Firestorm (28 page)

The unexpected turn in the conversation gave Teague pause. Where was Bahir headed now? "What I feel or don't feel for Raina isn't the issue," he gritted.

"Ah, but it is." Bahir went back to work on his sword. He ground a final razor-sharp edge, then set the stone aside. Taking up a soft cloth, he slowly, lovingly, began to polish the blade. "How deep does your love for her go, Teague Tremayne? Deep enough to send her away and stay behind? Deep enough to sacrifice your own will and desires for that of the good of many?"

Teague considered the Tuaret's words and their underlying implications carefully. Was Bahir offering to barter Raina's freedom in exchange for his commitment to join him in the fight against Vorax? Or did the Tuaret really plan to keep them both on Incendra and hold Raina hostage to ensure his continued cooperation? Considering Bahir's earlier words that he doubted the Volan threat, Teague feared it might be the latter.

Bahir was a supremely clever man, a master strategist. Already, he'd begun to manipulate Teague's emotions in forcing him to mate with Raina. Already, Teague would fight to the death to protect her. Already, he didn't want ever to let her go.

Soon it all might be a moot point, at any rate. If Bahir decided to prevent them from leaving Incendra, there was little they could do about it. Little they could do about anything, for that matter, as long as they remained with him and his band. The wisest course, Teague resolved, was to devise a plan to escape Bahir once they'd retrieved the special stone. No purpose was served, meanwhile, by raising his suspicions unnecessarily. Bahir already knew where they were headed. To attempt an escape now was pointless. Teague just didn't like the rapidly worsening predicament Bahir was forcing them into.

"So, even after all your earlier promises," he ground out bitterly, "you now require even more from us? You are a cold-hearted treacherous man."

Bahir shrugged. "I but prod you into doing what you know, in your heart of hearts, to be right. Besides, I promised you nothing, Tremayne, save that I'd give the mirah over to one of my men if you didn't take her as yours. I promised nothing save safe escort to the firestorm caves and the return trip to your ship. And I also promised that no harm would come to you by our hands. But that is all I promised."

Promises, Teague thought. Vows. It seemed Bahir tossed them aside whenever it was convenient, and then made new ones as the situation warranted. Yet, how really different was he from the Tuaret leader?

Teague had told himself over and over as he'd mated with Raina that he gave her only of his body, not his heart; that he broke none of his monkish vows in what he did. Yet each time he'd taken Raina last night, he'd shattered each of his vows, one by one.

She was a real, living, loving being of flesh and bone. Coming to know Raina had turned everything he'd once believed inside out, Coming to know Raina had forced him to question what he'd never questioned before. And the answers, hard as they were to accept, had found him and his former life lacking.

Perhaps he had, to a certain extent, hidden behind the safety of his vows and the monastic life. For him, the monastery, as hard, as demanding as it was, had always been a sanctuary. But perhaps it had also shielded him from facing his deepest fears, from growing fully into the man he was destined to be.

And perhaps he must now set that life aside and make a new one. As the situation warranted . . .

No, Teague thought sadly, he wasn't so very different from Bahir, after all.

Whatever course his life took henceforth, though, he vowed not to destroy Raina in the process. She deserved a chance at happiness, and Teague doubted there was any hope of a lasting happiness to be found on Incendra. Bahir was set on a course of certain destruction in going up against Vorax. if the Tuaret even lived much longer, Teague thought, recalling the tale he'd learned from Raina soon after Najirah had revealed the truth of Bahir's illness—and his ultimate fate.

Once Bahir was dead, his fine and noble crusade to destroy Vorax would be over. There seemed no one of sufficient stature in the tribe to take his place. The Tuarets would surely scatter, assimilating into other tribes in order to escape Vorax's wrath.

No, all he had to do was bide his time, Teague resolved. And if it was ultimately necessary to sacrifice his own freedom to save Raina, he'd do it, and gladly. If only he could convince Bahir to allow her to leave . ..

But that required convincing Bahir of the veracity of his claims as to the true purpose of their mission. Perhaps it was time to utilize Rand's particular skills of wisdom and diplomacy, Teague thought. After all, who else but a Volan could substantiate the true threat of the alien mind-slavers?

A grim smile twitched the corner of Teague's mouth. The battle for their lives and freedom had only begun. Bahir had yet to go up against the clever, intuitive Rand. Bahir had yet to discover that he had seriously miscalculated if he'd imagined the victory was already his.

***

They didn't leave the next day, as planned. In the middle of the night, Bahir relapsed, once more, into a coma. This time, the coma lasted five days. As time passed, Najirah became more and more distraught. Though Raina tried her best to comfort her friend, she was inconsolable.

