Night of the Forgotten

Jinai and Lila had been gentle with her breasts, knowing how sensitive they could be from experience with their own. But Papa Yaz had no such experience, and no mood for gentleness. Through Zhura, he kneaded and squeezed the melon-sized orbs. She suckled at them like she was starving, drawing the nubs out to stiff, aching points. Keya cried out and trembled as the spirit-possessed woman plucked at one nipple with a finger while sucking on the other. As Zhura bent before her, tending to her heaving breasts, Keya finally managed to haul Zhura's halter up and over her long braids. She tossed it onto the table.

Keya felt deft fingers at her waist. Her kanga, the one she had taken from a maid and worn for two days, dropped and pooled at her sandaled feet. Zhura nibbled at the soft flesh of Keya's belly, tickling her navel, working downwards.

Keya already felt that she was close to orgasm, and she moaned as Zhura's nose pressed against her swollen mound through the loincloth she wore. Zhura nuzzled her, drinking her scent and softness in, as if she'd been deprived for centuries of the touch of a woman.

Zhura hooked fingers in the strings of Keya's loincloth. She yanked the thing off her hips, baring Keya's trimmed mound to the open air. Keya felt the thread of slime that clung to the insides of her legs, following the wisp of linen as it traveled to her feet. The herb-witch devoured Keya's cunt with relish, pulling apart the wet folds and swabbing them with her tongue, swallowing the nectar that flowed freely.

On wobbly legs, Keya clutched Zhura's braided head and shoulder, hanging on as best she could. She felt her climax roaring towards her, and Zhura hadn't even touched her clit yet. There was no art to Zhura's ministrations. Only wet slurps and toe-curling lunges of her tongue as she guzzled down more of Keya's juices.

Keya doubled over as her orgasm swept through her. Even then, Zhura didn't let up, her tongue spearing into Keya's throbbing channel. The priestess shook and shuddered as she was laid back on the table, bowls spilling and baskets clattering to the floor.

Dimly, she struggled to regain her senses, brushing grains of pearl millet from her hair. Zhura stood between her splayed legs. Wide-eyed ancestral souls crowded behind her. The herb-witch sank a finger into the stew of Keya's cunt, making her moan again.

It was only as she fully came to that she realized that Zhura's skirt was gone and she wore the phallus strapped around her waist. The polished wooden cock pointed towards her like a weapon. Keya had no time for apprehension, as Zhura set it at the entrance to her cunt and eased forward.

Keya had taken Blossom's summoning stone once before, and this was not as large. Still, it had none of the flex and softness of living flesh and she quailed a bit as Zhura slowly drove it inside her. It filled her with a warm heaviness, and the ribs along its length massaged her sensitive folds. Keya groaned. Zhura pressed ahead until her powerful hips and the tight curls of her pubic hair mashed against Keya's tender skin.

With the phallus stuffed into Keya's twitching cunt, Zhura bent forward and kissed Keya again, lips tender and caressing, as if it were their very first time. Zhura tasted of Keya's own musky flavor. They nibbled at each other for a moment, while Zhura settled, perky breasts rubbing against her own, and Keya's insides stretched around the cock.

Keya felt her need growing, and she hunched against Zhura, trying to get even more of the thing inside her. Zhura eased the cloak off Keya's shoulders. Keya raised her arms and Zhura pulled the tunic over her head. The crowd of souls seemed to sigh around them. Keya dwelt in the realization that she was naked and yearning to be rutted in front of a throng of what were, until recently, strangers.

She gazed up into Zhura's glimmering eyes. "Rut me."

Zhura began to move. The steady thrust was like nothing Keya had ever felt. The stiffness of the shaft inside her as it sank in and dragged out, mixed with the supple heat of Zhura's hips between her legs brought her a new flavor of bliss.

The herb-witch raised one of Keya's legs to her shoulder and slipped off the sandal. Keya flexed her knee so that Zhura could lick and nibble at her ivory feet. Zhura's tongue laved a painted toe as she continued to stuff Keya's cunt.

Zhura moaned and trembled too. The leather panel at the base of the shaft sat over the top of Zhura's cleft, just where her clit would be. Each time she sank to the root in Keya's cunt, the leather would press against her most sensitive spot. It was a clever contraption, and as steady waves of pleasure battered her consciousness, Keya resolved to try it on one day.

