Wrath of the White Tigress

Chapter 3

The White Tigress snarled at Ohzikar then bounded down the trail with greater speed than any normal tiger could manage. Zyrella rushed over and grabbed Ohzikar's arm. 

"Come on! We've got to follow her."

Ohzikar climbed to his feet but then collapsed. "Give me a moment."

"She doesn't have many moments left!" 

Ohzikar grasped at his head. "What do you mean?"

Zyrella took a deep breath and thought about what she should do. What could she do? The White Tigress was already far away. And doing what? Rescuing the Slayer? Sighing with frustration, Zyrella decided that seeing to Ohzikar was more important at the moment. It wasn't as if the Tigress had not given her instructions. 

She explained her failure to him as she removed his helmet and checked his wound. "You probably have a concussion. That's the worst of it, though."

Ohzikar tore a strip of cloth from his under-tunic and wrapped it around his head. Still naked, and shivering from cold and fatigue, Zyrella walked over to the precipice. Through the rain and dark, she couldn't see the river below. She could only it hear it roaring and sloshing. 

Something pricked her senses. She looked about and found Bavadi's qavra lying in the mud near her feet. She made sure there were no active sorceries radiating from it then picked it up. 

"Ohzi, do you think Bavadi really has been duped by Salahn?"

"I can't imagine how. A man can be deceived into killing a good person, but he can't be tricked into torturing children. The Tigress was just trying to confuse him."

"Then why did she stop you from killing him?"

Ohzikar shrugged, and Zyrella frowned. She wanted to tell Ohzi how she felt when she looked at Bavadi, but he wouldn't understand. He would think she had lost her mind, that the sorceries had affected her wits. And perhaps they had.

Footsteps crunched toward the gap in the wall. Ohzikar stood, suddenly alert again. "Our comrades—"

"Are dead," said a large palymfar with a battle-axe as he thudded into the courtyard. "And now you will join them." 

Blood stained the man's face, his hands and arms, his slashed burnoose. He spied the qavra in Zyrella's hand, yelled a curse against her, and charged. Zyrella sprinted ahead of Ohzikar, dove, and rolled into the palymfar's feet. The assassin tripped and fell into Ohzikar's thrusting tulwar. Though pierced through the stomach, the palymfar swung his axe. Ohzikar ducked. The blade barely missed his head. As he rose, the palymfar head-butted him. Ohzikar fell back, twisting and dragging his tulwar downward. The sword sliced through the palymfar's intestines. Despite his battle rage, the assassin collapsed and died.

Ohzikar cried out for his comrades. None answered. He lay back, gasped for air, and tried to staunch his nosebleed. Scanning for friends and enemies, Zyrella knelt and cast a simple spell that nevertheless shot pain into her mind.

All others on the mountain summit were dead. Beyond, she couldn't tell. Zyrella hoped Jaska Bavadi had also perished if for no other reason than she couldn't bear to see him again. However, she feared the White Tigress had gone to save him. She felt slighted that she had risked so much only to have the Tigress spend all her efforts on the Slayer. But she reminded herself the goddess was grateful to her, and wise. 

"They're gone?" Ohzikar asked.

"Our friends? Yes. The other palymfar, too, though I don't know about Bavadi."

"You're going to have to go after the goddess without me."

"No, we'll get you inside and check those wounds. The goddess didn't ask us to come along, and neither of us is in any shape to. We have done our part for now. If she needs us, she can call for us. Otherwise, we will go down when we can and search for the Slayer's body or see if we can discover what the White Tigress did."