While the Gods Slumber Pt. 07

Author's note: This is the last part of this novella-length story. All comments and feedback are welcome!

Zhura awoke to ravenous hunger. She hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon. Clouds scudded along the sky, masking the sun. Bayati lay curled against her in a fetal position. The Kichinka woman's back rose and fell with deep, even breaths. She was still asleep.

Bayati was tall and well-formed under her dress, with a slender waist and long legs. Beneath the smells of sweat and dust, Zhura detected a hint of hibiscus. She felt the stirrings of a different sort of hunger. As quietly as she could, she slipped a hand under her loincloth, running fingers along her moistening slit.

She remembered the last time she had been with Amina and Miliki'tiki, when Zhura bent her friend nearly double and watched the sanju demon pound her gaping cunt. In her imagination, Zhura embraced the demon, planting kisses all over its ashen body as she sat on Amina's face. Amina's tongue curled deep inside her, spreading her inner walls, while her fingers lashed Zhura's bud of pleasure.

Zhura came quickly on her hand. She licked it, tasting her salty, pungent flavor.

But it wasn't enough. It only whetted her appetite for more. She gazed longingly at Bayati's sleeping form.

The Kichinka woman seemed so... innocent. She had had the courage to flee from everything she knew, just to avoid being corrupted by Great Wallop.

You smell of demon.

Zhura, scowling with frustration, sat up and woke Bayati. Once they had cleaned themselves as best they could, they began to search for the other survivors.

Bayati recognized that they had slept on a south-facing hill, and quickly oriented them eastward. They made their way down the scrubland slope until they reached a plateau dominated by acacia trees.

"How did you become so brave?" the Kichinka woman asked. "I watched you lead your companions last night. Weren't you afraid?"

"I only wanted to protect my friends," Zhura replied. "They are here because of me."

"My father says we live to honor our ancestors," Bayati said. "That's why we should do great deeds."

"What if our ancestors don't deserve to be honored?" Zhura shot back.

Bayati fell silent then, and asked no more questions. Zhura, contrite, tried to make more conversation.

"When we reach the border," she said, "others will learn of Kichinka. Men will come to destroy the demon and save your village."

"I don't care about them," Bayati said, bitterly. "If I stayed, they would have let me become a slave. Great Wallop will soon be gone. It will move on to terrorize others."

The Kichinka woman turned to Zhura. "Teach me to not be weak and afraid. Teach me to not be a victim again."

Zhura swallowed, unsure what to say. "You are already brave, Bayati. Come... we need to keep moving."

By midmorning, she had located the stones that marked the trade route. They followed eastward alongside the trail for a time, vigilant for any sign of people.

Ahead she spotted someone waving on a distant ridge. "There," she said to Bayati. "I think that is them."

As they hurried closer, she recognized Amina and Kaj waving. Zhura climbed the bluff, with Bayati in tow, and rushed into her friends' arms.

"We thought you were gone!" Amina cried, as the three of them hugged. "I wanted to go back for you."

"I am relieved that you didn't," Zhura said. "I needed for you to be safe."

"You saved us, Zhura," Kaj said. "All of us."

Eleven others stood with Amina and Kaj, all looking as starved and dirty as Zhura felt. She immediately recognized Ngo, the vanmaster Ranthaman San, and his young assistant factor, Ofari. Six porters and drovers and two of the wives had escaped with them.

The day before, the van had numbered fifty-three.

"That's all?" Zhura asked, cheerlessly. "No one else made it out?"

"There may be others who won free," San said. "But we were scattered last night, and we have no way of finding them safely."

Zhura introduced her new companion, and then they all sat to decide what to do next. They had water, but little food, beyond a few gourds they had dug up, and some dried meat from the camp. Not enough to feed the group for even a day. No one had bows or other weapons for hunting larger game.

"We can make the Ikanje border post in three days," San said.

"I can help find food," Bayati volunteered. "I know what is edible and grows wild nearby."

"We should send out foraging parties of two or three in different directions," San decided. "Leave a few behind here to watch the route for stragglers or pursuit. Tonight, we collect the food, save what we can, eat the rest. Tomorrow at first light, we start for the border post."

They all agreed. Zhura joined Amina and Kaj.

Bayati watched her anxiously, but Zhura was eager to be alone with Miliki'tiki and the couple. Ngo and one of the wives volunteered to forage with the Kichinka woman.

