A Warlord's Lady (26 page)

He watched Jürgen again, his guard’s pale blue eyes were still hungrily following Christy as she paced around like a caged wolf. He felt a modicum of relief that his gaze was not following Sabra, but not much. He wondered what they’d been talking about together. The thought made him uneasy. Jürgen’s state of sexual arousal was dangerous. Cain doubted he would make any advances on Sabra, but did not trust him entirely and Christy was unpredictable at best. No, he would not leave Sabra alone with Jürgen or Christy.

She was sitting on an exposed root of a large sentinel tree, gnawing on some dried fruit they’d brought along, and she looked small beside his guards and infinitely more fragile.

‘Jürgen, Christy,’ he addressed them. ‘I will take Sabra with me, go concealed, and scout further. It’s likely that the government forces have the
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spell cloaking the troops — so you’re not going to be able to see or smell them — but Sabra can use her ability and get a closer look.’

‘I can?’ She sounded surprised.

‘That wise boss?’ Christy asked, clearly nonplussed. ‘She doesn’t know much about the jungle and her ability isn’t all that reliable, is it?’

Cain gritted his teeth. ‘She can always camouflage the ordinary way.’

Sabra looked at him sharply.

‘But how will you find them, if we can’t follow their stink, then how do you propose to find them?’ Christy asked boldly.

The question made Cain’s jaw tighten involuntarily. Christy must have noticed the gesture and winced, looking away guiltily. Shaking his head, Cain turned and swiftly gestured to Sabra to follow.

He knew instinctively that the troops were close. Despite Jürgen and Christy’s dislike of them, Cain held a deep fear for the Rakshasa. His generals were unaware that the converted Rakshasa had sworn a demonic oath — unbreakable by all the laws of nature to protect and serve him. So although it looked as if the Rakshasa had, for all intents and purposes, absconded with the enemy forces — Cain knew it was impossible. This fact alone made his blood heat with anger.
How had they even caught the Rakshasa? Who was responsible for this outrage?
And more importantly, what had they done to the Rakshasa to stop them returning to him?

The jungle was black as a devil’s soul. What moonlight the heavens offered was obscured by the rustling canopy of the jungle and the thickening clouds above. The loud roar of insects had shifted to a soft hum as night swept its skirts over the country, but Cain strained to hear something else, to give a hint of where the troops may be, or even his Rakshasa.

Using weak but helpful spells to enhance stealth and night vision, they crept through the undergrowth. Twice large spiders had scurried over his limbs but he’d flicked them away without a flinch. The last thing he was concerned about were spiders; there were bigger foes afoot in the jungle tonight, and time was of the essence. Sabra had been stoic, not even releasing a squeak when a large moth brushed past her face. She’d been trying her ability, but whether it was nerves or something else, the ability seemed to fail her.

This did not fill him with confidence.

However, as long as they could locate the Rakshasa and call in reinforcements, all would be fine.

Shortly, they came across a glittering stream, where the water rippled and tinkled in the dreary darkness. Here the wet earthy scent of the jungle was all around him, but then, for the briefest of moments, the scent of something else jolted his olfactory awareness. The sugary, nearly floral scent of magic wafted through the humid air and hung there, almost intangible but still enticing.

Cain gestured for Sabra to still, and froze where he stood. The cool waters of the stream soaked into his boots. Cloaked in the
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spell, he knew they were invisible, but his own magic could easily be scented if the government forces had someone trained to detect it.

He heard the definite sound of heavy footfall not far to his left, then the rustle of cloth, and then the sound of pattering water.

Someone was taking a pee. The odd bittersweet odour of urine drifted upwind and met with Cain’s nostrils; he turned and followed the scent. The sound of splattering urine continued, until Cain presumed they were almost upon them.

