Wrath of the White Tigress (34 page)

With a tremendous whoosh, the last of the Stain collapsed in upon the heart. Sunlight streaked down through the dissipating shadow vapors. Then the remnant heart leapt upon Rahazakir. He screamed and collapsed, writhing and gasping for breath.
 

Jaska knew death was upon Rahazakir. The Stain had twisted his body. Black splotches marred his skin.

Between rasping coughs, Rahazakir said, "The last of it … is within me." He crawled to the shriveled corpse of Yumiryo and ran his crooked hands over her drawn, flaking skin. What had once been cloud-white was now ash, and her eyes were as dull and dry as the stones of the desert.
 

"Yumiryo," he whispered as he clutched her once-golden mane. "You deserved better. You were the best of all mounts, and without you, I would never have made it. For this my people shall worship you until the end of time."

Jaska brought him water and poured it into his mouth. "I will get you back to the tribe."

"Do not touch me. I fear what might happen."

"The Stain will not pass from him," Kyshaiar said. "You can touch him safely."

Jaska touched Rahazakir and nothing happened.

"You are a gambler, my friend."

"I trust my instincts. Now, let's get you back."

"Leave me. This thing will slay me before long."

"Fight it," Jaska said. "Goat Shaman may be able to help you."

"I am done. Let me pass."

"But if it's within you and you die, it may return."

"Then slay me now," he begged. "One final stroke of white-steel will finish it."

"He must return," the falcon said to Jaska, not allowing Rahazakir to hear him. "The deed is not yet finished. He must die a symbolic death for all his people. This must be handled properly. Do not tell him this, though. Leave that to his shaman."

"You must return, Chief Rahazakir. My instincts tell me that." Jaska picked him up and carried him.
 

"You know," rasped Rahazakir, "I think part of it wanted us to win."

"I wish then that it had made it easier."

~~~

A crowd gathered as Jaska trudged into the camp with Rahazakir slung over his shoulder. After celebrating the disappearance of the Stain, they had awaited their chief, praying to the Great Deities and the Bright Spirits, hoping he was safe. Kyshaiar cleared a path to Goat Shaman's tent. Jaska rushed Rahazakir within. The Yritti chief was semiconscious, mumbling and drooling, barely breathing.

"Back!" Goat Shaman cried. "The Stain is defeated! But our chief is wounded! He needs air and silence!"

Inside the lantern-lit tent the shaman looked at his chief and tears welled in his eyes. "The Stain has taken him."

"He plunged one of the blades into its heart even as it lashed him," Jaska said. "Then, after the cloud folded in on itself, the heart entered his body. Kyshaiar tells me he must be a martyr now, that he must die a ritual death."

"I can see the wisdom in that. It was the nature of this evil to fully eradicate the tribe. With the white-steel swords, we foiled that requirement enough that we can substitute our chief in place of us all. Regardless, we can do little else. I will take care of him through the night and ease his suffering. We will proceed at dawn. You will need to use the white-steel blade to finish him. The martyrdom is only symbolic."

"You want me to do it?"

"If a member of the tribe did it, it might seem as if Rahazakir had wronged us."

~~~

Every member of the tribe, young and old, gathered at dawn. That they had remained in place for three days and the Stain wasn't on the horizon was a miracle in itself. Word had spread about Rahazakir's success, but also about his condition. His wives and children hadn't said how he was, but they had been seen crying and had spent much time with him. Still, the people hoped a rejuvenated leader would speak to them, or at the least, that their elders would tell them how he would soon recover from his wounds.

Goat Shaman climbed the stage hastily erected in the night and explained what must happen. Ohzikar and Jaska led Rahazakir out, with his arms draped over their shoulders. Some tribespeople cried out. Others turned their heads, unable to look at their once handsome chief who was now an old, disease-stricken wretch. That he bore the last of the Stain was obvious. Not only could they see the marks upon him, they could feel its hateful aura.

