Firestorm (31 page)

Though he chose not to tell Bahir of his decision to stay behind and help him in his battle against Vorax just now, the Tuaret would at least die knowing the man he'd waited so long and fought so hard for had finally joined him. Bahir deserved at least that much. And so did his people. No, Teague quickly corrected himself. So did their people.

It might not be enough, ultimately, to save Farsala, but he would at least have tried. And in the end, the fact that he'd tried would be enough. He'd at last be found worthy. In his own heart, his soul . . . where it counted the most.

"What I choose to do from here on out will be of my own free will, Bahir," Teague said extending his arm to the Tuaret leader who clasped it. "I just wanted you to know."

***

"Bahir? Bahir, wake up!"

With a great effort, Bahir wrenched himself from a deep slumber. For a moment he lay there, disoriented and confused. It was dark, that deep, rich darkness that came in those last hours before dawn, when the stars had faded and the moon had rotated past the edge of the horizon. It was also far too early to awaken, after the past two days of backbreaking labor in the firestorm caves.

"Bahir," the urgent voice—Aban's voice—came. "An army—Vorax's army—marches on us from Ksathra even as you lie there. We must be up and on our way immediately!"

The Tuaret leader levered to one elbow. "Vorax?" he croaked groggily. He knew he should be concerned, but the ramifications seemed as distant, as unreal, as the message.

Najirah moved beside him, sat up, and flipped the blankets back. "How many, and how close?" she tersely demanded of Aban.

The big Tuaret shot Bahir a puzzled look, then turned to Najirah. "Three hundred or more. And they're but two hours away. If it hadn't been for a friendly Vastitian tribesman who lives at the base of the royal city's mountain . . ."

Bahir forced the lingering, strangely tenacious cobwebs from his mind. He shoved to a sitting position, then slowly climbed to his feet. "We must be away . . ."

He paused, his mind working. The four pack equs carrying the stone would slow them down considerably. Yet if they left them behind it seemed unlikely that they would ever be able safely to return to the firestorm caves and mine more of the crystal. Conversely, though, if they didn't abandon the stone, Vorax's army would surely catch up to them in a very short time.

Bahir helped Najirah to stand, then turned to Aban. "Fetch Teague Tremayne and Raina. We must talk."

Najirah watched Aban walk away. "What do you plan to do?" she asked then, turning back to Bahir and gripping his arm. "And what is wrong with you? You look ill, and you woke very slowly to Aban's summons. Is it the—"

"I'm fine, mirah," he said, even as an unpleasant premonition that he wasn't fine threaded through him. "I'm just overtired from the mining of the past two days." He forced a lopsided grin. "I'll admit to the fact that I'm unused to such hard labor. I must be getting soft."

"You're one of the most fit men I've ever known," his wife fiercely rose to his defense.

"And you're the most loyal mate a man could ever hope to have." Bahir leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Now, we've other issues of greater import to deal with," he said, noting Teague and Raina's approach. "And one way or another, I'm wide awake and fine now."

Najirah knew when she was defeated. "So you say." She released his arm and stepped back. Still the horrible feelings wouldn't subside, the inexplicable certainty that there was more to Bahir's slowed response on waking than just exhaustion.

She eyed him furtively as he walked up and extended his arm to Teague. He did indeed look strong and decisive, the consummate leader once more. Perhaps she had let her ongoing worry over him influence the accuracy of her perceptions. Najirah hoped and prayed that was all there was to it. But it was also said that, in rare cases, the last days of those who died of the brain illness were heralded by a gradual weakening, with moments of lucidity up to the very end, before the mind was finally snuffed out.

There was nothing to be done about it, though, one way or another, Najirah thought, as she joined Bahir and the others. Bahir's time would come when it did. In the meantime, as he said there were issues of greater import to deal with.

Raina met her gaze as she came to stand beside Bahir, the look in her eyes questioning, wary. Najirah tried to give her a reassuring smile and knew it failed miserably when worry flared in her friend's eyes.

"What's wrong, Bahir?" Teague asked his words cutting through the rising anxiety. Around them, Tuarets scrambled to pack their bedding and saddle their equs. "Aren't we breaking camp a bit prematurely?"

