Halah sat in the shade beneath an old date palm awaiting the coming darkness. Not the darkness of night, for the sun was high and the horizon shimmered in the heat. No, the darkness she awaited had been sent by Him, and it approached her now on great black wings. He had sent just one, one of the Nine to fetch what was His. She could see the dark stain in the blue sky travelling inexorably towards her, bringing shadows with it, and knew the time had come. It was not unexpected. Her dreams had been full of late, full of war, full of death, full of Him. He said she had served Him well in locating what was most precious to Him, He said He would send for her now that His victory was imminent and she would serve Him in His great black tower. She had begged to be released from His service, had begged even for death, but He had denied it time and time again. For decades she had served His will, rallying the Haradrim to His cause, allowing Him to use her dreams and her mind for His own nefarious purposes. Now she felt thin, stretched, only a shadow of her former self. Sometimes she could swear her physical form was nothing more than a veil, the world around her visible through her skin if she stared at it long enough. She held her hand up now out of habit, just to check that she was still solid, still real, but it no longer mattered. Perhaps once it had, but not now, not with her doom soaring ever nearer. She had nothing left. He had taken it all and she did not care. So Halah sat calmly and remembered as she waited, remembering the beginning as she waited for the end.
Halah Sadíra was the name she was given, Maiden of the Moon and the Star, although she could no longer recall the face of the one who named her. She had dwelt for a time with her twin brother amongst the Haradrim of the Great Fountain City, an oasis in the much-disputed territory dubbed The Burning Sands. During their years within the city's walls, her brother had tried to protect her as best he could, fighting her battles in alleyways and market squares, defending her with fists and brute strength for he lacked the ability or the intelligence to do anything else. But from some hurts, he could not protect her. Superstitious and cruel, the Haradrim's words had cut deep, leaving scars that would not heal no matter how long ago they had been carved.
It was said that when the twins were born, Halah Sadíra had received the brains and Halím Nadír the size. From a very young age, Halím was taller and broader than any Haradrim before him, voiceless though Halah could hear him in her thoughts, and in possession of a slow, gentle mind that would never develop beyond that of a child. Halah had become his voice and Halím had become her strength. She had a keen intellect beyond her years but had been born small and weak, blessed at birth (or cursed, some would say) with strangely pale blue eyes uncommon amongst the usual deep brown of her people. She could see and hear many things others could not - shades of the dead, whispers of the unseen - an ability that had earned her coin over the years from those desperate and brave enough to pay to speak with the souls of the departed. The Haradrim considered the twins an odd pair, unnerving to be near. Most of them avoided the strange girl with the distant blue eyes and her silent, watchful giant of a brother.
Their mother had done the bare minimum to keep them alive, so busy was she entertaining clients in her bedroom. The identity of their father was never known; he could have been one of many nameless faces. With their strangeness and the shame of their parentage, the twins were held in contempt by those around them, and when their mother died there was no protection left for the youngsters. Halah, a petite child of delicate beauty and grace, was expected to take up her mother's profession despite her young age and fill the position the woman had left. There were men of wealth and avarice who were disappointed and angered when she refused, men who wished to possess her as their own, add her to their collection of beautiful objects, while the crafty and carnal back alley merchants wished to use her for profit. Any who tried to force the issue were met with Halím's untethered rage and fled from him in fear, or stayed long enough to wish they had. These men of greed may have been twice his age, but they were half his size and could do little when faced with the youth's supernatural strength and all-consuming desire to protect his sister. With Halah refusing to pay the rent on her back, the twins soon found themselves homeless and alone, sheltering where they could, begging or stealing to survive.
For as long as she could remember, Halah's dreams had shown her things - childish things, simple things, things she used to her advantage whenever possible. These dreams with their flashes of the future served her well on the streets, allowing her to place herself and her brother in the right place at the right time, to find food and safety, to find the kind-hearted in a sea of callous strangers. Occasionally, the knowledge she gained could have aided others but this she never shared. Why should she help those who did nothing to help her? But the simple nature of these prophetic dreams changed one hot, humid night...the night she later deemed her Awakening.
