Nuë and the Djinn Ch. 03

When she was ready, she kicked dirt over the hot embers and dragged herself into the saddle. It was dark. Nuë made her way back to the road. Everything seemed unreal. Hearing him behind her, she turned her head. The ifrit was with her, also on a horse. When it was dawn, she turned off the road and found a place. She pulled off the packs, the horse's dressing, caring for the animal before she made a bed for herself and crawled into it uncaring.

#

Nuë woke. She realized it was late afternoon. There was a fire. Looking around, she remembered the ifrit, her head more clear. He wasn't here. He wasn't visible, at least. She got up and took care of necessities and then went to the river, deep here, the trade road following it briefly before the line of water curved into the low hills south.

She knelt, washing her face, her hands, washing out her mouth. She wet her arms. Sitting to take off her boots, she washed her feet. Looking down, she picked at herself, disgusted. She'd never gone so long without bathing, but it would have been stupid to strip so near the trade road.

"You can go into the water."

Not surprised, Nuë turned and looked at the ifrit sitting beside her on the rock, her glance skeptical. She looked away. He reached for her wrist. He touched it and they were in the spirit world, her chest aching. She didn't want this man. She wanted Mihel.

"You can bathe, Sidean," the ifrit said. "Nobody will bother you. You'll be safe."

He brought them back. She hadn't heard a lie. She stood, reaching for the ties on her tunic. The water felt wonderful, like her body was taking in water through her skin. Her hair was finally clean, such a relief, scrubbing at herself with sand from the bottom.

When she was done, she found one of her packs there on the bank, the one with her clothing. He had brought it. Surely he had seen her. She took a cloth, drying herself, and dressed. Nuë returned to the fire. "I thought you said nobody would bother me," she said.

The ifrit shrugged, a smile tugging his mouth. "I didn't say I wouldn't look."

Frowning at him lightly, she walked back to the fire, sitting to comb and braid her hair, weaving in the long strips of red leather. He was cooking fish. She didn't know what he wanted or if his intentions were even friendly, but she was in his debt. "Thank you, ifrit," she said. "For saving me from being hurt by those men. For watching so I could bathe. For the food."

He didn't reply, handing the fish to her on a flat rock. It was hot and good, Nuë picking at it with her fingers.

When she was done, she set aside the rock and looked up. "Are you just helping a stranger?" she said.

He almost smiled again. "No, that wouldn't be like me at all. And we're not strangers. I'm looking for someone. You mistook me for him."

Her breath caught and she leaned forward. "Do you know him?"

"I'm his brother. I can't find his light anywhere. Instead, I found you. I've been following you for three days. Don't you know me at all, little sister?"

Nuë looked down. She realized her hands were shaking. She clasped them together. Mihel's brother. They did look alike. For a moment, she flashed on the two boys playing in the field, Mihel's memory. "No. I'm sorry. He spoke of you," she said.

"How did you come to be carrying a fragment of my brother's spirit?"

Maybe he would kill her to avenge his brother. Maybe ifrit had someone who decided the fate of those who did terrible things and they would judge her.

For a moment, she didn't know where to begin. "An ifrit came to our village. He spoke to me and my aunt. He said that he was going to take me away. My aunt asked him to wait twenty-three days, until I was nineteen, because those were our traditions, and he agreed. Then she asked him to stay in the village for a few days because I was frightened. He agreed to stay for three nights, but he came to my tent," Nuë said, feeling herself flushing. "That night, I removed my maiden collar."

"My brother had sex with you to begin the joining," the ifrit agreed, gesturing, encouraging her to move on with the story.

She swallowed, looking at her hands, beginning to breathe fast. "Yes. I didn't want to go with him. My people believe an ifrit is a demon. I didn't know what he would do with me," Nuë said, her voice getting lower. "During the twenty-three days he waited, my aunt invited a sorcerer to come. I didn't meet him. She asked the sorcerer to bind the demon. She was trying to save me. The sorcerer told her that to do so, he would need the demon's name. My aunt told me to get his name from the ifrit. She told me to seduce him, to trick him. I did that. Mihel had shown me the other world. But I still didn't believe him. I didn't understand. I gave my aunt his name. The next night, I recognized him."

