Firestorm (29 page)

Eighteen

Bahir riveted a blistering gaze on the carrying pack. "You presume much, Volan, to dare to speak to me that way. Don't imagine that the hospitality I offer your two compatriots necessarily extends to you, an entity in a box."

"If your 'hospitality' to Teague and Raina to date is any indication, I hardly think I'll languish over its loss," Rand muttered dryly. "But all that aside, you haven't much time left, Bahir, and no time whatsoever for those around you to mince words."

"No, I suppose I don't." The Tuaret leader leaned back against his pillows and shot the carrying pack a considering look. "I don't recall, though, asking for your advice."

"No, I don't suppose you did," the Volan admitted. "I've found with those of your species, however, that you rarely know when you need the input. And my heart—figuratively at least—went out to your mate. You totally discount her, you know?"

Bahir's anger stirred anew. "Najirah isn't a topic of discussion."

"Why? Because you feel guilty over how you treat her?"

"She is my wife. I treat her with the utmost respect!"

"I think she'd prefer a bit more passion than respect. It gets rather lonely up there on that pedestal."

Rand's words gave Bahir pause. He had put a barrier between them all these cycles. Cyra. And if it wasn't her, something else always seemed to stand in the way. Perhaps it was the lack of time left him and the more pressing importance of all the other tasks he'd yet to see accomplished or perhaps, just perhaps, it was a lack of courage.

But a lack of courage for what? Bahir wondered. He shoved the question aside before its insidious talons could sink into his heart and soul and lay them both open. The answer was there, that he well knew, but he didn't want to, and couldn't, face it. It was far easier, Bahir ruefully admitted to run.

"I thought Tremayne brought you here to convince me of the Volan threat," he said smoothly changing the subject. "You waste precious time pleading your cause. You also risk losing your audience with your insistence on discussing a subject that isn't any of your affair."

"I beg pardon," the Volan said sounding not at all contrite. "The mission to retrieve the crystal from the firestorm caves is, of necessity, of the greatest import. I must confess to a certain fascination and attraction to helping you humanoids solve your problems, though."

"Well, find some other subject to foist your misguided efforts on." Bahir's mouth tightened and he looked away. "I neither need nor want them."

"I'll respect your wishes." Rand sighed. "What is it you desire to know about the Volan threat?"

"Quite simply, I don't believe in it."

"Yet you wish for me to convince, you of it?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. "I think there is more to this than your concern over the threat to the Imperium. You don't really care what happens to it, do you? Your first concern is and has always been Incendra. And you want me to help you convince Teague to join forces with you."

"How did you know? Has Tremayne told you of my efforts to win him over?"

"No. I hear things and piece them all together. One does that when one has nothing but time and little else to do with it. Something you're lacking in altogether, eh, Bahir?"

Bahir stared at the carrying pack, then gave a low laugh. "Very clever, Volan. Once more you've diverted the topic of discussion back to me."

"Even in your waning days, you are still the focal point of so many lives, aren't you? Najirah's, Teague and Raina's, and by association, mine. And most possibly, the fate of an entire Imperium's worth of people."

"Just because of my dedication to seeing Malam Vorax overthrown?" Once again Bahir laughed. "You lay too much power at my feet, Volan."

"No, Bahir," Rand softly contradicted him, "you take the power and wield it like some weapon to punish others. Almost as if, in the wielding, you exorcise your lack of power over someone you couldn't control."

The accusation struck Bahir with the force of a storm wind slamming down from the mountains. Hard brutal, and so very, very cold. For a long moment he couldn't say anything, his thoughts caught up in a maelstrom of self-doubt and recrimination and pain.

Cyra.

Was it possible? Had he let his loss of her twist him into some bitter, grasping, frustrated man? Yet the need to see Vorax destroyed was good. Surely there was no sin, no malice in that?

"I won't give up my battle against Vorax," he rasped thickly. He gripped the blanket that lay upon the pallet, twisting it in his hand, hard and punishingly. "No matter what you say, what you accuse me of!"

"And you shouldn't, Bahir. The man has taken what wasn't his to take."

Hope sprang in the Tuaret's breast. "Your friend Tremayne. He's the heir to the throne of Farsala. Has he told you of that?"

"No, but I sensed there was some terrible secret behind his exile from Incendra."

"Will you help me convince him to stay, to fight for his throne?"

