The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 19: Massenqa: Section IV: Qwella

Qwella: Beneath the Temple of Qalita: Qemassen

Everything was ready, but Qwella couldn't stop her heart from racing through every tiny detail of the plan: what if one of the fires in the tunnels caught too soon or not at all? What if one of her Ashenqa was trapped along with the Lora? What if the soldiers reached the temple and slaughtered them all?

What if what if what if?

What if everything was as it should be and it was all about to go exactly as planned?

Qira had gathered the women in the tunnels to greet the Lora at the base of the cliff. The other temples with tunnel access had sent word that their Ashenqa were in place. The wooden supports lining the unblocked lower tunnels had been weakened. The ropes, the bitumen—it had been checked and checked again. Dour servants of Molot and whorish priestesses of Ashtet alike awaited the opportunity to bury the Lora beneath the very shore they meant to conquer. Today the people of Qemassen would show their invaders what price was to be paid for Zimrida, and what vengeance reaped for Qorban's death and the Anata betrayal.

Qwella stared across the command room she'd established in Qalita's secret chamber and tried to let the sight of Eshant issuing orders calm her. When their eyes met, she blushed the way she might have months ago, the first time she'd lain in her lover's arms and delighted in how simple, how beautiful, such moments could be.

Skin could be struck, but it could also be caressed, and a woman who'd cowered at the thud of her husband's footsteps mounting the stairs could command an army of women to defend their home. All that, Eshant had given her.

No, not given. Inspired in her.

Eshant ended their stare, attention pulled away by two younger acolytes seeking reassurance.

They were afraid, and Qwella couldn't blame them.

With the increased earthquakes over the last few days, there was real cause for worry that the Lora wouldn't be the only ones crushed underground. Eshant had thrown herself into the role of helping with contingencies in case of disaster. She had a magic about her that left everyone around her in high spirits.

If only she could turn that power inwards.

After a quick explanation that left the frightened young women smiling and laughing, Eshant sent them on their way. She wove toward Qwella past the crates and tables filled with candles, rope, chisels, and other supplies.

Up close, her eyes were hollows in her face. Neither of them had been allowed a moment of peace since the Lora had first been sighted off the coast, and hardly any before that, with all the labour that had required their oversight. At least this time, Eshant's exhaustion was something she should be proud of. It wasn't born of her father's abuses.

Three more Ashqata entered the room, but they didn't call out or interrupt, content to find what they needed themselves.

"We've become so important." Qwella laughed and stroked her fingers along Eshant's neck. "When I first saw you, you were scrubbing floors."

Eshant offered up a smile, but it disguised something murky Qwella couldn't place. "I wish I was still scrubbing floors. Things were simpler then."

Qwella tugged the arms of Eshant's robe, leaned up, and kissed her. "But you didn't have me."

"No." Eshant pulled her close, ignoring, as they had taken to doing, the women bustling around them.

In Eshant's arms it was almost possible to forget they dealt in life and death today, that Qemassen's fate was still uncertain, and that they might all be dead or imprisoned in but days' time.