She didn't know another way to put it. She trusted Mihel's brother would understand what she meant. Her hands were shaking badly. She finally looked up. His face was grim. A wave went through her. She looked down, finishing. "When I recognized him, I lay with him. He brought me to the place where spirits are. I forgot everything else. I didn't remember to warn him. I'm stupid. I didn't--what I felt, I had never imagined anything like that. And then he sensed danger. He protected me. A man from my village shot him with an arrow in his back. My aunt was there. The sorcerer was outside the tent. The sorcerer said his name and then your brother knew what I had done."

Her throat closed. She dragged in a breath, trying to pull air into herself. She did it again, getting enough. "I tried to stop them. I begged them." More breath. "I could feel what the sorcerer was doing. We were still together, our lights were. And then the sorcerer did something and it tore us and your brother was gone and I was alone," she said, drawing more in. "I was sick. I couldn't find him. I couldn't find myself, like a part of me was gone. When I finally knew myself, days had passed and your brother wasn't there, taken by the sorcerer. I left my village to try to find him. I betrayed your brother. He trusted me. I will accept your judgment."

She waited, still breathing shallow and fast. He was quiet. She finally looked up and he was gone. It was somehow the worst answer he could have given her, Nuë looking down again. She turned her head, realizing. He was sitting beside her. The ifrit reached out and she flinched, but he only touched her cheek. In that moment, she wanted Mihel so badly that she couldn't move. She found herself leaning and putting her head on his shoulder, his arm coming around her. She realized she was crying again. Nuë stayed there, his hand stroking her hair.

"Why don't you hate me?" she said when she could, her voice hoarse, drawing away from him, wiping her face again, embarrassed.

He shrugged. "I've known you hundreds of years and you still like me most of the time, at least when you're not mad at me. You've always been fierce, a good match for my brother, although you've done a little more than stab him this time, I admit. What did you say your name was now?"

She sniffed. "Nuë."

"Mihel has been intolerably miserable and hostile since he lost you, alone all the time, no fun at all. Honestly, he slept through most of it. He doesn't blame you. I don't blame you. I'm happy you're back, and to know he's alive."

She looked at her hands. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself, and he had done so easily. "Why are you looking for him?"

"I felt it. We're twins. Ifrit know, sometimes, when one we love has died, when that one's spirit leaves the world. I was mourning him. I came to find out what had happened to him. I found you."

She couldn't breathe again, dragging air in through a closed throat. "Mihel is dead?"

"What? No," he assured her. "Although I imagine he wishes he was. Or he will, when the sorcerer calls on him."

"What will the sorcerer do to him?" she said, feeling relief and then dreading the answer.

The ifrit's face tightened. "Anything he wants. We have abilities on which the sorcerer can draw. Mihel's body is trapped between worlds, so Mihel can't be in it. The sorcerer can't use it. But if the sorcerer brought my brother's spirit into his own body, he would have my brother's abilities without having to fear that my brother would take his will. My brother would be unable to act, a witness and nothing more."

She was horrified. "What would he do with Mihel's abilities?"

"A sorcerer who takes a dark path must mangle his own spirit to possess his magic. They sometimes will crave the pain of others to ease their own. To bind an ifrit, the sorcerer would have to be very powerful. He's evil. Whatever he does, it will be evil."

Nuë stared into his blue eyes, shining, so like Mihel's. "Can you help him?"

The ifrit looked down, shaking his head. "I won't lie. It's a bad situation. To what is he bound?"

"My maiden collar."

The ifrit threw back his head, making a face. "That was rude. Whose idea was that?"

"My aunt's, probably," Nuë muttered.

"We can steal the necklace so that the sorcerer can't summon him, but only the sorcerer can free him from the binding," he said. "I can try to force the sorcerer to do so, but he's powerful. He could kill me. Or, he might make my brother fight me in the sorcerer's body."

"What can we do?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what's going to happen once my brother wakes. I've never heard of a joining interrupted. You survived it. I have to warn you. In tormenting my brother, the sorcerer will also torment you. You'll feel what Mihel does, if it's strong enough."

"I don't feel him at all," she said, her voice husky.

"He's probably still asleep in the necklace. Do you know where the sorcerer has gone?"

"To Heltas. My aunt told me that. His name is Ezrel. I'm going to try to free Mihel. I will do whatever it takes. Will you come?"

