Authors: Ginn Hale

6: Broken Fortress (23 page)

Jath’ibaye’s blue eyes flickered to him briefly. “I abide by the council’s decisions.”

“You are the incarnation of Parfir, not the lackey of this or any other council!” Though his words were quiet, Kahlil felt his face flush with conviction. “Your flesh is my earth. Your blood is my river. Your breath is my sky. Your body is my world. Only you know how much destruction this world can endure. You can feel it as none of us can. This council, Ji, me, none of us know that. Only you can make this decision, no matter what you might like to pretend.”

Kahlil expected to be shouted down or at least argued against. Instead, the council members kept their peace, watching Jath’ibaye. Kahlil studied their silent expressions. Despite their overtures at governance over Jath’ibaye, it was clear that they were awed by him. He was a god. Unlike any of them, he could comprehend the enormity of this decision personally and physically. His life and flesh was bound to the world around them. He had caused and endured a previous cataclysm.

Wah’roa silently nodded his head as if agreeing with Kahlil’s thoughts. He bowed his head.

“It is as the Kahlil says. This is a matter for divinity alone,” Wah’roa conceded.

Jath’ibaye’s expression seemed almost blank, but Kahlil recognized the way his gaze seemed to focus just beyond the walls enclosing them all. He was watching them and at the same time sensing the far reaches of the world all around them. At last, Jath’ibaye met Kahlil’s gaze. He knew it pained Jath’ibaye to have to make this decision, but no one else was qualified. Kahlil returned Jath’ibaye’s gaze with a look that he hoped conveyed his confidence and affection. Jath’ibaye sighed.

“I will not allow Vundomu to fall,” Jath’ibaye said at last, and Kahlil felt as if Jath’ibaye was speaking only to him, “but I do not want to destroy Basawar. I don’t know if anyone but me would survive another great rift so soon after the last.”

“Then what will we do?” Kahlil asked.

“Make the most of this week. Find a way to destroy the hungry bones. Try to make peace with the gaun’im,” Jath’ibaye said. “If that fails, then I will crush the armies here in the north and we will have to see what comes of that.”

Kahlil watched the muscles flex in Jath’ibaye’s jaw. He remembered Jath’ibaye’s expression only a few days ago when they had discussed the destruction of Rathal’pesha. He had said he never wanted to endure that again.

“Then we have to allow the gaun’im into Vundomu,” Kahlil said.

Jath’ibaye nodded.

“What if they aren’t interested in coming in?” Litivi asked. “What if they want a war?”

“They don’t want a war.” Kahlil scowled at Litivi. They had already argued this point and Kahlil didn’t want to waste the entire night having the same discussion over and over.

“Ourath will see to it that they come,” Jath’ibaye said, though he didn’t look happy about it. “He needs to keep the gaun’im and their armies occupied here while he waits for the hungry bones to awaken.”

“You’re sure he will be able to convince all the gaun’im?” Litivi asked.

“Ourath can be incredibly persuasive when he needs to be,” Jath’ibaye replied. Litivi opened his mouth to ask another question but then seemed to think better of it, seeing Jath’ibaye’s deep frown.

“Then we need to make plans for their stay here,” Hirran said, her tone bright despite her exhausted appearance.

Jath’ibaye simply nodded.

The council fell immediately to work, figuring out how it would be done. They still argued, but not heatedly. They decided who would host which of gaun’im and how they would keep them occupied. They discussed exhibitions and entertainments that would naturally divide the gaun’im. Steadily, they worked out the details and minutiae that Kahlil would never have suspected could be planned. Working together they had energy and a kind of genius that surprised Kahlil. He had only witnessed them in discord, rather than unity. He had not expected them to impress him.

Not that Kahlil liked all the decisions that the council made. He particularly disliked the idea of Ourath Lisam being invited to stay in Jath’ibaye’s household.

“The last person Ourath should be close to is Jath’ibaye.” Kahlil hadn’t been able to keep from objecting to the suggestion. “The poison Fikiri gave him is made specifically to affect Jath’ibaye.”

Ji lifted her head and gazed at Kahlil.

“Did Fikiri say what the poison was, exactly?” Ji asked.

Kahlil choked. He didn’t want to reveal Jath’ibaye’s secrets and he didn’t know how much the name of the potion might give away.

“Niru’mohim,” Jath’ibaye supplied the name for him.

Kahlil noticed the way both Besh’anya and Saimura started at the word. Clearly, they knew the potion’s intended effect. Ji nodded.

“Jath’ibaye is in no danger from niru’mohim,” Ji said. “And Saimura should be quite capable of dispelling its effects if it becomes necessary.”

“But—” Kahlil began.

“It is far more important to make sure that Fikiri does not contact Ourath. The less he knows about what we are doing here the better.” Ji’s tone remained firm. “Fikiri will not dare appear so close to Jath’ibaye.”

Jath’ibaye concurred with another silent nod.

“You will have to be moved though,” Ji said to Kahlil.

“What? Why?” Kahlil demanded.

“Because we can’t afford to have Ourath recognize you,” Ji said.

