Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [47]
“No, we are not.” He grew uncomfortable and tried to withdraw from her touch.
Mina pressed his hand sympathetically, and almost unknowingly, he tightened his grip.
“What does your god tell you of death and the after-life?”
“That when we die, we embark upon the next part of our soul’s journey, that death is a door that leads to further knowledge of ourselves.”
“Do you believe this?”
“I want to,” he said. His hand clenched. “I really want to. I have wrestled with this question ever since I became a cleric. They tell me to have faith, but …”
He shook his head. He stared into the fire, brooding, still clasping her hand. He turned to her abruptly.
“You are not afraid of death.”
“I am not,” said Mina, smiling, “because I will never die. Chemosh has promised me life unending.”
Lleu stared at her. “How can he make such a promise? I don’t understand.”
“Chemosh is a god. His powers are limitless.”
“He is the Lord of Death. He goes to battlefields, raises up unburied bodies and forces them to do his bidding—”
“That was in the old days. Times have changed. This is the Age of Mortals. An age for the living. He has no use for skeletal remains. He wants followers who are like you and me, Lleu. Young and strong and full of life. Life that will never end. Life that brings pleasure such as this.”
She closed her eyes and leaned toward him. Her lips parted, inviting. He kissed her, tentatively at first, and then passion took him. She was soft and yielding, and before he knew what he was doing or quite how he was doing it, his hands were beneath her robes, fondling warm, naked flesh. He groaned softly, and his kisses hardened.
“My bedroom is next door,” she whispered, her lips brushing his.
“This is wrong,” Lleu said, yet he could not tear himself from her.
Mina put her arms around him, pressed her body against his. “This is life,” she said to him.
She drew him into her bedchamber.
Their passion lasted all through the night. They loved and slept and woke to love again. Lleu had never known love-making such as this, never known such transports of joy. He had never felt so much alive and he wanted his feeling to last forever. He fell asleep in her arms, that thought in his mind. He woke to the dawn—spring dawning. He found Mina beside him, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at him, her hand running gently through his hair on his chest.
He raised up to kiss her, but she drew back.
“What of Chemosh?” Mina asked. “Have you thought of all I have been telling you?”
“You are right, Mina. It does make sense that a god would want his followers to live forever,” Lleu admitted, “but what must I do to obtain this blessing? I’ve heard tales of blood sacrifices and other rites—”
Mina smiled at him. She ran her hand over his bare flesh. “That is what they are—only tales. All you have to do is give yourself to the god. Say, ‘I pledge my faith to Chemosh.’ ”
“That is all?”
“That is all. You may even return to the worship of Kiri-Jolith, if you want. Chemosh is not jealous. He is understanding.”
“And I will live forever? And love you forever?” He stole a swift kiss.
“From this day, you will not age,” Mina promised. “You will never suffer pain or know hunger or fall ill. This I promise you.”
“Then I have nothing to lose.” Lleu smiled up at her. “I pledge my faith to Chemosh.”
He put his arm around her, drew her down to him. Mina pressed her lips against his breast, above his heart. He shivered in delight, then his body shuddered.
His eyes flew open. Pain seared through him, terrible pain, and he stared at her in horror. He struggled, tried to free himself, but she held him pinned down, her kiss sucking out his life. His heart thudded erratically. Her lips seemed to feed off it. Pain wrenched and twisted him. He gave a stifled cry and clutched at her spasmodically. He writhed in agony. His heart stopped, then everything stopped.
Lleu’s head lay rigid on the pillow. His eyes stared at nothing. His face was frozen in an expression of unnamed horror.
Chemosh stood beside