Unveiling the Sorceress

As he stood before the beads, a hand emerged, a female arm, beckoning. The woman's fingernails were long and tapered, stained with red that coiled over her hand in delicate scrawling designs. Bells trailed from her wrist to dance down over her long delicate fingers. The woman gestured her hand toward him, fingers twirling, the bells tinkling, and he smiled, taking her fingers, as she led him inside.

Elishiba closed her eyes, and imagined, her mind strangely afloat on the seductive atmosphere. She was that woman, drawing a man into her home, taking him for pleasure. He was tall, and as he strode into the interior he bent to kiss her mouth. His name whispered over her lips, and she felt his presence closing on her, the skin on her back alive with the certainty of it.

Amshazar.

Again his image haunted her.

Spellbound, she felt his mouth brush over hers, heard her own whimper. His hands moved on her body. His fingers traced her spine, holding her attention. It was as if he was all around her, causing tormenting waves of desire within her.

The sensation was shattered, quite suddenly, by a distant scream. Her eyes flashed open, and she rested her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself, suddenly dizzy and confused by the images that had crept upon her of this man, yet again, and even more confused by the way those images had been broken by a cry, a wild fearful cry. She felt hot and confused, her hair damp against her neck.

More screams and shouting issued from a place beyond the stalls. A sense of panic was high in the air. People were running in the direction of the noise, calling to each other to see what it was about.

Elishiba gathered herself. She could not see the twins, and hurried through the souk hoping to find them there. The previously busy stalls had been abandoned, the people running to where the crowd was gathered. As she too closed on the place, she caught sight of Amra and Elra deep in the crowd, hugging against each other. Craning her neck, she struggled to see. Like everyone around them, the twins stared down at the scene beyond.

"What is it?” Elishiba asked a woman nearby. “What is happening?"

The woman's eyes were wild with fear. “The boy, he is sick and they were bringing him into Suzin to be nursed, but a shayatin has followed them into the city to claim his weakening heart, his soul."

A shayatin? A dirt demon, here in the city?

It was unheard of. Shayatin preyed on people when they were isolated in the desert, or when the city was in danger or under siege. It was not for many years that this had happened, and Elishiba had never witnessed it before. Her heart beat hard in her chest, concern overwhelming her.

The woman by her side wailed aloud, tears spilling down her face while she gripped Elishiba's arm, her fears tumbling out. “Aleem is cursed. Enemies walk through our gates taking what they want. Our empress will be used as a whore at our enemies’ hands, while our people become victims of thieves and shayatin."

Elishiba stared at her in horror as she took in what the woman was saying, realizing the extent of her people's fears. It pulled on something deep within her, drawing on her essential womanhood, her very being—that which she had called upon at Sevita's knees. Her heart grew strong, her will more fiercely determined than ever. She clasped the woman tight against her for a moment. “It will not be so, sister. Trust me, it will not be."

With the promise still on her lips, she squeezed herself between the crowds of onlookers, only halting when she reached the inner edge of the gathered crowd. She could scarcely believe the scene before her.

A narrow stretcher made of sticks and torn fabric bore the body of a thin young boy. Beside him, the demon rose and sank into the sands, its body forming from the very grains itself. As it lifted once more, grappling at the body on the stretcher, Elishiba saw a screaming skull, eyeless, but with vision all the same. A hollow, hungry mouth and bony fingers emerged from the sand and plucked at the stretcher's edge. The boy screamed and writhed in agony when the demon's finger brushed over his throat, as if it had taken the breath from his lungs.

Elishiba's skin crawled with fear and revulsion. She stared in horror. The color faded from the boy's face. Grains of sand were pouring into his mouth as the demon moved over his face. Nearby, a woman was on her knees, wailing. The boy's mother, Elishib

a knew it in her heart. Two young men tried to draw her away, but she clutched at the earth with her fingers, powerless, yet unwilling to flee.

"Gods, help us,” Elishiba whispered, horrorstruck.

Her attention shifted when a tall, hooded figure in heavy sacking robes emerged from the crowd and taunted the demon, his arms raised as if warning the creature off in a commanding voice. Beyond him she caught sight of a scrawny elder man, with a tufted beard, who stood by his side. The two challengers had apparently come forth to take on the creature.

A glimmer of hope for the boy sprang into being in her heart.

On his feet the robed man wore dusty, worn boots, a traveler. His robes, too, were worn and travel weary. He chanted aloud an ancient, foreign-sounding tongue. Whatever it was that he said, it harnessed the demon's attention.

The demon paused and lifted its shifting sand-formed skull, turning in the direction of the stranger. Elishiba watched in awe. The shayatin had understood what the stranger had said.

Hope thrummed in her chest.

"People, give me your strength, focus on the boy,” the hooded figure shouted in the direction of the crowd.

Some of the crowd fell to their knees, as if willing. Others backed away, too afraid to be involved. Elishiba stepped forward, her heart beating fast, her feet moving of their own accord.

The hooded figure seemed to focus on her, but she could not see his face. He reached out a hand in her direction, and between them a powerful force grew. It was immense, tugging on her very innards with its strength. It was happening so fast, she could barely make sense of it. Her body reacted, her response forming out of her need to help. The man was using her to assist him in his cause, she realized. And then the crowd seemed to sense it too, and she felt her torso heating fast, as if there was a burning rock lodged in her chest.

Between her and the stranger a fiery glow grew.

Voices lifted in concern, but she was locked into the experience and only faintly heard them. The stranger held her attention, directing the pulsing force between them, with one hand. It swirled out from him, only to be spooled back and reinvigorated from within her.

Hot and vibrating inside, her chest ached. A fearful moan escaped from her lips, but she could do nothing but give of herself, as she watched him raise the other hand, and move it through the air, before lashing it out in the direction of the shayatin.