Chapter Four
It was nearly midnight when he reached the garrison; he hitched a ride into the kitchen from the shaduf that dipped into the well, soaking himself in the process, but was silently hauled upwards without any effort by the creaking mechanism. A forgotten djellaba on a hook with the hood up made him anonymous, but he stuck to the servant's hallways and stairs anyway. He dropped into Lightning's terrace on the officer's floor and simply sat cross-legged on the terrace until he was sure the other terraces were empty and the room inside was unoccupied. He slipped in, another dark shadow off the wall, and froze as he saw a huddled lump in the darkest corner of the bed; he had missed it, due to the gauzy curtains she kept drawn against the ever-present dust.
Had he seen the weary face & reddened eyelids of a proud, lonely near immortal servant of Etro, he might been aroused to pity, but in the dark, the nomad hunter had none. She was gagged with her towel, then slip-knotted like a sacrificial lamb; he rolled her in a blanket and threw her over his shoulder, then walked out the back hallway like he was throwing out an old rug that squirmed every now and again. The smell of the stables drifted into the blanket and she was thrown over a horse and tied in place, then a lone hunter with a pack horse trotted into the night to the desert, due east.
Noel had the hope of striking a caravan route, where he could ride hard and fast until they were deep in the desert; then he could bind her to him at his own pace; the ears still stung, but the more he thought about how she'd marked him, the more secretly excited he became. She was far stronger than he'd anticipated; and he'd only heard about women who prowled and chose for themselves recently; Lightning would be one wily mare to tame to his hand, if at all tameable; it would take all his wits to keep her between his legs. It was a hell of a risk, but damn, Etro damn, he wanted her. No one else would do.
He stopped at a hidden oasis, a mere crack in a rock that released slow trickle of water shortly after the noon hour had passed, to rest in the heat of the day. He rolled her out of the blanket and held her head under the trickle until she came to with a splutter. "What the hell – Kreiss!? Are you stoned or just plain stupid? "
"Neither. Both. Drink. We have a long ride ahead. "
Something in his tone alarmed Lightning, so she simply gulped as much as she could, thinking there'd be opportunity later to take his fool head off for kidnapping a Major.
XXXXXX
The ride was hard, and Lightning was glad to be sitting upright on a mount ; the heat was intense and the road grew rougher and more desolate with every kilometer they rode. He only stopped for water and cut a bunch of dates at another small oasis near sunset and rode through the night, once the caravan trek had been found; she found herself jerking awake more than once as the trek took its toll on her body; she had been no stranger to forced marches, but they had been on foot, not on mounts; she vowed once she got back to the garrison, they'd all practice forced march on mounts, hopefully dragging a certain pair of blue pants behind them. And over all the cactus she could find, at that! He ate little, constantly taking small wrapped leaves from his waist pack every couple of hours; he only made her eat one, and after she'd spat it out;he shrugged and did not attempt any more. The water was not refused, and he was careful with it. They rested briefly at dawn while he checked the mounts, softly chirruping and clicking in a tongue they seemed to like. He cast a rather worried look at the light djellaba she'd slept in, but they had nothing else but a blanket. He cut it and wrapped her head in a rough keffiyeh, pulling up the hood, then cut armholes for a long caftan-style vest to help shield her fair skin.
That night she shivered and burned at the same time in the saddle from being sunburned and having chilled legs without boots; he showed few signs of weariness, but would stop more often and scan the horizon. The next morning they veered left off the trek towards a smudge on the horizon and by noon, it grew into a shield wall, the worn outcroppings of ancient mountain ranges worn down from strong jagged teeth to worn granite or basalt stumps in the sand. A spot of green was the target; a large lush oasis, replete with waterfalls and series of long wadis filled their eyes with refreshing moisture and color. He stopped a mile distant of the outer edge and carefully set up a windbreak with his blanket, then carefully tended his mounts, ignoring any sounds or movements in the shifting landscape of the hot afternoon. He carefully dismounted Lightning and firmly bade her sit and be still, but 5 minutes later, he changed his mind and gagged her with a piece cut off her keffiyeh. Then he sat comfortably on the ground and went through the motions of chewing a leaf, and carefully drinking a swallow of water in as unconcerned a manner as possible. He heard the soft swish of sand sliding to his right and ignored it, seemingly fascinated by a lizard on a rock ten feet distant.
