Warrior (31 page)

After minutes, hours, or maybe even days, the winds calmed. Carefully, Gabriel unwound himself from his shroud and lifted his head. Sand poured from his shoulders. The swirling cloud of dust retreated toward the horizon as the sun reemerged. Gabriel checked the man next to him, relieved to see that not only was he relatively unharmed, save for a goodly sized black eye and cuts on his face, the bastard was snoring.

“Reveille,” Gabriel growled, shaking the man awake.

The bloke blinked and slowly roused. When he realized that he was alive, he began babbling a stream of indecipherable words, throwing his arms around Gabriel.

“Don’t need another sweetheart,” Gabriel snapped, shoving the man away. He rose to his feet, and the man did the same. The camel stared at them both, chewing its cud, then continued to stare at the barren landscape. There had not been many landmarks even before the storm; the sand had further erased anything that might look familiar.

Gabriel looked up at the sun, then down at the earth, checking shadows. An hour. The whole damned thing had lasted only an hour. Before the sandstorm had hit, he’d made sure to check the position of the group, and now he drew upon his directional and tracking skills to get him and his new best chum back to their companions. There wasn’t enough room for two on the camel’s back, so both he and the other man had to walk as they set out to find everyone else.

Some half a mile later, he found them. Bless his beer, Thalia was with them, whole and well. The bandits had gotten back onto their camels, as had the tribesmen, but Thalia was not mounted. Altan was yelling something at her, and she was shaking her head, her feet planted, refusing to get into the saddle. She was shouting something back at him. Then a few of the brigands caught sight of Gabriel and their compatriot and began shouting all at once. Everyone turned, including Thalia. She ran toward him.

“Lost my damned hat,” he started to say, before she launched herself at him. Already weary from fighting the storm, not to mention wrestling with a camel, Gabriel almost lost his footing as her arms wrapped around him. She gripped him tightly, her body shuddering. A soft stream of Mongolian bubbled from her lips, and though he didn’t catch all the words, he knew words of thanks just the same.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured as his own arms came up. “I’m—ow!”

She’d punched him. In the shoulder. Hard.

“Did the wind blow away your damn mind?” she shouted. “Don’t ever do anything that stupid again!”

“No promises about my stupidity,” he said. “You giving me orders?”

Her lovely face was tear-streaked and furious. “I’ll bloody well tie you to the sodding ground, you mad, brave idiot!” She started to stomp away. “Lord protect me from heroes!”

He didn’t let her get very far. One hand shot out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back, hauling her against him. She began to launch into another string of abuse. His mouth on hers prevented it.

The hooting of the bandits brought them back to their surroundings, and then only after a goodly while. Breaking the kiss, Gabriel saw that the whole company was watching him and Thalia with enormous grins plastered on their faces, like fond uncles at a wedding. Christ, what he wouldn’t give for a quiet, dark room with a bed and plenty of privacy.

Altan walked his camel to where Thalia and Gabriel stood, with the man Gabriel had rescued trotting beside. The bandit chief looked at Gabriel for a few moments. Gabriel stared back, keeping one arm tight around Thalia’s waist.

“You did not need to do that,” Altan said at last. “We would not have endangered our lives to save you.”

“I know.”

“Foolish. We are your captors.”

“He would have died unless someone did something.”

“And that someone was you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “You all seemed pretty busy protecting your own arses.”

Altan barked out a laugh. “That is our first rule. But, it seems, not yours.” He glanced at his men behind him. “None of them have your courage.”

“You need to find better men.”

“Or make better allies.” Shaking his head, Altan reached into his del and produced the ruby. He tossed it to Gabriel, who caught the large gem with one hand. “There is no race.”

“No.” Gabriel slipped the ruby into the inside pocket of his jacket. He did not miss the looks of relief exchanged by the tribesmen.

“Nor treasure.”

“Not exactly.”

“Yet you are chased, just the same.”