The three friends descended the bluff and crossed over the trade route, exploring the plateau to the north. As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Zhura called to the sanju demon.

Amina gave Kaj a sidelong glance.

"Sanju mate?"

"Soon," Zhura said to the demon. "But we need you to hunt for us. Fowl, or an antelope? Can you bring those back to me?"

"Not many," Kaj said. "That would be suspicious."

"Yes," Zhura agreed. "Sanju hunt."

The demon stared at her, then vanished.

Zhura glanced at her friends. "It saved me last night."

"Against the bowmen," Kaj said.

"And once again. Great Wallop... nearly killed me."

Amina came and hugged Zhura. "I am sorry, my friend."

"Do you know why?" Kaj asked. "Why does this demon serve you?"

"We bound it," Zhura said, letting Amina go.

"We gave it what it craved," Kaj agreed. "Yet it seems to do much more for you, in trade for much less."

"I wondered the same thing last night," Zhura said. "I don't understand it."

"Does it worry you?"

"Yes," Zhura turned to her adopted brother. "Does it worry you?"

"I..." Kaj started to speak, then looked away. When he faced her again, his eyes flashed pain. "I love you like my sister, Zhura. I owe you my life," he said. "But you are leading us to a place that I cannot follow.

"I want to live a good life, marry the woman I love, and make babies. I want the same for you," he said. "I am not a warrior, or a witch. I am not my father, to run off and fight wars."

"You're only here because of me," Zhura said, dismally.

"It isn't only that," Kaj said. "I would fight and die for you to be safe, Zhura. But last night I saw you, as you charged into battle. You will never truly be safe. I don't even know if that's what you want anymore."

Amina gazed at Zhura, as if her soul was being torn in two. "What do you want, Zhura?" her friend asked.

Zhura tasted salt on her lips, realizing that she was crying. "I felt that power for the first time, that day we were all together in Boma. Now I crave it. I want to feel that way all the time."

She wanted to say more, to try to explain how it felt when she was able to help them. But the words tasted like ash in her mouth.

"That's what I want," Zhura said, heartsick. "That's who I am."

A breeze coursed across the plateau, shaping ripples in the grass like waves on the sea. Or at least what Zhura imagined a sea to be. Acacias that dotted the tableland appeared distended and unreal, as if some dreaming god had grabbed and stretched them to distortion.

"Let's try to find food," Kaj said.

After a few hours, all they'd found were bunches of edible leaves and unripe, plum-like fruit. Until Miliki'tiki appeared, with a fat little antelope draped over its shoulders. The buck's throat was slashed open, and dried blood streaked the demon's torso.

"Take it all back to them," Zhura told her friends.

"What will we tell them?" Amina asked, gesturing to the antelope.

Zhura shrugged. "We found it with a broken leg," she said. "They'll believe whatever you say."

"What about you?" said Kaj. "You need to eat, too."

My hunger is less for food than...

"I'll be along," Zhura said. She turned away, avoiding the expressions on their faces. Her friends walked back to the camp.

When they were gone, Zhura dropped to her knees before the demon. She caressed and kissed the minutely pebbled skin of its thighs, tasting dust and char. When the creature's monstrous sex emerged, Zhura took the bulbous cap of it into her mouth.

Miliki'tiki seemed hesitant, but the young herb-witch held it steady, hands on its smooth buttocks. Her lips stretched over the head. She gently coaxed the demon with her hands, drawing it deeper into her mouth.

Zhura felt the breeze playing upon her skin. Birds called in the distance. She imagined herself like a python, devouring a meal larger than her own head. She resolved to swallow this meal. Drool and slime dripped from her straining lips, spattering her breasts and thighs.

Slowly, she eased the huge cock in, until it filled her mouth. Then she played a hand along the shaft, causing the demon to pant and thrust its hips. Zhura felt every throbbing vein of the demon's member, and it seemed to swell even more as it rutted into the entrance to her throat. Even as she gagged and choked, she persevered, hunger and shame vanquishing fear.

When Miliki'tiki shuddered and came, Zhura eased back slightly, so she could feel spurts of the creamy fluid across her tongue, and swallow them as fast as they rushed forth. The warmth spread through her belly and breast, coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers and toes. She drank until the demon had no more to give.

Miliki'tiki stepped back, but Zhura continued to stroke and caress it, until its cock stiffened once more. She untied her skirt, slipped off her loincloth, and turned away from the demon on all fours, her hands and knees settling in the grass.

