Firestorm (32 page)

Twenty

They rode through what was left of the night, Bahir leading the way, followed by Raina, the four pack equs, and then Aban, who brought up the rear. Rand's carrying pack was tied to the back of Bank's saddle. Raina couldn't even bear the Volan's nearness just now.

She couldn't bear much of anything. All her efforts, all her concentration, had to be focused on getting to the spy ship, loading the crystal, and then safely breaking through Incendra's electromagnetic field once more. It was enough to deal with. She dared not look back or consider what she'd left behind.

The wind began to blow, bringing with it the redolent tang of rain. Clouds churned overhead stooping low to capture the peaks in heavy swirls of murky whiteness. The temperature dropped. Raina shivered, pulled up the collar of her cloak, and hunkered down in its warmth.

Up ahead Bahir rode on, seemingly impervious to the sudden change in the weather, taking them up steep trails, around hairpin turns, drawing farther and farther from Vorax's army and the rest of his band. Did he care what he left behind? Raina wondered. Did he wonder if he'd ever see Najirah again?

She doubted it. The Tuaret leader had always been focused on the next challenge to be overcome. No time to spare for tenderness, or love, for regrets, or to desire the life of a normal man. Bahir was a man on the run, from himself, from love, from ever letting himself be hurt again.

Teague was like that in many ways, but where Bahir. had once been happy and had chosen to put such opportunities aside forever, Teague had determined that he simply wasn't deserving of such things. Though he'd come a long way in the past weeks, he still searched, still wasn't certain. She should be happy he'd found some purpose and peace in staying to fight for his people. At least in that way he'd opened his heart and allowed himself to care again.

But he didn't care enough for her. Not enough to ask her to stay, even if both knew that one of them would still have to return to Bellator. But at least if he'd told her he loved her, and that he wished they could be together . . .

Raina tossed the futile wish aside. It didn't matter. He didn't want her, and that was that. There was nothing left but to go on, to look ahead. She must go on with her life. Go on ... as she always had before.

In the end, as she'd always known it had to be, all that truly mattered was survival.

***

Bahir drove them through the night and into dawn. As the day broke, they reached the cloud-shrouded peaks. Rain fell, pummeling them with frigid droplets, soaking them to the skin. And still Bahir pushed them on.

The trail became slick, the rocky terrain treacherous. Bahir was forced to slow their pace, but still he pushed them on. Najirah ... he wanted to get back to her. He didn't want to die out there in the desert. He didn't want to die without seeing her one last time. But he feared ... he feared

"How long?" Rand asked from his carrying pack, hanging behind Bahir. "How many days' journey to the spaceship?"

The Tuaret shrugged. "Five days. Maybe a bit less, if we push ourselves and the equs. Eager to be gone from Incendra, are you?"

"It was inevitable," the Volan replied. "But I worry about Teague and Najirah and the others. Three hundred soldiers ... If they should become trapped . . ."

"Najirah is well trained in evasive tactics. And she knows that area well. She grew up there, you know."

"Yet if something should happen to them, all your fine plans would be destroyed. All your fine machinations would ultimately be of little consequence."

"And your point, Volan?" Bahir snarled. "Before I terminate communications?"

"What would you have then, Bahir? To show for all your efforts?"

"I'd have nothing, curse you. Just as I soon will at any rate." He smiled grimly. "But at least I'll have experienced life with a body. I'll have felt the warm sun, seen the majesty of a sunset, and known the comfort of a warm and willing woman in my arms. What will you have, Volan, for all your efforts?"

"We're both living lives that in many ways are woefully incomplete," Rand admitted. "I had a body not so long ago, you know," he said, his voice going low, pensive.

"Did you, now? Then you were a fool to give it up. To be relegated for the rest of your days to a biosphere . . ." Bahir shuddered in revulsion. "I'd rather be dead."