“We are trying to protect something more valuable than the ruby, to take it someplace where it will be safe,” Thalia said. She wiped her wet cheeks on the sleeve of her del, erasing the traces of her relief and terror. She displayed more resilience than most men Gabriel knew. He didn’t quite understand how fate had been so kind to him. “But,” she continued, “if it falls into the hands of those men who pursue us, you will lose it all. The freedom you love. Your control over your own destiny. They will take everything that gives you pride.”

Altan tugged on his moustache while he contemplated this. His eyes scanned the northern horizon, seeing things even an experienced tracker like Gabriel never could. As much as Gabriel admired the unsparing landscape of the desert, the rolling steppes called to him more. Maybe because the steppe was Thalia’s home and always would be.

“Go on, then,” Altan said, tugging the reins of his camel so that he walked back toward his gathered men. He shouted something at a handful of his men, and they dismounted, carrying several packs. The men handed the packs to Gabriel. He opened them and found the kettle and all of their pistols and knives. Two more men came forward and handed Gabriel and Thalia their confiscated rifles. Gabriel carefully checked each and every gun to ensure they were still loaded. With an inward sigh of relief, he strapped on his revolver, sheathed his knife, and shouldered his rifle. Thalia and the tribesmen did the same.

“Go save the world,” Altan said.

“Are you setting us free?” Thalia asked.

“Free?” Altan repeated, shifting in his saddle so he looked at them. “Yes, you can go free.” He turned back to his men and said something so quickly, Gabriel couldn’t translate it. Whatever it was, the men agreed to it, and with great enthusiasm.

No point in questioning the gift. Gabriel and Thalia hurried to their camels, mounted, and, after Gabriel rechecked their position, started in the direction of the temple. Hopefully, it wasn’t more than another day or two away. The kettle hadn’t been forthcoming in mundane details like distance. Whatever the distance, Gabriel wanted it traversed speedily. The storm might have bought them more time—with any luck, the bleeding Heirs were buried under mountains of sand, though that happy outcome was unlikely—yet if they did make it to the temple before the Heirs caught them, it still wouldn’t be time enough to prepare for a siege. If the temple still stood, Gabriel wondered how many monks were there, and if any of them were fit for battle. He prayed that was the case. Otherwise it would be him, Thalia, and four herdsmen against an entire army.

Thalia, Gabriel, and their companions began to ride south. But they were making a hell of a lot more noise than a handful of camels might. Gabriel looked over his shoulder. Altan and his men rode with them. The whole pack of brigands rode along, peaceful as lambs.

“This does not feel very free,” Gabriel said to Altan.

“Oh, you have your liberty,” the bandit chief answered. “But my men and I have decided that we are fond of our own freedom, as well. So we will help you in your task. Besides,” he added with a wry smile, “when I asked if there was treasure, you said, ‘Not exactly,’ which is better than ‘No.’”

“The men that chase us are killers,” Gabriel said.

“So are we. In fact, we are very good at it. And, in truth,” he admitted, “we have been a bit bored with our prey. They put up so little fight.”

“If you join us,” Gabriel warned, “you will have plenty to fight.”

Altan grinned. “Good.” He kicked his camel so that the beast broke into a canter. “I hope it will be soon,” he called over his shoulder.

It was Thalia’s soft chuckle that next commanded Gabriel’s attention. She wasn’t fearful, or angry or even annoyed. No, she was actually amused. He looked at her, and she saw the question in his eyes.

“Men,” she said, rueful, “are the most absurd creatures on this green earth.”

“But there are camels,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Believe me,” she answered, “I’ve taken camels into consideration.”

Oasis

He’d had enough. Since Gabriel had saved the life of their comrade, the brigands had treated him like a lost brother, urging food and arkhi on him with abandon. Thalia and the steppe tribesmen weren’t neglected, and given more than their share, but it was Gabriel who held pride of place around the campfire. His Mongol wasn’t strong enough to keep up with the endless male bluster that comprised most fireside talk. Still, it satisfied the bandits’ needs, so they could laugh and cuff each other like friendly bears.

