Over the crack of leather and cries of the killers, Ashallah managed to catch the sounds from the marble gallery. She looked behind her to find two janissaries escort another struggling captive before the Sultan: Darya.
“Asha!”
The janissaries released her as the Sultan embraced her from behind, his right hand on the cusp of her chin.
“Your lover, no?” the Sultan asked.
“Free them! I’m yours!”
“Are you? I need to believe it.”
“Let them go... please!”
“Perhaps one will live and you can go on to save him or her. I will allow you to choose.”
“But... I...”
“Or give me your dreamscapes. All of them. Show me the language of the jinn. The way to control them. Teach me the ways of my enemies, that I may know their actions before they do. I want to know how you have grown your abilities. The source of your powers. Give me your knowledge, that I may conquer the world. Then I will release your brother and your love.”
The Grand Sultan released Darya. She fell to the ground as he withdrew to his cushioned seat to recline.
“I will not ask again. The choice is yours.”
At that, the Sultan lifted his index finger. Vizier Hyder, watching, nodded. He turned to the Firstborne and extended his hand. He motioned his fingers back ever so slightly, as though to invite them forward.
The Firstborne caught sight of Hyder’s command. Rather than approach, they retreated under the portcullises, back to the tunnels of the arena from whence they came.
Ashallah looked back to Darya, who remained on the floor of the gallery, her face painted with equal parts of intrigue and confusion.
Another crack from the tunnel shook the air.
As had been with the turquoise, from the depths they came. No jinn. Nor children of jinn. Only creatures from the Sultan’s personal inventory.
Tigers larger than Ashallah had ever seen. Bears with black-tipped daggers for claws. Oxen bred so large their shoulders stood twice as high as those of their field brethren. Vipers with bodies long and wide, as though serpents pulled from the sea.
All snorted. Hissed. Bared their teeth. And glared forward.
Darya turned to the Sultan. He grinned.
“Her royal blood may have saved her from the turquoise. But it won’t save her now.”
Darya crawled to the edge of the gallery, the blue hue of her eyes ablaze with fear and concern.
Ashallah turned back to the beasts that entered the arena. The turquoise before them parted, clearing a path for the wild creatures. They hissed and waved their arms, not to antagonize the animals but to usher them to the prisoners. One or two even managed to mount the beasts, no doubt to ride them to their intended prey.
“Save us!” cried the Aliya. Her gaze fell on the Vizier, then the Sultan. Finding no show of sympathy from them, she directed her stare to Darya.
“Do something!” she pleaded. “Give him what they want!”
Ashallah extended her hands to the woman in white. They moved but inches before the chains in the wagon held them back. She looked to Darya. Her face contorted as she considered the Aliya’s words and Ashallah’s restraints. Ashallah shook her head slightly, her eyes locking with Darya’s.
Hyder looked over his shoulder to the Grand Sultan.
“I’m growing bored,” he stated.
He flicked his hand to the arena. Hyder snapped his head back to the arena. He extended his arms wide as he raised his chin. “Behold the children of the jinn!” he proclaimed to the crowd, who responded with an uproar. “Behold the beasts of the Grand Sultan, from his gardens and royal enclosures. They will smite the enemies of Greater Dyli, these sinners of Jaha, those who abhor the Law.”
The Sultan sauntered up to Darya, who remained on her hands and knees, peering over the edge of the gallery to the sandpit of the arena below. He took a knee beside her. “Those beasts of mine,” he began. “They were raised by turquoise. Sure, these children of the jinn may be scratched, or worse. One or two may even die from their wounds.
“However, the real danger will be faced by the captives down there. You see, my beasts feed on human flesh. They hunger for it. Even those who are not hungry - whether because they are full or because they eat hay and grass - have been trained to inflict carnage. Mark my words, your brother is in no less danger, for my soldiers and guards dosed him in the blood and stench of his fellow male prisoners. He reeks like they do so that my beasts will not know the difference.”