It was the first night of her fifteenth year, the first night He came to her in a dream - the man who was not a man but something more, the man with golden hair and eyes of fire. He stood regally atop a jagged tower made of metal and stone, His tall form seemingly cloaked in shadow and His head crowned with a circlet of twisted black thorns and blood-red jewels. To Halah, it seemed as if she stood in mid-air, frozen in place and time, her tattered white dress fluttering around her, a stark contrast to her light brown skin and black hair. She watched Him from afar as He contemplated the barren, empty land surrounding His tower, but the longer she watched, the more apparent it became that the land was not as empty as it seemed. In fact, it was quite full, teeming with ghastly life and terrors unimaginable. Swathes of darkness like living shadow swept across the wasteland, great flying beasts the likes of which she had never seen circled the tower, seething masses of foul creatures in numbers beyond her reckoning stood waiting, ready for His command. She wanted to flee but she could not move. She wanted to scream but she had no voice.
It was then He turned to her, fixing her with His burning eyes, surprise and confusion clear upon His beautiful face. He reached out to her with a pale hand, beckoning her, calling her, the pull of His will undeniable, and yet she refused. His eyes flared, His anger palpable, the heat of it licking her skin like flames, and still she refused Him. His face crumpled in rage at her defiance and He clenched His outstretched hand into a fist. The landscape blurred around her, the distance between them disappearing almost instantly. She dangled limply in mid-air before Him, so close she could feel the heat of His body, His warm breath on her face.
His expression softened into one of kindness. "Who are you?" The whispered words were spoken in a black and guttural language that was strange to her ears, but she understood them nonetheless. He stroked the smooth skin of her cheek with the backs of His long fingers as He observed her thoughtfully, His touch burning like fire and leaving a searing streak of pain in its wake. Her scream of anguish lodged in her throat for she could not open her mouth to let it escape. He smiled, relishing her pain, and withdrew His hand. "How did you come to be here?" He murmured to Himself as He walked a slow circle around her, reminding her of a great desert wolf stalking its prey. She felt herself trembling in His suffocating presence and heard herself whimpering, the tears rolling down her cheeks cool compared to the heat He exuded. He smiled benevolently, both beautiful and terrifying. "You fear me." Halah could only watch Him helplessly, more tears seeping from her wide eyes. He stopped in front of her and leaned over to whisper into her ear, His breath fluttering her long black hair and His lips brushing the curve of her ear. "That is as it should be." He laughed quietly and stepped away to observe her, a wolfish grin plastered to His face.
Halah could see her reflection burning within the golden circle of flame in His eyes, could feel those flames cooking her from the inside out and oh, how she struggled against the paralysis that held her, but to no avail. Her breathing quickened and her teeth ground together as He slowly raised His left hand and rested the tip of His forefinger between her dark brows, the feeling of that elegant finger not unlike that of a red hot poker pulled fresh from the forge. "I will have my answers," He whispered, and suddenly the flames were burning inside her head. Her body shuddered uncontrollably as He probed her mind, her throat aching with silent screams as she felt herself burning alive, consumed by His flame. After what seemed an eternity the pain abated, leaving her feeling somehow empty and bereft. He wore that kind expression once more, the fire in His eyes banked to a warm amber glow, and His full lips curved with a pleased smile. "Fear not, little one, for I have use for you. You will help me find something that is very precious to me." The smile faded as He glanced down at His right hand and its missing finger, His golden brows drawn together in a frown. "Something that was stolen from me long ago," He murmured, His gaze flicking to her face once more. "Your eyes see much, your mind reaches far and with my help, it will reach farther still. You are valuable, and I will have your service. If you refuse, I will have your brother."
Images of Halím endlessly tortured and tormented by the creatures below bombarded her senses. She squeezed her eyes shut but it did nothing to stop the visions. Halím's screams pierced her ears and she knew his simple mind did not understand what was happening. His frightened brown eyes searched for her in the sea of monsters, his thoughts cried out her name over and over, battering the walls of her mind. She begged silently for it to stop until finally, He granted her a reprieve.
