Servant of the Gods (16 page)

“Nebi!” Irisi shouted and gestured to the gate.

The lion sprinted low and fast toward their only exit.

Even as he went, she gestured, summoning the wind again, gathering sand to sweep before Nebi, casting it into the faces of the Djinn like a miniature dust storm. They had eyes to irritate and sand smothered fire…

Khai’s men launched a barrage of arrows and spears.

Briefly, the creatures flinched back from assault and Nebi’s slashing claws.

“Go,” Khai shouted.

It was a race and even as they neared the gate, he knew his people all saw they wouldn’t make it through unscathed. Spears and arrows flew, charioteers slashed with their swords as they tried to cut their way past, hacking their way free as Nebi tore into the creatures at the fore, breaking the rush.

Khai, Irisi and the scouts drove into forefront of the massed chaos of howling Djinn, slashing wildly, trying to break through.

A horse screamed as an ifrit tore out its throat. It went down, taking its fellow, the driver of the chariot and the archer with it. The archer died instantly from the fall while the driver tried to flee. A marid caught him, smiling horridly. As Khai watched the man shuddered as his eyes took in the beauty of the creature. The marid took a breath and the man’s soul burst forth in a shining torrent from his mouth. His man screamed in pleasure and glory while the Marid Djinn fed. Other Djinn closed around to feast on the man’s flesh.

Leaning forward in her saddle, Irisi slashed at one of the sila.

With a snarl, it turned on her.

Calling up one of the spells she remembered, she threw a bucketful of water at the fire-spirit and it howled in agony.

Twisting in his saddle, Khai brought his sword down first on one side then the other, trying to beat his way through, heedless of how much damage he did, only trying to cut a way past for his men.

Irisi called out a warning to one of her guards, but he reacted too late as an ifrit leapfrogged over another and then bounded from that one to take her man out of the saddle.

In a flash, Nebi got the ifrit, tearing off its head with a swipe of his claws.

Something went low and leaped.

Khai saw the ghul even as Irisi caught the movement and twisted to avoid it. His sword took its head, but, kicking, one of its feet ripped its claws across her thigh.

The thing fell away behind them as they burst free on the other side of the gate.

Some of the creatures gave chase despite the burning sunlight but he could see by their rolling eyes and sweat-stained hides that the horses wanted no part of them, racing flat out in a desperate attempt to put distance between themselves and the creatures that hunted them. Drivers and archers clung to their chariots with Nebi racing alongside them. The drivers urged the horses on while the archers turned and braced themselves to fire back at the hideous enemy, who gradually fell back.

Finally, with no sign of further pursuit, Khai signaled them to stop. They risked injuring the precious horses if they kept up this pace. If they did that, they were lost.

There were also the wounded to consider.

Irisi waved him to his men, pouring water from her waterskin over the gouges in her thigh. The cuts stung like mad but she’d taken worse in her time. The long-ago arrow in her shoulder had been one. The wounds weren’t particularly deep but they burned badly. Already she could feel heat there. Reaching into her saddlebag she pulled out a bundle of herbs, soaked it in a little water from her waterskin before binding the poultice over the wound with strips of linen.

Crouching beside her, Khai looked at the deep gouges, his expression worried and asked, “Can you ride?”

She looked at him, and smiled wryly.

“I must,” Irisi said, “or sleep the night on the sands. And so close to the fort? I think not.”

He offered her a hand up.

Taking it, Irisi smiled in thanks as he helped her to her feet.

Surprising her, Khai picked her up as if she weighed nothing and tossed her lightly into her saddle, having a care for her leg. It was odd to be treated so carefully and be tossed about so easily. Odder still to feel the electric contact of his hands on her skin. It was the first time she’d been so close to him since that night in the desert almost six years past.

None of Khai’s men, it seemed by their expressions, cared to spend the night in the desert, in the open. They rode through the night despite their injuries and weariness, all too conscious of the gathering darkness at their backs.

It was late morning before they reached the army, which still traveled at the slow pace of the foot soldiers.

Most of their party was bone-weary by the time they arrived.

Dismissing his men, Khai turned to Irisi as she bid the lion to stay. She’d been right in that, they’d been grateful for the creature’s presence.

Irisi’s leg throbbed but she tried hard to ignore it. It wasn’t the first time she’d traveled wounded, although it had been some time since it had been necessary for her to do so.

She attempted to dismount but it became quickly apparent that the wound in her thigh wouldn’t allow that. The leg trembled violently when she tried to put any weight on it. Instead, she swung her good leg over the pommel of the saddle to slide down from the horse, only to find Khai there to catch her, his hands around her waist to lower her gently to the ground.

Once more she was fiercely aware of the physical strength of him in a way she hadn’t been save for that one time. His kalasaris, donned as the night cooled, covered his strong shoulders but revealed the sharply carved muscles of his bare chest. She was acutely conscious of the warm skin beneath her hands as she caught her balance against him. Strong solid muscle lay firm beneath her fingertips. Heat washed through her, starting deep and rushing through her limbs. Briefly, the feel of it took her mind from her throbbing thigh.

