Guardian of the Storm (9 page)

Kiran frowned, studied her searchingly for several moments and finally thrust her away from him. Turning, he pulled his weapons and planted his feet wide, waiting.

Thrust abruptly back into reality, Tempest realized belatedly that it wasn’t merely her heart she heard thundering in her ears. It was the approach of riders, many riders.

Almost as if her mind had conjured them, they crested the rise at that moment. Shrieking like demons, waving their own weapons threateningly, they plunged down the dune to where Kiran stood waiting—one man against nearly a dozen. Tempest’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins, her muscles seized, leaving her little more than a breathing statue as the horde thundered down upon them. Her mind screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t command her feet to move.

The first clash of metal against metal shook her from her stupor, but by then it was far too late. The Mordune surrounded them, jockeying for a position to trade blows with Kiran. Seeing that she was unarmed, one man shot past Kiran’s determined blows, grasping a handful of her hair. She screamed, grabbing his hand. Almost in slow motion she saw Kiran glance toward her, saw Kirry race toward her from out of nowhere and launch herself at the man who’d grabbed her.

“No!” Tempest screamed, reaching toward Kiran as if she could stop the vicious blow of the man who’d taken advantage of Kiran’s distraction.

Kiran ducked, swinging at the same moment and, to Tempest’s relief, managed to block the blow. She was released abruptly, and landed in a heap on the sand. Looking up, she saw that Kirry was moving over her assailant so fast she was little more than a blur of motion as she shredded the man’s flesh from his back, arms, and head. She was tempted to urge the little beast on, but as another Mordune surged forward, his arm raised as if to cleave the little grat in two, she jumped to her feet and reached toward the grat. “No! Kirry!”

Startled, the grat’s head jerked toward the sound of her voice. In the next instant, it leapt off of the man, even as the other man swung at it. Landing in the sand at her feet, Kirry whirled, all four legs braced, her ridge of fur standing on end as she growled threateningly at the men surrounding them.

Someone shouted something. What, Tempest had no idea since she couldn’t speak their language, but as abruptly as they’d attacked, the Mordune withdrew.

Gasping for breath, Tempest turned to look at Kiran. He was kneeling in the sand, bleeding from a dozen cuts on his arms, his thighs, and chest. She rushed toward him, falling to the sand and examining his injuries. Several looked dangerously deep and she turned to glare at the Mordune.

To her surprise, they hadn’t gone far before they had turned their mounts around once more. Now, they merely sat perfectly still, staring, arguing amongst themselves.

She stared at them, wondering what was happening. Not for a moment did she believe Kirry and Kiran had fought them off, although, save for one or two, all were wounded, just as Kiran was.

Finally, one of the men, who seemed to be the leader, dismounted. He stared at her as if she was some sort of two headed beast. Finally, he fell to his knees, his arms outstretched.

“Long will the children of Niah suffer and find no rest, no succor from strife, but, in time your pleas will be heard ….

“And the day will come when mother Niah will assume the form of a mortal creature and appear unto her children—

“She is Niah and she will be as one with all creatures great and small and you will know her, for she will command even the wild creatures.

“Bless us, mother Niah! Make our world green once more!”

He began to sob, bowing low, his arms stretched out before him. Almost as one, the others dismounted and fell to their knees, bowing as their leader had.

Tempest stared at them blankly. “What did he say?” she whispered to Kiran. When she glanced at him, she saw that he, too, was looking at her strangely.

“He says you are the One.”

Tempest blinked. “One what?”

“They believe you are the One who’s coming was foretold.” With an effort, he turned, bowing as the others had. Tempest stared down at him wide-eyed, feeling a blush rise from her toes all the way to the top of her head.

Tempest looked at the other men uncomfortably, wondering what to do. On the one hand, she couldn’t help but think it was a very fortunate thing that the Mordune had jumped to such a conclusion.

But then, there was one really serious draw back.

She wasn’t the
One
.

