Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) (2 page)

“I still don’t understand why you find it so necessary to teach me combat,” repeated Darius for what had to be the fifth time since they’d begun. Ramose sliced forward with his blade, and the man danced away. The sharp edge whizzed past Darius’s ear, slicing a few hairs from the side of his head. The man didn’t blink, but readied his sword for the next attack. “I’ve lasted this long without it, why now?”

Impressed with his pupil’s quick defensive moves, Ramose charged, sending the man off balance. He needed this as much as Darius did. Inside, his nerves sang with an intensity he couldn’t begin to understand.

Darius dodged his advance with a neat parry.

“I’ve told you, things are changing.” Gods, how he wished he could give a good answer. So much remained hidden. Premonitions had haunted Ramose’s thoughts for most of his life. Tiny inklings of a future to come. Images or feelings which were never clear, details blurred beneath the mists of the unknown. Right now, he had the odd sensation of danger. And the focus was Darius.

“You’ve been dreaming about her again, haven’t you?”

Ramose frowned, and parried, the slide of blade against blade vibrated through his muscles. “My dreams are unimportant and have no bearing on your future.”

Darius spun and Ramose blocked. “So, what’s it like, seeing your
Kha-Ib
?”

Like the rest of those on board the doomed Petiri vessel, Ramose had left any possibility of finding his
Kha-Ib
on Petiri, waiting for his return. He’d never met her, but he’d dreamed of her since childhood. The woman in his recent dreams couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties. In most of the dreams, she was no more than a child in her teens. Too young and too human to be the heart of his soul.

“She’s not my
Kha-Ib
,” Ramose grumbled, slicing toward Darius.

“Whoever this woman is, she haunts your sleep the way a ghost haunts an old graveyard. Elo is trying to tell you something.”

“Our god deserted us the moment we arrived on this backward planet. He’s telling me nothing.” Their blades clanged together, and they both leapt back.

“You’re deluding yourself, Ramose. And, until you admit it, you will never find peace. Whoever this woman is, she’s not your wife.”

Ramose rewarded the verbal jab with a physical one of his own, spinning about and slamming a fist into the man’s solar plexus. The sudden flinch in Darius’ face was a little too satisfying for comfort.

He’d never loved his wife, not the way a Petiri would love his
Kha-Ib.
True, every Petiri dreamed of his
Kha-Ib
, just like he had. Years ago. But those dreams had stopped the moment he’d given up on ever finding the one meant for him.

Loneliness had wrapped its velvet fist around him, driving him to long for what he would never have. He’d decided to accept second best. Everything had gone horribly wrong. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t forget the anger brought on by his wife’s death. A death she’d intended for him. Anger at the memories coiled in his gut.

Ramose balanced on the balls of his feet before striking forward again. Their blades crashed together, their song of battle echoing through the room, sparks flying.

“Enough talk,” Ramose growled.

Darius shoved hard at Ramose’s shoulders, knocking him backward. “I’m done. I refuse to fight when you’re angry. You’ll kill me.”

Ire burned in Ramose’s gut, and his knuckles turned white on the pummel of his sword. Darius was right. The dreams were getting to him. Dreams of a young girl in peril, with a face he could never see. A human face.

And, each morning, upon waking from the dream, the same uneasy feeling swept over him. Danger.

Change. And, every time he saw Darius, the sensation increased.

“If you can’t protect yourself against me, how will you survive when the time comes?” His hands tensed, and cold washed through his body. Not the cold of realization, but the ice cold strength of the power running in his veins. His gift. Ice formed over the surface of the already deadly blade.

“Survive what? Tell me. Who am I protecting myself from? Amunkha?”

Ramose fumed at the mention of his sworn enemy, and a second wave of ice crystallized on the blade, thickening to a shining white. “Maybe. And maybe,” he retorted, “against a foe we haven’t even discovered yet.”

Darius glared across the small workout room at Ramose then replaced the sword on the rack. He snatched a towel from the shelf along the south wall. “Since the day we crashed on this planet, we have been the strongest, most advanced race on this world. Ramose, who the hell are you suddenly afraid of?”

“No one,” he shouted. “I just…” He couldn’t put his finger on the premonitions running through his body. He’d used his own
Hekau
for years, letting the magick guide him when it came to the protection of their small band of refugees. But, now, his magick had let him down.