"It can indeed be a form of living death, especially after knowing the agony and ecstasy of being whole. But it wasn't my body. I took it from another. And that man deserved to have it back."

"So you gave it back to him?"

"Yes."

"How?" In spite of himself, Bahir's curiosity was stirred. "How did you do it?"

"My biosphere can serve as a transport medium either into a body or out of it. As long as my Volan entity is willing . . ."

Bahir pondered that for a long moment. In spite of Rand's earlier harsh words to him, admiration filled him. "It was a noble thing you did, giving the man back his body."

"It was the right thing to do. It made the decision no less hard, though. I'm not that noble."

"Do you regret it sometimes? Giving up the body?"

It was Rand's turn to pause. "In some ways, yes," he finally replied. "But I want always to live my life with honor and courage, no matter how difficult that might be. Even if that decision relegates me to this biosphere for the rest of my days. Even if it's the last choice I ever have the chance to make."

"Well, you've got more courage than I, Volan." A sense of defeat, of burgeoning despair, rose in Bahir. At the end of his life, he'd finally realized how dismally he'd failed in so many ways. He wasn't even half the man this entity in a globe was.

"Do I, Bahir?" came Rand's soft reply. "Do I?"

***

They made camp the next morn in a forested area in the foothills of the Barakah Mountains. Bahir could barely stay astride his equs. His exhaustion weighed him down like some heavy burden, a burden he now wondered if he'd ever again be able to shed. He slept through the entire day and only Aban's most determined efforts finally woke him at sunset.

"Bahir, what's wrong?" his friend demanded, worry darkening his eyes. "Are you ill again? Is it the sickness?"

The Tuaret leader groaned and shoved to one elbow, only to fall back again. "It-it's nothing. I'll be fine." He extended a hand. "Just help me up. My head will soon clear."

Aban pulled Bahir to a sitting position, then rose and went off to retrieve a water bag. Returning, he squatted once more beside Bahir and offered him a cup of water. "Here, drink this. We must leave soon if we're to make good time this night."

Bahir took the cup and drank deeply. "Yes. The sooner we make it to the spaceship, the better." He handed the cup back to Aban. When his compatriot took it, Bahir captured his wrist in an iron grip.

"If I grow too weak to travel, don't call a halt to the journey. Do you understand, Aban?" Bahir locked gazes with his friend. "Even if you have to sling me across the beast and tie me to it. You can't save me this next time, no matter what you do."

"Bahir . . . I . . ." Aban's eyes filled with tears. "Najirah . . . ?"

"She knows. She has her mission, and so do I. Help me in this, my friend. I want to die knowing at least that I had some effect on something. And this quest to save the Imperium . . . well, in the end it might well be all I'll ever accomplish."

"No!" Aban whispered fiercely. "You were our leader. You kept us alive and free. In all those years of our war against Vorax, against overwhelming odds, he never bested us. And now . . . now you've managed to convince the king's son to join with us. Now, at long last, Vorax is certain to fall."

Bahir released him and cocked his head to stare up at the big Tuaret. "You knew? About Tremayne?"

Aban smiled. "I, too, recognized him almost immediately as the king's son. I'd have told you, but I wasn't sure how to. And then, when Najirah recognized him, I knew it was no longer my responsibility. She never kept anything from you, except the secret of her love."

"By the firestorms!" Bahir looked away. "Did everyone know but me?"

"You would've known, if you'd cared to," Aban said sadly. "But you didn't. And now . . ."

"And now it's too late," Bahir snarled, riveting a furious countenance on his friend. "Is that what you meant to say? Eh, Aban?"

The burly Tuaret leaned back. "So it seems, if you're determined to die out here on the desert."

"I cannot choose the time and place for this cursed illness to take me! If I could—" Bahir's voice broke. "Ah, what does it matter?" He motioned Aban away. "Go, put away the water bag and finish packing the equs. I'll be up and about in a few minutes."