Quietly, Cain uttered the
videat veritatem
spell. It was a spell he’d rarely had need for. The wording was cumbersome, and it required significant concentration. Yet if it worked, the spell would allow the caster and anyone he share the sight with, to literally see the truth. It lifted the veil of magic, and showed what was really there. As he whispered the last words, a whole new scene began to materialise before his eyes. Where dark jungle had once been, a huge man of indeterminate race stood not two metres away. The noisy urinator — Cain supposed — was busily tucking his penis back into his pants. Cain grimaced at the scene hoping Sabra couldn’t see as well as he could. The man quickly turned and clomped away through the jungle. Cain followed stealthily. The man soon passed through a tight gap of trees, and pushed through some lush foliage. Through the gap left behind, Cain could see an impromptu camp set-up. Camouflage netting was spread underneath the canopy of the forest and men stalked about with red-bulbed lanterns and torches, each busy with their own activities. He glanced to his right, where there were sentries spotted everywhere. They were all holding Magical Ion Sensing Devices. For a moment, Cain closed his eyes, realising he’d nearly unwittingly walked them straight into the enemy camp.

He breathed deeply and opened his eyes, thanking the gods for their kindness. And he surveyed the scene, the
videat veritatem
spell allowing the sounds of the camp to roar around his ears, startling him with its intensity. This fact alone proved just what kind of magician he was up against — to cloak forces of this number, with this level of skill and power was no mean feat.

Cain became conscious that in maintaining his
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spell his magic scent may be detected. Cain hugged close to a particularly large tree, trying to spot the Rakshasa. They didn’t appear to be anywhere. He turned to face Sabra. Her eyes were wide.

‘Sabra, see the camp?’ he whispered, gesturing to the camp and ensuring the spell still encompassed her. ‘I can’t get any closer without my magic being detected. I need you to do something.’

***

Sabra felt her guts twist cruelly with nerves. ‘You do?’

Cain nodded and pulled her closer to him. ‘I need you to camouflage and skirt the perimeter. I don’t want you to go into the camp, but simply scout and see where the Rakshasa may be.’

Sabra nodded. ‘You want me to use my ability?’

‘Yes.’

She felt her stomach pinch again. ‘I…don’t know.’

‘You’ve done a great job so far. Just try. Otherwise your ordinary camouflage will do. You won’t set off any Magical Ion Sensors camouflaging.’

Sabra felt herself nodding absently.

‘You just have to scout for me,’ he repeated.

‘Okay.’ She struggled to get her ability to work, but she felt too nervous. Several long moments went ticking by — yet nothing happened.

‘It’s not going to work,’ she moaned, and stared up at his dark eyes, shadowed by the early evening gloom.

Cain’s face twisted with disappointment that he tried to hide.

I will not let him down,
she decided.

‘Help me out of this,’ she said and gestured to the Kevlar vest.

Cain stilled before her.

‘I need to be naked to camouflage the ordinary way,’ she reminded him ruefully.

Cain’s hands hesitated, but eventually they moved to remove the Kevlar.

‘Let’s be quick,’ Sabra said. She had a natural fear of being discovered semi-clad and unable to camouflage. It was better to be naked or not, never both at the same time.

With the Kevlar vest gone, Sabra could breathe easier and began to feel a little more confident, though perhaps she should have felt more worried.

Cain’s hands fell listlessly to his sides as she lifted her top off. Clad only in her black bra, and her camo pants, she felt self-conscious. Cain hesitated, and knelt down on the ground before her. The gesture at this time was nothing short of bizarre.

Was he going to propose?

What is he doing?
she wondered as she looked down on his dark glossy hair. He looked up at her, his eyes flashing in the dark.

‘Ummm,’ she said, blushing and placing a modest hand over her breasts. ‘What are you doing down there?’

He gave a quirky smile. ‘I’ll undo your boots,’ he said, and his fingers began deftly undoing the laces as she set about removing her bra.

Within a moment her feet felt the cool, moist leaf litter beneath her toes and she slipped the camo pants down.

Cain stood and took a few awkward steps away, being careful to avert his eyes.

‘You’ve seen it before,’ she reminded him softly. ‘Many times, actually.’

She watched in the gloom, Cain’s shoulders tighten. ‘I am giving you your privacy,’ he grumbled, still not turning to face her.

Sabra was now naked except for her black knickers. She didn’t hesitate. Swiftly she slipped them down her legs and stepped out of them.

The cooler air of the night scurried over her nakedness like silk and she felt herself shiver. She felt stronger, a little more powerful. Camouflaging was something she
could
do, and do
well.