But just now, she was content to be on the receiving end. She squeezed her breasts, plucking at her aching nipples as Zhura plowed into her. Another climax hit Keya. Her eyes rolled back, feet jerking in the air as Zhura continued to rut her through the peak.

Keya marveled at the herb-witch's endurance. She wouldn't have expected a woman to be used to the motions, and Zhura kept a steady pace, swiveling her hips like a dancer to get just the right angle to pleasure herself.

Once Zhura found that angle, she grasped Keya's waist. She held the priestess in place, pounding away with powerful thrusts. Keya was near to coming again when Zhura stopped and shuddered over Keya, the phallus quivering deep inside her core. They remained still for a moment, Zhura breathing deeply, sweat dripping on Keya's belly.

"Show me that delectable ass of yours, Keya." Zhura clasped her hands, pulling the priestess off the table to stand on weak legs.

She spun Keya around and bent her over the table. An instant later, Keya felt Zhura's tongue spearing between her gaping nether lips and lashing the tender pearl of her clit. Keya thrust her hips against Zhura's mouth. But the herb-witch had other ideas.

Soon Zhura was standing behind Keya again, sinking the strapped cock deep into the priestess's sex from behind. This time there was no gentle approach. Zhura gripped Keya's hips with strong hands and powered into her sopping cunt. The chamber seemed to fill with the wet smack of flesh on flesh. The wooden shaft angled deeply into Keya's depths, rubbing against tender nerves, casting the priestess into throes of ecstasy.

Keya's awareness was overcome by a haze of pleasure. She shuddered through an orgasm, face flat on the table as Zhura continued to pound her sloppy cunt. Keya felt her juices stream down her trembling legs, even spraying out on the table and floor in the brief moments when the cock left her empty.

After that, the climaxes seemed to blend together into one long peak, where all it was all she could do to quiver and wail under Zhura's merciless rutting. Until, finally, the herb-witch slammed the fake cock to the root in Keya's aching cunt and cried out with her own orgasm.

Zhura collapsed atop Keya, the phallus still lodged deep within her.

"That was divine, my love," Keya sobbed. Mama Nyah, speaking through her lips. "How does it feel to be a woman?"

"Splendid," Zhura groaned. She finally pulled out of Keya, with a squelch, and rolled over beside her on the table. The herb-witch unstrapped the harness and set it aside. Then she began to idly fondle her teardrop-shaped breasts.

Keya slid off the table, tiny balls of millet spilling to the floor with her. She sank to her knees. Overcome with submissive lust, she opened Zhura's legs and kissed the insides of her thighs. She licked the pink petals of Zhura's slit, from stern to bow, lingering at the hood of the herb-witch's clit. Zhura shuddered, still overly sensitive.

Keya spread those petals and began to lave Zhura's soft folds, savoring the subtle tang. All she could think of was to coax Zhura to rut her once more, to pleasure the moaning woman until she relented. The priestess was only dimly aware of the voices of the ancestral couple, close in her ear.

"It would be an injustice to deprive these two of their bodies," Mama Nyah purred. "They put them to such good use. You never rutted me so well."

"We shall have to watch over them," agreed Papa Yaz.

"Intensely. Run along, Keya Oko, and do what you have promised. Return to the world of the living."

Keya's hands slipped upwards, over Zhura's sweat-streaked belly to the peaks of her breasts. The priestess fondled them as she lapped at Zhura's cleft.

"Keya." Zhura took Keya's questing hands, gently stopping them. The herb-witch sat up on the table. "They're gone."

"Hmmm?" Nectar dribbled down Keya's throat, like ginger-laced honey.

"Stop, girl. We're alone."

Keya looked up, licking fragrant lips.

The light was dim now. Growing dimmer by the second. She couldn't see the whole room anymore. There were no more ancestors, and nothing more in the chamber that she recognized, except their clothes and gear. Even the empty table seemed to blur and lose shape.

Awareness dawned on her. "We have to go."

They snatched up their clothes in armfuls. Satchel, basket and staff in hand, they stumbled through the gloom towards the entryway. The candles were gone, the painted walls lost in darkness. Keya groped, her hand extended out. Where she touched the wall, it felt like the black loam of a burial ground.

"Faster," Zhura urged.

Keya hurried ahead, as fast as she dared, as much from memory as by feel. She almost tripped on the rough earthen floor. Then there was gray ahead of her, a hint of light. She rushed towards it.

She emerged, naked, from the same arched entrance she'd come in, Zhura close on her heels.