Chapter Eight

High emotion was something almost impossible to sustain, no matter how dire the situation, but Tempest found it was also impossible to completely dismiss as she and Kiran were mounted with two of the Mordune and taken away. It didn’t help that she was worried about Kiran’s wounds; that no one spoke her language but he; and that she had no notion of where they were going or what would happen when they got there. She had enough presence of mind, however, to realize that they believed she was some sort of deity, and that fainting, screaming, cursing, or crying probably wouldn’t fit in too well with the image.

She was scared enough to do a little of all three, and it took an effort to refrain.

The sun was low upon the horizon when they came at last to what looked like a city of tents. From the moment Tempest realized that it was some sort of portable abode, her tension increased tenfold.

It seemed likely that she was about to find out what would happen and she discovered, belatedly, that she’d rather not know. People poured from the tents as they approached, standing silently, watching, listening as the leader gestured wildly with his arms and pointed to her repeatedly. She sat stiffly erect, staring at a point over their heads since she was too unnerved to look directly at them.

The leader had barely stopped speaking when a collective gasp issued from the crowd surrounding them and Tempest turned to see what they were staring at. With consternation if not a great deal of surprise, she saw that Kirry had arrived. She stared at the grat, willing it not to do anything that would cause them more trouble. The grat sat, staring back at her as if waiting for some signal.

Relieved, Tempest returned her attention to the Mordune. Almost as one, they fell to their knees as the raiders had, bowing, wailing. Every hair on Kirry’s body stood out and, with a growl, she took off.

Tempest looked at Kiran helplessly, wondering what to do. Dismounting, he moved toward her, reaching up and lifting her from the saddle. She clung to him. “What are we going to do when they find out I’m not who they think I am?” she whispered.

He squeezed her reassuringly. “I will tell them we must go to the sacred Temple of Zoe.”

“But they don’t believe in Zoe, do they?”

“They call her Niah.”

Tempest was only slightly reassured, but, to her relief, when Kiran spoke to them, the Mordune got up almost as abruptly as they’d fallen to the ground and began yelling excitedly. Several women surged forward, surrounding her. Tempest looked at Kiran helplessly, trying to hide the fear that made her feel faint and sick.

“I have reminded them that, in your mortal form, you are weakened and in need of food and rest. Go with them. You will come to no harm.”

She didn’t really have a choice as far as she could see. None of them actually touched her—any who accidentally bumped into her jumped back in fright—but they seemed very determined to guide her away for all that.

“But—you’re hurt. What about your wounds?”

“They will be attended.”

She didn’t want to go off with the women, but she was afraid to argue. They led her to the largest tent, which seemed to be in the center of the village, and urged her inside. Once there, the women pointed to a mound of pillows in one corner. Shrugging mentally, Tempest crossed the sandy floor and sat down.

Looking desperate to please, the women scattered in every direction. Two returned carrying something that looked like a huge dish, which they set down near the center of the tent. Following them were other women bearing skins—water Tempest discovered when they began pouring it into the shallow ‘dish’. It dawned on Tempest when they began gesturing at her clothing and chattering that they’d prepared a bath for her.

She didn’t think she’d ever actually gotten ‘in’ water to bathe, unless it was when she’d been a very small child. As important as everyone knew cleanliness was, water was far too precious on Niah to use for bathing, unless it was in very small quantities. At the colony, they had built particle baths, such as had been used on Earth in the days before. Since she’d left, she’d used a damp cloth to bathe, which not only prevented contamination of her tiny water supply, but also conserved it for drinking.

It seemed very decadent to consider doing so now, but the women seemed so insistent she finally got up, stripped her clothes off and approached the bath they’d prepared. One of the women, an older, motherly looking woman, grasped her hand and helped her step into it. Tempest sat a little nervously, closing her eyes as the cool water washed over her hips and knees.

It felt strange to have water lapping around her, but she finally decided she liked the feel of it against her skin. Chattering happily, the women brought sweet smelling creams and rubbed them into her hair and skin, then, to Tempest’s surprise, rinsed them away again. She discovered, though, that a faint scent lingered on her skin.