Darya considered Rahim. The spears of the guardsmen pressed at his back. Reluctantly, he continued forward, with the wagon only feet away. He stopped to swing around and knock a spear point aside, only to be struck by one, then two.
A growl drew her attention. One of the turquoise had managed to mount the large tiger. With ease, the turquoise rode it forward. The tiger, though not quite tame, paid little mind to the one on his back. He crouched, his massive paws carrying it toward his prey.
“Please! Save us!” the Aliya in tatters cried once more.
That was it. The shriek had singled her out. Within the blink of an eye, the tiger leaped forward, throwing the turquoise from its back. It closed the gap between himself and the Aliya with remarkable speed, so sudden that the woman had not a moment to scream before the striped beast tore open her neck.
Darya moved away from the edge of the gallery. Ashallah, seeing her fear, raised her hands towards her as far as the chains would allow.
“I’ll do it,” Darya relented. “Whatever power of mine you desire is yours.”
No, Ashallah thought.
The Sultan could not help himself from grinning. “Good.”
“Unbind me,” Darya said.
The Sultan cocked his head. “So that you may escape?”
Darya looked to the jinn that flanked them. “My powers of dreamscape peak when I am unbound, free.” She held her chained wrists higher.
The Sultan nodded to the janissary nearest to him. The soldier stepped up to Darya to unlock her shackles. The other janissaries braced the hilts of their kilij swords and the shafts of their spears. The jinn, also watching, eyed their kin with suspicion but made no move to reflect their distrust.
Her shackles clanked to the ground. Darya rubbed her wrists. Then, seeing the Sultan waiting, she extended the tips of her fingers to his temples. At first, he did little more than shift his irises. Within seconds, though, the color of his eyes receded, showing his whites.
The janissaries and jinn motioned to stop Darya, but the Sultan extended his arms.
“Do not move,” he commanded. “Do not stop her.”
“Are you well?” Hyder ventured to ask.
“I am beyond well. I can see you, and beyond. I can see into her mind. I can see everything.”
The Sultan gripped Darya’s hands. “Keep going. Give me your dreamscape. Your memories of the past. Your knowledge of a hundred-thousand souls. Everything you have felt or experienced. All. Give me all!”
Ashallah watched all the while, her soul swelling with dread.
Wait. What is that?
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the tiger, who licked the blood from its lips, its appetite whetted. The other female prisoners withdrew from the wagon as much as the encircling turquoise and their beasts would allow, leaving Ashallah vulnerable, with nothing but the wagon she stood between her and the tiger.
Her muscles flexed, her jaw clenched as she tugged at her constraints. In response, the beast crouched, ready to pounce.
“Yala Hasem!”
Ashallah looked up to see Thwayya waving her bound hands, beckoning the beast toward her. Thwayya paused to tilt her head, to yell to the heavens once more.
“Yala Hasem!” her voice echoed through the pit of the arena.
No! Ashallah wanted to scream.
“Yala Hasem!” Thwayya cried again, against Ashallah’s unspoken wishes. She turned her sights to the tiger. “You ugly thing! Come on, you wan
t a taste? Huh? You want...”
From the line of turquoise, a viper struck. With haste, its fangs dug in deep, with one long tooth finding the meaty part between Thwayya’s shoulder and neck, while the other pierced her side.
Thwayya’s mouth hung open as if to scream. The life drained from her too quickly, though, so that she gasped instead. Her eyes, which only before had been lively as she taunted the tiger, lost their vigor.
The viper, a serpent on the sand, pulled its fang from her body. Thwayya slumped to the ground, at once a corpse, as the snake unhinged its jaw, readying itself to consume her.
The tiger, seeing its distraction claimed by another, swung back around to face Ashallah.
Ashallah, her moment to mourn having passed, heaved up her chains up. Up. Up some more. The bolt to her right tilted slightly. It bent towards her. Ashallah eyes lit up with hope.
Then the tiger leaped.
In response, Ashallah knelt. She tilted her head down and turned her back to the tiger, in an effort to shield her face and neck. No sooner had she closed her eyes than she heard the beast scream and thud on the wooden planks.