"Sanju, mate," she said.

The demon eagerly leapt to the task. As Zhura felt the smooth head of its cock against her slick nether lips, she moaned with need.

"Rut me," she pleaded softly. "Rut me until I can't remember anymore."

The demon was soon pounding her roughly, and she lowered her head to the dirt, bracing herself to keep from sliding away from it. It reamed her sodden, stretched channel until her cries matched the birds', floating on the wind.

But Zhura remembered. As she climbed to orgasm after orgasm, she thought of Amina and Kaj, and everything she had lost.

**

The next morning, they set out for the Ikanje border. The ragged group of survivors had grown by two. A pair of porters who had fled the Kichinka found them the previous day. The sun seemed to beckon as they made their way east. They kept an eye to their rear, ever watchful for stragglers - or worse, pursuers.

Zhura spoke little and kept to herself. Even as she felt their eyes upon her, she settled easily into the familiarity of being an outcast. Amina and Kaj stayed close to one another, and Ngo and Bayati seemed to spend many hours walking together.

The jovial chief's son was the only one to approach Zhura, on that first day. He joined her as they crossed a plain of golden grass, studded with stunted trees and shrubs of brilliant green.

"Ranthaman San says that at the border post there are soldiers that will go back to Kichinka to overthrow the demon and clear the trade route," he said. "There are even scribes who study demons and keep record of them. They will need guides."

Zhura nodded. She didn't know what a scribe was, but didn't much care.

"I would gladly follow you back," Ngo said. "To guide them."

She looked at him. "Why?"

"Why would I follow you, or why go back?"

"Both."

"You are a leader, Zhura. Don't you see? Even San would follow you."

"How can I lead," she asked, "if I don't know where I am going? Bayati says the demon will be long gone when the soldiers get to Kichinka. I'm afraid you won't find the adventure you seek there. Make your name elsewhere."

Ngo continued to natter, speaking of Bayati's somber beauty and divine singing voice. Soon, Zhura stopped listening, and the young warrior gave up.

At night, Zhura left the camp alone, going far enough away in the dark that she was certain no one could follow. She found a secluded place to call for Miliki'tiki, drink its seed, and rut it to the point of unconsciousness.

On the second day, the herb-witch begged a bit of palm oil from one of the wives. That night, she coaxed the demon into taking her ass. The creature's huge member seared her with pain she had never before known. But she persevered, until the intensity turned to scorching pleasure. She yearned to give herself completely to the demon, to be possessed by it in every way.

On the third afternoon, the refugees crested a high, grass-lined ridge. Twin ivory spires soared above the distant plain to the east like tusks, dominating a tree line that might have marked a river or stream.

As they all stared wistfully at the towers, Ngo spoke behind them.

"Someone comes from the west," he said, pointing back along the trade route.

"Is it one of ours?" San asked.

Ofari, who had the best sight, peered into the distance. "I see just one," he said. "She doesn't look like ours," he said.

Zhura knew, almost without looking. She could see the figure's bare midriff from a distance. In the distant wavering heat, her body seemed to undulate as she walked.

"Zhura," Amina said, her voice betraying alarm.

The herb-witch nodded, her gaze never leaving the west.

"She has come for me," Zhura said quietly.

A part of her felt relief.

**

By nightfall, it had been a full day since any of the group had eaten. They were still hours from the border, but too weak to continue on in the dark. Ranthaman San sent Ofari and one of the porters, who were still strong enough, to forge ahead over the plain by torchlight and the stars.

When the others lay down to sleep, Zhura left the camp.

"Sanju," she said.

The demon appeared, waiting. She guessed it was eager, ready to couple with her once more, by the way its bristles trembled.

Again, she studied the mask, searching for some sign of emotion or affection. There was none.

"Miliki'tiki," she said softly.

The creature's skin began to smolder.

"Goodbye, friend," Zhura said. The demon became a cloud, which, Zhura supposed, would float back to the summoning stone she'd left with Amina.

"You said goodbye to it," Amina said from behind her. "But not to us?"

Zhura turned to see her friend. "I don't want to say goodbye to you," she said. "I left the summoning stone where you and Kaj lay. It's yours," she smiled. "You stole it fairly."

"You can't go, Zhura. We've come so far."

"It's no less a mistake for us now than it was from the beginning," Zhura said. "Kaj is right. My ancestry will catch up with me, eventually. And that will endanger everyone around me. I saw you die, Amina. In my mind's eye, I saw you fall in Kichinka. I... can't..."