Finally, when they’d finished rinsing her, she was urged to stand up and the woman who’d helped her climb into the bath, helped her out once more, wrapping a large cloth around her.

When she’d taken a seat on the pillows once more, the older woman knelt beside her and began very carefully picking the tangles from her wet hair. Tempest winced, but gritted her teeth. She’d sawed her hair off short with a sharp stone because she had no way of keeping it in any sort of order, but even so the almost constant winds of Niah kept it in a tangle of knots.

She was just beginning to enjoy it when the woman, apparently satisfied, stopped combing and rose. Clapping her hands, she summoned several of the younger women who came forward carrying several small articles—clothing Tempest decided as they urged her to stand again.

Sort of, she mentally amended when she looked down at the ‘garment’. She was next door to naked when they’d finished. The top didn’t even completely cover her breasts, and it left her back entirely bare. The bottom was no more than two sheer pieces of fabric connected by tiny chains around her waist. It covered her sex—so long as she didn’t move, but she could well imagine that one tiny breeze would expose everything she had.

Mentally, she shrugged. It was beautiful for all that and it wasn’t as if she’d been covered all that well by her own ragged clothing. These garments at least had the virtue of being pretty.

When they’d finished adjusting the garments, three more women came forward, two carrying some sort of armbands, the third a strange looking headpiece topped with huge, fluffy feathers. The bands, when placed on her arms, covered her arms from wrist to elbow. They were made of some strange material Tempest was totally unfamiliar with, much like metal, except that it stretched and retracted almost like skin, fitting her arms as snugly as if the bands had been made for her. The headdress was surprising, as well, light like the armbands, fitting snugly to her skull.

They stepped back when they were finished, admiring their handiwork Tempest supposed, and then quickly formed a line toward the entrance of the tent.

Apparently, Tempest decided, she was to be escorted out again, so that everybody could see her finery. She moved toward the tent flaps the women held back, ducking slightly when she went under for fear she’d lose the headdress.

She halted abruptly when she’d left the tent, dismayed to discover everyone was lined up outside, formed into two long lines, waiting. Kiran, she saw, was waiting near the opposite end of the line of people and her heart gave a little skip of gladness and relief at the sight of him. Steadying her nerves, she focused on him as she walked slowly down the row, ignoring them as they bowed worshipfully before her.

It wasn’t easy to ignore. It thrummed in her mind with each step she took that they thought she was someone, something, she was not. She didn’t want to think about what they might do if they discovered they’d been wrong, but she couldn’t help but worry that she might do something to shatter their belief.

Kiran had said that he would tell them she had to travel to the sacred mountain, to the Temple of Zoe. She sincerely hoped he could convince them to take the two of them there soon. She was very much afraid that she wouldn’t be able to maintain a suitably deity-like demeanor for very long at all.

* * * *

Stone faced, Kiran watched with a mixture of awe and pure animal lust as Tempest moved slowly toward him. It was fortunate, for both of them, that Niah was the goddess of fertility, and they believed he was her chosen mate, for he found he was having a great deal of difficulty restraining his restless serpent.

He had thought her a beautiful creature from the moment he had gotten his first clear look at her, but now, dressed in the ceremonial robes of the goddess mother, Niah, she took his breath.

In all honesty, it unnerved him to see her clothed in the gown that had been designed and made and preserved for her coming nearly a thousand years ago.

It fit Tempest as if it had been made for her—a woman far smaller of frame and stature than most Niahian women—and that made him uneasy in an indescribable way.

Of all those present, except Tempest herself, he alone did not believe. He wasn’t certain why he didn’t believe. It had been written that she would come from humble beginnings, that she would appear in form much like any other Niahian. It had been written that wild creatures would know her, would respond to her commands … and she would be known as the Storm, for she would bring life giving water to his world to make it green again.

The Zoean’s believed it would not be Zoe herself who came, but her warrior, sent to wrest the water from captivity. He had expected a warrior much like himself, but he wasn’t certain that was why he didn’t believe.