"The decision must be his, Bahir."

"Even though it's his duty? Even though his people languish under the rule of a brutally oppressive ruler? Or am I the only one who cares?"

"The decision must be his. Give him time."

Bahir stared at the carrying pack, struggling to hold back the surge of savage fury and frustration. "Well, in case you've forgotten, I don't have much time left, Volan! What will happen if he doesn't make up his mind before I'm gone? Answer me that."

"And what will happen if he's manipulated or forced into joining you against his will?" Rand countered with quiet emphasis. "Is that the kind of man you want leading your people, or ruling Farsala?"

"Ah, gods!" Bahir lowered his head, covering his face with his hands. An agonized hopelessness seared through him. "Then what am I to do? I'm only one man. I'm only one man!"

"Follow your heart. Face what must be faced, but give yourself permission to fail, to grieve, to surrender one dream to find another. Then get on with what is left of loving and living. Do it now, Bahir. Before it's too late."

Bahir lifted his gaze. Dreams? he thought. In a life that, in the end, threatened to have nothing to show for itself, he couldn't give up the one dream that remained. "It's already too late, Volan," he ground out, feeling as despairing as his words. "My vengeance against Vorax is all I have left."

"Then I pity you," Rand softly said. "For you're already dead."

***

They set out three days later for the firestorm caves at the base of the Barakah Mountains, almost four weeks since Teague and Raina had first arrived on Incendra. Besides Najirah and Aban, Bahir took a contingent of about twenty men. Any larger a force might draw undue attention, attention that could lead to fatal consequences as they neared the royal city of Ksathra. To keep from drawing unnecessary notice, Bahir insisted they all put away their distinctive curved swords and dress in the more nondescript clothing of the people of the region, in drab browns, blacks, and tans.

The first day's travel was uneventful, if hot and dirty. No oasis lay between the Tuaret hideout and the firestorm caves, so camp that night was made in a dry riverbed. Supper was simple, more journey bread, dehydrated meat sticks, some palmas fruit, and a hurriedly prepared pot of mentha tea. Then, despite how gritty and uncomfortable they all felt, exhaustion soon claimed them.

The next morn dawned as hot and bright as the day before. They reached the sparse foothills of the Barakah Mountains about midday, then carefully skirted the various small villages that had sprung up wherever there was a water source.

By dusk, the eerie red glow signaling the firestorm caves lit the sky. Bahir insisted they make camp in a stand of scraggly sempervivus high up on a plateau overlooking the desert, about five kilometers from the entrance to the caves. The turbulence and heat from the firestorms precluded camping any closer, he said.

Raina set up her and Teague's bedding beneath the shelter of a low overhang of rock, then went to join Najirah in preparing a cold supper. This close to the mountains, Bahir refused to allow campfires for fear of giving away their position. Raina could well understand his caution. Only fifty kilometers beyond the firestorm caves sat the royal city of Ksathra, proudly perched on a huge outcropping of mountainside, and Vorax's spies were rampant in the area.

They were in dangerous territory, this close to Malam Vorax and his army. Bahir risked much in bringing them here. Raina was tempted to ask him why he did so. He stood to gain little if they were successful in retrieving the crystal. It would do nothing to further his own goals of destroying Vorax. Or at least, nothing Raina could see, at any rate.

He was a complex, enigmatic man, to say the least. And a cold-hearted manipulator at the worst. She only wondered where he really stood in all this.

After seeing to the equs, Bahir and Teague joined them for the supper meal. Preoccupied with thoughts of the day to come and the culmination of the mission, Raina was taciturn, contenting herself with her food. Teague was equally quiet. Bahir ate sparingly, his gaze sharp and assessing. Najirah watched them all with anxious eyes.

The rest of the men camped further away, their voices low and muted in the silence of the night. A night bird called from its perch high above them. Another answered the sound haunting, sad. A cool breeze swirled down from the mountain.

Raina pulled her cloak more snugly to her and thought longingly of her bed beneath the overhang of rock. With Teague's big body pressed to hers, she knew shed be warm. Though they lacked the privacy for more intimate pursuits, the thought of cuddling close to him was a most pleasant consolation. If the looks he'd sent her the past two days were any indication, he, too, would welcome the first opportunity for a bit more physical contact.

She'd never thought to so eagerly anticipate bedding down for the night. But then, Raina thought wryly, she'd never been in love before, either. It made for quite a bit of uncertainty and surprises.