The dismissal was evident in both Bahir's words and the way he drew into himself, leaving Aban once more alone. The big man rose, hesitated a moment longer, then turned and walked back to his equs. Bahir sat there until his thoughts grew too painful to bear. Then he awkwardly shoved to his feet and made his faltering way over to join him.

***

Bahir markedly weakened as the days went on. By the time they reached the Blandira oasis, he was so frail that he had to be assisted to and from his equs. That night's camp was somber and subdued. The next day, they tied him upright on his equs. Two days later, as they neared where Teague had hidden the spy ship, the Tuaret leader was barely alive, fading in and out of consciousness for increasingly longer intervals.

"R-Rand," Bahir whispered, as they set out that last morning of their journey. He'd roused out of his stupor just as they'd tied him onto his equs in preparation to leave. Aban now led the party, with Raina bringing up the rear with the pack equs.

"Yes, Bahir?" the Volan replied from his spot tied to the Tuaret leader's saddle.

"I-I haven't much time left," he gasped. "I want you to do one thing for me, if you will."

"If it's within my power, I'll be happy to help."

"C-Cyra." Bahir dragged in an unsteady breath, fighting the encroaching mists that threatened to pull him back into oblivion. He must say this, before it was too late. "My first wife. The one who left me."

"Yes?" Rand prodded gently, when Bahir failed to go on. "What about her?"

The reminder jerked Bahir from his rising confusion. "Cyra . . ." He clenched his eyes shut and threw back his head, fighting, fighting . . . "She never knew I had the brain illness, though I discovered it shortly before she left me."

"Then why didn't you tell her? Perhaps she would have stayed if she'd known."

The Tuaret gave a disparaging snort. "And have her stay . . . out of pity . . . rather than love?" He shook his head. "Would any man's pride let him stoop that low?"

"I suppose not." Rand paused. "Is that what you meant to tell me, then? And if so, how does that require' anything from me?"

"That requires nothing. I just wanted you ... to understand," Bahir rasped. "What I ask is that you carry a message."

"A message?"

"Yes. If you ever see my wife again, tell her . . . tell her I love her, have always loved her. And tell her ... I finally understand ... who betrayed whom. It wasn't her fault. I expected her to do all the changing, to adapt totally to me and our customs. I was .. . arrogant, thoughtless. Tell her . . . though the knowledge comes too late for either of us . . . at least I finally understand."

"You are brave to say these things." Rand sighed. "It must be hard . . . especially now. But the message would come better from Raina. I'm rather limited. In my biosphere and all."

"No . . ." the Tuaret leader groaned. "Raina hates me. She's hated me from the start. And especially now that I've taken Teague from her. She wouldn't carry my message. You . . . you must do it. Please!"

"You must talk to Raina. You must share your needs and concerns with her. She's hurting as much as you are, Bahir. It's past time for a healing between the two of you."

The Tuaret shook his head. "No. I can't ... I won't beg. Even now, I still have my pride." He grimaced. "What little is left of me to be proud of."

"You've bared your soul, surrendered your pride in tendering that message to your first wife. The same courage that drove you to that admission can now help you extend the hand of friendship to Raina."

"She should stay behind, Rand. Teague needs her."

"Yes, she should" the Volan admitted. "But there's no one else who can pilot the spacecraft."

Bahir sighed. He was so weary, so tired of fighting. If only he could hold out until he reached the spaceship, know that the mission was complete ... If only. . . . "I'll think on your words, but I make no promises . . . about Raina, I mean."

"Just don't wait too long, my friend."

"No, I won't. I dare not . . ." With that, the stuporous mists of his illness claimed him once more. Bahir gave himself up to the darkness. It was too hard to fight it for long anymore . . .

***

If not for the strange array of rocks Teague had placed over the site of the buried spaceship, Raina would never have found it in the ever-changing panorama of the desert. As it was, the shifting sands had buried it under an additional meter of fine grit. With Aban's help, Raina spent the better part of an hour digging the front of the ship out in order to reach the burrowing mechanism. She activated the delayed timer, then ordered Aban to stand well clear of the ship.

