Alaskan Fury (26 page)

“Long,” ‘Aqrab managed, “story.” 
Prying his head from the ozone-tinged ashes of the forest floor for a moment
before deciding it was too much effort and dropping his face back to the
ground, he said, “Still not…entirely…sure myself.”

The Thunderbird seemed to
consider that, his eyes the electric blue of static.  Too intently, he said,
“Then the wolf is not your mate?”

That pulled ‘Aqrab out of his
delirium slightly.  He cocked his head up at the Thunderbird, then lifted it to
peer at the Fury.  She was still breathing, but covered in burns.  ‘Aqrab
dropped his face back to the ash in despair.  “I think she’d rather screw a
walrus,” he admitted to the scorched ground.  “Three thousand years with a
djinni and she’s still a virgin.”  He was losing his touch.

“A
virgin
?”  That seemed
to get the bird’s attention.  He looked at the Fury with a raised brow,
thoughtful deliberation written upon his face. 

“Don’t even waste your time,”
‘Aqrab laughed.  “She finds all men repulsive.”  …Or did she?  The other night
had him…curious.  That he was able to say it meant it was true, at least in
part.  But the way she’d
touched
him still roused his passion, whenever
he thought about it.

“
All
men.”  The
Thunderbird delivered the words in a wash of scorn.  Too late, ‘Aqrab realized
that the inflated bastard would probably take that as a challenge.

Prying himself from the ground,
‘Aqrab muttered, “She is the most ill-tempered beast I’ve ever come across. 
You’d be wasting your time.”  Grimacing, he began dusting clumps of ash from
his shoulder and cheek.

But the Thunderbird was giving
his magus a thoughtful look.  “She smells of wolf, yet she fought with the
tricks of the magi.”

“
Another
long story,”
‘Aqrab complained.  He was about to pry himself up from the ground, but was
surprised when the Thunderbird offered him a hand.  Trying not to eye it with
the same trepidation someone would give the wrong end of Zeus’s jagged scepter,
‘Aqrab gritted his jaw and forced himself to take it.

Thunderbird helped heft him to
his feet, then his perfect Athabascan face twisted down at the ashes that
‘Aqrab had deposited on his hand. 

“Sorry,” ‘Aqrab said, wincing at
the smear of soot that now stained Thunderbird’s palm.  He grabbed the
billowing fabric of his sirwal and said, “Here.  You can wipe it on my—”

Movement overhead interrupted
him.  ‘Aqrab looked up.  Converging above them in such awesome speed that it
looked as if Time itself sped up, the clouds congealed from all directions into
a light-eating, rumbling mass.  As ‘Aqrab was still staring up at that in awe,
it began to pour down rain.

Too late, he realized he had
incinerated the magus’s token in his dance with the Thunderbird, and the water
hit him in full force.

As ‘Aqrab stood there, disgusting
rivulets of water running down his skin, draining his power from him in violet
rivulets, Thunderbird twisted his hand this way and that in the downpour,
rinsing the ash from his sacred fingers.  Seeing that, ‘Aqrab realized he
probably a little too strongly wanted to repeat the Fury’s performance.  He
twisted to the half-realm and growled, “I’ll wait until you’re finished.”

Thunderbird laughed, but did not
banish the foul weather, once he was clean.  Instead, he stood in the sopping
wet, his robes and hair miraculously untouched, giving ‘Aqrab a superior look
from the First Realm.  “There’s nothing wrong with a good storm, Southlander.”

“I don’t see
you
getting
wet,” ‘Aqrab growled.  His skin felt like it was covered in the cold piss of
rats, dragging the power of the Fourth Lands from his body and leaving it in
filthy, steaming puddles at his feet.

The Thunderbird gave him a
pompous smile.  “It is not the duty of the eagle to drench himself like an oolichan.”

It was all ‘Aqrab could do not to
blurt out profanities at the sheer self-important arrogance of the creature.  A
good part of him wanted to wish him to the Fourth Lands and give him a taste of
a good blaze.  And then, while the Thunderbird writhed and complained of the
heat, casually mention that there was nothing wrong with the warmth of a fire.

“If it’s all the same with you,
I’ll wait here until the rain has passed, then I will take my magus and depart
your territory.”