"What are your plans for the morrow?" Bahir, finished first with his meal, finally intruded into the silence and Raina's thoughts.

Teague glanced at Raina, then met the Tuaret leader's inquiring gaze. "We mean to enter the caves with Rand use him to discern the specific stone we need then remove a large enough quantity to fill the special transport sacks we brought."

"And how do you plan to get inside? The intense heat of the firestorms burning before the caves keeps everyone at least a half kilometer back."

Teague smiled. "We brought special heat-protective suits. And Rand's carrying pack is made of the same material."

"You've thought of almost everything, I see," the Tuaret said. "Almost everything. I plan on entering the caves with you. Which of you will give up your protective suit and stay behind?"

Once more, Teague and Raina exchanged glances. "Why do you wish to enter the caves with us, Bahir?" Teague asked. "There's no way out but the way we go in. We can't escape."

Bahir shrugged. "Oh, I'd no fear of you escaping. It's just that I've yet to be totally convinced mining the crystal is your true motive for being here. And I don't intend to let you out of my sight until I am convinced of why you truly came back to Incendra."

"Bahir," Raina snarled, setting down her cup of cerevisia. "I tire of your suspicions and intrusions into everything we do. Teague and I were specially trained in the identification and proper mining techniques of this stone. If you force one of us to remain behind it'll slow the mining significantly. And the longer we linger in Vorax's territory, the greater the danger. I must go in with Teague. There's no other option."

"There are always other options," the Tuaret softly said. "And I will go in with you. But your comments on your special training and not lingering overlong here have merit. We'll just take another, far safer route."

"A safer route?" Teague leaned forward his eyes narrowing. "And what exactly would that be, Bahir?"

"The firestorms guard the entrance of the caves. They're no danger at the top of the caves, especially as far back as we'll go before we reach the crawl space."

Raina cocked her head. "A crawl space? There's another way in, then?"

Bahir nodded. "Yes. When I was a lad we used to make our winter camp near the caves. I spent countless hours exploring these mountains. I know secret paths and ancient tunnels and ways into places that few have ever imagined much less found. And I know a way past the firestorms that'll take us into the caves."

"Then take us to that spot, Bahir," Teague said. "I've no problem with you coming along." He looked over at Raina. "Have you, femina?"

She considered his query for a long moment. "No, I suppose not. Just as long as you don't interfere with what we must do, once we're inside the caves."

"Fair enough." Bahir rose and offered his hand to Najirah. When she accepted it, he pulled her to her feet. "We'll set out before dawn, so few will notice our passing or destination. In the meanwhile, it's time we all took our rest."

Teague nodded and rose. He glanced down at Raina. "Are you ready to come to bed femina?"

At his softly couched query, a thrill coursed through Raina. She climbed to her feet. "Yes, more than ready."

They headed off into the darkness toward their little shelter, the light of a full moon illuminating their way. After shedding her boots and removing the sheathed dagger fastened to her thigh, Raina climbed onto the pallet. She shoved the dagger under her makeshift pillow of a rolled blanket, then slid beneath the covers. Teague soon joined her.

He lay there beside her, his big frame blocking the moonlight, so near, yet so far away. Raina couldn't make out his face in the shadowed dimness, but she sensed he stared at her in watchful anticipation. "What is it, Teague?" she finally asked. "Is there something you want?"

He hesitated for the span of a heartbeat. "Yes. I'd like to hold you. If you've no objection, that is."

"I'd like that, too." She smiled. "Shall we meet in the middle, like before?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Yes, most definitely."

Teague moved toward her. Raina immediately did the same. In an awkward, uncertain tangle of arms and legs, they soon settled into place against each other.

Raina sighed and snuggled close, savoring the soothing, reassuring thud of his heart against her ear. He felt warm, solid, and strong. She liked being held by him, she realized with a pleasurable twinge of surprise—very, very much.

"I could come to require this kind of touching every night," she murmured contentedly.

His head moved. His lips touched her forehead. "As could I, sweet one. As could I. You've given me much in these past weeks, shown me a life I never thought to have, and shared such pleasures of the flesh with me . . . well, they're pleasures I'll never forget."

There was something in his words, some tone, some finality, that plucked at Raina, filling her with unease. "You speak as if it's soon to be over for us. What are you keeping from me, Teague?"