As the sun hit the horizon, two hours from full sunset, a small cavalcade came galloping up, and three horses whirled and spun in the dust snorting and stomping at the command of their riders. One in a richly embroidered red caftan open over a familiar tight battle shirt with body armor and full loose pants tucked into soft boots called in a mellifluous accent: "Traveller! Give me water!"
Noel called back: "I have that, and tea if you wish it. Come, be my guest of my tent, humble as it may be, rider."
A white smile against a sleek black beard braided into hundreds of tiny strands was his reward. The leader dismounted and Noel immediately rose and ran to his mount to unlash the saddle, offering him a seat, stating the sand was hot; this too was part of the custom, so the rider politely insisted the sand was good enough for any man and squatted in front of Noel's tiny windbreak.
Noel brewed tea and they drank in silence, then the two cups were rinsed and offered to the two guards who'd dismounted but politely stood a few feet off, proudly fussing over the leader's mount and eyeing the captive with interest; they saw the wrapped bracelet on the right hand and immediately knew what the desert boy was about; they couldn't wait to see what was beneath the rough burnoose & keffiyeh.
Noel was politely not questioned why he was in the westernmost edge of the known desert with a city girl gagged and with a wrap on her right hand and without a tribe. All that did matter was that he had been a polite traveler with nomad ways. The Sheik would ask the questions. For the moment, he was to be a guest of their tents tonight.
The cavalcade took off at a run, then playfully let their fine steeds wheel and curvet as they pleased, bringing a gleam of outright envy to Noel's eyes; he had snagged the best from the city garrison stables, which meant his mounts were nothing like these proud beauties. They were steady creatures, but more in the line of a placid pack horse, not a companion for life with the breath of the goddess in its nostrils. The rider's name was Daniel Ibn Ibrahim, son of Sheik Daveed Ibn Ibrahim, a wise wily leader of a tribe some 500 strong and owned twice as many horses. The hospitality was exquisite when he arrived; he was given a tent with no less than three rooms and the tea was of the finest quality scented with cool mint leaves.
The sheik was in a humorous mood and immediately said after formal introductions: "Ahhh, so I see felicitations are in order, you young panther! Show us what's beneath the burnoose! What beauty have you captured from the city?"
Noel grinned with a friendly flash of his teeth, now animal white, as his skin had bronzed even deeper over the last two days. He swept the keffiyeh and hood off in one move and motioned for her to rise. Lightning stubbornly sat still, her aqua eyes sparking with a contained fury at being on display like a common prisoner. He leaned forward and affectionately teased the rough vest off while quietly telling her under his breath: "Stand, or I cut the cloth off you where you sit and sell you to him as is, you jade."
She stood. The sheik walked around her quietly making observations to the gathered men of the tribe all suddenly grinning at the rare beauty before them: "Hmmm…the rose hair intrigues, it reminds me of the demoness of the legend of Cyrian; the eyes, ah, two liquid oases to drown a man…or perhaps the jewels in the hairpins of Baba Yaga herself! Such a lovely face, the bones of a purebred, yet spirited enough to dispel any insipidness of the city life;…and the body, ah Etro, the body is like unto the goddess! Look at the narrowness of the waist, the fullness of her hips; she will bear many children, yet be supple as a reed unto old age…tell me, my son: how did she fight?"
Noel stroked the fading bruise on his jaw deliberately and playfully informed the Sheik: "I'll never forget her recognition of my victory! She served Etro in Valhalla, so one should be wary of her sword. She's not half bad with a gunsaber either, when she remembers some things have tails."