“Just what?”

Ramose glowered at the slender man before him. No human would ever guess Darius to be over four thousand years old. He didn’t look a day over thirty. Tall, like most Petiri, he had powerful shoulders and a narrow waist. Healthy, strong muscles gleamed when he stripped his shirt to work out. But he wasn’t a fighter.

At last, Ramose sighed and shook his head, grabbed his own towel from the rack, and wiped the sweat from his skin, shoving his black hair behind his ears. “I wish I could explain it. I just know…” He dropped to the cushioned bench, the blade clattering to the floor beside him. “Something is changing.”

Darius collapsed beside him and leaned back against the wall, mopping the sweat from his brow. “I don’t pretend to understand your premonitions, even though they’ve never led us astray. But the last time you were this vague, it related specifically to you, not everyone.”

“No. Not this time.” Ramose shook his head. “I feel it. While whatever it is may start with me, it’s not going to end with me. I just can’t…” He tried to pinpoint the sensations running through is brain. “I can’t seem to decide if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

Darius laughed. He let his hands drop into his lap, resting his head against the wall. The sound of his laughter echoed in the gym. “You mean,” he said through smirks, “you demanded this entire training session without warning and you don’t even know if there’s a threat?”

Ramose glared at the other man. “If there’s one thing I know,” he said, “you are in danger. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but, one day, your life will depend on this training.”

Even as his words spoke of the future, a premonition vibrated, like a stringed instrument along his spine. He bolted to his feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Darius. “You can’t just beat me to a pulp then leave.”

Ramose stopped and met Darius’ brown eyes, and then he knew. “To Cairo. Tonight, it begins.”

Chapter Two

Frustration gnawed at the edge of Ramose’s mind, eroding the layer of control he cherished after thousands of years of practice. He leaned against the back wall of the worn ticket booth, ignored by milling tourists. With hands in his pockets, he crossed his ankles in repose, and he stared out at the pyramids.

Three shining beacons of ancient Earth’s technology. Powerful structures reaching for the stars pointing to distant worlds. To his own world. The detailed and exact structures were proof of an ancient world’s science and math, measured to the smallest fraction of a millimeter.

The massive tombs were guarded by the enigmatic eyes of the sphinx--a structure like no other on this world. Yet Ramose always believed the face it bore, even before its destruction, reminded him of someone. No matter how hard he searched for the answer, it eluded him.

When he’d first laid eyes on Giza, he’d had hope for the future. Hope that technology would continue to grow, developing to match the Petiri, giving them all they needed to return home swiftly. He’d been wrong.

Progress had halted in what people now considered ancient times. Instead of moving forward, they’d slipped backward, slamming the earth back into prehistory, the discoveries of Ancient Egypt lost to all but the Petiri. The mysteries of this once vibrant, ancient culture now lay in ruins, visited by tourists and scientists alike.

The longer he stared, the more his nerves drew taut. The hairs on the back of Ramose’s neck crawled with a familiar sensation, and his muscles tightened.

Heat burned its way up his spine like a hot desert wind.

Amunkha.

He’d sensed Amunkha since the day the younger man was born. Now, thousands of years later, Amunkha had changed. The innocence was gone, leaving the rancid tinge of evil.

Ramose let his gaze wander, hiding a grimace of distaste. He needed to end this cat and mouse game he played with the other Petiri, but he couldn’t seem to take that final action. Memories of the sparkling youth Amunkha had been got in the way. Memories which could mean Ramose’s death. The two were forever intertwined, forever aware of one another’s presence. A bond which dug deep into their hearts and minds. A bond Ramose detested, with death the only severance.

He hadn’t expected to sense the man here. Amunkha, like Ramose, didn’t bother with tourist attractions. Perhaps the premonition Ramose had felt was about Amunkha and not the coming change in their lives. For where his enemy stepped, havoc soon followed. And death. It was what Amunkha did best: destroy the living. Sometimes, he destroyed their bodies, and, sometimes, he destroyed their souls. Even worse, sometimes, he destroyed both.