"You wish to speak," He said. A tremulous, muffled hum was the only reply she could make. "Then speak."
Halah's jaws relaxed and she opened her mouth to inhale great gasping lungfuls of air, sobbing hysterically. He waited patiently for her to calm herself, seemingly enjoying her suffering as He looked on with a small, satisfied smile. Her lips trembled as she spoke. "What would you have me do?" she asked, utterly defeated.
With a predatory grin, He clasped His hands behind His back and paced before her, the shadowy cloak billowing around him in a nonexistent breeze. "Whatever I ask," He drawled, halting His pacing and lowering His chin to peer at her wickedly. "You are still but a child. All I ask of you now is to dream as you already dream, to seek within your dreams what I have lost." He looked her over disinterestedly. "Perhaps I will ask more of you later. Perhaps I will send for you when you have grown." Her eyes widened in horror at the thought. "For now, take this." He took His right hand from behind His back and held it out to her, revealing a small silver ring bearing a sharp oval gem of deepest red. "A gift. For you."
Halah felt herself sinking until her bare feet touched the rough stone of the tower floor. Her body was her own again, her limbs moving as she wished, but still she hesitated, her eyes fixed on the ring glinting in the palm of His maimed hand. "What is it that you have lost? How do I find it? I can't...I can't direct my dreams. I can't control them. I don't know how to do what you're asking." She tilted her head up to look into His fair face and found Him watching her intently.
He bent down to look directly into her pale blue eyes, His golden hair falling over one shoulder as He did so. "I will direct your dreams for you. I will use you like the tool that you are. You need only open your mind to me."
She saw her reflection trapped once more in the circle of fire flaring within His eyes but this time there was no pain, no burning. "But...how?"
"Accept my gift," He answered, standing straight once more and moving His hand closer, the ring now held between His thumb and middle finger.
Her hand moved slowly as if of its own accord to take the ring from His fingers. She held it up before her eyes, admiring the blood red gemstone and failing to see the malicious smile that began to curl His lips. Never in her life had she held something so fine. "You still haven't told me what it is you seek," she whispered.
"I seek a ring," He stated simply. "My Ring. The Ring. No, not like this one," He said, seeing her questioning glance. "A golden ring, unadorned. You will know it when you find it."
Halah looked up at Him and swallowed hard. "I will do as you ask, but you must promise not to harm Halím."
He dropped to one knee, shadows swirling around him like mist, and brought Himself eye to eye with her. He leaned forward and Halah fought the urge to step backwards, knowing she was near the edge of the impossibly high tower. "You have my promise, Halah Sadíra. Now put on the ring," He urged.
His words sent shivers down her spine and dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, but she obeyed. She slipped the ring onto the first finger of her right hand, expecting to be burned or hurt in some way, but there was nothing...only the pleasant warmth of smooth metal long held. She let out a sigh of relief and looked into those eyes of fire with a trembling smile.
He matched her smile with a terrible grin of His own, a low laugh beginning to rumble from His chest. She flinched as He cupped her face in His hands and stroked her cheeks with His thumbs. "Now you are mine. You belong to me and no other," He whispered harshly, squeezing her skull painfully. Halah squirmed and grasped His wrists in a futile effort to get free. He rose, bringing her with Him, still holding her head between His hands, her feet dangling in the air as He held her at arm's length. She kicked and clawed, but He simply laughed as the flames danced in His eyes. She felt herself burning again, burning from the inside out, and this time she screamed. Writhing within His vice-like grip, she realised too late that He held her over the edge of the tower. Fear and pain overwhelmed her as she tried to gain hold of His shadowy robes, His golden hair, anything to keep herself from falling. "It is time for you to awaken," He said. And with that, He dropped her.
Halah fell screaming, screaming until her throat felt ripped to shreds and there was no breath left in her lungs. The only sound remaining was the wind roaring past her ears. She fell with such speed that it was difficult to draw breath. She tried to turn, to catch hold of the black stone rushing by, her desperate mind filled with a mad hope that she could somehow slow down enough to land safely. As she caught sight of the ground rushing up to meet her she lost all hope of survival but found the breath to scream once more.