But this had been going on for hours. Meanwhile, the night was growing darker and a quiet Thalia sat close, her legs touching his. In the glow of the firelight, the dusky desert behind her, she shined with beauty like an elemental fairy. Time in the Gobi sun had gilded her skin, and strands of copper and chestnut glimmered in her dark hair. He swayed precariously close to losing his wits if he didn’t have some time alone with her.

Yet, no matter how jovial the bandits were, Gabriel hadn’t any certainty that their allegiance would not change as quickly as the wind changed directions. Getting up from the fire with Thalia in tow might rile Altan and his men, something that they needed to avoid. So, like a boy stuck in a classroom, agonizing after a girl in the front row, Gabriel sat and ached. He tried to turn his thoughts to the mission.

“Tell me what you know about the monastery where we are heading,” he said to Altan. “You have heard of it?”

The bandit chief mulled, tugging on his beard. “Yes, but it has always been too far away for our interests.”

“So, it still stands?” asked Thalia.

Altan nodded. That was a relief. “It is called the Monastery of the Mountain. An isolated place. Only a few pilgrims go there.”

“It must be rather empty,” Thalia remarked.

“I do not think so,” Altan said. “Some of my brother bandits tell me that several dozen monks live at the monastery, those that want to be far from the world.”

Gabriel mulled over this, considering what it meant for their future battle site. It was hard, though, to concentrate on anything besides the hunger for Thalia that pulsed through him.

“Are the arkhi and mutton not to your liking?” Altan demanded during a lull.

Gabriel immediately drained the skin he’d been given. The potent alcohol left a trail of heat in his throat. “Both are good. Damned better than the weak stuff served to me by the Maharajah of Kalam.”

Altan nodded with approval, glad to have bested a maharajah in something so important.

“Our Englishman has another hunger,” chortled another bandit, flicking his eyes toward Thalia.

Gabriel fought the urge to leap up and grab the leering bastard by his throat. Thalia seemed more sanguine, saying nothing but smiling a little. Her smile, Gabriel noticed, showed a hint of strain in the corners.

“Do you know, I was born in the Gobi and have never left it, not once,” Altan said suddenly.

“It is a beautiful place.” Gabriel thought it best to be as complimentary as possible, even though he had no idea why the bandit chief thought to mention this not particularly interesting fact about his upbringing.

“A beautiful bitch,” Altan agreed. “One moment, she will flay you with her claws, and the next, she welcomes you into her soft cunt.”

The crude language didn’t bother Thalia in the slightest. She didn’t stiffen or act insulted. Gabriel could have told the brigands that she wasn’t a woman who shocked easily, something he liked beyond measure.

“For example,” Altan continued, “just today, that sandstorm wanted to rip us apart and would have killed stupid Dorj here if you had not come to his aid. And yet,” the chief went on, “not but a few hundred yards south of here is a small oasis, a little sheltered spot hidden amongst the rocks.”

This sounded rather promising. “Why are we not camped there?”

“It is not large enough to hold more than two people.”

“Sheltered,” Gabriel mused aloud.

“Private.” Altan did not smile, but it was clear in his voice. “And safe.”

He’d suffer the consequences, if there were any. But that was doubtful. Altan was giving Gabriel a gift. He wasn’t so thick-skulled to refuse a present. Gabriel took Thalia’s hand and rose to his feet. The revolver still hung from his belt, and he had a knife, as well. If anything happened, he would be prepared.

Looking up, Thalia saw the intent in Gabriel’s eyes, and stood. Her own eyes glittered, fire-warmed emeralds, as her grip tightened in his.

“Good night,” Gabriel said to Altan.

The chief nodded and drew on his pipe, keeping silent.

As Thalia and Gabriel left the group, knowing laughs and some coarse words trailed behind them, but neither he nor she paid attention. Gabriel collected the kettle, the ruby, and a blanket from the packs while Thalia waited, then, claiming her hand again, he strode off with her into the dusk.

