On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [108]
Kevla sagged. The beast had foiled her plan to lie here on the cave floor and die. She gazed at it and tears filled her eyes. It swiveled its ears expectantly. She tried to stand and couldn’t, so she crawled to the spring and washed herself with hands that trembled. For a long time, she sat in the cool waters, wondering if she would ever feel clean again.
Oh, my love. I killed you. I killed you.
The tears came again, flooding down her face, the hot moisture a contrast to the cool water, and she sobbed until she could cry no more.
On unsteady feet, she reached for Jashemi’s discarded clothes. She swallowed hard as she picked up the rhia. Bringing it to her face, she inhaled the musky, spicy scent. Kevla sank to the ground, the garment still pressed to her face. I’ll just lie down again and pretend he is here, I can smell him, he’s right here….
Another irritated bleat from the sa’abah roused her, and, surrendering to the torment that continuing to live brought her, she donned Jashemi’s clothes.
I should have known better. I should have known, somehow, that this would hurt you. Oh, Jashemi….
How had it happened, that she had destroyed her love? It was not through her kiss, or her touch; he had entered her fully, spilled his seed inside her. When was the deadly moment, and why?
The memory was agony, and she pushed it away. A thought came to her mind, and her heart lifted slightly. Yes. Yes, this was the right thing to do. The sa’abah was hungry and wanted food. She was in pain, and wanted release.
She would make a pilgrimage to Mount Bari, and finally come face-to-face with the Great Dragon.
She would offer herself as a sacrifice. And then, perhaps, she would have atoned sufficiently for what she had done….
Kevla gave the sa’abah its head, trusting the creature to scent out food and society, for sa’abahs were herd animals and felt most comfortable with those of their kind. Where there were sa’abahs, there would likely be people, and where there were people, there would be a chance to steal food and clothing.
Tahmu would have sent out hawks by now, warning other clans of the dreaded kulis in human form they might encounter. She did not want to be caught by Tahmu; she did not want to cheat the Great Dragon out of his sacrifice. So she decided to make her way carefully, walking in the shadows.
Kevla looked to the North. There it was, Mount Bari, the most sacred place in the world to her people. There, the Great Dragon made his home. There, she would end her brief, pain-filled life.
The thought brought some small shred of comfort.
She approached the outskirts of a small town at dusk, and was surprised to find her stomach growling as she smelled roasting meat. Kevla heard the tinkling of bells and caught snatches of song, and for a moment ached to join the singers.
Stop it, she told herself sharply. You never belonged. You were born Bai-sha, and any chance you had at earning a place among ordinary people was destroyed when you—
Kevla gulped hard. The pain, horror and racking guilt almost made her start crying again, but she fought the grief back.
The sa’abah sniffed the air and bleated. It had caught the scent of other sa’abahs. Kevla had never ridden one of the creatures before her escape, and the fact that she had been able to stay on its back at all was testimony to how easy the creatures were to ride. Now, though, it set off at a brisk pace and she found herself bouncing, clutching its long neck. The reins slipped from her grasp and she swore. Any hope of controlling the beast was now gone.
She debated whether to slide off and take her chances in a fall, but the ground looked very far away. And without the sa’abah, she’d never make it to Mount Bari. So she hung on grimly, hoping desperately they would not run across any people.
A girl’s shout quashed that hope. Kevla couldn’t make out the words. The creature slowed, making a chattering noise, and within a heartbeat Kevla was surrounded by at least a dozen other sa’abahs.
“Here,