"Vorax's army has decided to pay us an unexpected visit. Seems some opportunistic Farsalan decided to betray our presence for the price of a few coins."

Teague frowned. "With the pack equs loaded down with the crystal, it's doubtful we can outdistance them for long."

"Indeed."

"Do you have a plan, then?"

The Tuaret leader hesitated a moment, his glance meeting Najirah's, then skittering away. "Yes. We'll break into two parties. You, Raina, and the pack equs

will head out by a secret path through the mountains. It'll cut off a full day from your journey back to your spaceship. It'll also," he added, "steer you clear of Vorax's army. The rest of the men will ride out across the desert with a great show of noise and force. Our pursuers will never know they follow only part of our band."

"Who will lead us through the mountains, Bahir?" Teague asked, as Aban, apparently finished with rousing the camp, drew up beside him.

Bahir shrugged. "There's little choice. It has to be me. I'm the only one who knows the secret way through the mountains."

"Then who will lead the rest of the men?" A rising apprehension filled Najirah.

He looked directly at her, his face an expressionless mask. "You will, mirah. You're as brave and resourceful as any of my men. And you're my second-in-command."

"No, Bahir. Please, no." He meant to send her away, didn't want her to see him die. She knew that. She just knew that. "Let Aban lead the others. I want to go with you. Please."

His keen eyes knifed into hers. "Aban must go with me. That leaves only you, Najirah."

He wouldn't order her or beg, not now in front of the others, or later. But he also knew he didn't have to.

For a fleeting instant, anger flared in Najirah, searing clear through to her soul. Curse Bahir! He knew, had always known, of her love and loyalty—if not consciously, then on some subconscious level. He was so sure of it that he never doubted her eventual acquiescence to his every desire.

Yet what had it gotten her in the end? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. When all she'd wanted, more than anything else, was to be with him in his last days, to hold him in her arms when he died.

Cyra, on the other hand, she thought bitterly, had flouted Tuaret customs and tossed Bahir's appeals to try a little longer and work harder on their marriage back into his face. Then she'd turned and walked away, out of his life and off Incendra. Yet she still had, for all her defiance and ultimate betrayal, won and kept his undying love.

Bahir must have seen her inner battle. A dark brow rose and an indulgent smile quirked one corner of his mouth. " 'In whatever way I might need you,' " he said, harking back to her words to him that day she'd finally told him of her love.

I love you, Bahir. I will always love you.

The words, so bravely spoken, had come back to betray her. Words she'd shared with the man she loved had now been used by that very man, without guilt or remorse, against her.

But Bahir didn't comprehend the inherent cruelty of what he did, Najirah realized gazing up at him with eyes of love. He was too proud to die in front of her or his people if he had any choice. And she knew as well as he, gazing deep into his beautiful, amber-colored eyes, that his end was very, very near.

Najirah's shoulders slumped. All the fight drained from her. For the sake of her love, she'd give him this last gift. "It'll be as you ask, then," she whispered. "Where do you want me to lead the men?"

"Across the Ar Rimal, due east and as far away as you can from the Blandira oasis and the region where the spaceship is hidden. If possible, lead them on the chase for at least five days. Then circle around and head back to the Tuaret encampment. Aban and I will meet you there."

If you make it back, she thought sadly. A huge lump swelled in her throat and she couldn't speak. Instead, she nodded.

"I would go with Najirah."

As one, all eyes swung to Teague. "What did you say?" Bahir asked hoarsely.

"I would go with Najirah," he repeated. "I'd planned to wait until we'd reached the spaceship, but Vorax has inadvertently changed my plans. I'm staying behind on Incendra. I'll help Najirah in leading Vorax's army away and when you return, I'll fight with you against him."

The Tuaret leader's eyes narrowed to slits. "You truly mean it? You'll join the fight against Vorax?"

"Yes."

"But what of the stone?" Bahir made a motion toward Raina. "What of your mate?"

