The Sighs of the Priestess Ch. 06

"You are the most fearsome bowman that I think I have ever seen save only one, little brother," the driver crowed, "Only our Ba'al could have made that shot!"

Illya was a little embarrassed now, his shyness returning. "It was only luck," he smiled humbly, "and it was my last arrow." The muscles of his arms and his back were telling him things now.

"I care not," the driver laughed, "Do not come near to me for a while, "she chuckled, "for I might kiss you to death. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"I have never shot before," he said quietly, "it was all blind luck." There were blisters on the fingers of his right hand, and the skin on the inside of his left forearm was raw and bloody from the scrape of the bowstring. He might have known what to do with a war bow, but he didn't know what archers did to protect themselves from these things. The driver urged the horse to pull again.

"Blind luck I can understand, little brother. It is the only way that a man can get between my legs to fuck me without dying for it," she laughed, "that, and a lot of drink, but you have some skill to have shot like that, my friend. I cannot wait to tell the Ba'al that he now faces competition. He will want to know of what you did here."

She did her best to imitate him. "My name is Illya, and now I will kill me something," she chuckled, shaking her head with a grin as she remembered his words. "Well, Illya the fearsome archer, you have at least two girls here who grow to love you. I think now that the third one might have good fortune if we get through." She laughed again as she thought of it. "You could walk up to the gate back there now with that bow and they would open it for you. Surely none would dare to even raise his bow at the sight of you."

Out of the light of the fires and in the safety of the darkness a third of a mile from the gates, the driver turned to the boy as she slowed to a walking pace. "Call to her now, Illya, "she said, "Try to get her to come to you. We will pass through the Martu lines in a few minutes, and they will not know what it is that follows us. They may try to kill her thinking to protect us!"

The wild one didn't really know what to think. All that she knew was that she wanted to be near to the boy who had become everything to her. She ranged a little from side to side and found the runner off to her right. She couldn't understand it, but she did perceive that they seemed to want to help her friend. She ranged in the other direction and found the cart with the cover thrown back and her friend there calling to her. He sounded a little desperate, she thought.

"Yanna!" he called out, "Yanna, come to me. Ride here with me. They take us somewhere safe, Yanna."

She was startled when she heard the runner call to her as well. "Yanna, go to him now. Go to your friend there. We know about you, but the fighters that we will pass through do not. Go to Illya."

Yanna noticed that she was being squeezed a little, the runner coming a little left so as to give her less room. Then she saw the runner sprint ahead and disappear into the weeds. Yanna slowed. She sensed something here. Another few seconds and she crouched to spring at the runner who stood bent down and straining for breath. They looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Yanna," the woman wheezed looking right into her eyes, "for the love of the gods, go to your boy.... We have gotten... you both out of the city and he has saved you from an arrow through the gut, but it.., will get harder soon... Just go to Illya and be safe... I wear too much armor for this... I cannot ... do this for much longer Yanna. I can run far, but not at this pace wearing armor. Please...go to Illya."

Yanna allowed a quiet rumble to leave her throat and she turned to lope to the cart. The runner grinned and ran to follow.

Illya stared as he saw the eyes there in the dark behind him.

"Yanna! Please, jump in with me." he whispered.

"Stop the damned cart," the runner gasped to the driver, "or if I live through this, it is over between us. I will find me an easier girl to catch than you."

The driver reined back the horse with a laugh. "I have no choice then, do I?"

"Quickly, Yanna," the runner smiled as she walked up, "get into the cart and under the cover with him before the poor horse here smells something amiss and we all have to walk."

The young man jumped down and ran to her. Yanna stood up on her legs slowly and the two fighters stared for a moment in the darkness and then smiled. "Here," the runner said, taking off her cloak to hold it out, "give her this so that she has something to wear."

The runner gave the cloak to the youth. He helped Yanna into it and then pulled her by one pawed hand toward the cart. He was begging her now, but she looked at them all and smiled just a little. "Why?"

