War of the Magi: Azrael's Wrath (Book 2) (31 page)

He lay down on her belly and breasts and slipped one hand under her head, into her hair, and he gently took hold of her as she took hold of the hair at the back of his head, and they pressed their mouths together. With his other hand he grabbed the firm muscles of her thigh and pulled himself even harder against her, until he imagined he could feel their bones nearly touching.

They moved together slowly, but powerfully. Every movement, every lift, every push took all of his strength, his arms burning to hold her tightly, his legs burning to thrust against her, his lungs and heart thundering in his chest.

Everything ached and blazed and hungered. Her hands moved and he moved with her. She pulled harder and so did he. She moaned softly and the sound roared in his ears.

Faster now, and the pain subsided as the quiet thunder began to build in his spine, making his arms and legs stronger, filling him with a wild desperation to be everywhere around her and in her and with her.

He came, and she bore down harder than before, and they gasped in silent ecstasy, crushing every inch of flesh against flesh as their bodies shook and shook and shook.

When he couldn’t hold on any longer, when his strength finally failed him, he loosened his hold on her, and she clung to him a moment longer, and then let him go. He laid on her chest, breathing hard, a ragged growl reverberating softly in the back of his throat as his body shuddered and cooled and melted.

He slid to one side and felt the cold grass against his warm, bare skin. Again they entwined their arms and legs, but more gently now.

“What just happened?” he whispered.

“Something new.”

“New?” He looked into her eyes. “Your first time?”

“Yes.”

He knew he was frowning and he tried to stop it. “Really?”

“Why is that so strange?”

“Because you’re…”

“An angel?”

“No. Just… you’ve been alive a long time. I would have thought that, if you could, you would have before now.”

“Alive a long time? That’s a very careful way to tell a woman that she’s old.”

“Sorry.”

She laughed a playful, girlish laugh.

He caressed her cheek. “But… can I ask why? Why me? Why now?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“And you never wanted to before?”

“No.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“So what changed?”

“I met you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve never loved someone before.” She said it quietly and carelessly, like someone casually describing a meal they only half-remembered.

Iyasu hesitated, not knowing what to say, so he said the only thing he could think of. “You love me?”

“I do.”

“I… I think I…”

She laughed again. “You don’t need to say anything. I’ve been waiting a very long time to find someone like you. Someone with more hope and love and honesty than sense.”

“Thank you, I suppose.”

“I’ve been watching this world a very long time,” she said softly. “It aches, and it bleeds, and it rots, and it dies. And some make it better, and some make it worse. But there are precious few who give everything they have, not just for their family or home, but for the whole world. And you do. And that’s why I love you.”

He had no words, so he kissed her.

Eventually the cold air stopped soothing them and began to chill them, or at least it chilled him, and they pulled their clothing back on. And then they sat together and watched the stars.

“We can never have a child,” she said suddenly.

He nodded. “A commandment?”

“Yes. An old one.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. But I think so.”

A bird cried out across the lake.

“We should go back soon.”

“Soon.”

They sat a while longer.

“What happens now?” he asked.

“With Darius?”

“With us.”

“I don’t know, exactly. We go on doing what we do, but we do it together. If you want to,” she said.

“I do want to.”

“Good.”

They stood up and walked back to Jerinoba, where the blazing cook fires and warmly glowing lanterns transformed the narrow paths between the tents into firefly trails and rivers of flaming stars.

They returned to the old tents at the edge of the city and went to the entrance of the one they had shared earlier with Zerai and Veneka. They paused.

“What should we tell them?” he asked.

“Truth, or kindness?”

He hesitated and looked up at the stars again. “I think kindness for now. Veneka is a little protective of me. The truth can wait.”

“All right.” She kissed him, and they went inside.

“There you are!” Veneka looked up and smiled. “You missed supper. I saved you a bowl. Both of you. I was not sure…”

Azrael took the bowl. “I don’t need to, but I do like to. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Iyasu took his and began to eat with an appetite he hadn’t noticed until that moment. The lamb was cold but still wonderfully tender, and the spices more than made up for the lack of heat in the dish.