The clever reply brought smiles and laughter to the observers and Daveed was pleased with the young man. He would hear more of the tale after they'd eaten together and waved a pair of serving women towards Noel. They showed up at the tent later laden with gifts: Fresh clothes, water, soap & towels, oil, and a veritable fountain of compliments and speaking looks at his male beauty, which had not gone unnoticed, either. They fussed and groomed and polished away two days and nights of desert travel, ignoring his captive as custom dictated. Lightning silently fumed at the lack of hospitality shown her, not understanding that she was no longer considered higher ranking in importance than Kreiss out here; right now, she was just a newly bound partner, untamed and unknown. She was not nomad, and only nomad counted here. So she became insulted, and sat straighter as the foundation of the wall between them was set into place. She was a soldier, a Farron, and there was hell to pay coming Noel Kreiss' way. To set the first barb in his flesh, she lazily drawled in her best city accent:
"So…you want to tell me what this is about, private Kreiss?"
He ignored her, and allowed one of the sheik's servants to undress him and wipe his torso clean with cool water followed by oil, then traditional robes were offered as garments which he graciously accepted. They admired the lean physique, lingering over dressing him and the current day nomad's clothing became him well. Loose gauze pants with a much more defined split than the original wrapped pants were tucked into soft boots, cinched tightly with any number of belts, sashes or chains to show off a narrow waist and display wealth; casually one could wear the tight battle shirt with body armor, or throw a loose djellaba or caftan over in any length; the loose robes could be adorned with rich embroidered tribal designs or lines of Etro's Scripts, and if one did not wear a hood to shield from the sun at perihelion, a keffiyeh, or head scarf, was thrown on. He made quite a handsome picture and the girls nearly went bug-eyed at the wealth around his neck and waist.
Lightning knew better than to ask again, observing everything; it was a show meant to humiliate, to bring her face to face of how little she was worth as a woman. She should have known he was just savage wildcat under a veneer of civilization; he apparently was reverting to his early upbringing, casting aside Caius' tutelage & Yuel's adoration. She'd apparently done some insult that made his nomad blood boil; if she could only know what it was, she'd have a chance to salvage the situation. Obviously the earrings were a wrong move; either they implied too much intimacy, or perhaps…It was the fact that SHE had done it to him? Maybe it was for a family member, or a wife to do? Her heart plummeted to her dusty feet when she heard him leave the tent without her, without a backwards glance, and there she was alone in the middle of nowhere, nothing to defend herself with, nothing to help her through the situation but her wits.
XXXXXXX
While Noel was being fed roast lamb with couscous and figs stuffed with green almonds washed down with sweet minted tea at the main tent and happily taking part in the fahdl, the long conservation every nomad enjoys, Lightning was taking matters into her own hands; she managed to get her feet in front of her and rolled her way over to the double sword hung off a tent pole; she carefully positioned herself and slowly lowered her ankles to the elaborate swirls; the rope cut free but she also had cut her ankle; surprised, she inspected the blades closely and saw the damascened finish, indicating an alloy, not just steel; the metal had a very solid silver white cast, which gave the blade a weird zebra-like finish when viewed close up and at an angle; she mentally catalogued all the metals that were used, and dredged up a memory from a metallurgic smithing and theory class: Iridium. The damned blades were iridium alloy. Not only was Kreiss carrying around the price of a town on his neck, he had the price of his own small country hidden in the blades. She softly whistled, forgetting the stinging ankle. Rich boy – but then he did say he was the last, so why not be a rich bastard? He gets all his tribe's wealth. Maybe he was insulted the earrings were too small…Oh, Noh-elle! Do you like my dress? How about my earrings, too? she wryly smiled to herself, remembering Johel's jibe as she embellished it.