Halah woke in her brother's arms, her hands clutching her head and a single brilliant point of fiery pain directly between her brows, the skin between them permanently marked with His fingerprint. Her ragged screams echoed in the dirty, abandoned storehouse where they sheltered while Halím stroked her hair and held her close, rocking her until the screams turned into shuddering sobs. She clung to her brother, her nails digging into his broad shoulders through the thin cloth of his too-small black tunic, listening to his silent words spoken only in her thoughts.
"Why do you cry, Halah? Please don't cry. You are safe. You are protected."
She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths until she calmed. Heaving a watery sigh she sat up, lifting the hem of her tattered dress to wipe her face and runny nose. "It's alright, Halím. I'm alright. It was just a dream. Just a bad dream," she said with a forced smile, patting his cheek. The smile fell away when she caught sight of the ring on her finger. She sat up straighter, panic threatening as she tried and failed to pull it from her finger, His words echoing in her head: Now you are mine...You belong to me and no other. Halah looked at her brother with wild, frightened eyes. "We need to go, Halím. We must leave this place! We need to run!" She jumped up, skittish and ready to flee, only to be grabbed from behind by rough hands. Halím surged to his feet with a growl, ready to leap onto his sister's attacker, but a large, jagged knife held to her throat froze him in place.
Her captor laughed in her ear, the overwhelming stench of stale wine on his breath. "Stay where you are or I'll slit her throat, idiot boy," he said, his arm tightening its hold beneath her breasts. Halím did not listen. Baring his teeth and raising his fists, he slowly stalked forward. "I said stay where you are!" The man who held Halah squeezed tighter, pushing the air from her lungs and the knife harder against her skin.
Another man, tall and thin and attired in a mercenary's uniform of black and red, materialized from the shadows, delivering a cracking blow to Halím's kneecap with a short baton of wood. Halím cried out in her mind, falling to one knee and making a grab for the baton in the man's hand. He caught only air and the wiry man raised his arm, landing a sharp blow to the back of Halím's skull, leaving the youth lying in a heap on the rough flagstones with a growing pool of blood around his head. Halah screamed at the sight of her brother's blood. "That's enough of your screaming!" her captor said, pressing the knife deeper into the soft flesh of her throat, her own blood trickling down to stain the neckline of her dress. "We've had enough of you in this city, witch, you and your idiot brother. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere."
"Except on her back," the uniformed man said, giving her unconscious brother a kick in the ribs before walking over to lift her chin and rub his dirty thumb over her mouth.
She pulled her face away from his touch. "Do not touch me, filth," she said, spitting in his face and kicking out with her bare feet. She managed to land a hard kick to his most sensitive area and laughed in satisfaction as he hunched over with a grunt. "Let me go!" she cried, fighting with all her strength against the arm that held her. The man she kicked recovered enough to give her a backhanded blow that stilled her long enough for her captor to throw her to the ground beside Halím and begin wrapping a bit of rope around her wrists.
"If Ka'dar had not paid us to fetch you I would take you myself, right here on the dirty floor! The perfect place for an animal like you." Halah looked up at the man with anger in her eyes and the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. She recognised him, one of her mother's clients, a fat self-important merchant who dealt in the trading of wine...and children. His lanky partner she did not know, but he watched her with hungry eyes and she did not like it. She silently called to Halím within her thoughts, begging him to wake up, but he remained silent.
"What about the simpleton? Should I kill him?" the hungry-eyed man asked, his leering grin revealing a mouthful of crooked, yellowing teeth.
"No. Bind him. He comes with us. I can get a fair price for one that strong. He may be stupid, but he can still work."
"Or swing a sword. Ka'dar may have a use for him as well," the lanky man chuckled.
"Leave him alone!" Halah shouted, earning herself another hard slap. The merchant yanked the rope binding her hands, the glint of her ring catching his eye.