He was just finishing up when the noise outside drew his attention. He glanced over his shoulder at the tent’s entrance, which was closed. “Some men are coming. With a woman. Something’s wrong.”

“They found Petra.” Zerai stood up and pushed out through the tent flap.

Iyasu frowned at Azrael. “It doesn’t sound like Petra.”

They joined the falconer outside and watched the armed men approach with the woman between them. She was awkwardly dressed in a robe that hung all askew about her shoulders, and she clutched the loose fabric to her belly to hold it taut against her frame. A lumpy bag hung over her shoulder, and thick curling brown hair obscured half her face.

“It’s not Petra,” Zerai muttered. “But she does look familiar, doesn’t she?”

Iyasu caught a flash of the woman’s face between the moonlight and a flickering torch, and he froze. “Oh Arrah.”

Veneka look at him. “What? Who is it?”

“It’s her. It’s Talia.”

Everyone looked again and saw the stranger more clearly as she came near their tents.

“Talia?” Veneka called out. “Is that you?”

The woman yanked her elbow away from one of the armed men, and she nearly fell to all fours, but she stumbled upright and called out, “I’m not Talia, I am Bashir! My name is Hamza Bashir!”

Chapter 22
Veneka

For the first moment, Veneka did nothing. She stared at the woman who had been nothing more than bones and ash two days ago, and was now standing right in front of her, speaking in an unfamiliar woman’s voice, staring in confusion as she clutched her clothes, Bashir’s clothes, around her small body.

The moment passed.

Veneka strode forward and put her arms around Talia’s shoulders and guided the unsteady woman into the nearest tent, the tent where Edris and Petra should have been but now stood empty. She sat Talia down on the bed of spare blankets and quickly glanced over her exposed arms and feet and face for any signs of harm, and found none.

“Talia?”

“I’m Hamza,” she said.

“Hamza? I see. You never told us your given name before.” Veneka swallowed and glanced up at Zerai and Iyasu standing in the entrance, and then back at the woman. “Hamza? Are you all right? Are you in pain?”

“Yes.” She seemed to wince at the sound of her own voice. “My back and legs ache, and I can’t quite balance when I walk.”

Veneka touched the woman’s hand and let Raziel’s strength soothe the woman’s pains. “All right, everything is all right now. You are safe here. This place is Jerinoba. Tell me, do you recognize me?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped. “I’m not stupid, I’m not crazy.” She rubbed her forehead.

“All right, all right.” Veneka sat down a bit more comfortably and waved the men inside to sit behind her. “Can you just start at the beginning and tell us what happened?”

“I’m thirsty,” she rasped. “Is there water?”

“Zerai, can you find us some water and food, please?”

The falconer was on his feet and outside in an instant. He returned a minute later with a small jug of water and a bowl of cold meat, fruit, and chickpeas. Talia drank the jug dry and then began eating from the bowl in small, delicate bites.

“Whenever you are ready,” Veneka said gently.

The woman frowned as she said, “When I left you at the wall, I meant to die. I wanted to find a place, a quiet place, in the dark, away from all this madness, where I could just put my arms around my love and let starvation take us both together. It’s a painless death, starving. So I found a narrow ravine not far from the wall, and there I found a cave, not more than a crack in the ground but large enough for us to lie together, out of the sun.”

Veneka waited for her to continue.

“But after an hour I realized that Talia would die long before I did. She hadn’t eaten at all, whereas I am a djinn and require much less food. And I couldn’t stand the thought of lying there and hearing her final breath, and then having to go on lying there, hour after hour, day after day, holding her cold body, waiting for my own end. So I went into my bag and found something to help me sleep. I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms, like we used to do. And I wanted to stay asleep.”

“And then?”

“Something went wrong.”

“How, exactly?” Iyasu asked.

Veneka silenced him with a look.