"We chose to be here, Zhura," Amina said. "Can't you see? Kaj and I came because we love you, but also because we love each other. This was not a mistake!"

"It was for me," Zhura replied.

She turned and walked away. She remembered how they were, as girls, years ago. Zhura wanted nothing more than to run back and embrace her friend. But then she might never be able to leave.

The grass hut looked the same as Zhura remembered. But this time, it was planted squarely on the trade route, half a world away from the Little Mongoose. Ntoza stood outside of it, in her green skirt and halter.

The confident smile on the witch's face faded as Zhura drew near.

"You're filthy," Ntoza spat.

Zhura was not of a mood for banter. Her muscles hummed with life, but her belly was just as empty. "No more mystery," she said. "Who was my mother?"

Ntoza gestured for Zhura to come to the entrance of the hut. The witch ducked inside, bringing out several small jugs and clay jars and other items to lay upon the grass.

"Take off that clothing," Ntoza said. "Let's wash you."

Zhura hesitated. But she did not resist when Ntoza produced a razor, and cleanly cut the stiffened, sun-bleached garb from Zhura's body until the herb-witch stood naked before her. The only piece Ntoza saved was the sanju-skin cloth.

"I knew Anathe of the Thandi as the Handmaiden," Ntoza said. She poured water on a square cloth and began to wipe Zhura's body down, painstakingly cleaning off days of dirt and grime. "She led our people out of the heart of the Sizwe Empire, where we faced certain doom, and into the refuge of the Hill Kingdoms. She was a warrior, a sorceress, and a faithful protector of our ancestors' legacy.

"You have grown leaner in your travels," Ntoza observed, letting cool water stream down Zhura's chest and legs. The rivulets took dust and salt with them, running off the sides of her sandaled feet. The older woman did the same for Zhura's back, examining her charge with a careful eye.

"Her enemies knew Anathe by different names," Ntoza said. She rubbed down every bit of Zhura's skin. "Demon Queen. Dreadwife." The woman smiled. "There are many stories about her. I will tell them all to you, if you like. Or perhaps others will."

"How did she meet my father?" Zhura said.

Ntoza shrugged. "Does it matter? Among the Thandi, birthright passes through the mother. Fathers are... incidental."

The witch then open a jug of oil scented with ginger and coconut. She poured it slowly over Zhura's shoulders, breasts and upper back.

"You don't care that I ran from you?" Zhura said. "That I stole from you?"

Ntoza rubbed the oil into Zhura's skin, using the razor to gently scrape off excess. She began at Zhura's shoulders and neck, working her way down.

"You can escape me," Ntoza said. "You cannot escape your ancestors. Sooner or later, you will accept your fate. For you, it was sooner."

Zhura felt the kindling of her arousal, as Ntoza rubbed oil into her breasts, and down her sides. She had never been bathed by another before. She imagined it as a luxury of kings and queens. Ntoza cherished her like a lover, despite all that had happened.

Zhura gave a slight gasp as Ntoza knelt before her, at eye level to her pubic mound. The witch matched her gaze, and then, with the razor, began to trim the hair away from her oily skin. Ntoza motioned for her to spread her legs. The witch continued to work until she had shorn and washed all of the hair from between Zhura's legs. She took more oil and began to rub it into her shaven mound. Then she began to apply the oil inside Zhura's moistening nether lips.

Zhura's legs began to tremble. "I don't think I can stand any longer," she said.

"I suppose you are clean enough," Ntoza said. "Though I might enjoy you more on your knees." She motioned Zhura to help bring their items inside the hut.

Zhura entered, kicked off her sandals, and lay down on the soft pelts. The plush caress on her skin was an unimaginable extravagance after so many days sleeping on grass and unforgiving ground.

Ntoza quickly returned to her task, kneading the oil into Zhura's flesh, inside and out. Zhura scanned the hut as the witch worked. She noted a basket full of clay summoning stones, similar in size, but different in their markings and shape than the ones she had already seen. One was curved and tapered to a rounded point, like a tusk. The shaft of another was encircled with smaller tendrils that lay flush upon its ceramic skin.

Between her quickening pulse and the heat of the fire, clean sweat began to bead on Zhura's skin. She felt herself begin to drowse, but fought the urge.

"What will be my fate, Ntoza?"