A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,68
Princess," he shouted against the wind.
Maybe that would keep her from attacking him if she got the chance, though with an Esri, he couldn't be too careful.
Just because she'd sealed the gates fifteen centuries ago didn't mean she considered herself a friend to humans.
She might not have done it to help the humans.
And she might not be willing to do it again.
But she was their only chance of getting those gates sealed.
They'd do what they must to force her to help them.
But first he had to get her out of this forest, out of Esria.
He cut through the ropes binding her, then retied her hands behind her back, slung her over his shoulder and ran for the woods away from the archers.
When they came back to life, they wouldn't have him in their sights.
The problem was, he still didn't know where the gate was.
He needed the princess to tell him.
If she wasn't able to talk before the gate closed again, this rescue was going to be for nothing.
The wind blew fiercely as he ran across the golden grasses of the clearing, the princess slung over his back.
He was nearly to the woods on the other side when lightning flashed across the sky, half-blinding him as it arced toward the center of the village.
The pyramid must be acting like some kind of lightning rod.
Another flash tore across the sky.
His gaze followed it to the structure...and froze.
At the top of the pyramid, on what appeared to be a small platform, stood a jewel of a woman in a sheer-as-mist lavender gown.
Her long brown hair flew in the wind, her arms raised as if she called the lightning, called down the very storm.
Tarrys.
His heart seized as her tear-filled gaze found him, clinging to him for one wrenching moment before turning skyward again, piercing his heart.
Chapter 25
The ancient power ripped through Tarrys, crushing her beneath its weight, but she held fast even as every bone in her body felt like it was about to crumble.
"Run, Charlie! Run."
Her words weren't enough to reach her own ears, let alone his, but he'd stopped just inside the tree line when he'd seen her.
He had to move.
He had to go or all this was for nothing.
"Run!" Tarrys gasped at the pain wrought by the power.
She hadn't expected the pain, hadn't realized her ancestress was in pain when she'd watched her in that final vision, the one that had come upon her soon after she'd lost her bow and quiver.
But seeing that last vision, she'd finally understood.
After leaving Charlie, she'd gone to the yellow tree, called for it to open and found the chamber just as the three priestesses had left it.
Even their discarded shifts lay on the floor exactly where she'd watched them drop them all those centuries ago.
She'd chosen a fine gown as they had, put a pouch around her neck as they had theirs.
As she'd felt the fine silk of the ceremonial gown slide around her body, soft and damning, she'd known her fate was destined to be the same as theirs.
The memory of that vision wouldn't leave her.
The three sisters ran for the temple.
They weren't sisters in blood or parentage, but in the power passed to them from the ancient priestesses, power marked by the color of their eyes.
Only the violet-eyes could call the power of the ancients.
Only the priestesses could save their race now.
The eldest of the three led the way, tears on her cheeks as she cried for the lover torn from her, for the mating ceremony that would never come.
The temple village was in chaos.
Marceils, their scalps hacked and bleeding, attacked their brothers, wives, even children, cutting off their hair and pinning them down until one of the Esri came to lay a hand on them, claiming their will.
The sisters ran through the hair and blood, dodging the reaching hands even as they met the pleading gazes with the promise of deliverance.
The first of the sisters never made it to the temple stairs before she was caught and dragged beneath the enslaver's knife.
The auburn-haired priestess made it nearly to the top, but was felled by an Esri's arrow only to tumble down the long stairs and fall beneath a different blade.
The eldest and last of the priestesses reached the sacred altar at the very top and raised her hands to the sky, calling on the ancient powers.
Wind tore at her hair and lightning rode her fingers as she stole the Esri's control, immobilizing them where they stood.
She cried for the Marceils to