Lady of the Star Wind (11 page)

The idea roiled his gut.
 

Sandy glanced in his direction, raised her shoulder, and pointedly gave all her attention to Tia.

Next day the small procession passed through the empty lake bed in the late morning, pausing to refill their canteens. The lake was mostly gone, the landscape marked with the signs of historical and ever-retreating water levels. Rothan had to proceed way out onto the dry lake bed to get at the water, leaving the road and traveling at a slow pace over the uncertain surface. The ground was crusted and white in spots with leached minerals. At one point the lead chariot broke through the thin top layer of hard dirt and became mired in muddy quicksand. It took an hour or so of hard work to get the vehicle loose before they could continue the trek toward the diminished lake.

 
After filling the canteens and watering the horses, Rothan circled the chariots on the long trek to the road. For several hours the path followed the shoreline of what had been a massive lake at one time in the distant past.

Rothan kept referring to the map, apparently not wanting to miss the point where the road diverged from the shore. Ancient, drawn on supple leather, the guide was rolled around a carved wooden spindle. When not perusing it with Djed, the captain kept the map in a pouch fastened to the side of his chariot.

“How did you get the charts?” Mark asked while Rothan stowed his charts away again. “I don’t imagine you kept them handy all the time in case some day you decided to make this journey.”

“No.” His companions exchanged wry glances before the captain explained. “We broke into the royal library. We weren’t even sure maps existed. I asked one of the priests an idle question at dinner one night, concerning his knowledge of old legends. He boasted he knew where such a map could be found.”

“We were nearly caught the first time we entered the building. We had to sneak in again the next night, and then we found the archive.” Djed slapped his knee, seeming amused as he discussed the adventure.

 
“We’ve a number of petty crimes to atone for. Hutenen will have to give us clemency as one of his first acts.” Rothan smiled as well, like a boy who’d successfully robbed a cookie jar.

“No one at court believes the legends, I fear,” the chief archer said. “Even the priest was scornful.”

“But it’s a powerful legend.” Tia’s voice held conviction and resolve. “If my brother holds the crown and scepter of our ancestor, no one will dispute his claim to rule.”

Mark withheld his own skepticism. As he’d told Sandy earlier, for all either of them knew this token of ancient royalty had mystical powers for Tia’s brother to wield against Farahna. Stranger things happened on many worlds.

Rothan stopped for late lunch in a tumbled ruin of a village. Scrawny trees growing in an abandoned garden on the edge of the settlement provided welcome shade. Tia declined all but a few morsels, despite much coaxing from her beloved. Sandy watched this byplay with a slight frown, whispering to Mark behind her hand, “I think Tia might be pregnant.”

“Quite a complication. No telling how this society views children born out of wedlock. He told me they don’t have permission to marry.” Mark chewed his bite of fruit. “You have anything to help with the nausea?”

“I think so, but I can’t offer it to her without some conversation and a diagnosis.” The mere suggestion appeared to offend Sandy’s medical ethos. “Maybe tonight when we camp, I can broach the subject with suitable finesse.”
 

Mentally marking the topic dealt with, since he was sure she’d take care of Tia, Mark eyed a heated discussion occurring between Rothan and Djed, standing next to the vehicles. “I better go see what the two of them are arguing about.”
 

“You do that.” Sandy sipped her water as Mark walked away. Sighing, she capped the canteen and stowed it securely in her makeshift saddlebag. What would Mark have done if she’d decided to stay in the oasis by herself, rather than join this expedition? Anger fueled by hurt feelings had tempted her to make the choice. He’d known who he was for all those years he lived in exile in the Sectors? Yet he’d never tried to return for her? Hearing him admit these truths hurt like a knife in the heart. An even more devastating blow was his belief that she could have betrayed him to Ekatereen in a fit of pique. How could he think such things of her, if he’d truly loved her?

