The Sighs of the Priestess Ch. 07

Yanna nodded, and Illya handed her his dagger. She cut through the king's bonds and he was handed a dagger. Standing before him, she smiled coldly and her voice was quiet but clear.

"You should run."

The king looked around at them all and ran into the tall grasses.

"This is Illya," she said to her father. "You would not like him, for he is not a cheating, grasping young merchant who would sell his mother if there was a profit to be had from it. He was the beggar who you cheated when he cleaned the stables. He is one of many who saved my life, and he faced archers alone to do it. I know that you care not, but he is my man and has my heart."

Illya's face was impassive as the merchant tried to recognize him, but said nothing. Yanna cut the bonds holding her father.

"Run, Father," she said, "It is your only chance, and all that I give to you. Do not waste it."

He looked at her, "I want to say -- "

"You are wasting time," Yanna said as she turned away. "I will hunt the king first, and then I will hunt you. I may as well use what you have caused to be given to me. Run for your life, Father. That is all that is left to you."

He tried again to speak to her, but she tore gashes in his shoulder and glowered at him as she pointed to the grasslands. "Run or you die where you stand."

He ran.

Yanna waited for a few minutes and then dropped to all fours. She said nothing.

She sniffed the wind and the ground for a moment. With a curious chittering sound in her throat, she was gone into the weeds. Her claws threw up divots behind her as she accelerated away, reaching more than sixty miles an hour in three seconds - seventy miles an hour in only a second more.

Mostly, she hated what she was, but there were moments like this when she found that there was something inside her that reveled in the power and the speed that she'd been given -- just as she was finding moments to revel in how she could make love with the man who loved her for hours at a time.

A few seconds later, she slowed to a lope. There was no sense burning herself up over a piece of dung, and she's only needed to get closer. Now that she was here, she wanted only a look now and then as she stalked.

Illya picked up his bow and trotted after her. No one could see it, but he grinned at the glimpses that he got of her now and then as she flew across the small open stretches that brought her into his view. Such a beautiful girl, any way that I see her, he thought. How had the gods known that he needed a blessing like her to feel alive again? It didn't matter much at all to him if she walked upright or down like this when she hunted, he thought. Her slim hips as they swayed magically made him hard only to see it.

Ten minutes later, the king heard the rustling in the grass and tried to run faster but she tripped him as she sailed past with a swipe of her claws. She could have taken his life in that instant, but she chose instead to do as cheetahs everywhere do when they near the prey they are pursuing.

She knew what was in her by the feel of it. The stalk to close the range. The joy of the chase and then the choice of the instant when she would reach out with her claws. Timing was everything and her footfalls had to be precise then. The quickening that she knew that she would feel to hear what she hunted as it fell, and then she had to be quick to get to the underside of the throat.

The last part would give her no trouble today, she knew.

He got to his feet and ran in a different direction, but she came from behind to pass him a minute later, tripping him again as she extended her foreleg and swung her claws as she went by in a blur and was gone into the tall grasses. She liked the sounds that he made in his pain. The noises of his tumbling before he stopped made her grin.

The former king looked at his torn and bloody feet and legs. He was sore and he bled from the scrapes of falling as he ran as well and he didn't think that he could get to his feet again, but he found that he could indeed manage it when he heard her low growl from the thickets around him.

He ran in panic.

Yanna found the droplets of his blood on the ground and the vegetation and slowed for the final stalk. The man wasn't worth the strain of the high body temperature from a long chase.

"No matter what he says, I am the other fool's daughter," he heard her say as he ran. The words came to his ears from the bushes, "and you and I have seen each other before. I remember what it was that you wanted to do to me."

He heard her soft voice from the grasses that he ran by. "I was a rich girl and spoiled by my mother's love of me, but I was no beggar, witch or whore."

He was doing his best, but he was flagging. A young and strong warrior himself once, there was little of that left in him now. His own soft life was holding him back as he ran.

"Now I think that I should have been those things," he heard her from the branches of a low tree that he passed. "I'd have known better people with good hearts, and do you know? I would have had far more fun at night."