"What's this? Where did a street rat like you get a ring like this, hmm? A witch and a thief, are you?" He eyed the ring greedily and attempted to pull it from her finger.
"I didn't steal it! It's mine! My own!" She instinctively tried to protect the ring and pull her hands from his sweaty grasp. "It was a gift. Let...go!"
"Be still!" he said, pushing her roughly onto her back and straddling her hips. "Who would give something like you such a fine piece of jewellery, hmm? A client perhaps? Payment for your services after you've denied them to half the city?" He grappled with her as she fought to keep her hands out of his reach, bucking and writhing like a wild thing beneath him to free herself from his considerable weight and foul odour. The mercenary laughed as he stood leaning against the wall.
"Come now, Faríd. She's only a little girl," he chided.
"Shut up, you! Make yourself useful and grab her hands," the merchant snapped.
The lanky man knelt beside her, securing her wrists in a firm grip so Faríd the merchant could pry the ring from her finger, but it was stuck fast.
"You can't...have it," she growled through gritted teeth. "You can't have...me! I belong to another! I belong to the Lord of Shadow and Flame! He is my Master and He will not suffer another to lay hands upon me. Release me or you will feel His wrath!" She was just as stunned by her words as the two men; they had come unbidden to her lips and spilt forth without thought.
The mercenary let her hands drop and edged back warily, putting distance between himself and the enraged girl as Faríd scrambled away from her, trying and failing to find his feet. A ring of fire had begun to burn within the pale blue of her strange eyes, ignited by her words and her anger. Halah stood and looked down at her brother as he began to stir and groan.
"Get up, Halím," she whispered, bending to help him sit. She quickly inspected the deep gash on the back of his scalp as he cradled his aching head in his hands. He'd had worse, much worse, from defending her in the past. Halah ripped the hem from her dress and pressed it firmly against the gash to stem the flow of blood. "Hold this here. You're going to be alright. I promise." She placed a kiss atop his wavy black mop of hair before standing up straight and defiant. "My brother and I are not going anywhere with you. Go away and leave us alone," she demanded, her eyes narrowing.
The lanky mercenary shook his head. "No," he sneered. "We've been promised many coins for your delivery. You see, you're worth quite a bit now that the Lord of The Burning Sands decided you are to be his."
"I've already told you I belong to another. I bear His ring," her voice trailed off as she lifted her fingers to the blistering fingerprint left between her brows. "I bear His mark," she whispered to herself.
"Knock her out or shut her up! We need to be out of here before the sun rises. Ka'dar is waiting," Faríd commanded, finally on his feet. He stood glaring at the twins with his hands on his hips, one of them dangerously close to the large knife in his belt.
"Ka'dar will not have me, and neither will you. Ka'dar will no longer rule the Great Fountain City, he will no longer be Lord of The Burning Sands. There will be only one Lord in Harad, the Lord of Shadow and Flame, and He does not share power! He will call our people to war and from across the desert, the Haradrim will answer. He will unite our tribes and our cities to destroy the Men of the West, those arrogant oppressors of old. We will ride to the North and shake the very foundations of their beloved White City. His great shadow will cover the whole of Middle-earth, and all who defy Him will burn." The words poured from her mouth in the language of He who had awakened her, and she relished the feel of them on her tongue, relished the fear they struck in the hearts of those who tried to take her. So exultant in the feeling was she that it blinded her to the fear on her brother's face as he watched her speak.
"What witchcraft is this?" the merchant muttered, meeting his partner's worried glance and backing towards the door of the abandoned storehouse.
"That's not witchcraft. That's madness. She's gone mad, speaking that gibberish," the lanky man said with a shake of his head. "Perhaps we should cut out her wicked tongue. Ka'dar won't mind if she's silent. Maybe he'll even pay more if she can't talk," he pulled a long curved knife from his boot and stalked towards the twins.
Halím rose unsteadily to his feet behind his sister, towering over her with clenched fists and bared teeth. The lanky mercenary paused and looked over to his partner who urged him on with a shooing motion.