As they watched, the Volan spy ship gave a lurch, I hen, with a low hum, began slowly to lift itself out of the sand. Eyes wide, Aban stood stock still until the spacecraft once more sat fully atop the desert floor. With l lie remaining sand streaming down its sleek sides, the ship seemed foreign and strangely out of place.

He turned to Raina, wonder in his eyes. "It was all true. Everything you and Tremayne said."

"Yes." She smiled and gestured to the ship. "Would you like to come inside and look around while I turn on the systems and prepare the craft for takeoff?"

His glance strayed to Bahir, his head bowed in stupor, sitting silently atop his equs. "First, I should get him out of the sun. It's horrendously hot today."

"I suppose you should," Raina muttered, casting the Tuaret leader a seething look. Try as she might, she found it difficult to feel much sympathy for Bahir's increasingly pitiful plight. He'd been such a consistently selfish, self-centered man, manipulating her and Teague, all but ignoring Najirah, caring little for anything but his own ambitions. No wonder Cyra had left him.

At the memory of Bahir's first wife, guilt plucked at Raina. She'd promised Cyra to give her message to her husband if she should happen to run across him. Yet she'd purposely withheld the message, at first as a potential bargaining piece, and later, out of spite for the man. Even now, though Bahir didn't deserve the potential comfort the message might give him, Raina knew her honor would allow no less. She'd given her word to deliver Cyra's message. She'd do so at long last.

"Come." She motioned toward Bahir. "Let's get him inside and out of the sun."

They carried Bahir into the cockpit of the spaceship and laid him on the floor. Raina activated the onboard computer, life support systems, and engines. Then she headed back outside to tether the equs and retrieve Rand's carrying pack.

By the time she returned, the cool air had begun to flow through the ship. Aban had laid his rolled up cloak under the head of his unconscious leader. Bahir looked quite comfortable lying there, as if he'd decided suddenly to lie down for a nap.

Raina spared Bahir a brief glance, then met Aban's tortured gaze. "There's nothing more we can do for him just now, and I could use some help unloading the sacks of crystal into the hold."

Aban looked back at Bahir one last time. "No, I suppose you're right. Until he regains consciousness, he'll be comfortable in here." He climbed to his feet and forced a wan smile. "Lead on, femina. Let's finish this and get you off toward your own home."

Your own home. The big Tuaret's words struck a bittersweet chord within her. Once, she'd have agreed. Her home was no longer on Incendra. But in the past weeks, she'd discovered so much here—renewed friendships, shocking revelations, and the brief joy of loving a man and the physical expression of that love.

She'd watched the heartstopping glory of the desert sunsets. Savored the clean, dry air, the sweet scents of the plants and trees and vegetation that were unique to Incendra, and viewed once again the pristine beauty of her unspoiled land. A land that had been indelibly impressed into her blood, her heart, and her soul, no matter how long and hard she'd tried to deny it.

But she couldn't stay now, whether she wished it or not. Her first loyalty lay with the Imperium. Besides, Teague didn't want her. He simply didn't want her.

"Yes, let's get it over with, shall we?" Raina growled, so full of bitterness she thought her heart would shatter.

They worked for the next four hours, unloading sack after sack of the stone and carrying it down into the hold. Each sack was placed into a lidded, shielded receptacle on one of the shelved compartments. They worked steadily, taking only one short break for some water, before heading back outside for more sacks.

The day wore on. In the late afternoon, Bahir woke once more. "A-Aban," he called weakly. "Raina."

Aban took the sack Raina was carrying and slung it over his other shoulder. "Go to him," he said. "I'll put these last two sacks away, then join you."

Reluctantly, Raina nodded. She didn't particularly like the idea of spending any additional time alone with the dying Bahir, but knew she'd have to face him sooner or later. And now was as good a time as any to get the unfortunate task of sharing Cyra's message with him over with. He didn't look like he'd much time left.

