Lady of the Star Wind (15 page)

“Wait just a moment.” Mark held up his hands against the flood of words. “You’re talking about this snake as if it’s a myth.”

Jagrahim seemed to be in unmistakable agreement. “Myth, legend, divine being, who can say?”

Mark shook his head in quick, hot denial. “No, I stood this close to it. Then it bit Sandy. Hell, it bit me—look!” Mark shoved his sleeve aside to reveal the twin fang marks above his wrist on the inside of his left arm. The marks were red and purple, surrounded by a spectacular black bruise. “Lucky it ran out of venom, or I’d be in a coma too. The snake was real, all right. Mythical creatures don’t leave damage like this.”

“Did the others see it?”

“Well, no. I think Rothan caught a glimpse maybe. I’m telling you, a real serpent attacked us.”

“There’s no such creature known to my people, my lord, and we live in this desert. There are snakes, yes, and many are deadly. But this”—he tapped the crumbling, painted surface—“doesn’t exist, save in the oldest scrolls of a long-dead religion. The Goddess Mother isn’t served by any now. I remembered this picture because, as a child learning to read, I enjoyed the old stories. You were sheltering in what was her main temple, eons ago, when the Empty Lands were green and fertile and heavily populated.” He started to roll the document onto its ornately carved wooden spool.

Mark reached out to stop him. “Hang on a moment. What does it say about this Sherabti?”

“Sherabti’s role was the messenger of the Lady, as I told you already. The serpent could bring good or bad tidings—or warnings—as the Lady willed. It could kill, and it could bring life.”

“Confusing. And not one whole hell of a lot of help right now.” Mark permitted Jagrahim to complete his delicate task.

“I’m sorry. I assumed you’d want to have the details of what you were dealing with. Was I wrong?”

Mark accepted the chief had meant well. “I’m out of my depth here. I’m a soldier, you know? I can take a collection of hard facts and make them add up like a stack of bricks. You want to attack some kind of fortress, I’m your man. You want someone assassinated or kidnapped, I can do it. But what am I supposed to do with this kind of magical construct? And how do I use it to help Sandy? Do I go back there and tell her to wake up, quit faking it, because, hey, you were bitten by a mythological snake, not a real one?” He bit his lip against the flood of words. Panic over the possibility of losing Sandy was uncomfortably close to the surface of his emotions.

Jagrahim inserted the scroll into a jar with others and fastened a thin leather cover over the opening, knotting a string around the jar’s neck. “I regret having confused you more than I helped. You and your Lady of the Star Wind are sadly unprepared for what you’ve found upon your return to our world.”

Mark was unwilling to go into the whole discussion again of their actual identities. It wasn’t going to make any sense to Jagrahim, any more than stories of goddesses and their snake messengers made sense to him. Sometimes old truths were well buried in the mythology of a planet, but he didn’t have the training or the aptitude to try to ferret out from the deteriorating lore what might be of use in the current crisis. Frustrating to know there might be answers hidden from him in this room, but he had to accept defeat. “May I return to Sandy now?”

“Of course. Tomorrow I’ll have the readers search through more of the older scrolls, see if any further details can be gleaned about Sherabti.”

“I’d appreciate the effort.” Mark was being more diplomatic than truthful again. He didn’t think any myths or legends about snakes were going to help Sandy recover. His frustration was going to grow if people kept arguing with him about whether the snake existed. Damn it, he could prove the fucking thing had been real—didn’t he bear the fang marks? He rubbed at the ache where the snake had struck him.

Jagrahim led him through the winding corridors in silence.

“She hasn’t moved.” The chief’s wife slid from the chair to make room for Mark to resume his vigil. “She’s neither worse nor better. We can hope for no more at this stage.” She patted him on the arm in a maternal fashion. “You need rest as well.”

He gave her a tired grin, which was the best he could muster, and muttered his thanks.