Despite his infirmity, Rahazakir spoke to them, buoyed by drugs Goat Shaman had given him. "My people, the Stain has been confined to my body. Soon, it will kill me, and if it does, the Stain may escape and begin once more. By dying now, I die this death for all of you. I do this with a glad heart. I will go contented that I did my duty to you and the generations that shall come after."

He looked to his three wives and his young children who had gathered at the front of the crowd. "I love you all dearly."

Rahazakir lifted the white-steel saber lying before him. He knelt, took a deep breath, and smiled. Rahazakir then plunged the sword deep into his abdomen. Not a sound was heard on the desert except the whisper of a cool breeze and Jaska's sword as it sliced through Rahazakir's neck with a single, clean strike.

The head rolled down the stage and into the crowd. The blood running from it was a pure crimson. From the neck of the corpse rose a puff of black steam that dissipated. This was the last of the Stain. The Yritti were free.

Hmyr Karphon awoke alone in his lavish tent, lying in the bed of silks and pillows that he always took with him, even on the harshest campaigns. He sat up and glanced around. Nalsyrra was gone. That wasn't unusual. She often woke before him. But in their lovemaking last night, Nalsyrra had taken him to levels of ecstasy he had never imagined could exist. And she had done everything to please him alone, not letting him worry about her in the least. This should have warned him, but he had been too caught up in the experience.
 

Now he knew destiny had taken his ageless lover from him at last. Deep within his soul, he could feel it. Thinking of things she had told him recently, of how long-ranged her plans had been for this campaign, he should've known. But he hadn't wanted to see it. And it wasn't as if he could have stopped her.

Weeping, Karphon lay back in the silks that still smelled like the only woman he'd ever loved. Not for an entire day did he emerge to perform his duties as commander of the Hareezan army. He wept long into the night and then emerged the next day with a hardened face, ready to bring battle to their enemies. To purge with war and brutality the sadness in his heart.
 