"So that you might feel a little better and try to trust us," the runner grinned, "also, you made a friend in me when you killed the archer in the square. If he had gotten his shot off, I would not need my cloak now either. Thank you for that, Yanna."

"I thank you for what you did, but ... it is cold for you here," the creature said.

"I have my lazy friend there to keep me warm," the fighter laughed, pointing to the driver.

Yanna looked at the runner for an instant before nodding once and then she climbed up beside Illya. He wasted no time pulling the cover over them both. Yanna found herself in his arms as they both wept. She reached over him and pulled him close as she licked his face. She stopped suddenly when she noticed him kissing her.

"Why, Illya? Why do you do this?"

"Because I love you Yanna," he smiled at her in the darkness. Yanna was astounded. Her days and nights in the cage had been absolute misery. Illya had been the only bright spot that she'd had, but she'd never once had a thought that he might feel anything like love for her because of what she'd been turned into. She'd thought that he was only being kind and she was thankful for only that. She'd never even allowed her thoughts to go to the possibility of something between them other than dreaming of what might have been once when she was human and she'd never told anyone of her life as a woman. That might lead her to hope and she'd never believed that there was any of that to be had anymore. It felt like a story about someone else, but what did that mean? What could it mean to someone like her?

"How can you love one such as I am?"

"Stop, Yanna," he grinned as he ran his fingers over her ear and through her long black mane for a moment, "I only know what I know and I cannot help what my heart tells me. I have loved you for months and now I can hold you but one thing at a time, Yanna. I do not know what will happen next, but these fearsome women here are Martu, as were the dead ones. Did you not hear which tongue they speak to us? Just be happy that we still live and give me a chance when we are free. I will show you then."

Yanna couldn't fathom it. Illya was promising to love her while she struggled with what her freedom might mean. She couldn't even let herself be seen, yet he loved her? He kissed her again and before she knew it, she felt his tongue against hers and was happy to forget about everything else for the moment.

The runner found herself limping now that she'd stopped again for a minute and climbed up next to her lover. The horse wasn't pleased at the new load, but they were moving again after a moment.

"The things that I do for you," the runner said, rolling her eyes, "I should have been sitting next to you and riding long before this – " she felt with her hand beside her in the darkness, "What is this here?"

"That is the arrow," the other one chuckled.

"What arrow?"

"The arrow that would have speared your lovely backside to the bench here if I had let you ride sooner," her friend laughed, "I have been trying not to weep."

"Why?" the runner asked as she pulled it out and set it aside for Illya, "Is it because the thought of me being hit makes you sad? I was not hit, was I?"

"True," the driver laughed, "It would have been such a shame to see your pretty ass marked so cruelly, but also, I laugh myself to tears thinking of you begging me to pull it out."

"I will put other tears on your face for that, "the runner smirked, "You have to sleep sometime."

"Oh, be still," the driver scolded, as she put her cloak around the other one and held her close so that the sweat from her running didn't chill her, "I am happy that you were not hit."

"Quiet now, "her friend hissed, "do you hear that? What is that?"

The one driving smiled, "Hear it? I can feel it right through the seat. It is Yanna there behind us. She purrs now."

"Ah, "the other one nodded in understanding as her eyebrows rose.

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The dead riders came to them a few minutes later. "The lines are just ahead," one of them said, "We have gone forward and told of your approach. We go back now to the city."

The fighters thanked them and were found by Martu pickets a few minutes later and guided into the camp. Twenty minutes later, the two fighters helped the fugitives out of the cart and stood close by them to shield Yanna from any prying eyes.

"Where do we go now?" she asked nervously.

"The one on the horse who called to us and helped you," one of them began.

"The dead woman," Illya said, as he picked up the bow.

"Aye," the fighter said, "she was the High Priestess not long ago while she lived. Her daughter is here. She is High Priestess now. We two are part of her guards. We take you to her to see what may be done to help you both."

"Can she undo what was done to me?" Yanna asked without much hope.

"We know not," she said, "but if anyone can help, it is her."