"I n-never told him that I 1-loved him," Najirah sobbed, on the afternoon of the fifth day of Bahir's stupor. "And now . . . now it m-may well be t-too late."

Raina, in an effort to distract Najirah from her grief, had taken her down to the muddy river to gather some of the nutritious green blanket weed growing in profusion in the shallows along the bank. The dense algae-like plant, when washed clean of dirt, then boiled and slathered with capra milk butter, was as tasty a vegetable dish as one could ever find in the desert. Yet though they'd managed to garner a plentiful amount in just the span of a half hour, Najirah's mood had failed to improve.

"Najirah," Raina tried again, "it doesn't matter what you said or didn't say. Bahir is so caught up in himself and his need to defeat Vorax before he dies that I doubt the words would have meant much to him anyway."

Her friend looked up from the blanket weed she'd just pulled out of the river. Water and mud dripped from the thick green wad she held in her hand. In her indignation, her tears abated. "If you're trying to comfort me, I suggest you stop."

Raina paused reconsidered her words, then grinned sheepishly. "I suppose you're right. That wasn't the kindest or smartest way to put it."

"No, it wasn't."

"I guess what I really meant is that Bahir is in no state of mind to hear much of what anyone would say, no matter who it is, unless it directly applies to his quest." Raina sighed. "I'm sure, though, if he'd the luxury of considering anything else, he'd—"

"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?" Her friend bluntly cut her off. "I don't even know if he'll survive this attack. It's said that in most cases, when the incidents of coma lengthen to longer than four days, the end is very near. Even if he survives this attack, it'll surely be the last time." She dragged in a tremulous breath. "Ah, gods, Raina! My Bahir is d-dying!"

Najirah stood brushed off her skirt, then stooped and gathered up her basket of blanket weed. "I-I really shouldn't be away so long. I need to be there for Bahir, in case ... in case . . ."

Raina took Up her own basket and rose. "He's a strong, stubborn man, Najirah. Bahir won't give up life easily."

Gratitude gleamed in Najirah's bright blue eyes. "I realize that. I just want him to know I love him, that's all. All these cycles, I've been so afraid to tell him. First, because he was so hurt and angry over Cyra's departure—he risked much in going against Incendarian beliefs, however archaic and inaccurate they were, in mating with an off planet woman, you know?—that I knew my words would mean little to him. And then later . . ."

She sighed. "Later, when I realized that he'd never truly get over Cyra, I was afraid he'd pity me for my hopeless love and say the words just because he knew I wanted to hear them. But I refuse to beg for his love, or accept it because it's his duty to make me happy." Her small chin lifted and a resolute light gleamed in her eyes. "I would earn it, or not have it at all!"

"And now, Najirah?" Raina asked softly, filled with the surety of her knowledge—a knowledge that she had truly lacked until two nights ago. "Now you don't care, do you? Your pride is of small consequence in light of Bahir's fate. What matters—all that matters—is that you love him."

"Yes." A soft, wondering smile lifted her mouth. "What matters is that Bahir know that I love him so much that nothing can ever come between us. Nothing, not even death."

"Well, there's some consolation to be had in the fact that he agreed to let you come with us to the firestorm caves."

"Yes," Najirah agreed "there is consolation in that. If he survives this attack." She made a motion with her basket, indicating the trail leading up to camp. "Let's head back, shall we? The day draws on and the blanket weed takes a good hour to cook."

Raina nodded and stepped out at her side. "And you want to get back to Bahir."

"Yes," Najirah whispered a sad little smile trembling on her lips, "I want to get back to Bahir. Whether he knows it or not," she softly added, "he needs me. And I would be with him to the end."

***

By early that evening, Bahir began to come out of his coma. Najirah was overjoyed and threw herself into the wifely task of cooking up a nourishing soup, rich with bits of blanket weed and succulent capra meat. Bahir took half a bowlful, then fell back in an exhausted slumber. Najirah never left his side the entire night.

The next morning, though too weak to inspect the camp, as was his wont first thing every day, Bahir left his bed and, unsteadily and with Najirah's help, walked outside. He spent the rest of the morning propped up against a blanket-covered saddle, meeting with several of his men. Teague came by at midday, Rand's carrying pack in his hand.

Bahir cocked a black brow. "Brought me a visitor, have you?"

Teague laid the pack on the ground beside him. "You said you found the idea of speaking with Rand intriguing. I thought perhaps he could keep you company during your convalescence. He certainly gets lonely, cooped up in his pack inside our tent"

"So he's a gift of sorts for the invalid, is he?"

Teague shrugged. "Call it what you wish. I also thought Rand might be able to convince you of the Volan threat where I had failed."