“We’ll retire to our own chambers now,” Jagrahim said, arm around his diminutive wife. “Should you need anything in the night, a servant waits outside your door.”

“Thanks.” Mark sank into the vacated chair and took Sandy’s hand in his, not turning his head to watch his hosts leave. He harbored lingering doubts about the Mikkonite, questions he wanted answered, but he had to admit the tribe was taking good care of Sandy.
 

The seemingly endless night hours continued to drag by. The candles guttered. He didn’t mind sitting in the semidark. At some point, he fell asleep, unable to resist the demands of his tired body any longer.
 

“Mark?”

Her soft voice brought him awake hours later. He sat up, still holding her hand, and now she squeezed his. Examining her face intently, he asked, “How do you feel?”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know—sort of dizzy. Strange. I’ve been dreaming for the longest time.”

He laughed, not sure yet whether to be relieved. “You’ve been out for two and a half days.”

With one hand, she explored the back of her head gingerly. “Well, I guess I didn’t dream this. I smacked my head on the base of a column, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, as if the snakebite wasn’t injury enough. Is there anything I should do, check your reflexes or get you something from your medical kit?”

“No, if I made it to this point, I’m probably okay. No double vision, no weakness. Slight headache.” Eyes narrowed, she attempted to see through the gloom. “Where are we? Not at the oasis?”

“No, we’re in the village of the Mikkonite. Old allies of Rothan’s ancestors. The tribe rescued us from the sandstorm. It’s a long story. Do you want more light?”

“No.” She clutched at his hand as he made to rise from the chair to rekindle the lamps. “Don’t leave me again.”

 
“Never. Not in this lifetime. I’ve been a total fool. I’m sorry. I’ve had nothing to do but think while I’ve been sitting here. I prayed to the Lords of Space to pull you through, even though they probably don’t listen for appeals from this place.” He swallowed hard. “You were all I ever wanted, and then when I find you again, I waste the opportunity. I was being stubborn, holding your grandmother’s crimes against you. Not being willing to let my shields down and tell you—”

She reached with her free hand to touch his lips, stopping him in midsentence. “The past is finished, done. We agreed to start over and meet each other as we are now, remember? Besides, she told me we had to accept the situation here, since we’d made the choice already.”

He paused in the middle of plumping the pillows to make her a better backrest. “She?”

“I was dreaming. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. I went somewhere…else. Not this planet at all, but not like the Traveling. A beautiful room full of light.”
 

“Don’t tell me if remembering the dream distresses you.” The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the eerie way she was talking.
 

“I can’t remember the details now.” Sandy closed her eyes for a moment, long lashes brushing her cheeks before she blinked and stared at him. “The experience or vision is fading, piece by piece. But there was a woman, or maybe several women, from this world we’re on. She said she’d known me before, in another time, and she’d know me again in the future. She told me so many things, and now I can’t remember. I can’t even picture her face. She was so beautiful—it almost hurt to be in her presence. And there were others there too, but silent onlookers most of the time, watching me. And then the truly terrifying Mother arrived.” She broke off, laughing. “I must sound deranged to you.”

“Since we’ve been here, there’ve been so many strange things going on. I don’t discount anything anymore.” The way she talked of her experiences disturbed him. “The people here say the snake doesn’t exist. Not as I described it anyway.”

“Sherabti? But she does. She served the Mother. The young ones had no other way to bring me to them. But you weren’t there. You didn’t come.” She stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Sandy, I didn’t have any dreams at all. The venom sure affected us differently. I’ve had a lot of inoculations against native toxins in a wide range over the years, which probably shielded me from the worst of the poison.”

“Some of the people there argued against letting me return to this life. I think at least one wanted me to die.” Sandy’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached for him.

Mark moved onto the bed, enfolding her in a comforting hug. She clung to him and cried. At a total loss now, he wondered how she knew the name of the mythical snake. Had he said it to Jagrahim once he reentered the bedchamber? He didn’t think so. Mark stayed silent, content to hold her and stroke her hair.

Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of the tunic the Mikkonite had dressed her in, she leaned against the pillow. “The choice was left to me at the end,” Sandy said with a small hiccup.

“What choice?”

“Whether to die or come back here.” Her words indicated she was somewhat disoriented.
 

“Thank you for choosing life, for choosing me,” he said, gratitude warming his heart even as he worried about the stability of her recovery.

“We can’t ever go home, you know.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
 

“I didn’t think we could. Lajollae made it pretty clear she sold one-way tickets.”

“I’d kind of hoped we might find a way, in the oasis. I know better now. We’ve got work to do here. We’re not the right people, not truly Star Wind and her consort, but we have to be, if we’re going to be on this world. We’ve got decisions ahead of us.” She worried at the fringe of the blanket, knotting and unknotting the strands.

Mark laid his hand over hers. “Sweetheart, don’t concern yourself about it now. I’m not pressing you for any decisions. You’re remembering remnants of dreams, as you said.”

“I’m afraid to sleep again.” She sounded drowsy. “But I can’t stay awake any longer either. My eyes won’t stay open. So tired—”

“I’ll be right here, I promise. I’ll wake you if the dreams seem to be distressing you.”

She moved over on the bed and patted the mattress beside her. “Please, hold me. I’ll feel safe then. I could always sleep in your arms.”

“Whatever you want.” He took off his boots, then adjusted the pillows against the headboard. He sat, cradling her. She was already asleep again, but in a normal fashion, be believed, not comatose.
 

Jagrahim’s wife found them curled together on the bed in the morning. She clapped her hands once with pleasure, pleased to find Sandy conscious. The healer directed the serving girls with crisp efficiency as they set breakfast on the low table at the far wall.

“Eat, regain your strength, both of you,” she admonished. “For your warrior would not leave your side, nor would he eat more than a bite or two while you wandered in your dreams, my lady. I’ll share the good news with your companions while you breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Mark surveyed the platters of fruit and other delicacies. “What can I bring you? She’s giving excellent advice—you do need to get your strength back. As soon as the sandstorm ends, Rothan’s going to be impatient to get to the lost city. I’m sure he’d have left us already, if the storm hadn’t been blowing.”

“Yes, we need to get there, the sooner the better,” Sandy said. “Time’s growing short. We’re already too late for some things.”

She didn’t expand on her remark, accepting the plate of fruit he’d selected for her, some bread, and scrambled eggs, and a mug each of juice and of water. He fixed a more generous helping for himself, realizing with a sudden pang in his gut how hungry he’d become after two days of standing watch over Sandy.
 

“We rejoice in your recovery, Lady.”

Rothan and Tia stood in the doorway, Jagrahim behind them. Mark gestured for them to come in.

“Other than a huge appetite, I’m fine today, no aftereffects.” Sandy waved the roll in her hand.
 

Mark made the introductions. “This is Jagrahim, chief of the Mikkonite. He and his men rescued us from the sandstorm, brought us to their village. His wife, Merbek, has been taking care of you.”

“My thanks to you and your wife.” Sandy always exuded regal grace. “I’m grateful.”

“The storm abates. By tonight we should be able to ride to the lost city.” Rothan’s eagerness reverberated in his voice. “The chief tells me it’s a few hours from here, to the west. We’re close to our destination at last.”

Jagrahim bowed at the waist. “It’s my honor to guide you the rest of the way and get you past the city’s safeguards.”

“Safeguards?” Mark paused, the bread in his hand forgotten. “What danger can there be now, after thousands of years?”

The chief shook his head. “Those who came before left powerful curses and spells to prevent looting, to deter men who have no right to set foot in Amaraten from doing so. There are great secrets locked in those ruins. Treasures beyond imagining.”

“I want two things from the ruins,” Rothan said. “And I’ve the right to claim them for my king, Hutenen.”