He heard her drop to the ground softly behind him. A few seconds later, he caught a glimpse of her in the weeds twenty yards off to the side as she trotted, easily pacing him for a few seconds. When he looked again, she was gone.

He heard her soft chuckle, "I might not have smelled as pretty, but if I had met my man then, I am sure that we would have left your dungheap town long ago and been better off for it. He could have had me as a girl and not as a fur-covered beast."

He began to see her everywhere, dark flashes in the vegetation that were gone if he blinked. Eyes that watched as he struggled to run and then they disappeared as he stared. The low rumble from her throat and the snarl that he heard now and then kept his heart rate so high that he was having trouble seeing straight. The back of his neck hurt, and the pain in his head was killing him.

"Instead, I was raped by the city guards -- who are there to keep order and protect people. Maybe, when I catch you, I will toy with your opening. My long claws would let you know how I felt that night."

She came out of nowhere and pulled his feet from under him again and he found himself on his back looking up at her as she trotted back to him. The dagger was lost in the weeds far back. He'd dropped it and hadn't stopped to pick it up again.

"I harmed no one," she said, "and this was done to me by your fine mage."

She tilted her head to smile a little, enjoying his fear as he strained for breath. "I heard it when you asked if it would be safe for you to try to mount me if I could be taken out of the cage by ropes and held for you."

She laughed in a slow and very deadly way. "Even the mage feared what I would do then. I am stronger than any cat that I may look like, and I would have welcomed the chance to be killed after I ripped you apart."

She prodded his masculinity with a smirk. "It is said that you tell the lie that you have the love of a goddess and rut with her every night." She slapped her paw down hard enough to make him whimper and groan.

"If any of that were true," she said, "then surely the poor goddess has fallen far. I know nothing of your goddess, but if I were her, I would make you bleed only for the insult of it. King or not, you have nothing here to hold the interest of any woman."

He tried to beg, but the pressure from her jaws on his throat caused it to sound strange for the second that he could make a sound at all before she tore out his crushed windpipe after he'd passed. She raised her head to spit out the gore and turned to hunt her own father.

She knew exactly where he'd run.

The merchant's lungs worked hard to draw oxygen from the heated air of the dried mud flats. He'd heard it when the king had fallen the first time and he thought to open some space by getting across the open area before he tried to hide. His chest hurt.

His way of life had meant that he didn't have to do anything but use his salesman's mouth to make a living. He was realizing that he had no idea of what it might take to live out here. With a bit of luck, he'd find a shallow mud hole to roll in. Maybe it would hide his scent from his daughter. He knew that he had to be quick about it, but he thought that then, he'd have a chance to escape.

He turned to look back and his heart sank. She was just emerging from the cover of the reeds on the far side. Her eyes caught his motions and then the dirt flew from her claws as she ran.

He knew that he had only seconds to live when he saw her race toward him. He'd never seen anything move that fast before. He turned to run for his life and fell into a deep mud pool.

When he came up for air, he saw her standing at the edge looking down at him.

"I am sorry, Yanna," he cried to her. "I was wrong for believing what was said to me. I should never have believed any of it. Please, help me out of here. Please, Yanna!"

"What you heard was music that you wanted to hear," she said, "for you wanted to be rid of Mother and I long before that, "she said to her father sadly, "I had much time to think about it as I wondered why it was that my parents didn't look for me. Khamazi is not large enough to keep me from finding anyone if I had reason to look hard for them -- out of my love and worry, as an example."

"That you did not search was no surprise after some thought, and I knew that my mother was likely dead before then anyway. She tried very hard to be a good wife to you, and even though I knew that I was not much loved by you, I never did a thing to cause you shame."

She shook her head, "Such a waste of my time. There was only one man that I wanted for myself and the walls and nature of my life and his caused me to curse myself over it because we could not even speak to each other. Now I make up for the lost time. I do not even know how to be a good wife to him, but I know that I will never stop trying. In spite of everything that was done to me, he is able to love me even as what I have become."