When they looked back there was no portal at all. Just a grassy knoll, and the first rays of the sun peeking through thick clouds.

*

They walked through the Southside ruins towards the hideout. Morning clouds rolled overhead, low in the sky. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle. Occasionally, Zhura caught glimpses of the scavengers that frequented the ruins. The shabby, elusive figures collected water and dug in the debris for artifacts. As she led the priestess, Zhura grappled with her ill humor. She wasn't angry with Keya so much as she was with herself.

When Zhura was young, Menga use to tell the proverb of the fisherman and the lion. Just now, Zhura felt like the fisherman, surprised that the lion had devoured him on the way across the river, even after the lion promised not to. Keya wasn't malicious. But calamity seemed to follow her like a shadow. They had come a hairsbreadth away from dying just now.

Zhura had been selfish. She had chosen to protect Keya because the vast knowledge the priestess and her demon possessed would certainly help Zhura discover her past. But there were others at risk. Neither Ngo nor Bayati had asked to be hunted by the most powerful nobles in Ikanje State. And Kaj and Amina...

She turned to Keya. "Amankar sent you to Amina and Kaj to find me, while he was under Blossom's spell?"

"Yes."

"Will Blossom's spell wear off?"

Keya clutched the hood of her cloak over her bright hair. Like Zhura, her clothes were still disheveled, from hastily dressing outside of the ancestor's mound. "After a few days, it does."

Zhura stopped. "Will Amankar remember what he told you?"

"Yes," Keya said. "But what is to remember? House San has no reason to believe that you ever came to my aid."

"By the Seven Fathers," Zhura swore. "Yes they do! They know I have a demon, and they know it is a sanju. It was seen in Kichinka. It won't take long for Barasa to guess that I was present the night you vanished."

Keya looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Zhura. Tell me what I can do."

Zhura shook her head. "Don't do anything." She started off, again, more quickly now, towards the hideout. "Just stay where I tell you this time!"

Her mind was racing as they approached the hidden entrance to the cellar. As she stepped through the rubble, a familiar figure materialized ahead of her, crouching upon a broken wall.

Mili. "There you are," Zhura said, approaching the demon. It leapt down to meet her, and she pressed her forehead gently against its brass mask, breathing in its smoky scent.

"It must have been driven off last night by the Ancestors," Keya said.

Zhura nodded absently, looking the creature's grayish skin over to make sure it hadn't been harmed. She set the demon to guard again, then gestured for Keya to go back down into the hole.

Keya still smelled like sex. It was all Zhura could think about as she climbed down the shaft after the priestess. That and the way she had squirted all over the wooden phallus when she came. As dirty and unkempt as Keya was, with mud and grit smudging her pale skin, by all the sleeping gods... she was still tempting.

"I'm sorry to keep you down here. It won't be much longer, but I have to know that all is in order before we leave the city." Zhura waited while the priestess fumbled in the dark for lamp and flint. Finally, the glow of the flame lit the small chamber.

"What will you do now?" Keya asked.

Zhura shrugged. "I need to meet with Barasa again." Perhaps, after all of her attempts to refuse him, she should just give the noble what he wanted.

"As the child of a rival House, I have known Barasa for many years." Keya sat, folding her legs on a mat, gesturing to the space beside her until Zhura relented and sat down as well. "He is older than I. But unlike me, Barasa is one of the youngest children, born to his father's second wife. That explains his ambition.

"His older brothers and sister are deeply invested in the western and southern trade, and they have more influence in the family than him. So more than anything, Barasa does not want to shame his House."

"You think this plot with his uncle Amankar - to use demons for war -- you think that might hurt House San?"

Keya nodded. "No one in the Magisterium wants to risk provoking the Sizwe. The empire can put more warriors in the field than Ikanje could ever raise, and unlike twenty-five years ago, the Sizwe are not distracted by internal rebellions and war with the Hill Kingdoms. Many believe demons are even more dangerous than the Sizwe. Yes, Barasa will want to keep his scheme a secret."

"That is helpful," Zhura said.

She was painfully aware of how physically close they were. Glancing at Keya, she caught the wistful gaze on that pallid face, as if the priestess wanted to ask something more. As if she wanted to discuss the fact that they just rutted like two lovers who had been kept apart for centuries. Zhura looked away.

No, let's not talk about that.

"I'll send someone from the Orchid with clothing, oil and razor, food and water." Zhura pointed towards the surface as she got up to leave. "They'll leave it outside for you."