They didn’t speak as they walked. Already, breath came fierce and fast in his chest. In the darkness, he could not see Thalia’s face, but heard her shallow breathing, felt heat suffuse her hand. Jesus, he wasn’t even sure they could make it as far as the oasis.

Nimble as mountain sheep, they leapt over the rocks, sometimes stopping to help one another traverse a particularly uneven bit, seldom letting go of one another unless absolutely necessary. The going was slower than Gabriel would’ve wanted, his anticipation already priming him like a pistol. Better to tread carefully than risk a twisted ankle. If only he had the power of flight, just to speed them on their way. At least his eyesight was well adjusted to the darkness, so that everything became shades of gray and purple, including Thalia, a shapely form keeping pace alongside him.

“Oh, thank Tenger,” she breathed. “I thought we’d never get here.”

The rocks encircled a pool, no bigger than a ger, with grasses and a few saxaul trees rustling softly in the breeze as they gathered close to the water. The banks surrounding the pool were narrow and pebbled. Overhead, the dark blue bowl of the sky reached infinity, evening stars coming out like coy birds. Altan was right. There was only enough room for two people. The rocks that surrounded the oasis couldn’t be traversed by a camel or horse. Anyone approaching would be heard. Utter privacy, for once. Merciful bloody heavens.

Gabriel leapt down from the rocks into the enclosure. He set down the blanket, kettle, and ruby, then turned, placing his hands on Thalia’s waist. He swung her down to join him. Once her boots touched the ground, he didn’t release her. She twined her arms over his shoulders, pulling herself against him, and the moment their bodies touched, desire exploded.

They took each other’s mouths, open, withholding nothing. It really was a taking, no use trying to make it sound pretty or delicate. Two people prodigiously hungry for each other. He stroked her mouth, its warm, willing sweetness, and she touched her tongue to his without restraint. He felt the slim strength of her waist and lower back. Just there, that small dip of her spine. He wanted to lick it. Gabriel pressed her close, and she made a sound that had only one meaning: more.

Stepping back, Gabriel pulled at his clothing. Everything came off. Thalia, clever and avid, did the same. All the while, they stared at each other, at their bodies being revealed, garment by garment. Soon, a pile of their combined clothes formed on the bank of the pond. She was a tall woman, but her clothing looked so delicate and feminine beside his own, and something as ordinary as her sock became ethereal and tender when draped over his rough leather boot.

When they were both completely naked, Thalia started toward him, but he shook his head and began backing toward the pond with his hands outstretched.

“Am I so bedraggled that you won’t touch me unless I bathe?” she asked, wry.

“I want to clean you.” His voice was barely more than a growl. “Everywhere.”

With deliberate steps, Thalia followed him into the pond, her hair dark and loose over her bare shoulders, brushing over the pink tips of her breasts. The water touched his ankles, and it was cool, almost bracing, but she kept coming toward him, so that when the water reached his calves, then higher up his thighs, he barely felt it. It was only her he knew.

They were both in the pond now, the water reaching their bellies. It was a measure of how much he wanted her that his cock did not flag or shrink in the chilly water, but stood upright, reaching for her. Thalia tried to take hold of him, but he edged away.

“I’ll see to you first,” he said.

Cupping his hands, he filled them with water, then poured it onto her shoulder. She gave a small shriek and laughed. “Ah, that’s cold!” She hit the water with a palm, splashing him.

So much for tender, worshipful ministrations. He should have known Thalia wouldn’t submit like some untouchable temple priestess. She was a witch taking a lover to invoke lusty magic, far too earthy for distant worship.

Gabriel splashed her back, dragging his fist through the water. Thalia stared at him, then pushed both hands across the surface of the pond, soaking his chest. In moments, they chased each other around the pond, dashing water back and forth. They laughed and taunted like children. Soon, neither noticed the temperature of the water. Gabriel hadn’t played like this since he was a lad swimming in the quarry pool. It was bloody marvelous.