Now that her legs were free, she could get some feeling back into them. Her calves hurt like hell from overuse and she could barely walk, but at least she was upright. The cut needed tending. Well, she could at least go down to the bathing area and wash up while he was gone, then she'd observe and make a plan. Running without a mount and water and injured to boot would be a sure plan for disaster. She picked up the leftover soap, damp towels and a comb then limped out of the tent towards the sound of running water. Several people looked out from their tents and observed her: some dispassionate, some with a kindly maternal concern, none with any hatred. She slowly waded into the now cold water, hissing as it hit the shallow cut and reddened, chafed skin. She managed a decent cleanup, even washing the djellaba and wringing it damp dry; she shivered with cold as the desert cooled in the dark and thought a fire would help warm her quickly. She walked to the nearest tent and bowed with palm to forehead, then politely asked if a coal to start a fire could be spared. The woman smilingly gave her a small clay bowl filled with coals and quietly called Etro ya'sallaam in parting; Lightning echoed her, and slowly limped back to the little break by the bathing pool and slowly built a fire; she dozed off after warming herself and staring into the flames lost in thought, threads of the tangled puzzle of her situation knotting and unknotting over and over.
She was roughly shaken awake and nearly kicked out in self-defense, frightened. Noel was hauling her to her feet, his face set and tense: "Why are you not back in the tent? Did I give you permission to leave? Why is there blood? "
Stung at his brusque manner she lashed out: "Private Kreiss, even prisoners of war get to take a piss and a shower! "
"Why is there blood? Did you hurt someone? Insult them? Did someone try to force themselves on you? Tell me! " he shook her lightly, before starting to walk away with her in tow. She stubbornly stood her ground and hissed: "Neither, none or no one! I was very comfortable right where I was, so you can just leave me here! Where do have I to go? There is no place to go, except in the sand! …Like I'm going to sleep in the same tent while you get balled by a bevy of serving girls all night? "
"Refuse my tent now, will you? You're not the platoon command or weapons master here, Valkyrie!"
"That's right Kreiss! I am a warrior, not some civilian! You just abducted a superior officer, you fool! I can't – I won't get you out of this even if it were some obscure nomad custom! You will pay for this! "
Noel kicked the fire out during this seething tirade and turned back to Lightning who was now limping proudly away from him; he kicked her behind the knees and brought his hunting knife to her throat fiercely whispering: "Then you are my captive, Major Farron. Now you will obey the edicts of battle and be taken prisoner by my army of one."
She resisted, swinging her arms in a nice double knuckled slam to his gut, but he simply growled and let her drop before pulling her along the ground by the wrists back to the tent as she said a few choice words about his father. Thankfully it was all sand, but the damp djellaba was nicely dirty again. She attacked again this time with her tongue setting another barb in: "You want to be a real man and meet me on the battleground, private Kreiss? I'm all too happy to oblige you!"
"Ohhh, ok, blessed bitch of Etro, If you want me to treat you like a real soldier, I can..." he carelessly threw her down over the saddle and pulled her head back up by the hair after kneeling over her legs; her lovely curves were more pronounced as she struggled against the worn leather, but it was in vain; she was helpless and he knew it. He deliberately delivered a stinging slap to those tempting twin cheeks, then ran a hand between her legs, slowly pulling his fingers upwards in a rough caress to leave her in no doubt about what the conquering soldiers do with their captives; He even more roughly told her: "Even the janissaries are allowed each other during deep treks in the desert, if no captives are to be had…so what will it be? It's either me, or the men outside, you jade."
"You little scorpion! "
He pulled her back and wound another length of her hair into his fist and jerked her into his arms; he bent to kiss her, but it was no sweet gentle desert boy in a wadi; it was a savage searing thing, his hand hot upon her breast; a similar savaging occurred after the hand cupped the curve and lips closed over the peak, taut with excitement. It bloomed suddenly and swiftly into a an agonizing white heat, sending her soaring within seconds and just as suddenly it was gone, leaving a frightening throbbing fever in her blood. Shocked, gasping, she was dropped back onto the saddle and laid there, wondering what the hell was THAT?!
"So there's my sting!" He scornfully laughed as he left the tent.