She looked to her side to find the tiger killed, a spear having impaled its upper torso. She snapped her head, finding Rahim amongst the guards. Beside him laid the fresh corpse of one of his captors, while to his other side another clutched his gut, writhing in pain. The other two stood defensively, their spear points aimed at Rahim, who deflected them with a short kilij. Fresh rivers of blood streamed from his torso. Nevertheless, there he was. Enlivened and fighting.
The others in the arena had taken notice. The Firstborne pointed at Rahim. In unison, they raised their heads and released a fearsome cry. Their whips cut through the air, which exploded with a snap. The turquoise replied in kind with their own hisses and snarls. They urged their beasts of torture toward the blue warrior, descending on him like a squall.
Ashallah turned back to the dead tiger. She reached for the shaft of the spear. With the sum of her strength, she pulled it from the carcass, stumbling back as the spear slid free.
“Ahhh!”
Ashallah closed her eyes. She shuddered. She knew the sound. From her enemies of every known nation. From the poor souls caught in between the sides of a battle. From her departed sisters-in-arms.
Looking over her shoulder, she confirmed her suspicions. Rahim, on both knees. His short kilij laid in the sand as he reached to his back. An arc of blood hung fast in the air, its trajectory having escaped from his fresh wound. Running past was a turquoise, a vile beast with razors for nails and teeth, whose scarlet-colored hand spoke of the victim he had just felled.
Above, the cry of her brother had reached Darya’s ears. Her concentration faltered. Tears welled in her eyes.
The turquoise who struck Rahim slowed before swinging around to approach. He grabbed Rahim by his short, blond hair, wrenching his head back to expose his neck. Rahim clenched his teeth as the turquoise lifted his hand.
A crossbow bolt pierced his chest. The turquoise released Rahim to stumble back. It stared down at its chest before looking up at the nearest gate.
With khukuri blades raised stood Vega, with Badra at her side. Both unveiled. The gate doors creaked open further to reveal a line of eunuch soldiers, armed with crossbows. They knelt before the women to take their positions.
All around the arena, the gates flung open. Column after column of women and eunuchs rushed to the arena. Of all ages, bearing all manner of weapons. Some even brandished butcher knives and clubs fashioned in haste. Nevertheless, they were there. An army to answer the call. An unveiled army.
Vega nodded to Ashallah. “Yala Hasem!”
Ashallah nodded back.
The turquoise before Rahim roared at Vega. In turn, she rushed forward, heralding the others of their cause. Wave upon wave of women and eunuchs spilled into the arena. The Firstborne and turquoise answered the attack with cries and brute strength. The eunuchs responded with bolts of silver palm wood. The women with all manner of weapons.
Chaos, bloody chaos, Ashallah surmised. Now it is time to join the fight.
Ashallah pointed the butt of her spear at the loosened bolt and in one fell move kicked it free from its plank. The chain that had constricted her right arm slackened. She stood, her other bindings intact. However, she could move her dominant arm. She could wield a spear. Moreover, she could throw it.
She eyed the balcony. She spotted the Sultan before Darya, her hands still on his face, their dreamscape continuing.
If she were to move, Ashallah pondered as she gripped the shaft of her spear. I may have a chance.
Ashallah steadied her feet on the wagon, ready to cock her arm to throw, ignoring the chaos around her.
Do not throw it.
That is not me, Ashallah realized. She looked up again to Darya, who had lowered one hand to the marble tile of the balcony. Tears freely streamed down her cheeks, her jaw and onto her neck. The Sultan, still entranced by the dreamscape, paid no notice.
Ashallah, promise me...
What? Promise you what?
Swear that no matter what happens, you will save my brother.
Are you saying...
Darya dropped her other hand from the Sultan’s temple. Exhausted, the Sultan fell back to his seat of cushions and pillows. Darya, at last free, swept around and placed both her hands on the floor of the balcony.