“I ate the herbs and lay down to sleep,” the woman said. “I wrapped my arms around Talia, and kissed her, and closed my eyes. After that, I don’t know how long I slept. I didn’t dream. But then I awoke. I was very cold, and it was very dark, but after a few moments my eyes adjusted and I saw a face. Not Talia’s face. My own face. My own arms were bound around me like dead snakes, and I pushed them away, and crawled out of the cave. I was gasping for breath. It was so hard to move, my arms felt like stone, and my mouth felt like sand. And then I stood in the ravine and saw the sky darkening overhead. I had slept all day and night was falling, but there was light enough to see. I saw myself, my body… Talia’s body…”

Veneka nodded slowly. “And then?”

“I was cold, so I took my clothes, my old clothes, and tried to wear them, but they were too big, and my hands were so clumsy.” She looked down at herself in faint confusion, but no great concern. “And then I started walking. When I climbed out of the ravine I saw the wall again, so I turned away from it and walked the other way, west, the way you had gone, I suppose. And then they found me. Those men. I told them your names, and they brought me to you.”

Veneka nodded again, even slower than before. “All right. Iyasu, can you bring Azrael in here please?”

As the seer left, the stranger recoiled into her loose clothing. “Why? What do we need with her?”

“We need… help. I need help to understand this, because this… this should not be possible.”

“My soul is in Talia’s body,” the woman said. “What else is there to understand?”

“I know what happened,” Veneka said calmly. “But we need to know how, and why, and what this means.”

Iyasu and Azrael came inside and the angel gazed at the newcomer. “Hello.”

Veneka quickly explained what had happened, but the angel’s only response was to nod thoughtfully in silence.

“Do you know how this happened?” Iyasu asked.

“No.” Azrael continued to stare at Talia. “I do remember the moment that Hamza Bashir died earlier this afternoon. But that was my only part in this. Mine is to cut, not to bind.”

“And you do not know how this could have happened?” Veneka asked.

“No.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Veneka sighed and turned back to the woman. “How do you feel now?”

“The same,” she said. “Aching. Heavy. Almost dizzy.”

“Well, you have a human body now. It is heavier and slower than your old body. And it is a woman’s body, so it is built a little differently.”

The woman sat very still, staring down at her hands. “Why did this happen? Why aren’t I dead?”

“I do not know.” Instinctively, Veneka reached out and held her hand. “But I do not think something like this can happen on its own, by accident. If it could, I imagine it would have happened before and we would all know about it. So I think it is safe to say this happened for a purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“To preserve some part of your life? To preserve some part of Talia’s life? Perhaps in time, you will discover that purpose for yourself.”

“So I have to live like this.”

“No one can make you do anything,” Veneka said. “You could kill yourself again, but I hope you will not do that.”

The woman pressed her hands to her chest, and neck, and cheek. “I can’t kill Talia,” she whispered.

“Good.” Veneka smiled.

“But where will I go? I can’t go back to Odashena. Humans are forbidden, and I’m… I’m human now.”

“What about Lashad? You said Talia was from Lashad.”

“She died forty years ago. Her family is dead, and I don’t know anyone there. What would I even do with myself?”

“You still remember everything? Your own life, your own work?”

She nodded.

“Then you could work as an herbalist. You may not want to call yourself an alchemist anymore,” Veneka said with a kind smile. “Some people are a little uncomfortable with that word.”

“I could do that.” The woman looked up slowly. “I can’t call myself Hamza though, can I?”

“You can call yourself anything you like. But this is a new life for you. A new name might help. You could call yourself Talia Bashir.”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

The woman fell silent, contemplating her fingers, hunched down and ignoring everyone around her.

“Well, we will let you rest.” Veneka stood up slowly. “But we are right next door if you need us. All right?”

The woman nodded.

Veneka saw the lantern by the doorway and she moved it farther into the tent so no one would knock it over by accident. Iyasu grabbed her arm and she looked at him. “What?”

“The light. Move it again.” The seer took a few steps away, his gaze fixed on Talia.