He reached for her but she growled and spit at him. The breeze caused her to miss.

He looked at her and in her face, he saw his daughter, even though she was changed. Yanna seemed to be lost in thought now as she looked past him. She seemed to be remembering.

"But you didn't look for me at all," she said thinking back to the nights that she'd spent hoping, "and so I think that I knew at least a little even then."

He finally noticed that he was firmly stuck in the mud and sinking.

"Please Daughter, "she heard him say, "help me out of this and we can begin again. I will make everything right. You will see."

She shook her head looking past him, "I do not want to begin again," she said, "there is no going back from what was done to me. I suppose that you thought to punish me."

"You tried to marry me off to many merchant men for your own gain as always and I would have none of them -- and even though I was young and knew nothing of it, I knew that none of them would be able to make me happy enough to overlook their fat and their sweat -- and their oily beards, just like yours, Father."

"I am barely nineteen. Why would I want a man with a long beard hanging in my face as he gasps over me? No, I have no wish to begin again. The one who has my heart would do anything for me and expect nothing for it. He loves me as I am, this animal that you played a part in making."

She looked at him and smiled. "I know that if I reach out my hand to you, you would only pull me in and stand on me to get out. Then I have no doubt that you would leave me. I know you well, Father."

She nodded once beyond him. "You should try to turn around so that you might see your death as it comes to you."

He looked over his shoulder and saw the crocodiles as they noticed him and began to pull themselves out of their torpor.

He looked at her, "You will not help me out?"

She shook her head. "As I have said, I know what you would do. Even without these things there, you would pull me in and watch me die in your place."

The first of the reptiles had reached the edge of the large mud pit and began to slide in.

"Then for the love of the gods," he pleaded, hoping to grab her arm, "use your claws there and kill me. Tear out my throat or something like that so that I might die before they reach me. Please Yanna!"

"Too far to reach, "she smiled, "and not worth my effort or the risk." She stood up and backed away a little as Illya trotted up to her.

"No, "she shook her head again, "Even if I thought that you would not try to grab my arm, I would not do this, Father. Unlike you, I cannot kill my own blood. I was not going to kill you, even if you hadn't run here. But I knew that you would run here to hide. I am not sure of it, but I think that my poor mother's body was thrown right here to the ones who now come for you."

She smiled at Illya for a moment before looking at the merchant. "I cannot kill you, Father, but Illya can. See his fine bow. He can end your life easily. You should see him shoot. He killed the best archer in the city."

She smiled as a thought came to her. "Perhaps you should beg for it, Father. Beg Illya for your release, for I will never give it to you."

The merchant looked back frantically. The crocodiles weren't very hungry by the slow speed that they were making. But crocodiles are thrifty creatures and like to put something away for another day. They like to drown their prey and leave it to soak and rot a little under the water, hung up on a root for a few days until it softens a bit.

"PLEASE!" he begged as he watched the two walk away. He worked feverishly at getting out, but the more that he struggled, the deeper in he slid. There was already a searing pain in his chest from the effort. "You cannot leave me here like this!"

"Why not, Father?" she said over her shoulder without looking, "You will not have anyone throwing stones at you, and I am not laughing, am I? That was my prison. I was left to starve in a place where those who were to feed me used the money to get drunk. Only one person cared for me. You are likely very near to the bones of the one who always cared for you."

They were a hundred feet away when Yanna looked at Illya.

She nodded, "Now."

Illya turned and nocked an arrow. The crocodile was only about twenty feet away from her father and was still in no hurry. Illya drew back the bow and sent the man his escape. The merchant gasped as his heart stopped and he began to sink onto his back. He was dead just before the croc reached him.

Yanna hadn't looked back, and Illya turned to fall into step with her. She put her arm around him and looked up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded once as he moved his bow to his other hand and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Illya?"

"Yes," he answered.

"It is not a problem for me now, but ... would you consider ... shaving your face now and then? Only as a favor to me?"