“Kyle’insira is welcome among the kahlirash’im.” Wah’roa tentatively met Kahlil’s gaze and Kahlil offered him the Payshmura hand sign of peace. “There is an empty room near Pesha’s.”

“Thank you,” Kahlil responded automatically.

“Then it’s decided,” Ji pronounced.

Kahlil wanted to argue. He had a right to stay beside Jath’ibaye. He did not want Ourath attempting to seduce his lover. And yet none of those were things he wanted to say in front of the council members and all their attendants. He glanced briefly to Jath’ibaye. Jath’ibaye sighed heavily but said nothing. Kahlil bowed his head.

Everyone agreed that Kahlil was to avoid detection, hidden away among the kahlirash’im. The council meeting continued on. Kahlil wanted them all to leave so that he could at least have a last night with Jath’ibaye. But by the time the meeting disbanded, both he and Jath’ibaye were too exhausted to do more than fall asleep next to each other.

In his dreams, white forms flickered at the edges of Kahlil’s sight. Something hunted him in the darkness. A desperate, distant voice screamed his name.

He bolted upright, almost falling out of the bed. Instantly, Jath’ibaye caught his arm and steadied him. Jath’ibaye’s eyes were hardly open but his grip was surprisingly strong.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Kahlil said. “Just a bad dream. Someone kept shouting for me.” He settled back down beside Jath’ibaye.

“Who was it?” Jath’ibaye asked.

“I don’t know.” Kahlil shifted the blankets. He must have been thrashing in his sleep because they had become hopelessly tangled.

“I hate those kinds of dreams,” Jath’ibaye murmured.

“Me too.” Kahlil watched the faint shadows of leaves and vines that the pale morning light cast across the walls. These last few hours of morning were all that were left to them. Kahlil would have to leave soon. If it came to war, there would be no telling how long they could be parted. The sweet smell of strawberries drifted over him.

He said, “I wish I could dream of Nayeshi more often. I really enjoy those dreams. The smells and feel of everything is so vibrant. I always feel like I’ve briefly escaped from life, you know?”

Jath’ibaye nodded. “I feel like that when I dream of the islands across the East Ocean.”

“You mentioned them before,” Kahlil said. It had been on the same night that they had first slept together. “But you never said where the islands are.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Jath’ibaye replied. “I feel them sometimes, when my thoughts are drifting across the water. I see sheer white cliffs of limestone rising from the ocean and miles of lush forests. There are plants and animals there that I’ve never seen anywhere else.”

“I’ve never tried to travel to the east,” Kahlil said. “I wonder how far away the islands are?” He had crossed greater distances through the Gray Space, but only while knowing where he was going. Attempting to find an island in the midst of a vast ocean intrigued him.

“I don’t know,” Jath’ibaye said. “With everything here, I haven’t had much time to really look for them. I just dream of them now and then.”

“Last night?” Kahlil asked.

“No,” Jath’ibaye said, scowling. “I dreamed that we were still in the council meeting, arguing. It was a nightmare really.”

Kahlil rolled closer to Jath’ibaye.

“Do you think that a ship could sail to the Eastern Islands?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Jath’ibaye said. “Why?”

“I’d like to see them with you someday.”

Jath’ibaye smiled at him.

“That would be nice,” Jath’ibaye said quietly. He gathered Kahlil closer to him, then let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

“I can’t believe that you said that prayer last night.” He chuckled again. “I suppose I forgot how religious you are.”

Kahlil grinned. “Just because I’m a bad priest doesn’t mean I can’t remember my prayers.”

He bent to kiss Jath’ibaye’s shoulder, whispering, “With my body I worship you…”

He slid his hands under the blankets and over Jath’ibaye’s bare skin. Jath’ibaye moved closer, returning Kahlil’s caresses with a desperate, hungry kiss. The pretense of conversation fell aside as their bodies moved in a common rhythm.

Three hours later, Pesha arrived at Jath’ibaye’s door to escort Kahlil to the kahlirash’im’s barrack. She looked freshly scrubbed and proud when she announced herself as Ushiri Pesha. Kahlil slung the yasi’halaun onto his back, glanced to Jath’ibaye, and said, “Good luck.”

“You as well.” Jath’ibaye stood, silent as always when in the grip of strong emotion, hands at his sides. Kahlil thought that Jath’ibaye might embrace him, but he didn’t. In the presence of Pesha, he kept his distance, honoring Kahlil’s request for discretion.

Kahlil wanted to be able to leave without a backward glance, but dread welled up in him and he knew that he’d left Jath’ibaye once before, in another life, and they had not seen each other again. They couldn’t part like that again. He spun back and pulled Jath’ibaye into his arms for one last, deep kiss.

Jath’ibaye embraced him with tender ferocity; his whole body almost trembled with the effort of restraining himself. His mouth tasted sweet and felt too good.

Kahlil pulled himself back while he still retained the willpower. Jath’ibaye released him.

“Tell me you won’t forget me,” Kahlil whispered.

Jath’ibaye smiled and murmured, “I won’t forget you. I never could.”

Kahlil turned back to Pesha, who stood goggling at their display. He said, “Let’s be on our way, Ushiri. We shouldn’t be here when Jath’ibaye’s guests arrive.”

To Be Continued…