Teague's glance locked with Raina's. Something arced between them, something ardent, yet anguished. "Raina will return to Bellator with the stone. She already knows of my decision. She accepts it."

Najirah turned to Raina and grasped her arm. "Raina, no! You cannot mean to leave him. You're life-mated. You love—"

"It's decided, Najirah!" Raina cried twisting free of her grip, a tortured resolve burning in her eyes. "Just as Bahir has decided to shut you out of his life, so has Teague closed me out of his. So be it, I say. I'll not stay where I'm not wanted. Perhaps you'd be wise to do the same."

Bahir glowered at Raina, then looked to Teague. "Perhaps you and your mate would like a few minutes to discuss this privately. Then we must be on our way."

Teague's jaw clenched. "She has the right to say—" He caught himself, then nodded stiffly. "Yes, perhaps that would be best." He took a step toward Raina.

"No." She lifted her hand to him in a halting gesture. "I'm not some foolish child who must be taken out before she embarrasses her elders. I've said all I want to say, at any rate. We must all make our choices," Raina added fiercely, her glance taking in both Teague and Bahir, "and live with the consequences."

"That we must, mirah," Bahir softly concurred. He held out his hand. "Come, it's time we completed the final preparations. You wish to take the Volan back with us, don't you?"

She cocked her head and visually challenged Teague. "His chances of someday finding a body of his own are a lot better back on Bellator. But it's up to Teague and Rand. What do you think, Tremayne? Do you wish to keep him here with you?"

"No." He shook his head, his eyes glittering. "Take Rand back to Bellator. He serves no further purpose staying behind, and he deserves his chance at happiness. Just as you do."

"Happiness?" Raina laughed unsteadily. "When every man of any importance in my life has betrayed me?" She hesitated and had opened her mouth to say more when her eyes filled with tears. Without another word, she turned and stalked away.

Bahir hesitated. His mouth quirked at Teague in wry apology. "I'm sorry if I . . . came between you. I never believed in the seriousness of your mission, so I hoped you two would both remain here ... to help me."

"It was never meant to be." Teague sighed. "She deserves better."

"Does she, Teague Tremayne?" Najirah softly asked.

"Or do you just look for an excuse to run away once more?"

"Najirah, that's enough," her husband warned. "Go, prepare yourself for the journey."

"Just like that, Bahir?" She turned to him, her eyes luminous, bright with tears. "I'll never see you again, and you'll dismiss me just like that?"

He sighed. "By the firestorms, Najirah! What do you want of me? I'm sorry there's no time for us, but . . . but there just isn't. We must be off."

"Will you at least hold me for a moment? Before we part?"

Bahir bit his lip and smiled awkwardly at Teague and Aban. "Aban, see to Raina's preparations. Teague . . ."

Teague smiled, then turned and walked away. Aban did the same. Bahir glanced back at Najirah. "Come here, mirah." He held out his arms.

With a low cry, she ran to him and flung her hands around his neck. "Ah, Bahir. Bahir," Najirah sobbed, the tears flowing unchecked. "I-I'm so sorry if I shamed you before them, but . . . but I'm never going to see you, or hold you, or be able to take care of you again!"

"Hush, mirah," he soothed, stroking her long hair. "You don't know that. You can't be sure."

She leaned back and glared at him through her tears. "Don't lie to me, Bahir Husam al Nur. Not now. You owe me that much."

"I owe you that and so much more, Najirah," Bahir sighed. "I just never gave us a chance, did I?"

"It doesn't matter." She put her finger to his lips. "Life never gave us a chance, but I never stopped loving you. And I do this because I love you more than life itself. Remember that . . . always."

Najirah leaned up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. Bahir groaned, took her face in his hands, and kissed her back, long and fierce and deep. Time slowed, intensified with their poignant, bittersweet farewell but, finally, they parted.

Stepping back, Najirah forced a brave smile. "Farewell, my dearest love," she whispered. "Until we meet again."

With a flurry of long dress and cloak, Najirah wheeled and ran away. Bahir watched her go, a myriad of anguished, confusing emotions tangling and twisting beneath his breast. High overhead the night bird called once more, his cry bewildered, desolate.