"We'll go together, little sister. You can call me Rasmin while there's a sorcerer loose, since you've forgotten my true name and I don't want to sleep with my brother in a collar." He rose. "Rest. Your spirit is sore."

"Thank you, Rasmin," she said, curling up where she was.

#

The next day, as they traveled, Nuë quickly realized that Rasmin was very different from his brother. While she would have moved quietly, Rasmin insisted on riding straight up the center of the trade road. When other people on the road saw him, his hood down and his hands with the blue swirling patterns on the reins, saw his eyes, they fell away like a plow sweeping dirt from its path.

It never failed to amuse Rasmin, and sometimes he would howl at them, people scattering and yelling out in fear and then he would break into laughter. Nuë would watch him, frowning, and he would glance at her, shrugging a little. He wouldn't do it for a time, and then he'd begin again. It was like he couldn't help himself.

One time, he howled at a man who was dozing, almost to them, the rider not paying attention. The man woke and fled so enthusiastically that he fell from his horse, the animal noticing and stopping not far. As they watched, the man rolled to his feet and kept running, passing the horse, the horse deciding, after a moment, to follow him.

Rasmin almost fell off his own mount laughing.

"That wasn't funny," Nuë said, although it had been, a little. Still.

"You remember me a bit better now, maybe, little sister," Rasmin said, hitching with laughter, gesturing at her carelessly. "You and my brother. After a hundred years or so, you got so alike I couldn't tell you apart except for the tits. He is also so somber."

"This is how the ifrit people get a reputation as demons, Rasmin," she scolded.

"I know, little sister," he said, unrepentant, still grinning. "You used to tell me I was responsible for half the legends."

#

"Rasmin!" she said sharply a few days later when she looked and there was a jackal riding the back of his horse, the reins in its paws.

She wasn't the only one to see it. A whole wagon of travelers from Heltas abruptly left the trail in front of them as she and Rasmin caught up, abandoning it and running, the wagon continuing its crashing course. A wheel went wobbling away before it fell. The jackal laughed, sounding exactly like Mihel's brother. Rasmin's horse plodded on under him, evidently not having noticed any difference.

Nuë raised her voice to be heard over his cackling. "You must help them, Rasmin."

The jackal opened its jaws wide like they could, almost in half, its tongue lolling. "I don't know anything about wagons," the jackal said in Rasmin's voice.

She looked at the chaos as they passed it. The jackal turned and looked as well. In a breath, the jackal was gone, Rasmin riding the horse. His smile faded and he sighed noisily, making a face at her, leaving the trail.

"Don't let them see you," she called after him.

#

The first time it happened, they were camped off the trade road. Nuë was asleep. She was walking through her village, but it was empty. She didn't understand why there was nobody there, all the familiar things around her but no people. Wind rippled cloth in the camp, sending it flapping. It was usually a background sound, but now it was the only noise.

They were gone and she would never leave the village, trapped here. Levsa was dead. They were all dead. Only she was left alive. She wouldn't see them again. Nobody would come here. She would always be alone. Nuë slept, tears drying on her cheeks.

An hour passed.

She woke up yelling in pain, coming up, clutching at her shoulder. She looked around wildly, unsure how she'd hurt herself.

Rasmin was next to her. "It's pain?" he said, pushing the tunic off of her shoulder, pulling up her sleeve, looking. "I don't see anything."

"It hurts. Did one of the horses step on me?"

He released her. "I think it was my brother," he said.

"Your brother stepped on me?" Nuë said, not awake yet, still panting with the pain.

"Yes, that's what I meant, obviously," Rasmin said sarcastically. "No, I think he was hit and you felt it. The part of him that lives in your light is brighter."

The pain wasn't as bad as it had been, fading, although it ached badly. "How does he feel pain? I thought he wasn't in his body."

"I don't know, but I don't think you're really hurt," Rasmin said, and then added impatiently at the look on her face. "I'm saying you felt it but your body isn't injured. Go back to sleep," he said, returning to his bedroll.

Nuë lay on her back, the pain gone from her shoulder. She closed her eyes.

She was walking alone on the steppes, green grasslands in every direction, the horizon a thin line. There were no sounds, her feet noiseless. No animals. No wind. It was day and she was naked.