Unable to sit still with her bleak thoughts, Sandy rose and strolled farther along the road, staying in the shade. She found a tiny stone altar propped against the trunk of the sturdier trees, and paused to admire the carving. Although smoothed by wind and sand, the main piece of the altar bore discernible stars and moons surrounding a vaguely female figure. Remnants of colorful pigment lingered in the grooves, purple and red.

“Nuet.”

Startled, Sandy realized Tia had joined her. “I’m sorry, what?”

The other woman touched the carving and repeated what Sandy now understood to be a name. “Nuet.” She touched her belly and said, “Mother.”

“A fertility goddess?” Although she had bits and pieces of the Nakhtiaar language now, Sandy spoke in Outlier, not having the words for her question. At least now she didn’t have to hold back on the subject of Tia’s pregnancy. She decided she’d better wait for Mark to translate that medical discussion, which would probably make him uncomfortable. Smiling to herself at the idea of Mark’s discomfort, she peered more closely at the details of the altar.

“You and your warrior fight?” Tia asked, touching her elbow. “Not happy?”

She shook her head and made herself smile, all the while thinking she’d need to be more careful not to let her feelings show so openly. She was indeed unhappy with Mark Denaltieri at the moment, exercising a lot of restraint not to say bitter, hateful things to him, permanently ruining any chance of a reunion. Her heart might be bleeding from emotional wounds he’d inflicted, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to close the door forever.
 

“No need to tell me.” Tia pulled a piece of fruit from her pocket, placing it carefully in the center of the tiny altar, and drew a symbol in the air, bowing her head for a moment. Then she extended one hand to Sandy, as if inviting her to make a similar offering. With a smile, raising her hands as she stepped away, Sandy declined. Making sacrifices to an alien symbol of motherhood and fertility wasn’t going to solve the problems burdening her heart.

“What are we waiting for?” Sandy was puzzled why they’d stayed so long at the ruined town, given Rothan’s compulsion to reach the abandoned city as soon as possible. Pleasant as the respite was, time to sightsee and stroll was an oddity.

“Djed argues. He fears the storm.” Tia shrugged, pivoting as Rothan called to them from the vicinity of the chariots.

“Must be time to go,” Sandy said.

Since Rothan was in command and refused to listen to Djed’s misgivings about the weather, they proceeded down the road somewhat after noon. On the outskirts of the abandoned town, the chariots passed a large structure in much better repair than anything Mark had seen previously, although an indisputable ruin. A double row of statues flanked a short passage to the wide steps. The figures were defaced and crumbled, rendering it impossible to tell what kind of creatures the sculptors had created. Half the building lay in a messy pile of jagged slabs and toppled columns, but the impressive main area remained intact, although in disrepair. Faint remnants of colorful murals marched across the pocked walls. Several large trees grew inside and through the wreckage.

“A temple to one of the oldest goddesses, I’m guessing,” Tia told them as the chariots rumbled past. “Nuet, the Mother of All. We found a small altar to her earlier in the village. With none left to worship her, her power would be much depleted. But enough lingers to keep the most sacred portions of the building standing against wind and weather.”

“This whole society is about superstition and mysticism,” Mark observed to Sandy in Outlier. “A mythical explanation for all events. Typical for a culture at this stage.”

Then the chariots and riders were on the open road again, and Mark gave no more consideration to the nameless village and its shrine until an hour later, when the wind began rising.

One moment, the weather was hot, bright, and dead calm. A few heartbeats later, distant thunder rumbled and the light became brassy. Rothan called the column to a halt. The horses were nervous, stamping their hooves and chewing at their bits, ears flicking back and forth as they sidled. The chariot drivers had to stand beside their teams, holding the rains while the officers conferred.

“The storm comes, my lord.” Djed didn’t allow any hint of triumph in his voice or demeanor, merely pointing toward the east. Mark swung around to follow his gaze, appalled and amazed to see gigantic, dirty yellow clouds boiling on the horizon, anvil-headed tops reaching for the outer stratosphere already. The weather front advanced with terrifying speed. Flashes of lightning sparked below the massed clouds.

