Free Unholy War by David Hair Page A

waited to change shape; whatever possessions they carried were packed into satchels strapped to their shoulders or waists.
    ‘Does the gypsy think she’s got something we haven’t?’ Darice, a big Brician woman, cackled.
    ‘Too good for us, eh?’ sneered another woman.
    Cym felt her skin flush darker and tossed her head angrily. ‘No, I’m the same as you,’ she snapped back. ‘Just better looking.’
A Rimoni backs down to no one.
    A few of them chuckled, appreciating her spunk. ‘She’s certainly a damned sight prettier than you, Darice,’ one of the men called.
    Another leaped up and waggled his cock at her. ‘Hey, girly, this’ll be waiting for you when we land.’
    ‘How’ll she find that little thing, Kenner?’ Zaqri quipped, to more laughter.
    ‘It’ll be towering above Southpoint,’ Kenner the cock-waver boasted.
    ‘It’ll be mistaken for a tiddy-worm and eaten by a gull, more like,’ Darice responded. More banter was flung about, all voices shouting at once, as much laughter as hostility present.
    ‘She’s still got to fly,’ Huriya said sourly, her voice killing the merriment. ‘Or someone gets a free meal.’
    Cym glared at the tiny Keshi girl, whose voluptuous breasts stood proudly high on her chest as she stood with her hands on her hips. Small as a child, worldly as a whore.
    Little bitch. I’ll show you.
    ‘We’re waiting, gypsy,’ Huriya trilled.
    .> Zaqri’s silent voice filled her mind, his mental touch like warm fur.

    She gave him a contemptuous look and walked to the far wall. She touched a panel and the wall opened. Inside it, right where her mother had told her, was a large rolled-up carpet and a pouch containing the gemstone that powered it. The only pity was that Zaqri had been so attentive of her that she’d not had the chance to slip up here alone.
    Who says I need wings to fly?
    She removed the gem from the pouch and hung it about her neck beside her own periapt, then she dragged out the carpet and unrolled it. Justina had told her the gem converted other types of gnostic energy into Air-gnosis, but she was an Air-mage and shouldn’t need it, she hoped.
    Some pack-members started guffawing with laughter as they watched her place her few belongings in the middle and sit down.
    ‘Wait,’ Huriya snapped. ‘I said you must learn to shape-change – your life is still forfeit, girl!’
    ‘No,’ Cym said calmly, ‘you said I must fly. And so I shall. I won’t slow you down.’ She looked at Zaqri, who was grinning broadly, to her surprise. ‘The question,’ she added, ‘is whether you
animals
can keep up with me.’
    Before the Dokken could react, she threw all her stored energy into the carpet and willed it into the air.
    In a few seconds, the shrieking howls of outrage were dulled by distance, but she felt a sudden flaring of the gnosis behind her and a vast force gathered as if to swot her from the air. She looked back fearfully and saw Zaqri had seized Huriya’s arm and just in time deflected whatever attack the tiny girl had launched. She felt her skin flush at the exertion, and poured more energy into her flight.
    Hey, maybe I can outrun these bastards?
she thought jubilantly.
    She couldn’t, though. A few minutes later a giant golden eagle swooped onto the carpet and gripped the fabric in its claws to steady itself before resolving into a naked Zaqri. He had a satchel tied to his waist. His eyes were a mixture of fury and amusement. ‘Damn you, girl, why didn’t you tell me?’
    ‘You killed my mother,’ she said. ‘I’ll never tell you anything I don’t want you to know. Anyway, you’ve been inside my head: you should have worked it out for yourself.’
    ‘It doesn’t work like that. I’m not a strong mystic: I just got glimpses – emotions mostly, and a few big memories. Huriya wanted to rip you limb from limb for that little