but nothing came out. He was sure he would keep on falling forever, but incredibly, he impacted on a soft, spongy surface. He bounced and was absorbed.

  The material he was on was wet and sticky. He struggled to free his limbs. It was like being a fly stuck on a piece of flypaper. The harder he tried, the more entangled he felt.

  “I can’t go on,” he breathed, stuck flat on his back.

  “You must,” Mahmoud spoke to his mind. “What you seek lies straight ahead.”

  He would do it for Minarra. He would find the energy. Making a phenomenal effort, he tore himself free and rose to his feet. The next thing he knew, he was running down a dark corridor. There was a bright yellow light at the end of it.

  What he sought was straight ahead.

  He would reach it, but he had no clue if he would be prepared.

  ~~~~~

  Minarra stood at the back of the temple, facing the twin-columned flames and the sacred consummation bed. She was naked, her body adorned in golden chains. Shackles upon her ankles and wrists, the slender links crisscrossing her breasts and looping about her belly. Her hair was atop her head, spun with gold and set with diamonds, emeralds and topaz. On either side of her, prostrate, were rows of slave girls, in various colored silks.

  Her bare feet rested upon a runner of dyed fiber, so soft that it might well have been silk. Ahead of her, at the end of the runner, flanking the bed, six hooded, castrated priests stood ready to chain her down for Prince Komen-tah. It was her duty to walk the aisle, between the rows of slaves, in preparation for making of herself a naked offering.

  Komen-tah was being prepared by Minar-ra, who was rubbing oil all over his rock-hard body. She did not leave out his cock, which was larger and more ere
ct than she recalled previously. In many ways, it was like being in a trance. Her real body was not even here and yet she was acutely aware that what was going on, reflected the deeper reality of her being and that of the world as well.

  So far she’d concocted nothing by way of a plot to defeat the prince. Behind the protective wall of her love for Mac, she could summon only a desire to have him here. A foolish, wishful thought that did nothing but divert her energy from real strategizing. She was so tired, though. She’d been fighting this battle for so long, alone. Truly, she did not know if she had much more left in her. The one thing she’d rallied herself for was to save Mac. The rest of it, even her own life, just didn’t seem that important.

  If Komen-tah wanted her soul so badly, perhaps she should just give it to him. It was in this listless mood that Minarra found herself as the masked eunuchs chained her down. They secured her spread-eagle, one limb at each corner of the ornate, hand-carved bed.

  There were furs atop it, symbols of Komen-tah’s prowess, presumably. The furs were luxurious, almost pleasant where they tickled her exposed flesh. Her exposed pussy responded with tingling heat. Much as she loathed the touch of the prince, she could not help the physical stimulation the position was providing.

  If only this could be Mac coming for her…

  “You look lovely, my dear,” cooed Komen-tah. “I am so glad you have agreed to take the intelligent course and serve me.”

  “Like you said, Prince. No one defies you and gets away with it.”

  He continued to stroke himself, his eyes lit with a dark heat as he stood over her. “Indeed, my priestess. Indeed.”

  Damn it. She should be thinking of something by now. Some way to turn this all around, to turn these two against each other, to put it all to her own advantage…

  She was so freaking useless. An emotional woman. Like her mother. No wonder Daddy was never satisfied.

  Komen-tah began to laugh. “Poor miserable little Minarra. Never makes anyone happy.”

  Fuck. Now they were both reading her mind.

  “How would you like to join him?” Asked Komen-tah taking a hooked knife from the priestess. “In the afterlife. You can lament to each other for all eternity.”