Cain still had his back to her, and she found his sudden sense of modesty frustrating. ‘Thank you for the privacy,’ she said, ‘I’m naked now. You can turn around and I’ll camouflage so my nudity doesn’t burn your eyes.’ She’d meant to sound teasing but it sounded a little bitter.

‘That’s not why I turned around,’ Cain said, and turned to face her. Sabra struggled not to smile. She held her discarded clothing to her breasts. She hadn’t camouflaged yet and some rude, naughty part of her wanted him to get flustered by her nakedness, or otherwise show her that he was turned on.

She handed her bundle of clothing to him.

She could see Cain’s throat contract as he swallowed audibly and took the clothing. Now she was naked before him. She felt his eyes burn over her body, and she relished the hunger that flashed in his dark eyes. Lust and desire seemed to perfume the very air as his gaze travelled down past her breasts to the round curve of her belly.

‘You’re lovely,’ he murmured and reached out a hand to caress the line of her waist. His touch was as hot as a tongue as it travelled from her side to her navel. She shuddered beneath his touch, and the heat between her legs grew.

The moment, however, was disrupted as her underpants, precariously balanced on top of the bundle in Cain’s arm, fell and landed with a soft pad into the leaf litter.

Cain looked away.

Was he embarrassed?
The thought was unbearably cute.

He knelt and picked up the knickers.

‘I’ll go then,’ Sabra said quietly. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Cain nodded wordlessly, and she urged her cells to work. She could feel the delicious tingle of colour change roll through her body, and she knew without Cain saying that she was invisible.

‘Bye,’ she whispered, and crept off through the forest barely making a twig snap.

***

Cain stood still, trying to watch her go. He had a raging hard-on in his pants. He cursed himself for his weakness.

Her body is the perfection in a Rubens painting
,
only more colourful
.

He stifled a groan, and began to place her clothing into his backpack. The clothes smelled like her, fresh sweat and vanilla. He fought the urge to bring the clothing to his nose and inhale the scent of her.

As he pushed the remainder of the clothing into the bag, he became aware of several men muttering nearby in fast Thai. Cain listened hard; he had grown up speaking Lao and English. The Thai language had many similarities with his native Lao, but also many differences. He had to concentrate to make sense of what the men were saying.

‘I don’t like this,’ one said. He was chewing on a stick and flicking dried mud from his boots.

‘No,’ the other agreed.

‘These demons.’ He gestured somewhere to the man’s left. ‘Bad, bad magic…bad things.’

The other nodded sagely and turned his head to see where the man had gestured.

Cain’s stomach churned.

‘Not good to do this to them, though,’ the other man said, shaking his head. ‘We want the warlord, not his people.’

‘It’s the same. Get people, get warlord,’ the other argued.

***

Sabra crept around the perimeter of the camp. She knew there was magic at play because the camp would come and go from her vision. Cain’s spell to see the camp seemed to be failing. She urged her ability into action when she heard three soldiers speaking in hushed tones. She paused, and looked through the trees.

Beyond the soldiers were metal cages. The soldiers stalked around them, intermittently shoving the butts of their weapons through the bars and striking the cages’ inhabitants. The cages were huge. Sabra knew they must have been magically conjured as there was no way that men could drag them through the forest with all its incumbent foliage and undergrowth.

She narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

Demons — it was all they could be. The Rakshasa were not tall creatures but she could see them slumped and piled atop one another. One demon was stirring, its lone eyeball wide and bloodshot, one of its horns torn and hanging.

Without waiting, she turned and crept back through the jungle to find Cain and notify him of the Rakshasa’s whereabouts.

***

Sabra held his hand tightly and guided him through the forest. She’d not put her clothes back on, and when she didn’t concentrate, Cain noticed her body shifted to its usual visibility leaving him with the delicious image of her well-rounded posterior. It made his cock hard all over again. It was wrong to be thinking such lascivious thoughts when his Rakshasa were in mortal peril.

Her buttocks glowed dimly in the twilight again, and he couldn’t help the sharp intake of his own breath.

Sabra turned and looked at him curiously, but he noticed a slight curl of her lower lip, indicating that her failure to camouflage was less than accidental.