Amusement danced in Bahir's amber-colored eyes. "Ah, so now we get closer to the truth. I suspected a more subtle motive to your actions than concern for my, or Rand's, welfare."

"We're cut of the same cloth, Bahir." Teague grinned. "Neither of us does anything without a more 'subtle' motive."

The Tuaret smiled. "Already we begin to understand each other. Could it perhaps be the start of a partnership?"

Teague's grin faded. "Perhaps. And perhaps not." Without farewell or a by-your-leave, he turned and strode away.

The early afternoon sun beat down on Bahir. He noticed for the first time how stifling hot it had become. "Najirah?" he called, glancing around for her.

She was instantly at his side. "Yes, husband? What is it you desire?"

He swiped an annoying trickle of sweat from his brow. "I'd like to take my midday meal inside the tent. Can you help me to my feet?"

"Of course, husband." She squatted and slipping an arm beneath his, helped him to stand.

Once he was on his feet, Bahir freed himself from her tight clasp. "I can make it to the tent on my own. Would you bring Tremayne's carrying case along?"

Without awaiting her reply, Bahir headed toward the tent. In the heat of the day, the tent front and back were tied up to allow cooling breezes to blow through. Today, fortunately, it was windy. Bahir lowered himself to the pallet with a sigh of relief, inordinately grateful for the breeze.

Najirah was at his side an instant later. She placed the carrying pack next to him, then busied herself plumping the cushions and arranging them behind his back. Next, she brought him a dipperful of cool water. Leaning back on her haunches, Najirah watched as he drained the dipper.

"Is there anything else you need, husband?" she asked when he was done. "If not, I'll set about preparing your meal."

"No, I'm quite content, mirah." Bahir handed back the dipper, tamping down on the surge of irritation her oversolicitous actions stirred. Najirah was most likely just overreacting to his recent relapse, he well knew, but by the firestorms, he had yet to become a doddering, helpless invalid!

She hesitated. "A moment more of your time, husband."

"What is it, Najirah?" This time, Bahir couldn't quite hide the tinge of weary annoyance.

It wasn't lost on her. Najirah's eyes clouded. Her lips tightened. She still looked however, determined to say what she meant to say.

"I thought I would lose you this time, Bahir," she softly began. "You were ill for so long . . ."

He stared up at her, silent, expectant. When she didn't continue, Bahir made an impatient motion of his hand. "Yes, and your point? Obviously, I'm far more resilient than you expected."

She hesitated again, then inhaled a deep breath. "I never told you this before, but I vowed that I would, if you recovered. In the past, I never thought the time was right and, in my fear that I might offend you, I almost lost the opportunity ever to tell you." She took his hand in hers, covering it with the other. "So now I will, but know that it requires nothing of you that you don't wish to give back. Do you understand me, Bahir?"

"Yes," he warily replied. "I think so."

"Fine." Najirah's little chin lifted and she fixed him with a steady look. "I love you, Bahir. I will always love you. And I will always be there for you, in whatever way you want or need me."

Stunned Bahir looked away for a long moment, then forced himself to meet her gaze. He must say something, he told himself, frantically searching for the right words that were both truthful and kind. She expected some sort of a response from him. He was her husband after all.

"I deeply appreciate the sentiments," he said knowing even as he struggled to reply that it would never be enough, never be what she wanted to hear. Savagely, he cursed Cyra, whose betrayal had destroyed any chance he'd ever had of loving again. "You have been a good and loyal wife to me, Najirah. A man couldn't hope for a better one."

She smiled yet the brave effort failed to hide the pain and disappointment that flared briefly in her eyes. "I just wanted you to know, Bahir. That's all." She rose. "I'll go prepare your meal now, if you've no further need of me."

"No, no further need at the present." For her benefit, he forced a faint smile.

Najirah turned and left the tent, making her way over to the cookfire. There she sat. Taking up a long wooden spoon, she began to stir the contents of the pot, never once glancing in his direction.

Bahir watched her for a time. Then, heaving a sigh of regret at his failings when it came to Najirah, he scooted down more comfortably onto the pillows. It was too much for him to consider right now, on top of his rapidly nearing death, the work still left to do to convince Teague Tremayne to accept his destiny, and the impending journey to the firestorm caves. Later, if there ever was a later for him, he'd think more about what she'd said.

Later ... but not today . . . His lids lowered and he gave himself up to the rare pleasure of a warm, lazy afternoon.

"You're a man of many failings," a voice unexpectedly rose from the carrying case lying beside him, jerking Bahir back to full wakefulness and astounded outrage. "But the saddest failing of all," Rand ruthlessly continued, "is your inability to confront those failings, and your lack of courage in fighting to overcome them."