Inside the tent, they were met by Nisi-ini-su, Lugalbanda, and to their amazement, her dead mother.

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Yanna's eyes opened wide as she listened to what had happened while she ran through the grass trying to dodge the arrows. "You can shoot, Illya! I never knew."

He looked down, embarrassed again, "I never knew either. I was afraid for you and I was angry."

Lugalbanda stepped forward and clasped Illya's forearm after the two fighters told the entire tale. "By telling your name you have raised your legend, friend. We need to talk and see what may be done to make it a mighty name among the Martu."

They sat in the tent and the two young people were given all the food that they could want. Yanna wore her cloak. She looked down under her hood whenever someone came or went.

"I can only think of one thing, Yanna," Nisi-ini-su said, "You both should go to Jebel Bishri after this fighting here. There are many wise ones there. I do not know what can be done yet, but you should think about preparing to live this way if it must be. You can stay at the keep and live there, it is a lovely place where you may learn anything that we know, but one thing..."

She took Yanna's hand. "What was done to you can be rightly regarded as a curse – an unfair thing which you did not deserve. You might cry yourself to sleep in your despair if we cannot find a way to make this better. I am certain that you have done this for nights without end already, but I would say to you that even so, you are at least fortunate in one thing. Many go through their lives never finding anyone for themselves. Look at Illya. Look at what he has done for you, out of his kindness at first, and then out of his love for you. This night, he stood in the back of the cart and faced a master bowman because he feared that you would be hit. He did not care for himself, I am told, and many arrows went close by him so that he might hit the one man who could kill any of you easily."

"I do not try to make him a great hero, and my words make him change color yet again now. But while you have a right to be unhappy, and no one can say nay, try to remember that you have one who cares very much."

She was silent for a moment, and then Yanna turned to Illya. "I am ashamed at many things," she said sadly, "I do not want anyone to see me. I want to hide from everything and cry. If I was not so slow this night, I would have taken the dagger back there in the cage and followed the others. But now I am glad that I did not – at least for now."

"I do not think that you ever knew me before this happened to me, but I knew of you, Illya. I did not know your name then, but I knew of you. I liked the way that you look, but I was like the rest of the girls that I knew. We are Martu, but my family's fortunes were better than most. I grew up with the things that my father's gold could buy – anything that I might have wanted, and I laughed at those who I thought were below me – people like you, Illya."

He lowered his head, but she reached out and held his face so that she could say what she had to now.

"I saw you often as you begged for small coins and I saw you as you worked to clean things that no one else would lower themselves to. I once watched you as you cleaned my father's stables. They had not been cleaned in a long while and I saw how you worked in the heat where no one wanted to be, for most could not hold their stomachs there. You could not either, at first. I watched as you heaved up the small meal that you had in you."

"Now I know how hard it must have been to know that your stomach would ache without it. Now I know what it is to go long without food or to have to eat what others would throw away because there is nothing else to eat. I watched you there, covered in the foulest old horse dung as you worked for a few coppers the whole day and again the next until it was done. Even I was angry then when my father tried to cheat you. I was the reason that he came back to give you more – and still he cheated you a little."

"I sat in my clean home and watched you work. I liked your face, and I liked your body. But I would have never touched you, dirty or not, because I thought that I was above you. I watched you walk away, knowing that you had to somehow wash before anyone would sell you any food, and yet you had to do it while making sure that no one stole the few coins that you worked so hard for. There were other times when I was among the girls who laughed at you and others like you. People like you who were below me, Illya. I missed knowing someone fine like you. Even so, you taught me much, though you knew nothing of it. It has been a hard lesson." Her voice broke and she held her face in her hands and wept.

After a moment, Illya tried to comfort her, "Yanna, what happened to you is not your fault or because of what you thought of poor people."

"I know that," she said, "but it makes it all the worse for me." She wiped her eyes.