Within a few weeks, though, he would die, the victim of a sniper's arrow during a cavalry charge. His lifeblood and all his ambition would bleed out on foreign soil.

~~~

Guarded constantly by palymfar and without her qavra, Zyrella felt hopeless. All she could do was meditate and gather resolve for the battle she knew must come. She had endured a week of depression after the loss of her fingers. Not from vanity but from wounded pride, knowing that Mardha had gotten the best of her and that she could do nothing about it.
 

On this night, Zhura was full and high above the city. Zyrella lay in bed and recited mantras until she fell asleep. Hours later, she woke to find the room filled with the stench of strange sorceries. A foreign word hissed through the dark. Faint light from an orb hovering near the ceiling dimly illuminated her chamber. A shadow with sparkling eyes loomed over her. A shadow with a searing magic aura. She had never met this shadow before but knew her by reputation.

"Nalsyrra," Zyrella whispered.

"Greetings, High Priestess of the White Tigress."

"What does Salahn want now?"

"I have no idea. He doesn't concern me."

"What do you want then?"

"Much, but first, I have brought you a gift."

"I don't need any gifts from you."

"It is neither wise nor polite to treat me like you would Salahn. I am not evil."

"You serve evil."

"No. I serve the forces of Fate and Destiny which are neither good nor evil. Now stop worrying. I'm going to help you."

"Why would you act against Salahn?"

"Because it is my destiny for me to oppose him now, just as I have helped him in the past. I am here now to fulfill a purpose for which I have long waited. Helping you against Salahn is a secondary concern, however, and whether my efforts will truly aid you, I have no idea. What I am here for, Zyrella Anthari, is what you carry within."

Zyrella felt the hope that had been growing within her drain away. Her voice grew faint and she trembled. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. I wouldn't be here if the child of Jaska Bavadi wasn't quickening within you."

Zyrella sat up, pulling the silver chains taut. "I won't let you harm my child!"

"I have no such desire. I have come to take him from you and raise him among my people."

"But he won't be born for eight months yet. I wasn't even sure that he existed until you confirmed it."

"You just didn't want to admit it. A priestess with your training and ability, trapped here with nothing to do but meditate, how could you not know?"

"Regardless, Salahn will kill me long before you could take the child. Or Jaska will defeat him and I will have the means to resist you."

"I'm not giving Salahn an opportunity to kill you, or Jaska a chance to arrive here. I'm taking the child tonight."

"That's not possible."

Nalsyrra smiled devilishly. "Such a ritual is known to me. I can transfer the quickening child from your womb to mine. It won't be easy, but within this night, it will be done."

"I will resist you."

"Only a fool would do that. You would risk killing yourself and the child. A child that I will raise as my own, a child who will be the savior of my people. He shall be born with your blood, Jaska's, and mine as well from growing within my womb. He will have all our talents, abilities, and resources."

"I won't allow it."

"What other hope is there? For years, you have known your fate in opposing Salahn. The wolf goddess Yaraya showed you this when she trained you did she not? This way your child will have life. So if you would rather that, don't resist me this night. Plus, I will give you something valuable in return. Something that may save the lives of the men you love."

Nalsyrra held a sliver of a gem before Zyrella.

"A qavra shard? How did you manage that?"

"It's whole, not a fragment. The process that forms a qavra didn't reach completion with this one. I have already cast onto it an open-ended spell of channeling, and I will place it into your womb. I had originally thought to use a normal-sized stone, but I fear Salahn would notice that."

"And how will this channeling spell in a qavra so small help me?"

"Honestly, I have no idea, but from what I hear you are quite resourceful." Nalsyrra lightly touched Zyrella's hand. "So, priestess, what is your decision?"

Zyrella gritted her teeth. "What else can I do? I must have some weapon to help Jaska and Ohzi. Besides, I can't stop you. According to Jaska you command power enough to worry Salahn."

"Not anymore. Not now that he's become like a god. But I have enough skill to prevent anyone from discovering us tonight, and the room is sealed well enough that none but Salahn himself could enter. It would take even him some effort."

"You work quickly."

"I prepared the room for this purpose a year ago. I had only to activate latent wards hidden deep within the stone." Nalsyrra stretched. "If it makes you feel better, I would make this same choice if our roles were reversed. I am sorry for you that it must be this way."

Nalsyrra drew various implements from a pack she carried with her.
 

"How did you get in here?"

"An illusion. I seemed like a palymfar to any who saw me."

"Then you could get me out of here and help me meet up with Jaska."

"The illusion is easy for me to do on myself, but I cannot place it onto others."

Zyrella knew Nalsyrra was lying, but she could do nothing about it. She would take what help the woman would give her and be thankful that she got even that much. At least her child would escape her fate. And she would tell Jaska about it, if she lived long enough to see him again. He could recover the child and see it raised properly.

Nalsyrra pulled the simple bed out from the wall and into the center of the room. She paced around it, chanting and gesturing. Glimmering light, like the dust of stars, fell from her fingertips. After twelve circuits, luminous gold runes formed in the air. Between them hung a lambent cloud like a scarlet-hued nebula. Nalsyrra moved inward, creating a spiral that stopped at Zyrella's feet. Where the final rune touched her heels, she felt a warm glow.

Nalsyrra removed Zyrella's gown. "You have an exquisite body," she purred. "The equal of Mardha's."

"And how do you know this?"

"She offered hers to me years ago."

"And you took it?"

"I'm not a fool that I would touch such poison."

With a strange, sweet-scented ink, Nalsyrra drew runes on Zyrella's skin, most of them tiny glyphs focused on Zyrella's abdomen, crossing just below the X Mardha had left. Each warm rune tingled with a mixed sensation of pain and pleasure. Nalsyrra chanted for an hour. Throughout, the runes on Zyrella's body steadily glowed brighter.