She walked over to him and sat. "What is it, Bahir?"

"I-I haven't been kind to you," he gasped. Despite the relative coolness of the ship's interior, sweat beaded his brow and his skin had taken on a sickly gray, waxen appearance. "I beg pardon."

Raina stared down at him, bemused and unexpectedly speechless. "Let me get this straight, Bahir. Are you apologizing for the way you treated me all this time?"

He managed a feeble nod. "Yes, mirah, I am. I was wrong. My motives were good my methods weren't. I . . . I made a lot of mistakes. With so many people . . ."

"Yes, you did, Bahir." Though he was dying, Raina refused to temper her words. Yet despite his high-handed techniques, one truth still stood out from all the rest: he'd engendered love and loyalty from those who knew him. Aban, Najirah, Cyra . . .

She wet her lips. "I've a message for you. One I should've delivered long ago, but you angered me so . . ." She paused. "Well, the reasons don't matter now, do they? Since we're finally being so forthright with each other, I mean?"

He managed a tremulous smile. "No, I don't suppose they do."

Something flared in the depths of his amber-colored eyes. Something warm and open, revealing at last the heart of the man. Regret plucked at Raina's heart. Perhaps if she'd given Bahir a chance . . .

She shook that futile consideration aside. There'd been no time—for either of them. "I met your first wife, Cyra, just before I left for Incendra. She was one of the Bellatorian scientists working on the project to create a deterrent device against the Volans."

A joyous light flared in his eyes. "Cyra? You saw Cyra? How was she? Did she—" He let the questions die. "She was well and happy, I hope?" Bahir continued in a tightly controlled voice.

"She was well enough."

"Had she taken another mate? I'd have understood, mind you. After so long a separation, she'd have been within her rights to have applied for an Imperial divorce."

Raina locked gazes with him, saw the anguish and guarded hope in his eyes—a hope that in spite of it all, Cyra hadn't divorced him. "No, Bahir," she softly replied, glad, for his sake, at least, that the truth would please him. "Cyra hadn't taken another mate. She claimed to have only one—you."

"She still called me husband?" He levered himself to one elbow.

"Yes. She said to tell you, if ever I should find you, that in spite of it all, she loved you still—and always would."

With a weary sigh, Bahir fell back. "By the firestorms, it's more than I ever dared hope. I'll at least die happy now, knowing that." He smiled up at her. "I thank you for delivering her message."

He'd die happy, knowing Cyra still loved him? But what of Najirah and her love? Had she never been, then of any consequence to him?

"And what of Najirah?" Raina demanded, renewed anger filling her. Gods, would this man never see past his loss to the true damage his frustrated need for Cyra had wrought? To the hurt he'd caused? "Will you die happy knowing she loved you as well?"

He frowned. "That is none of your affair."

"And I say it is. Najirah's my friend. She'd never do or say anything against you, but someone has to speak for her." Raina leaned back and pounded her thigh in frustration. "Gods, but you're the most complex, exasperating of men! One moment I find myself almost liking you, and the other, well, I hate you for your selfishness!"

For a long moment, Bahir said nothing. "It's easier to be selfish than to face the truths of your heart, to risk hurt again," he finally whispered. "And perhaps that is my greatest failing."

Pain twisted his handsome features, but whether it was from an emotional pain or a physical one, Raina couldn't tell. "You can't make yourself love someone, Bahir," she forced herself to say, wishing, for Najirah's sake, that it wasn't true, but knowing Bahir didn't deserve the full blame for what had happened. "Yet you can and should tender her the respect of recognizing it and sharing that knowledge with her."

"I didn't want to ... to hurt Najirah."

"So instead you discounted her love and pretended it never existed. But that was a greater hurt to her, in the end, than never talking about it. She deserved better than that, Bahir, even if you never loved her."