"Then I was caught by the city guard one night after curfew and they took me to the place where you found me. I woke the next day and found myself like this. Imagine how it felt to find that the only one in the whole city who now cared anything at all about me was the same poor boy who was laughed at so often. And in a little while, I knew exactly why that poor boy worked so hard to get a few coppers – so that he could give us all food where others threw stones and laughed. I often insisted that you share my food with me. Do you remember?"

Illya nodded, afraid to say anything now. He was sure that he would cry in only a few more seconds.

Yanna leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I heard your stomach those nights and knew that you hadn't eaten yourself. My guess was that you couldn't get enough money to feed us and have something for yourself. I never told the others, but I remembered you and what you did to get a little money. I just didn't know then that it wasn't for yourself."

"This night, you stayed when you should really have run. Who would have blamed you?" Yanna sighed with a small sob, "Do you know what one of these brave women said to me? She told me to go to my boy, in the cart where I would be safe."

She looked down at his blistered fingers and the angry and bloody welt on his forearm. She bent down and kissed it softly.

"My boy," she said with a soft smile, "I have my friend and his name is Illya. I do not deserve his kindness. He tries always to look after me. He feeds me, and he tries to protect me, even though I am strong and fast and I can kill a man easily as I did in the market square. You surprised me when you told me that you love me, Illya."

She looked up and shook her head, "It is the crowning touch, isn't it? I treated you as though you were nothing and you tell me that you love me. I do not even love myself."

She reached for him again, "But I will try first to want to live like this if nothing can be done. I will try to be a friend to you because that is what I should be. I do not know about love since I am this thing now, but I know that I like it when you hold me and I can forget about everything only from your kisses. But I am sorry that I did not know better about people. If I did, I could have had your friendship long ago. I could have helped you, when it might have done some good and I was a girl and not a ... cat."

Lugalbanda smiled, "Yanna, I would say one thing here. I cannot know how you feel, but I can imagine it, I think. I can speak here as a man and tell you that to you, you feel ugly, and you are not what you want to be, but if you look into his eyes carefully, you might see how he feels. He doesn't know any more than you how it might work, only that he wants it to work. He does not know how you could walk down the road together, but he knows that he would do that if you wish it."

He reached out and lifted her chin. "You are not ugly, and it is plain in Illya's eyes that you are wondrous to him – as you are. If he knew you before this happened, he would know that he could look all that he liked, but it would be far out of even his wishes to know you. Either way, he loves you, and anyone with eyes can see this."

"For myself, I knew only that there was a sorcerer in that place there. Now I know more about him, and now that I know you, I am angry at the king here, for he must have known what was done to young women in his city. For that, he will pay. The sorcerer needs to be found and punished as well."

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They were asked what sleeping arrangements they wished for. While Illya looked uncomfortable and mumbled about anything being more than enough for him, Yanna took his hand and told him that she wanted to be with him. He stared at her and she did her best to smile, but it turned into a bashful little grin.

"You told me that you didn't know what would happen next to us," she said, "and I know as much now as you, but I want to be with you, Illya. We have no bars between us now. I want to just be together with my friend. I do not know what will happen between us, but I think that you need me and I know that I need you. So if you are willing, let us be friends outside of my cage. The Ba'al here said that he has ideas for us, and the Priestess says the same thing. I do not want to be away from you now."

She turned to Nisi-ini-su. "If it is permitted that we sleep together, it is what I want." She looked at Illya and smiled very shyly, but forced herself to continue. "I begin to think that Illya and I belong together in a way, at least for now. We will see what the dawn brings."

"I can tell you that the dawn will bring many strange things," the priestess said, "both here and at the city. There are some here who have heard some of your tale already and hope to meet you both. There are rumors of a brave young bowman, barely a man, who loves a cat-girl and cares not about anything else. I have been asked about a wild one who kills archers in the night to protect her man. These things fly in a place like this."

Yanna thought about it and smiled a little, "If anyone asks of us, tell them that Illya is a mighty one who can face deadly archers in the evening and sleep with a wild cat-girl at night. It will add to his fame."