The rain stopped then, as
suddenly as if someone had cut it with a knife.  Above, the clouds dispersed
the way they had come, leaving deep blue sky.  Within seconds, the sun had
returned, and was glittering against the crystalline drops of water covering
the war-zone.  “I will take this magus off your hands for you,” Thunderbird
said.  “She carries some amulet of yours, I would imagine?  Tell me where it is
and I will destroy it.”

“She
is
the amulet,”
‘Aqrab muttered, reluctantly twisting back to the First Realm and glancing down
at his magus.  Aside from the holes burned in her clothing and the puckered
scorches upon her skin, she looked relatively unharmed.  “She taunted me into a
duel-of-souls, dressed like a common peasant girl with a small beaten-up
sword.  I accepted her challenge, like a fool.”

Thunderbird’s mouth fell open and
‘Aqrab watched what little respect he had gained in the man’s eyes vanish
instantly.  “You lost a duel to a
wolf
?”

“She wasn’t a wolf at the time,”
‘Aqrab growled.  “And I didn’t lose. 
Neither
of us has lost yet.”

“You lost to a
magus
.”  As
if that was somehow even more shameful. 

‘Aqrab peered at the rain god.  “I
didn’t
lose
.  I surrendered my service.  Three wishes.  Then, when she
was going to kill me anyway, I used a deathbed wish to stay her hand. 
Nobody
has lost until the sword of one takes the head of the other.”

The Thunderbird shook his head. 
“No wonder she will not bed you.”  He pointed at the magus with his chin.  “
I
will bed her.  You will watch.”

‘Aqrab felt his hand fisting
before he remembered the cottonwood-sized bolts of lightning that had blotted
out his vision only moments before.  Scrambling to think of something that
wouldn’t prick the man’s ego into thinking it was a contest, ‘Aqrab said, “Take
it from me, First-Lander.  She will provide you as much warmth in bed as a
cobra.  There are
much
better alternatives,
anywhere
.”

But the Thunderbird was not as
blind as he seemed.  Watching ‘Aqrab too carefully, he said, “You want her for
yourself.”

“I have little alternative, tied
to her as I am,” ‘Aqrab growled.  “Don’t be greedy.  You can go abduct women
from any village at a whim.  I am stuck with one ill-tempered, unlovable qybah
until the end of time.”

Thunderbird’s eyes sharpened, and
he said, “A djinni is rumored to be unable to lie.”

Too late, ‘Aqrab realized he had
betrayed his curse…and that the Thunderbird, despite his idiotic wishes, was
not as stupid as he appeared.  Unnerved, trying to appear completely at ease,
he shrugged.  “We can twist words when we see the need.”

“You said you are stuck with her
‘until the end of time.’”  The Thunderbird was watching him like a raptor
analyzing the functions of a mouse.  “Did she wish herself immortal, then? 
That is why my bolts did not kill her?”

“She is immortal,” ‘Aqrab agreed,
feeling the nagging warning of Law as he minced his words.

Thunderbird grunted.  “And then
she wished your service in perpetuity?”

“She originally came to kill me,”
‘Aqrab said.  “Of course she did not wish my service.”

When the Thunderbird frowned and
opened his mouth to ask another question, though, ‘Aqrab raised a hand. 
“Enough.  We made a bargain, First Lander.  Safe passage across your
territory.  I will take her and go.”  Not wasting the time to try and brush the
soggy ash off the rest of his body, he bent to heft the wolf from the ground.

Thunderbird’s eyes darkened
perceptibly at his gesture.  “You are a guest in my land.  I will ask whatever
questions I deem appropriate.”  The way the creature said ‘my land,’ ‘Aqrab got
the very strong impression that he wasn’t talking about the fifty square miles
he’d staked out at the headwaters of the Yentna River.  More likely, judging by
the condescending look ‘Aqrab was getting, Thunderbird was speaking of the
whole of North America.

First Landers were so…pompous. 
As if their lonely little Realm was the center of the universe.  They also had
the manners of fleabitten wildebeests.  Gritting his teeth in a smile, ‘Aqrab
settled the waif-thin magus over his shoulder and tightened an arm against the
back of her knees, to hold her in place.  “You may ask, but don’t expect an answer
if I find it to be none of your business.”

The Thunderbird raised a brow,
his electric eyes brightening, and ‘Aqrab was once again reminded of the
cottonwood-sized pillars of lightning.  “I will ask, and you will answer, or I
will assign you a perpetual stormcloud to follow you wherever you go, to
cleanse the ill-humors from your body.”