In the soft morning light she lifted her gaze to his, looked up into those deep brown eyes with their touch of gold. She was oddly breathless, caught by the look in them, by the sudden hammering of her heart. Her eyes dropped to his full mouth, remembering what it had felt like against hers when he kissed her.

Khai looked into her otherworldly eyes, eyes like the sky, and saw them soften. Her lips parted…and he lowered his head.

He paused to savor the moment, his mouth a breath from hers as she looked up at him. Beneath his hands he felt her breath catch as her strong, slender fingers rose to touch his face.

Irisi felt the thin line of his beard and stroked her fingers over it, remembering… wanting…

And she recalled Kamenwati’s threat…

If he or one of his saw this, it would be Khai’s life that would be the price.

Reluctantly, fearfully, she glanced toward Akhom’s tent to see who might be watching. If Baraka saw this…

No one was there.

Messengers sprinted through the camp to summon the commanders to Akhom’s tent, Baraka among them.

She sighed and stepped back before she looked at Khai again. Her heart ached.

Khai saw where she looked and sighed as well. Duty called.

Reluctantly, he released her.

Walking was painful. Irisi found she was forced to limp but she gave Khai a sharp, amused and vaguely warning look when he indicated he might carry her.

“I can manage,” she said, softly.

It didn’t surprise him. Khai understood, she knew. He inclined his head and smiled.

“As you wish,” Khai said as he held the tent flap back for her but there was a softness in her glance, gratitude for the consideration he gave her.

“What did you find?” Akhom demanded as they stepped inside.

“That it’s neither men nor animals that we fight,” Khai answered grimly, “but Djinn.”

Akhom blinked. “Djinn. They’re just a legend.”

Everyone knew of the Djinn. Tales of them were told at every grandmother’s or grandfather’s knee. Some claimed there were good Djinn who looked after you even as there were dark Djinn who deceived and tried to kill you.

Akhom had seen neither. Nor had anyone yet told him how to tell which from which.

Peeling away the bandage from the wound on her thigh, Irisi said, “These legends have teeth and long claws.”

The sight of the wound visibly shocked him.

They looked far worse in the bright light of day but it was also clear they’d festered, quickly, despite the poultice she’d put over them. She frowned worriedly, remembering some of the folk they’d treated at the temple.

It hurt, no, it throbbed in time to the beat of her heart. Irisi wished that healers could heal themselves as readily as they could others. No one here who could do even half as well as she could.

Khai sucked in a breath at the raw look of the tears in her skin. The long ride had clearly done the wounds little good but she’d said no more than any good soldier would have.

“I’ve seen them, Akhom, as have my men.”

The memory of his man rising up to attack them still haunted him.

“How do we fight Djinn?” Akhom demanded, even as he struggled to reconcile his mind to it. Khai seemed convinced, and the wounds on the priestess were hard to deny.

In the time since Khai and the priestess had been gone Akhom had taken the opportunity to speak to those who’d seen the survivor of the scouts return. Their reports worried him.

Even so. Djinn? How did one fight a myth, a nearly immortal creature of fire?

“They’re far harder to kill than men, of that there’s no doubt. They’re very strong, much stronger than men. And fast, very fast. It’s difficult, no doubt,” Khai said, “but not impossible. Cut off their heads and they die.”

He tried not to think of the losses they would incur trying.

“Iron hurts them, and salt, if I remember correctly,” Irisi added, searching her memory for all the information she’d gleaned from the temple scrolls. “You can use that. Cast it into their eyes. I’ve had no dealings with Djinn, though, before this. For more information I must return to Thebes.”

As tired as he was, Khai looked at her. To ride farther on that leg…as weary as she must be – as he was – after doing so all night?

Irisi saw Khai’s look. The best healers were in Thebes, and so she had little choice. It was clear that her poultices and magic were of little use against the Djinn. She needed to talk to Banafrit, as well. Isis was the Goddess of magic and there were the other Gods. Surely there was an answer to this, there was something they could do.

 “I’ll speak to the priests and priestesses,” Irisi said. “Hold here as long as you can. I’ll return with help.”

Akhom was more than happy to do so.

Djinn. Spirits of fire… He couldn’t credit it. It was madness. Nor could he deny it, not in the face of the tales the refugees had told, or the look in Khai’s eyes or the words of Khai’s men.

He fell back on training and what he did know.

“Order the men to dig in and set watches,” Akhom ordered. “Send a message to the King. Lady Irisi, we await your return.”

Khai was in no more hurry to fight the Djinn either until they had more information or more knowledge of what they fought.

Inclining her head respectfully, Irisi turned to go even as Khai held the tent flap open for her.

She stepped out into the cool night.

Looking at her horse, though, with the thought of the pain and the growing swelling in her leg, her heart sank at the thought of trying to mount again. Yet she didn’t want to show weakness. Her guards were already unsettled, and there were the watching soldiers.

“Will you allow me?” Khai offered, gently.

As hard as she’d tried to walk normally, it was obvious that the leg pained her.

Startled, Irisi spun. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her.

Fortunately, no one was around to see, hidden between the horses and chariots as they were. But it was an opportunity she’d didn’t want to miss.

“Thank you,” she said, quietly, gratefully, “but first…a moment, my Lord Khai.”

She hesitated and then looked up into Khai’s dark eyes. Her heart pounded.