He should've known he couldn't hide his thoughts or plans from Raina for long. Already, she knew him too well. "I don't trust Bahir," he reluctantly admitted. "He's determined to keep me here, to help him in the fight against Vorax. I'd hoped to find some way to escape him, once we'd obtained the crystal, but I begin to think that's a hopeless dream. As you can see from tonight, he means even to follow us into the firestorm caves."

Teague sighed. "He won't let me out of his sight,

Raina. You must prepare yourself for the fact that you may have to return to Bellator without me."

Her fingers clenched in the lightweight fabric of his tunic. "I won't go without you, Teague. Somehow we'll find a way to thwart him!"

"Ah, sweet femina," he murmured, laying his cheek against the top of her head. "Your words stir my heart, but we both know Bahir is too clever to be easily thwarted. And he has the advantage over us. For all purposes, we're his prisoners."

"I still have my dagger, and the other stunner. Bahir doesn't know about the other stunner."

"Would you use it on him and all his men?"

"If need be, yes."

"They'd still come after us."

"Then let's kill Bahir once we're inside the caves, or stun him and take him hostage. Once we're safely within the spy ship, we can let him go. There's nothing they can do to us with their puny weapons, once we're inside the ship."

Teague smiled. Raina was resourceful and determined, and intent upon saving him. Yet he wasn't so sure he deserved to or should be "saved."

Even before he'd set foot again on Incendra, he'd been struck with the realization that perhaps there was something left undone and he was being called back to finish it. From the start, the land had beckoned to him, filling him with a bittersweet longing for a time long ago. Farsala was in his blood, ground in as indelibly as the wind and sand that blasted the desert rocks, until they were all one and the same.

No, though he'd tried hard to ignore the stirrings of the land and its people, they'd never ceased to call.

Never, he realized now, even in all those cycles of his exile.

As much as he wanted to hate Bahir, to blame the man for forcing him into something he'd no wish to do, the Tuaret leader had never been more than the relentless' voice of his own conscience. Bahir had been nothing more than the voice beckoning him to his final test, to that living cauldron of fire and pain wherein he would at long last fully die to himself and the world. Wherein he'd finally be purified. Wherein he'd finally be found worthy . . . in the final confrontation with Malam Vorax.

Perhaps the ancient prophecy did apply to him. The consideration was scant consolation, even if it did. When all its fine verbiage was stripped away, the prophecy had still promised nothing. Nothing save the surety of searching and hard choices to be made and suffering. Never had it guaranteed victory, at least not in the physical sense of assuring Vorax's overthrow. Bahir might hope and dream that it had, but it hadn't.

Yet in the total scheme of things, even the prophecy's ambiguity mattered little. What mattered was that he'd been called back to Incendra for a reason. What mattered was that he couldn't run anymore.

"Your loyalty is most heartwarming," Teague forced himself to say, knowing they'd be the hardest, potentially cruelest words he'd ever spoken. "I, however, have made my decision. I need to stay behind, Raina. It's my duty. You told me once that I chose to avoid my responsibilities, that I fled from myself. Well, I've finally decided to stop running."

On a certain level, Teague knew he lied—he, who had always prided himself on telling the truth. But if it would save Raina, send her back to a life with far more chance of happiness than she could ever hope to have here, he'd swallow his pride and stoop to that. For Raina, he would do anything.

He had turned her words against her, Raina thought in an anguished surge of frustration and despair. She'd meant for him to stop running and face life—and loving—not to sacrifice himself on the altar of some hopeless cause. A cause some fatally ill man had pinned all his hopes to in order to die with some purpose to his life. Ah, curse Bahir. Curse him to the depths of perdition!

"You've listened too long to Bahir," Raina said, grasping for some way, the right words, that would' change Teague's mind. "But he's dying and desperate. Most likely, he won't even live to see his futile dream come to fruition. No," she muttered bitterly, "he'll never see the death and destruction his wretched reckless dreams have wrought. But you will, Teague. You will, and will suffer horribly for it."

"Still, it's my choice to make, and I have made it."

"And what of your monastery back on Bellator?" she whispered savagely, her fingers twisting his tunic, gouging into his chest. "What of the vows you made to serve the Imperium as a warrior monk? You're needed on Bellator, too, Teague. Perhaps even more so, now that the Volans threaten us all."