‘Aqrab froze at the absolute
casual sincerity of the Thunderbird’s threat.  “That is
not
funny.”

“You are in a Realm that does not
belong to you,” the Thunderbird reminded him calmly.  Then, without missing a
beat, “So why
are
you stuck with one ill-tempered, unlovable qybah until
the end of time?”  Thunderbird’s face remained placid.  “I did not fail to
notice you said ‘one,’ djinni, not, ‘many’ or ‘a dozen.’”

‘Aqrab glanced at his magus’s leg
nervously.  This was
not
something he wanted her to ever find out.  “I
was…stupid.”

Thunderbird’s eyes widened a bit
at that.  “
You
wished
her
?”

“Conversation over,” ‘Aqrab
growled.

“What
size
would you like
your stormcloud to be?” Thunderbird asked.  “After all, you are rather large
for this Realm.  I wouldn’t want it to miss.”

“It is not your business,” ‘Aqrab
snapped.

“I am bored.”  As if that
explained why ‘Aqrab should dance to entertain him.  Then ‘Aqrab realized, in
Thunderbird’s world, it probably did.  And, considering how
unpleasant
the rest of ‘Aqrab’s existence in the First Realm was likely to be if he didn’t
cooperate, he was going to have to allow the fool his illusions.

“I wished for someone who would
never betray me,” ‘Aqrab growled.  “I got a woman who would rather skewer a man
on her sword than love him.”

“…so she will never betray you,”
Thunderbird offered, “because she will never love you.”

‘Aqrab’s mouth fell open a bit at
that, and the hot rush of fire in his veins started pounding at the insides of
his skull.  He had never looked at it in quite that way before.  He thought
again of his wish, trying to decide if it could have been twisted that far. 
May
I never bed another woman who is not the mirror to my soul, and, once I find
her, may she be a slave to my heart, may she seek nothing of me I cannot give,
and may she revile the touch of other men.
  That’s what the whole ‘slave to
his heart’ thing had been about.  She
had
to love him.

…didn’t she?

Cold sweat, however, was
springing up along ‘Aqrab’s spine.  He could think of at least a dozen ways to
twist those words, and none of them were pleasant.

Thunderbird must have seen his
dismay, because he made a knowing, kingly smile.  “So, for once, a djinni
suffers his own medicine.”

‘Aqrab stiffened.  First-Landers
never understood the Law.  They saw a djinni unmaking an unreasonable wish and thought
it was a habit of djinn to rob people of their wishes because, in the First
Lands, monkey-pawing was
all
they saw of djinn wish-grantings.  First
Landers were greedy, selfish, power-hungry morons.  In fact, the very first
wish ‘Aqrab had heard from a First Lander’s mouth, he had thought it had been a
joke. 
I wish for a magnificent harem of a thousand of the world’s most
beautiful women.

Once he realized he was serious,
‘Aqrab had given the man a thousand corpses, clad in jewels and silk, all of
whom had been considered the most beautiful woman of her time and locale.  Love
and sexual favors was a gray area of the Law, but only a moron would make such
a request in seriousness.  It was forbidden.

In the Fourth Lands, it was
hugely rude to ask for something that could not be accomplished by ten men in a
day, without magic, unless someone was dying.  To ask for anything more than what
a First Lander would consider a ‘favor’ was something that had to be brought
before a Fourthlander lord for approval, prior to making the wish.  To ‘cheat’
and ask for something large without consulting first often resulted in a
flogging and removal of whatever had been wrongfully wished for.  To ask for
something as ludicrous as shattering mountainsides with one’s step and
summoning tornadoes with their breath, however, they simply would have been
executed.  Unlike here, the Fourth Lands suffered no fools.

Yet there were no such controls
in this wretched land, and the Fourthlander lords would be overstepping their
bounds to try and dictate how the Firstlanders ran their realm.  Before he
could say something unkind, he turned and started heading north.

As Thunderbird began to follow
him, ‘Aqrab stopped and turned to him with a frown.  “What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Thunderbird said
indifferently.  “I am bored.  I will escort you through my territory until you
cease to amuse me.”

‘Aqrab could think of several
ways to cease amusing the Thunderbird, but unfortunately, most of them ended in
char and ozone.  He kept walking, making no comment as the Thunderbird regally
kept pace, little static discharges crackling every time his foot set down in
the snow.  Seeing that, ‘Aqrab had another thought.