"But I do love her."

The words were spoken so softly that Raina thought for an instant that she'd misunderstood. She leaned forward. "What did you say, Bahir?"

He wouldn't look at her, riveting his gaze instead on the cockpit ceiling. "I d-do love her." He closed his eyes. "Ah, curse it all, I do love her!" Bahir turned and locked gazes with her. "Tell her that, mirah. Tell her I came too late to the realization, but I do love her. She was always there for me—always. I was a fool, but no more."

"Too late indeed," Raina muttered. "I'll never see Najirah again, either. You forget. I'm returning to Bellator. Best you give the message to Aban."

A sad smile lifted the Tuaret leader's lips. "And if I make it so you don't have to return, will you still persist in making the same mistake as I? Will you allow your pride and stubbornness to keep you from the love that is there for you, if only you would summon the courage to fight for it? Don't do it, Raina. Don't wait until it's too late. Don't be a fool ..."

Aban, finished with stowing the sacks in the hold, walked back into the cockpit just then. Bahir turned to him. "Aban," he said weakly, motioning him over. "Bring Rand's carrying pack to me."

The big Tuaret cocked a quizzical brow but did as requested. The carrying pack was set beside Bahir's head. "Open it," he ordered Aban, "and take out the shielding receptacle."

"Bahir, what do you intend?" Raina asked, unease winding through her.

"To talk with Rand. I've yet one thing more that needs completing." He turned back to Aban as he pulled the square metal case from the pack. "Rand?"

"Yes, Bahir."

"I asked you to carry my message back to Cyra. I. still wish you to do so. But now, I would also like you to take something more back with you."

"As you wish, my friend."

Bahir struggled to his elbows, panting heavily. Raina moved to help, scooting behind him to prop him on her bent thighs. He shot her a grateful glance, then turned back to stare at Rand's shielding receptacle. "Th-this is a fine body. It has . . . many cycles of life still left in it. It would serve you well, I'd wager. But first it needs a fully functioning and healthy mind."

The Tuaret leader coughed and choked. His eyes closed in an apparent battle against the approaching stupor. Finally, after a time heavy with hushed anticipation, he spoke again. "I want you ... to take ... my body for your own. Fill it with your essence, your goodness. Use it to help others."

"Bahir," Rand softly said, "I don't know—"

"Can you enter my body, Volan?" Bahir fiercely cut him off. "Can you take over where my mind has fled?"

"Yes."

"Then why the hesitation? Are you suddenly too proud to accept the body of a man who has managed to make such a horrible muddle of his life?"

"No." Rand's voice was, deep, intense, as if driven now by some savage emotion. "I'm not too proud, Bahir. I would deem it an honor. But I've come to see you as a friend. And it seems self-serving for me to—"

"The honor is m-mine, Volan! Mine, do you hear me?" The Tuaret arched back in Raina's lap, his whole body going rigid, taut as a bowstring. "Do it now, before the disease kills not only what is left of my mind, but damages my brain beyond use as well. I . . . give you . . . leave ... to do it!"

Raina glanced at the shielding receptacle. "How, Rand? How should we do it?"

The Volan was silent for a long moment. "Remove my biosphere from the box," he finally said, reluctance deepening the timbre of his voice. "Disconnect the life support system. Then sit Bahir up, shake the biosphere to activate the temeritas, and press the biosphere to the base of the back of his neck. I'll do the rest."

"Aban," Raina said, shoving Bahir up and toward the other man. "Take Bahir. Hold him."

The burly Tuaret shook his head, the tears running down his cheeks. "I-I can't. It isn't right. I . . . just . . . can't."

"It is right," Bahir whispered his breathing coming in ragged shallow pants now. "Do this for me ... my friend . . . Please, before it's t-too late."

Anguished eyes met those of his leader's. Then Aban nodded. "If that is what you wish." He reached out, grasped Bahir by the shoulders, and pulled him to him.