He came back after a good two hours had passed; she had rolled on her side and tried to sleep, thinking she would be sold off to some tribesman when he came back; she needed to conserve what little strength she had left. The deep desert nights were quite cold, once away from the cities of sunwarmed stone and steel.
He brought back a bowl of food and some spare men's clothing for her, plus a small crock of oil infused with herbs to help overworked muscles and sunburned skin. Noel knew she was taxed by the run he'd made to the deep desert with him, and actually felt quite tender about her aches and scrapes; he simply wanted her to realize she was putting herself through too much, simply because she didn't want to face up to her feelings of loneliness; it was a familiar demon to Noel. He silently sat down by her, watching her sleep, a pair of fingers gliding in an ancient movement of observation in the dim light of the lamp hanging from the tent pole. His temper had cooled with the evening breeze and despite the assiduous attention from the female members of his new tribe at dinner, he missed his Lightning sitting in her chair near the fire with a glass, nodding at the harpist plucking a soft melody.
Why are you resisting me? Did I somehow bring you pain instead of pleasure in those long nights, my wild desert rose? Can't you see I would be perfect for you? I dropped into your arms, not your sister's…why didn't you keep me next to you? I'd have gladly shared that cold world of Valhalla with you, if it meant not being alone anymore. All I ever really wanted was to not die alone. Yeah, a future with people in it was what I said. Even one person would have made it bearable. And two persons together are people. You have only a taste of what it's like to be alone, Claire-who-is-now-Lightning; at least you had a world of people to grow up in; all I had were a handful of tribes and raiders…a seeress…a guardian…Etro, I never saw a woman other than my mother or grandmother for 8 years; and when I did see one, the men fought over her so fiercely, it was like Armageddon. They would have all decimated themselves at the mere sight of you, and I? Here I am, just the same as them, ready to throw you to the janissary-wolves one minute and the next minute dying to have you wake up next to me with a smile in your eyes.
He felt more than heard her breathing change and knew she was awake; he slid down to the rug and propped his head on his hand to meet her eye to eye, calmly, no anger and no arrogance. She imitated him, rolling on her side and propping her head up as much as her bound wrists permitted. She eyed him somewhat warily at first, then spoke: "Why am I here, Noel Kreiss?"
"Etro, are you not woman enough to know?" He almost smiled before continuing; "To bind you to me."
"What do you mean?" She shook inside, as what she'd just heard frightened her in a way she'd never felt before.
"I think you do." He laughed softly.
She gave a soldier's stare in return to the warming embers of his gaze, and writhed in the slow embrace that was drawing her shaking limbs closer and closer against the virile young body. Ultramarine met aqua, the panther's gaze hypnotic with its steadiness and the heady scent of desert myrrh mixed with his warm gilt skin was robbing her of all strength, of all power of resistance. She began to crack as his softly accented voice sexily, scorchingly reminded her: "If it pleases you, it pleases me. I've enjoyed taming you to my hand so far, and you can't hide it from me - you've been lapping it up like a cat with cream up until the day I won the challenge. Why pull away now? You're so close to total bliss. Can't you let go of control and trust me to take you there? And if you are afraid to let go, then let it happen for one time; commit to me even for a single day or just... let yourself submit to it. You may be surprised."
"I hate you." she said it low but clearly enough for him to hear. "I'll never submit again. Once in a lifetime is enough for me…why it isn't for you, I'll never know."
His face showed nothing more than wicked amusement at the disdain on her face; she refused to meet his eyes, the lazy challenge in his voice giving away nothing but a certain eagerness; was it that he was actually looking forward to fighting with her?
"We have all of time. Love and hate are the only games we have to play in it, so hate is a beginning. In fact, a perfect beginning. Hate is passionate. It is not indifferent. It is not the cold tune you play for every other man I've seen you with – It's not friendship or laurels or platitudes or any of that shite you offer to everyone else. So hate me. Hate me with all your being, Lightning, blessed of Etro, Valkyrie of Valhalla. Hate me! "