“I’ve never seen anything so ominous.” Sandy stared at the wide-open plain around them. “No shelter of any kind out here.”

“Scarier than hell,” he agreed.

The wind was now steady from the east, with gusts.

“I threw the gaming sticks and chose poorly for us in my haste,” Rothan apologized, his face grim. “I hoped Djed read the signs wrong, and I should have known better. Interpreting weather omens is his gift.”

“The question is, what are we going to do now? Wind’s rising.” Mark gathered his borrowed robes more closely around himself.

“Winds like shrieking hordes of devils will surround us soon,” Djed said. “Do we not take shelter, our skin will be stripped from our bones and we’ll die here unmourned.”

“Shelter, huh?” Mark cast a sardonic eye around at the flat territory they were riding through. A towering dust devil swirled by him, spooking his horse, before dissipating a few feet away. “How far to the city?”

“Too far.” Rothan shook his head. “Our only chance is to retreat, hope we can reach the village where we ate lunch today before the storm advances to meet us.”

Mark and Sandy mounted their horses as the drivers took the chariots in a wide loop. The horses were reluctant to go toward the storm, but there was no choice. All too soon, Mark rode into the teeth of a rising gale. Visibility became limited. The wind-borne sand stung any exposed skin, and Mark realized Djed hadn’t been speaking metaphorically about the power of the storm to strip a man to bones. The group stopped for a few precious moments to link themselves together. Anyone straying from the main party would never be found again. Sandy dismounted and huddled in one of the chariots. Mark took point, leading the horses, head down, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other on the barely visible road. If he deviated from the road and missed their one chance at shelter, he and his companions would perish.

“We won’t make the village before this becomes a full-on storm!” Mark shouted as he came abreast of the dilapidated statues lining the path to the temple. “We need to shelter here.”

“We can’t risk entering such a place.” Djed’s protest was nearly inaudible over the wind, even though the man shouted.

“We’re going to die before we get to the damn village. This temple is better built than those huts anyway,” Mark said, his lips close to Rothan’s ear.

“Lead the way, then, Warrior.”

Mark realized he’d never had such an intense five minutes in his entire life, not even in a running gun battle on foot against the Mawreg on Intriff VI. He clawed his way from one statue to the next, getting a death grip on the pedestal and pulling on the reins looped over his shoulder to indicate a direction to those following him. He stumbled and fell over the first step of the temple and scrambled up the sixteen risers on all fours, unable to stand against the wind. He rolled out of the way as the first chariot crested the threshold and barreled into the larger space of the temple, horses mad with terror, driver sawing at the reins to stop the team before crashing into something. The second chariot came right behind and the loose string of horses with it.

There was plenty of room in the center of the temple for their small party since the building had obviously once been a mighty place of worship. This portion of the stone block building was intact, roof holding in place, even against the shrieking winds. Mark lifted Sandy from the second chariot. She shook from exhaustion and tension. Holding her, Mark searched for Rothan and Djed in the gloom.

“How long do these storms usually blow?” He was sure Rothan couldn’t hear him clearly over the gale but hoped he or Djed could get the gist of his question.

Djed shook his head and held up one finger, then two, which became three. Based on the intensity of the storm so far, Mark wondered if the archer indicated days, not hours. If so, a hell of an ordeal lay ahead.

“We must make a sacrifice,” Tia said, her words snatched away by the winds. “We must give thanks for the shelter.”

“This temple is long abandoned. We don’t even know with certainty which goddess the people worshipped here.” Rothan was impatient, busy with the horses. “There’s no point in wasting provisions.”

“Nuet. I tell you the place must belong to her.” Shaking her head, Tia grabbed the bag of foodstuffs from one chariot and headed toward the altar at the far end of the chamber. “We must not offend, even by omission.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Sandy followed Tia.