The grasses of the plains began to come out of their beds and lengthen, running over the ground all around her. She turned in a circle, but she couldn't evade them. There was nowhere to go, all of them closing in on her.

They touched her feet. She screamed, soundless, only breath. They wrapped around her ankles and yanked. Nuë fell onto her back, the grasses catching her. More grass wrapped around her wrists and yanked her arms above her head. The grass began bunching and thrashing her, sharp strikes on her breasts, her nipples.

It hurt, terrible pain. She shuddered with pleasure.

The grasses jerked her, turning her over, her butt jutting. They began striking her there now, all her cries soundless, only the swish of the grass, the sound of the impact. It felt so good.

She was turned over again and her knees were pushed up, her legs spread. She cried out in fear and anticipation and want, and the grass was whipping her there. She jerked, her eyes unfocused.

It stopped and the grass came and covered her, going everywhere, into her passage, rubbing between her legs. The feelings were strong, but they were also violent. Thick, terrible pleasure.

Mihel was over her, his expression desiring and cruel. She cried out and she could hear herself now. He saw her, recognizing her, his eyes widening. He was in her, his hand coming between her legs, rubbing. It was really Mihel. He was here with her, touching her, doing this to her. She woke coming, crying out, her body arching.

"Nuë?"

Rasmin was over her. It was dark pleasure. She strained, her legs spreading, unable to stop it, her eyes closing. So good. Her hips trembled, her sex pulsing wildly. It finally released her, sharp twinges.

She rolled onto her side, getting to her feet, stumbling, walking away and then running. She went down to the water and put her head in her arms. She looked up at the river, her face still burning hot, tears coming. She would never be able to look at Rasmin in the eyes again.

And every moment she stayed down here, she made it worse, even more awkward. She would pretend it hadn't happened. She wiped her eyes, turned and startled badly. Rasmin was sitting beside her.

"It was remarkable to watch, if that helps," he said, grinning at her. "Tell me everything."

Nuë stared at him. "No," she said.

"Don't worry, you're safe with me. You're always very beautiful, but I don't want to feel my brother's spirit during my own pleasure. I like him, but not that much."

She blinked her way through that, realizing what he meant. She looked away from him completely, studying the far hills, pretending he hadn't spoken.

He laughed. "Your cheeks are so red. You're really not going to tell me something that could help my brother because you're shy?"

She turned and stared at him, her eyes narrowing, her face still burning. She wasn't sure she believed him. "You really need to know? It really might help?" she demanded. "Or are you just curious and want to torture me?"

"Does it matter? You don't know which it is, so you'll tell me anyway."

She leaned back, staring at him like she hadn't seen him before. "You're awful," she said.

"I know," he agreed, leaning in, confiding. "You've told me that before, although I seem fine to me."

"You're not," she assured him. Her lips pursed. "First I dreamed I was walking in my village, but there was nobody there. I knew I couldn't leave. They were dead."

"What did you feel? It's what he's feeling. You just made a story in your mind to understand the feelings."

Nuë felt a sharp stab. "Confusion, and then hopelessness. Loneliness."

"And then?"

She looked away, flushing again, going through her to remember it. "I was walking on the steppes. The grasses on the plain got long and they ran on the ground all around me and I fell and they covered me."

"So you couldn't move. You felt trapped," he guessed. "And then?"

"Yes, and then--" she said, gesturing, still not looking at him.

Rasmin waited. She turned and held his eyes. He finally realized, his brows going up, beginning to grin. "The grasses gave you pleasure?"

"I should just throw myself into the river now," Nuë muttered, looking away again.

He laughed aloud, seeming delighted. "At least I know what to tell my brother to get you now instead of flowers. I had no idea being reborn could make you such a pervert."

Nuë stood up, glaring. She walked away, Rasmin following her.

She wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the day, ignoring him completely, which only seemed to make him worse. By the time they had stopped to camp, she was furious with him.

"Would you like me to find us a field to camp in?" he said cheerfully. "I could find a grassy spot for you."

"How does your brother endure you?" she finally snapped as they were sitting in front of the fire, the first words she'd spoken to him all day.

Mihel's brother leaned back on his hands, having evidently achieved what he wanted in provoking her to speak. "He has to," Rasmin said. "He can't kill me. I'm his brother."

"Tell me something he did to you in your childhood that was terrible," she demanded.