"The next time you touch me will be your last," Halah warned, the ring warming on her finger and the circle of fire dancing in her eyes.
The mercenary scoffed and lunged for her, grabbing her upper arm and yanking her away before Halím could strike. He swiftly cut through her bonds with a grin. "I enjoy a bit of a struggle. Go on, little girl, do your worst."
Halah tried to pull from the man's grasp but stilled suddenly. The palm of her right hand was burning as if He was touching it, and the sensation was steadily growing more intense. She looked down at her trembling hand as the heat flared, expecting to see her skin blistering and cracking but it remained unmarred, though the red jewel of the ring glinted brightly on her finger. With a wail of agony, she laid her hand against the man's chest and pushed him away. His eyes widened in surprise as he released her arm. Flames had spread from her hand outward across his chest, catching his scraggly beard and the black silk wrapped in a turban around his head. They spread quickly down his arms and legs, his knife clattering to the floor as he slapped at his burning clothes. He stumbled backwards, flailing and trying to put out the flames but only succeeding in spreading them further. He was completely engulfed in moments, falling to the floor where he writhed kicking and screaming. Halah was stunned, watching with wide eyes as he burned and his skin blackened.
She turned to her brother, her hand held out before her and a look of helpless horror on her face. "Help me," she pleaded. "Halím, it hurts!" Tears streamed down her cheeks but her brother backed away until he was pressed against a wall. "Halím, please!" He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed and covering his ears with his hands to block out the sight and the sounds of the burning man, but the man soon fell silent. She turned to the merchant, desperate for help. "Help me!" she cried.
"Help you? Why should I help you? Look what you've done to Harûn!" he bellowed, stumbling away with arms outstretched to fend her off as she slowly walked towards him. "I knew you were a witch, wicked and evil! Keep away!" He tripped over a broken stool, falling heavily to his back and crying out in pain as his elbow hit the flagstones beneath him.
Halah stopped at his feet, breathing rapidly. Pain and fear, panic and rage all seethed within her, sending her limbs trembling uncontrollably and her teeth chattering as if she were cold, though she felt as hot as the flames of a forge. "I am not a witch! This is all your fault! I told you I belonged to another but you did not listen. I begged you to let us go but you refused," she ground out the words, stepping closer.
"Stay away from me!" the merchant cried, desperately pushing himself away as she reached for him.
"No. This is your fault. You deserve to burn," Halah replied flatly and wrapped her searing fingers around his ankle, setting alight the loose-fitting linen trousers he wore. The thin white material caught instantly, blackening within the flames. He slapped at his legs and attempted to pull the burning clothes from his body but the flames clung to his hands and spread swiftly. His shouts became shrill as his skin burned and he crawled for the door, fighting to rise to his feet. He fell to his stomach an arm's length from the exit and did not move again.
Halah sobbed in horror at what she had done. Setting the lanky mercenary alight had been unintentional, setting Faríd the fat merchant alight had been very much intended. She had even felt a grim satisfaction doing it, and that frightened her. The pain in her hand was now unbearable, sending her to her knees. Once more she tried to remove the ring, to pull it off and cast it away, but it did not move. She hung her head and cradled her right hand against her chest, crying bitter tears as the fire from the burning bodies moved to consume bits of old hay and wood strewn about the floor. Within minutes, flames were spreading to anything that could burn. Empty barrels, wooden beams and pillars, the broken boards of the upper floor...it all burned as Halah cried. She felt the heat growing nearer and looked up to find their temporary sanctuary was now a cavern of smoke and flame, filled with the stench of burning flesh.
"Halím!" Her brother had sunk to the floor and curled in on himself, his head resting between his knees, rocking back and forth to gently bump his back against the stone wall in the rhythmic ritual that so often brought him comfort. "Halím, we must go! Come!" Halah crawled awkwardly over to him, still holding her burning hand to her chest and shaking him to awareness with the other. "Halím, we need to get out of here! Get up!" He shook his head, refusing to look at her. "Please! I need you to come with me now! I need you to protect me. Please," she pleaded.
