Wrath of the White Tigress (31 page)

Mardha wasn't finished. She removed the same finger from Zyrella's other hand. Then she pulled back the sheets and lifted the gown Zyrella was wearing. Drawing the blade across the skin of Zyrella's stomach, she carved a large X that centered on her navel.

Mardha held the blade in front of Zyrella's face and glared into her eyes. Then she spun and left the room, leaving the severed fingers on the pillow. Zyrella had called on all her training to blot out the pain and to restrain herself from speaking. She would show no weakness to her half-sister. When the last palymfar left the room, she passed out.

~~~

Letting Rahazakir lead them, Jaska followed absently, lost in thought. By the time dusk arrived, the mountain path grew so steep they were forced to dismount. The path had become nothing more than a track for mountain rams. The footing was rough and treacherous with sliding scree and jagged rocks. Before long, their thighs burned and their ankles hurt.
 

In the dark of early night, the light of the Bright Moon struck the mountainside, and the ghostly Temple of Avida shimmered into existence: pure white marble formed into a dome between two twisting towers with tall spires. The temple lacked doors and windows, and there was no path leading up to it.

"I don't see any way to get up there without climbing," Ohzikar said.

Though his talent had abandoned him earlier, Rahazakir tried again. Immediately he felt the familiar pull. "This way," he said, leading them upward and to the north. After several hours of hiking, they came to a solid rock face, and Rahazakir shook his head. "I'm sorry, but my talent leads me no further."

Jaska felt the rock face, looking for a secret doorway and scanning for any trace of sorcery. "This must be it. I feel magic here, but I don't know how to pass beyond."

"Perhaps there's an incantation," said Hyrkas.

"The Farseer didn't mention one."

"A prayer to the god, then?" Bakulus suggested.

Ohzikar nodded. "An offering would be wise regardless."

"I have nothing to offer," said Jaska, "except the blood of my enemies. Whatever light Avida gives me, I will shine upon their evil."

Suddenly, a gleaming arched doorway appeared along the rock face and illuminated the mountainside. Shielding his eyes from the glare, Jaska turned to Ohzikar. "I need my old qavra before we go on."

Without hesitation, Ohzikar handed it to him.
 

Jaska transferred it to a pouch at his waist. "You trust me with it?"

"If I can't trust you, I can't trust anyone."

Jaska took a deep breath. "Let's go then." He tested the doorway, passing his hand through the warm light and bringing it back unharmed. He stepped through. Ohzikar followed, but when he touched the doorway, it was nothing but glowing rock. Cursing, he moved aside so that the others could try. They were also barred from entering. Ohzikar said a prayer to Avida and made a vow similar to Jaska's. That didn't work either.

"Well," said Hyrkas, "this part is his destiny and not ours."

"We'll set up camp within sight of the doorway," Ohzikar said, taking charge instinctively. "Chief Rahazakir, if you need to return, feel free to do so. We can find our way back to your people."

"I will think on it. I need some sleep first, whatever I decide."

Ohzikar watched the doorway, thinking of Zyrella and Jaska as well. A hand fell onto his shoulder. He turned and met Hyrkas's gaze. "Do not worry," the Arhrhakim said. "He will return."

~~~

Jaska watched his companions through the doorway and saw that they could not follow. He decided not to risk going back out, just in case he couldn't come back in. He had no choice but to go on without them. Whatever lay ahead was something he must face alone.

 
The pure white marble walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel held a brilliance that was nearly blinding. Jaska's steps echoed oddly, the sound bouncing up through the tunnel. The slope eventually transformed into a winding staircase that went up into the mountain, but then later the staircase transformed back into a tunnel.
 

A radiant figure appeared ahead. Jaska shielded his eyes and glanced between his fingers. It was like a man, but he could tell little more than that. A quick scan with his qavra revealed a strong magical aura. Not that of a demon, though it was similar. He waited, but the figure neither moved nor spoke.

"Who are you?" Jaska called out.

A familiar voice countered, "Who are you?"

"I am Jaska Bavadi, and I have come to see the Keeper of Swords."

"I, too, am Jaska Bavadi," replied the figure, "and I have come to keep you from reaching the Keeper of Swords."

Jaska shook his head. "You can't be Jaska Bavadi!"

"Neither can you, creature of filth."

"Then you admit that you are not?"

"I am as much that man as you are, Slayer."

Jaska drew his saber. "I demand that you let me pass!"

The figure drew his sword with equal skill. "I will never give in to your demands! Be assured of that!"

Jaska approached warily. His strange opponent, whom he now assumed was an Avida-djinn, matched him stride for stride. Jaska chanted spells of speed and strength. Sparks glowed through his qavra. His opponent did the same. Jaska could just make out lavender sparks within a clear stone at the figure's throat.

They closed on one another then stopped, face-to-face. Jaska stared dumfounded at the figure that matched him in every physical detail except for his shining raiment. And yet, they were quite different in other ways. His counterpart possessed an aura of contentment. His vibrant eyes were no less passionate, yet they lacked the vengeance that lit Jaska's.

Jaska gathered his resolve. "Let me pass!"

The doppelganger shook its head. "I cannot. The temple beyond should not be sullied by filth such as you."

"Then I will kill you."

"That is only possible by killing yourself."

"We shall see," Jaska said as he launched into his first attack.

The doppelganger parried with ease and riposted with a supple slash aimed at Jaska's throat. Jaska bent backward so that the blade whisked by, barely missing him. The two of them attacked, dodged, spun, parried, and kicked as they retreated and advanced through the tunnel. Jaska grew fatigued, but his opponent seemed tireless. Yet despite his exhaustion, the doppelganger failed to hit him.
 