Both of them sopping, Gabriel lunged. Thalia yelped as he snared her legs. They both toppled completely into the water, submerging briefly. When they came back to the surface, they twined and sported like otters, swimming in the shallow pond in a tangle of wet limbs. When Thalia tried to grab him to duck his head underwater, he seized her wrists and hauled her against him. Then he kissed her.

Hot, so hot, her mouth. For long minutes, they kissed as water swirled around them. Thalia kissed as though there was nothing else on earth that gave her more pleasure, and only he could give it to her. He stroked her sleek body, she caressed him, pressing the wet flesh of her breasts into his chest, her nipples taut points brushing against him, erasing thought. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, the heat of her sex cupping his rigid, pounding erection, he groaned.

Gabriel scooped her up and strode from the pond, water churning around him. He set her down just long enough to unfold the blanket. She didn’t wait to be invited. Thalia lay herself down and held her arms out to him. But he had plans.

He knelt between her legs, his hands spreading her thighs. She raised herself up on her elbows to look at him with wide, aroused eyes. “Been wanting to do this since I saw you wearing only a blanket and a blush,” he rumbled. And before she could say anything, he lowered his head.

“Gabriel,” she cried as his tongue touched her. “God!”

The pond hadn’t washed away her desire. She was slick and full and tasted of sweet midnight. Gabriel traced the shape of her lips, delved deeper, pushing his tongue inside her, then out, swirling over the firm bud of her clit. He held her down as she thrashed against him, barely able to keep screams from uncoiling deep in her throat. Her legs draped over his shoulders, her heels pressing into his back as she arched up from the blanket. He reached up and rubbed the tips of her breast, and she gasped, thrusting her chest high. He could come from this alone.

“Stop, stop,” she mewled.

He immediately stilled, looking up with her juices glistening on his mouth and chin. “What is it, love?”

“I want to try,” she panted. “I want you in my mouth.” His cock jumped. Thalia lifted herself up and began crawling to him. She pushed him down onto the blanket. He went willingly.

Thalia knelt between his legs as he had hers. She stared at his impatient cock, licking her lips. “Tell me what to do,” she breathed.

“Take it,” he rasped, “take it in your hand. That’s right…oh, Jesus. Now, run your hand up and down. You can go harder than that. Yes.” He tried, without much success, to keep his head up so he could watch her. She looked so incredible, his cock in her hand, her eyes glazed but sharp with lust. It didn’t take her long at all to find the right pressure, the right rhythm.

“When can I take you in my mouth?”

“Now…now would be good. Start with your tongue. The head. That’s the most sensitive.” He groaned as her tongue flicked out to twirl around his penis, lapping at the fluid that leaked from the tip. Up and down she licked him, as if he was barley candy, while her hand stroked him. “Bloody Christ. Holy God.”

“I want you in my mouth,” she said between tonguings around him.

“Yes, in.”

She went slowly, adjusting to the feel of his cock in her mouth, first the head and then, when she grew more bold, further. When he felt himself engulfed in the heat of her, her tongue wrapped against his shaft, Gabriel’s hips bucked. “Fucking hell!”

He felt her smile around him. “Such language.”

“I can’t—ah, sweet Jesus—stop.” He gritted his teeth as she sucked, pulling at him, giving him an incredible pleasure he’d never experienced. Gabriel propped himself on his elbows, needing to see her, desperate for the sight of her lips wrapped around him. He swore again as he saw her thighs rubbing against each other while she sucked his cock. She wanted touching there.

“I’ll do that,” he growled.

Thalia lifted her head, dazed, but understood readily when Gabriel pulled her up and turned her around. He lay on his back and she straddled him, her thighs on either side of his head. She faced his legs. With shaking hands, he gripped her thighs and lowered her closer to his mouth. At the feel of his tongue against her folds, Thalia gasped, then sank down, taking his penis back into her mouth.