Ramose kept still, his eyes searching the faces passing by. Wasted motion gave away secrets, and, often, secrets were the only weapon at hand. Still, he faded into the crowd, unnoticed by any but the seasoned observer. No face resembled the man he expected.

Around him, the tourists milled, chatting excitedly, pointing at the pyramids now lit with spotlights, their stone skins shining gold beneath the yellowed light. Men, women and children, excitement filling the air. He smirked. Only humans would think a laser light show on the pyramids was the height of their miserable technology.
Child’s play
. A simple manipulation of light used to draw images on the stone pyramid walls for people’s amusement.

As he studied the crowd, Amunkha’s presence faded, the sensation draining from his body like a leaking tap. Silence rang along the shared connection Ramose so detested.

If only the compulsion which drew him to the pyramids tonight would wash away so easily. The sense of danger abated, but the premonition of change continued.

* * * *

Tamara tapped her finger on the counter of the refreshment stand tucked away in the back corner of the foyer. People milled about the small, crowded ticket lobby, waiting for the laser show to begin. She grimaced. The problem with visiting tourist areas meant there were an awful lot of tourists. But since this was her first day in country, she had to start somewhere. The hotel clerk had insisted the light show would be the perfect introduction to Egypt’s tourism. Just how much of a cut of the proceeds he got for the recommendation, she didn’t know.

The man beside her flashed a smile, revealing a mouthful of straight, white teeth, offset by perfectly coiffed brown hair. His clothes were pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. For a tourist, he looked well put together. Except for the smell. Instead of wearing cologne, his cologne wore him, and Tamara fought to keep from cringing at the overpowering scent.

With a polite nod of her head, she turned back to the waiter at the counter.

A passerby jostled her, knocking her off balance. She stumbled into perfect smile guy beside her.

He grinned, catching her in his arms. “Well, beauty,” he drawled, “it’s not often a pretty girl falls for me within seconds of laying eyes on me.”

Don’t touch me
! The words almost slipped from Tamara’s mouth. She bit her lip and jerked from his hold, straightened her shirt, and, with an impatient hand, shoved a wisp of brown hair from her face.

“Thanks,” she said. She hated crowds, and she especially hated men’s hands touching her without her permission.

The smell of his beer-laden breath blended with the overpowering cologne, and she fought to hide the shudder of disgust. Beer. Man. Never a good combination.

The waiter plopped the three bottles of water she’d ordered in front of her, and she paid him.

“Please, allow me.” Arms appeared on either side of her, trapping her against the counter.
Mr. Perfect Teeth
.

Every muscle in her body tensed. A trickle of fear dripped into her stomach, but Tamara shoved it away. “Let me go,” she demanded through clenched teeth.

He lowered his head, and his hot, beer-laden breath brushed against the side of her neck. “Now, don’t be that way, sugah. We’re in a far away land, where no one knows us. I’m alone. You’re alone. We could be alone together.” His hands slid to her waist, and he pulled her back hard against himself.

Tamara gasped then shuddered in revulsion. It took a special kind of pervert to think he could get away with mauling a woman he didn’t know in a crowded room. A man who singled out the victims he thought were the most docile. The ones least likely to scream in a crowd.

No
.

The word echoed inside her head, and she straightened her shoulders. She would not be a victim. She’d been there, lived that life, and had had more than enough of it. Anger burned hot inside her, sizzling through her cells and into her hands.

Her palms stretched on the cool countertop. Steam rose in tiny tendrils from beneath her fingers. She lifted her hand, dismayed at the burn marks she’d left behind. She needed to get control of her talent.

“Come on, beauty,” he said again. “Let’s have a little fun.”

Irritation ignited into fury. Her hands trembled with the urge to set fire to his clothes, or maybe to that too pretty brown hair. But there were people around. Using her gift in public could get her in big trouble, especially in a foreign country.

“This is your last warning. Back off.”

He pressed closer in answer. “How ’bout just one kiss? Hmm?”

Tamara cursed beneath her breath. Then, again, maybe the time had come for this bastard to get what he wanted. She shoved back just enough to force him to step away and then spun around to face him, a fake smile plastered on her face. All the while, she reached deep inside her mind, dragging the heat sizzling in her blood upward, pushing and pulling it, wrapping it into a tight package in her body. “Just one kiss,” she agreed.