He smiled, "As soon as I can find a place to do it. The river is often not smooth enough to see what I am doing."

"I will ask Daggat for a smooth shiny pan or something." She pulled him tighter as they walked off to report the location of the dead king's body.

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The Priestess offered them a little food and drink as she entertained a few of the more powerful Martu women. Shahbek was in the group and asked how the hunt had gone, and so it became known that Yanna the cat-girl had hunted and slain the king of Khamazi.

The sound of it was absurd to Yanna. To her mind, all that she'd done was run down and kill someone who had played a role in what she'd been turned into, but she remembered Daggat's comment to her about the people loving a good story.

Illya loved it and enjoyed watching Yanna's shy attempts at downplaying what had happened.

The lean chieftain leaned forward to speak in a low voice to them, "There are times when there is little food and only enough wood for a small fire during some very long and cold nights. Tales such as these are told then and they keep the spirits of the people up. Mothers and fathers turn the tales a little to teach young ones noble values."

"Sit back and stop your objections, my friend. The truth is that you killed a tyrant and it adds to the legend of you both. That helps you, for the people accept you like this. They will still stare at the deadly and beautiful cat-girl, but if you look, you will see friendly smiles and many will not be too shy now to stop and talk with you."

Something else came to Yanna as they left the tent. Yanna had looked for it and she could see that Illya was attractive to many of the women, young or not, but she also saw that Daggat had been correct. Illya was oblivious to their attention.

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They walked through middle of the large camp together for the first time in broad daylight, and at first, Yanna had silently steeled herself for the stares. She was not wrong, for most people stopped what they were doing to look at the archer and his wild girl as they passed. They weren't aware of it, but to most, they looked to have such grace in their movements - especially Yanna. She was astounded at the smiles and polite nods that she saw.

It hadn't been an hour since the hunt and she could hear many whispered comments about her and Illya and how she'd hunted down King Hadanish to slay him. She didn't know if she liked the fame or not until a woman approached her with a small and very shy little girl hanging onto her dress.

After a moment of hiding herself, the little one stared and finally smiled when Yanna spoke to her. With Yanna's soft encouragement, the girl reached out and touched Yanna's arm to feel her fur and when Yanna picked her up, there were sighs all around her when the girl threw her arms around Yanna's neck and hugged her.

Illya stepped away a little to watch as many women came forward to talk to Yanna, now that they could see that she could speak and was friendly.

He found himself in the middle of a pack of boys who wanted to look at his bow and ask him questions, but when he'd answered them all, and the boys drifted toward the crowd around Yanna, since they were obviously smitten, he saw a young girl of perhaps thirteen.

He looked at her and smiled, "And do you want to know about my bow as well?"

She nodded, "I want to learn to shoot like you," she said, once she'd found her voice, "and, ... I wish to know, ... do you, ... are you together with that girl? I mean,... more than her friend?"

He nodded, "She is my wife, yes."

The girl looked a little disappointed for a moment, but then brightened, "I have heard the tales of you, and they are very nice to hear about how you cared for her and saved her."

Illya laughed a little, "She saved me just as much." He saw Smyrna coming to get them and told her that the girl wished to learn the bow. Smyrna asked for her name and had specific questions of the girl as Illya admired his wife, and then told the girl what she had to do to gain the best chance at what she wanted.

"It is a long road," she said as she put her hand on the girl's shoulder, "and it is made this way to test you, so speak to your parents and your own Ba'al, and with luck, I will see you at Jebel Bishri. I am one of the teachers there, but I do not teach the bow."

Minutes later, Yanna walked with Illya, doing her best to keep the tears out of her eyes. People still stared as Shahbek had said, but even Yanna could feel their friendly goodwill.

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Yanna was growing upset when Illya came to the tent that evening after the day with the Ba'al and the others at first, and then again as he taught Illya more about archery in the late afternoon. It had happened after Yanna had hunted. As soon as he saw that she struggled with making him a meal, he was beside her helping. He even told her to sit while he prepared one thing. "Why are you so upset?"