His desire to protect overtook his fear and he unfolded himself, looking around at the crackling flames and billowing black smoke. He stood quickly, gathering his sister into his arms, and ran for the door dodging falling debris and floating embers, leaping over the burning body of the merchant. He used his shoulder to ram the door open and they emerged coughing and gasping for air, faces blackened with soot, only to find a crowd of onlookers milling about in the near distance.
Halím's legs gave out and he collapsed, his body hunched protectively around his sister as the crowd murmured amongst themselves. Halah could hear the accusations thrown their way and knew they needed to run, but she could also hear her brother's inner voice and she knew he was afraid. He was afraid of the fire, he was afraid of the bad men, he was afraid of the angry mob, he was afraid of her, and that broke her heart. She tightened her grip and buried her face in his neck.
"It's alright, Halím, we're alright." Halah smoothed his shaggy hair away from his face with her good hand. "You don't have to be afraid, please don't be afraid, but we need to leave now. We're in trouble. We need to run. Can you run?"
"My knee. My head. It hurts. I hurt."
"Oh, Halím, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please get up, please try," she whispered, peeking over her shoulder at the growing crowd of people. "They're going to take us away if we don't run. I don't know what will happen to us if we stay. I'm scared they'll hurt you. I'm scared I'll hurt them! I'm scared, I'm so scared," she sobbed. "Halím, please!" She shook his shoulders gently, her urge to flee strong, but she could not abandon her brother.
"You go, Halah. Run."
"I'm not leaving you! I won't!" She hugged him tighter and felt a trickling warmth at the back of his neck and knew his scalp was bleeding again. "We go together or we stay together. I will not be parted from you," she promised, pulling back to look into her brother's face, her hand on his cheek, but his dark eyes were fixed on the crowd beyond, watching them warily.
A bearded man pushed his way through the crowd to stand gaping at the burning building and the children huddled in front of it. He was in a state of undress, wearing only a pair of loose-fitting trousers, his greying hair still mussed from sleep. He looked in disgust at those standing around him doing nothing to help before rushing over to kneel beside the twins.
"When I agreed to let you sleep here I did not expect to be met with fire and blood! What has happened? Are you badly hurt?" He reached for the hand Halah held against her chest but Halím twisted to the side to put her out of the man's reach. "I mean her no harm, boy! I only wish to help."
Suddenly with a whoosh of fire and hot air, the roof collapsed sending a shower of glowing embers into the dark sky and momentarily scattering the onlookers. The man threw his arms around the twins, shielding them as best he could. When they looked up, four walls of pale stone were all that remained standing containing the flames within. "Listen," the man spoke urgently, "I don't know what happened here, but I can tell by your faces it was bad. You need to get out of here if you can. Ka'dar's men are on their way as we speak. You need to disappear."
"My brother is hurt," Halah said sadly. "He can't run and I won't leave him."
The man looked over his shoulder. Mercenaries armed with great curved blades and clad in the black and red of the Burning Sands were weaving their way through the onlookers. "They're here. I can't help you. I'm sorry." His eyes held his regret as he squeezed Halím's shoulder and patted Halah's cheek. "I'm so sorry." He stood and backed away slowly to rejoin the crowd.
The small group of mercenaries broke through the crowd and encircled the twins. Only their dark eyes were visible through the black silk that wound about their heads and covered their mouths. One stepped forward, the orange firelight reflected in the golden pommel of the sword at his hip and in the eyes that observed them without mercy. He tugged the silk from his mouth to reveal a haughty smirk.
"The Lord of The Burning Sands has requested you join his court, my lady," he said with a mock bow. His eyes flicked to the burning storehouse. "It would appear that Faríd and Harûn have failed to persuade you. Where are they?"
Halah said nothing, staring unblinkingly at the man for a long moment until he began to shift under the scrutiny of her strange blue eyes. The pain in her right hand had begun to abate, so she used it to point to the smouldering ruins, the ring glinting dangerously and the corner of her mouth lifting into a copy of the mercenary's smirk. His eyes narrowed.