"Wait," Keya said.

"What?"

"There's something else I can do to help you against Barasa. You may not know your own forebears. But after tonight, there are other spirits with a keen interest in both of us. I will pray to Mama Nyah and Papa Yaz to watch over you and keep you safe. Ancestors bless, Zhura."

"Ancestors bless."

"And..."

Zhura turned back towards the priestess. "What?"

Keya dug through her satchel. "Do you remember the shrine where we first met? With the clay elephants? I need you to leave a message there."

What now? Zhura's eyes narrowed.

"The message won't reveal who or where I am." Keya looked miserably around the dank little chamber. "I want to get out of this city as badly as you do."

*

The savanna stretched as far as Zhura could see in three directions, a sheet of green and gold broken only a few spreading, solitary acacias. To the east loomed the plateau upon which Namu was built, but just now that rise was mostly shrouded by low cloud cover. Not far to the north, roads ran out towards other Ikanjan cities and towns. In that direction, herds of gnus and zebras marched across the plain.

The greenish-yellow grass reached up to their knees, but it was patchy, leaving spots of bare ground here and there. Little tufts sprouted from the tops of each blade, like grain.

"I hope we didn't come out here for nothing," Ngo said, lips twisting in impatience. His bright red cloak and trousers contrasted with his dark brown skin. "This isn't what I had planned for my last few days in Namu."

It hadn't taken long to arrange a meeting with Barasa San. He must be eager. Rumors had spread through the city faster than fever, reaching Zhura through Amina and Kaj, as well as through the whores at the Orchid.

The Great Houses were in turmoil, with House San accusing House Oko of witchcraft. House Oko, for its part, mourned the death of its eldest daughter, and denizens of the city awaited a grand funereal parade, replete with song, palm wine and feasting.

"There," she said. A column of black and green snaked down from the plateau.

"That's a lot of men," Ngo said.

Zhura counted at least thirty green-plumed askari, with Barasa leading the column. Points of light spears poked up from their shoulders. Metal bossing on their shields gleamed dully in the hazy light.

"You can take them," she quipped.

Ngo crouched in the grass, planting the butt of his spear. The blade of the iklwa was nearly the length and breadth of his forearm. "Oh, no doubt," he eyed the column as it fanned out in disciplined fashion. "But do they know that?"

Barasa himself wore a tunic of white silk, covered by a green side wrap and black pantaloons. His face was concealed by a golden mask. As a few of his men ranged out to watch the horizon, he approached.

"Let's not battle our way out of this one, eh?" Ngo said quietly. "I don't want to get blood all over those pretty plumes."

Zhura set her staff down in the high grass. She laid a hand on his shoulder, favoring him with a wan smile. She tossed her long braids down her back and strode out to meet the nobleman.

"It is said by my people," Barasa said, when they were close enough to be easily heard, "that there is only truth between earth and sky." He spread his hands out, taking in their vast surroundings. "The First Woman did not come from the jungle, or the sea. She came from the savanna. Here, there is only truth, Zhura of Boma. So let us have it."

Zhura had thought carefully the past two days about what she would say. "This is your home, not mine. I am returning west. And I want to know that all is settled between us."

Barasa nodded. "Then all I ask in return is truth. Where is your demon, Zhura?"

"So it is back to that."

"It is said that Oko men were attacked by a demon three nights ago, when Keya Oko... died," Barasa said.

Does he doubt Keya is dead? Zhura had heard no such rumors. She shifted on her feet as her heart beat faster. If someone were actively looking for the priestess, it made their lives that much harder. "I told you the truth a month ago. I don't control the sanju. The summoning stone stopped working."

"Then it is just an unbelievable twist of fate. Two months ago, you sought out Lady Oko. Your demon was an instrument in her disappearance. But you claim you were not involved."

"I am prepared to prove it to you."

The golden head inclined slightly. "Ah. I should hope so. You see, I brought my finest askari with me so that you could do just that. You are a formidable fighter, but I doubt you and your companion can defeat a half-cohort of warriors. There are farms nearby where you will never be found. At least, not until I have dragged truth out of you."

The San askari stood out of earshot, but they backed their lord in a wide semi-circle. Several more had ranged out as sentries. As Zhura surveyed their positions, she noted the clouds seemed to have dipped lower, shrouding the distance like fog. A rolling, bluish thunderhead seemed to billow towards them from above.