At that, Ashallah felt the ground move. Along with herself. The planks of the wagon creaked and cracked. The sand beneath her shifted. Even the arena itself. Panicked voices cried and desperate onlookers screamed. The turquoise and Firstborne, women and eunuchs, all paused in their fighting to regain their balance.
Ashallah pulled at her constraints. The rest broke free. She jumped to the ground, rolling to her side as it continued to move under her.
Get up! Get up! Get up!
She did. She steadied herself, drawing back her arm, positioning the point of her spear to its target.
Suddenly, the sand parted. Ashallah lost control of all of her footing. She fell to one knee.
Place your hands to the sand!
Palm fronds swayed in a soft, humid breeze. Wave after wave crashed, white foam disappearing into the shoreline of the beach. The blue of the sea melded into the sky, seemingly disregarding any hint of a horizon.
“Asha.”
Ashallah took a deep breath. She looked down, her sight focusing. She wiggled her toes. The granules of the beach fell between them. Although she had known sand her entire life, with it having been a constant in every desert she visited, what she stood on now was different. Not coarse nor dry, but soft, moistened by the cascading gifts from the sea, and impressed upon by a single pair of feet.
A hand caressed the side of her face, guiding her stare up. Before her, clad in a short white abaya dress overlaid with gold lace, stood Darya. Unveiled.
The late afternoon sun painted her skin in radiance, such that her eyes dazzled and the stripes of her turquoise skin glistened. The sea breeze wafted her hair forward, each strand a thin ebony curtain.
“Where, where are we?” Ashallah managed.
“Nowhere, really,” Darya replied as she looked around, her gaze settling on the waves.
“I don’t understand.”
“This place doesn’t exist. No sultan rules over its shores. You cannot find it on a map. No one has seen it, except you and me.”
“You imagined all of this?”
Darya nodded. “Dreamscapes are a heavy burden. To see into another’s thoughts. To read one’s mind and experience a personal history not your own. It takes its toll.”
“I can say the same,” Ashallah confirmed as her fingertips found her temple.
“So many memories are overwhelming. When I first started to dreamscape, I found the whole process frightening. So I began to imagine my escape, a place I would not encounter in any feeling or conviction.” Darya knelt to scoop a handful of sand. As she straightened, she slowly extended her fingers
, allowing it to fall through. “I know there are other beaches, many that are very similar. Though none like this. This. This one is mine.” She motioned to the beach ahead, where a single line of footprints stretched into the distance, curving with the shore of the island.
Darya reached for Ashallah’s hand, her sand-dusted fingers massaging her palm.
“And now it is yours.”
Ashallah felt the warmth, the blood within, the life that made it possible. She felt the power of Darya flow into her. Another dreamscape. This one not jolting, but welcoming, soothing.
“This is all so real.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way. I want you to remember this place. In hard times, it has always comforted me. I hope it does the same for you.”
Darya’s grip on Ashallah’s loosened. Ashallah caught it though, not wanting to let go.
“Does this mean what I think it means?”
“It does.”
“No...”
“My time has come. I saw my path long ago. You still have a life to live. As does Rahim, if you act quickly enough. Remember when I asked you to swear to me?”
“I do.”
“You can do it.” Darya took her hand. She placed her palm against her own. “I gave the Sultan nothing but visions. He has none of my essence. But you do. From this moment forth, I give you all of my power. My strength. My abilities of dreamscape. They are all yours.”
“How is this possible?”
“Jaha has willed it. I have known that for quite a while. I was always able to transfer all of my power to another. A select few of us turquoise can do that. It requires the right person, one willing and accepting, open to the gift at the right moment. And such transfer of power comes at a great cost to me - my life.”
“No...” Ashallah gasped.
“Yes.” Darya caressed Ashallah’s cheek. “My life is forfeit anyway, as you are about to see.”
“I won’t let that happen. I will save you...”
“You already have. More than you know.” Darya took Ashallah’s hand once more.
“The moment to act, to move on, is now. I know that, in my heart of hearts. This is your time.”
Midnight Page 33