Jaska began to suspect his opponent was deliberately missing, that his only goal was to prevent Jaska from passing. So Jaska began to concern himself more with getting by than defending. Jaska went on a savage offensive, launching attack after attack with saber, kicks, and claws. At last as he closed in, threw his arms out wide in a feint, and head-butted the doppelganger. His mirror image didn't dodge quickly enough, and Jaska tackled him.
 

Jaska had planned to leap up and make a run for it, but something unexpected happened when they touched. Their minds also connected. Images from childhood, of his first home and his parents, and thoughts he'd never expressed to anyone before passed between them in swift succession.

Jaska grasped the doppelganger by the collar and slammed him against the marble floor. "You are not me!"

With a burst of strength, the doppelganger threw him off and again blocked Jaska's way forward.
 

Jaska was no longer concerned with slipping by. "What are you? And don't say that you're me!"

"I am a three-dimensional mirror then."

"No, because I'm not the man you reflect."

"Are you not? I was made to reflect your inner being."

"I am not you. I can't be you."

"Why?"

"We are not the same."

"I disagree."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"I see before me a being like a Zhura-djinn, cloaked in shadows, bathed in the lifeblood of innocents."

"And yet you claim that we are the same?" Jaska said, almost laughing.

"We are. Zhura and Avida shine equally in all humans."

"Zhura alone darkens my heart."

"Avida is no less evil. His evil is only less obvious to you. His is a world of bound desire and order, taken to the point of stagnation. Zhura is uninhibited and instinctual, passionate and aggressive by nature. Only a balance could truly be considered good."

"Metaphysics do not interest me. Get to your point."

"Only a combination of us both could be Jaska Bavadi. That is the truth. Neither you nor I are the man that the twain of us is."

Jaska began to back away. The doppelganger didn't follow. Madness overwhelmed him. Jaska turned and ran back to the portal, sliding down the slope, falling down stairs. He was prepared to abandon his mission, so frightened he was now of the doppelganger.
 

But then he saw Ohzikar sitting beyond, staring at the entrance and waiting, his hopes pinned on the man he had almost killed but had now chosen as a mentor. A mentor who would run away in fear of himself.

Trembling, afraid, angry: Jaska stood up.
 

"I will not be a coward," he said. "I will not fall into madness and despair. I will right this wrong."
 

He took several deep breaths, reciting a calming mantra. He turned back toward the tunnel and took a step. A moment of panic set in. He stopped and recited the mantra again. Then he continued. Step by step he did this until the fear left him, and then the anger. A relentless calm set in and he marched back up the tunnel and the stairs. He was prepared at last to face what awaited him.
 

The doppelganger still waited on him, sword drawn. "I knew you would return."

"How?"

"Because we are ultimately the same man. And I would never have abandoned my cause."

"I don't believe that we are the same."

"It matters not whether you believe or understand it, only that you accept it. Otherwise you will never pass."

"If we are the same, how is it that you are stronger and faster?"

"Because that which is pure within you is stronger than that which is corrupted and that which doubts. It is tireless because it is eternal."

"How will you know that I have accepted this?"

The doppelganger smiled. "I shall know."

Jaska studied the doppelganger and wondered if this was the man his companions saw when they looked at him. It couldn't be. Then he thought of the White Tigress and knew she had seen him thus from the first moment. And Zyrella had seen him this way, too. Even Ohzikar had learned to see this man and not the other.

Jaska stepped up to the doppelganger. "We should not be the same man. What I have done should stain me throughout."

"And so it would have, but you did not do any of it of your own free will. Your intentions were pure."

"I don't want to be you. I fear becoming you as much as I disbelieve that we are the same. If there is a purity that remains, I don't want it ruined by the many deaths that I must bring about."

"But it has already been stained. I appear whole and different, but we are in fact one and the same."

Jaska closed his eyes and stepped forward. He should have collided with the doppelganger, but he didn't. He took another step and then another. He opened his eyes and the doppelganger was gone.

For better or worse, Jaska had accepted who he was.

Expecting other tests and dangers, Jaska crept toward an arched doorway. The frame was outlined with odd silver glyphs consisting of various circles interconnected with straight lines originating from different tangents. He sensed magic in the glyphs, but certainly not of any type he understood. He approached carefully, and seeing no alternative, decided to advance.

Without incident, he stepped into a giant dome-shaped chamber with a vaulted ceiling thirty feet overhead. The room gleamed like the hallways outside, but here traces of silver patterned the walls so that the interior looked like the surface of Avida.
 

No doorways led beyond, unless they were hidden. The room lacked furnishings and artifice with one notable exception. An amazing statue rose from a head-high pedestal in the room's center. The statue depicted a being unlike any Jaska had heard of. As an Arhrhakim was to a human so was this being, only its inhuman features were those of a hawk rather than a jackal.

Judging by its muscled frame and narrow hips, Jaska guessed the neuter being was more male than female. Its body was human except for taloned feet. Wings spread outward from its back, bearing feathers of vibrant emerald, gold, silver, and ruby. Its upturned head was that of a charcoal goshawk with black rings circling its sharp, slanted eyes of jet and gold.
 

A shield adorned one arm and it held a spear in the opposite hand. The being wore a black-belted kilt of white leather, a torque of gold, ornamental leather shin guards and nothing else. With wings spread and arms held out, it bared its chest toward the entrance.
 

Jaska stalked around the statue, eyeing it warily, for it was made of neither stone nor metal. As far as he could tell, Avida himself had frozen a living being of flesh.