Page 58 of Beyond the Ruby River
Herihor nodded his agreement.
Mahu rose, feeling numb, as if he’d been given a glimpse of his near future and the vision was abysmal. Daka followed close on his heels, his silence ringing in Mahu’s ears like the screeching of owls in the night.
As they descended the temple’s steps, Daka took his elbow. Warm fingers wrapped around his arm and brought comfort. A wave of guilt tightened his chest. Here he was, feeling sorry for himself, when it was Daka who’d be left to grieve the loss. Experience had taught Mahu that death was easier on the dying while devastating those that lived in its shadow.
“I’m sorry, Nedjes.”
Daka’s big eyes flashed to Mahu’s. “Why?”
“I’d hoped to give you better news.”
“None of this is your fault.” Daka squeezed his arm. “We can still hope. And there is still Temaj.”
Mahu’s heart sank. “Dakarai, I’ve said no.” But even as he spoke, he considered it. A vampire. Mahu didn’t know much about them, though he didn’t want to give Daka false hope by asking now.
Daka slumped. “I know.”
“I can’t,” Mahu insisted, to himself as much as to Daka.
“I know that too.”
“You’ll be all right without me.”
“No, Mahu. That is where you are wrong.”
Mahu remembered the heartbreak of loss anew. Old wounds ripped freshly open. He thought of lonely hours spent kneeling graveside and lying alone in a bed made for two, unable to sleep. He wouldn’t wish that sorrow on an enemy and certainly not on sweet Dakarai.
But what else could he do?
16
Daka
Mahu’s decline, once it had begun, happened rapidly. A fresh fault cracked in Daka’s heart with each bloody coughing fit. When the day came that Mahu opted to stay abed rather than go to the papyrus shop, Daka knew he must act.
First, he took care of all Mahu’s immediate needs—brought him water and breakfast, which was turned away, helped him with his morning ablutions, settled him comfortably back in bed to rest. Then, once Mahu slept, he ventured to the shop alone. Daka needed someplace private, and the little backroom would do perfectly.
The river had begun to flood and along with it the days grew long and hot. Perhaps it was good Mahu hadn’t made the short trip today. Sweat rolled down Daka’s back.
His hunger flared as he passed people on the streets. Though Mahu had encouraged him to find another to feed from, Daka balked at the idea.
Upon arrival at the shop, he shut the door firmly behind himself rather than leave it flung open as usual. He didn’t want people to know he was in. He’d need privacy for what he had planned.
A deep breath of the fresh scent of plants brought both comfort and sorrow. The smell was forever intertwined with Mahu himself. His shop, his work, his plants. Mahu had shared it all with Daka. What would happen to this place…after?
Past the workstations to the small room in the back, Daka set down the basket he carried and sighed. A low cot stood against the wall with a soft linen sheet folded atop, in case one desired a midday rest. Or in Daka’s case, a bit of a snack. An image of Mahu—sprawled naked on that cot, cock hard, panting as Daka pleasured him—came to mind with sparkling clarity. He let the memory come and go, tinged with sadness, and sat by himself.
Daka rolled his neck, took a deep breath, and began to focus. With his feet planted squarely on the ground, hands settled palm up on his thighs, eyes closed and thoughts turned inward, he conjured Niya.
Picturing his sister in his mind, Daka called to her, summoning her presence with all his will.
“Niyarai, Niyarai, vaici, Niyarai,” whispered Daka in a low, rhythmic tone. Like a metronome, he continued, letting his voice grow along with his demand. “Niyarai, Niyarai, vaici, Niyarai.”
Wherever she was, she’d be annoyed. Niya wouldn’t appreciate being summoned in this manner, even by her own brother, even though she’d promised to help. But Daka didn’t have time to send a messenger to Rhakotis and back, he needed Niya now.
“Niyarai, Niyarai, vaici, Niyarai.” Daka rocked with each word, his body in tune with his mind’s call.
This wouldn’t work the other way around. If Niya wanted to see him, she’d have to do it the old-fashioned way, with a physical visit. Daka couldn’t be summoned as he hadn’t learned astral projection. It wasn’t for lack of effort. His mother, brother, and then Niya had all tried to teach him, but he’d never managed to rise from his body. Not when called, not to feed, and certainly not because he just wanted to. If longing could lead to doing, he’d have been a master of astral travel by now.