"Is that so? Then perhaps we shall split the reward for obtaining our Lord's desire since those two are no longer here to claim it. What say you?" He looked around at his companions, chuckling while the other men murmured their agreement. "You are worth a pretty penny, though I do not see why," he scoffed, his eyes raking over her. "I suppose you'll grow into something worthwhile eventually but right now I do not see the allure."
Halím's arms tightened around his sister as he pulled her closer. The man snorted. "You, however, are worthless," he said to Halím. "Unless of course there is a reward for apprehending the murderer of two of my Lord's servants, in which case your worth may increase greatly." The men all laughed until Halah shrugged from her brother's grasp and rose to her feet.
"You leave him out of this! Halím didn't kill those men, I killed them, and I'll do the same to you too if you try to harm my brother," Halah said, looking each man in the eye. She could hear the crowd murmuring in outrage, could see the loathing on their faces, all except one - the kind-hearted man who had let them sleep in his old storehouse. He shook his head subtly, his eyes sad and disappointed. Halah wished she could explain, wished she could thank him for his kindness, for caring what happened to her and her brother. Instead she simply mouthed the words "I'm sorry" and hoped it was enough. He touched his heart with his hand then brought his fingers to his lips, bowing his head slightly and withdrawing into the crowd.
"It matters not who did the killing, little girl. All that matters is that there is someone to hang for it, and I doubt it will be you since my Lord has other plans where you're concerned."
"Your Lord will burn if he tries to lay a hand on me, just like those men in there!" Halah cried, tossing her hand carelessly towards the storehouse. She turned to her brother, trying to pull him to his feet. "Come, Halím, get up," she urged. She managed to help him stand, though he could not put his full weight on his injured knee. "You can tell your Lord he will never own me, for I belong to another, one more powerful than he will ever be! Now let us pass. We're leaving this city." Halah did not know where her bravery was coming from, for she felt anything but brave. Inside she could feel the flames rising again, could feel her palm beginning to burn, and she was afraid.
The man drew his sword slowly and pointed it directly at her chest. "You can tell him yourself. He will arrive any moment now and you will be here when he does." He nudged the man next to him. "Nasím, do something about that crowd. Ka'dar will not want an audience." Nasím nodded once and strolled over to the onlookers, ordering them to disperse and go back to their homes, but few obeyed. Most still lingered but farther away, eager to see what would happen.
Halah felt her brother sway at her side and tightened her arm around his waist. Her small frame did little to help him stand but it was a comfort to cling to him. "Please, just let us leave," she pleaded quietly. "Please." Tears stung her eyes though she would not let them fall.
Shouts and sharp orders could be heard, drawing everyone's attention. Ka'dar, the Lord of The Burning Sands, had arrived. His guards, larger and more elaborately attired than the mercenaries surrounding the twins, shoved their way through the crowd, opening a clear path for their Lord to approach. All bowed as he passed, touching their fingers to their foreheads in respect, all except Halah and Halím. Halah stood as tall and as straight as she could, daring to look him in the eye as he drew near. He was magnificent, she had to admit, clad in fine silks of black and deep red, beads of gold glinting in his long black hair and in his beard. He appeared every inch the warrior despite his finery, with jewelled knives at his belt and a sword at his hip. He observed her with merciless dark eyes and a cruel smile on his lips.
"Well, well. At last we meet, my little star," he spoke, coming to a halt entirely too near for Halah's taste. His eyes took her in from head to toe, then flicked to Halím beside her. "Take him," he said with a casual wave of his hand.
"No!" Halah protested, but the guards had their spears trained on her brother as two mercenaries pulled him away from her and forced him to his knees. He looked at her fearfully and Halah felt her anger rise. "You leave him alone!" she shouted and ran for the nearest guard, grabbing his arm and pulling with all her strength. He shrugged her off, looking as if he wished to strike her, but the presence of his Lord deterred him.
"Come now, my little star," Ka'dar chided, "That is no way for a lady to behave. I can see I will have to make sure you are properly trained. Too long you have been left to run wild on the streets."
Halah turned to him with a sneer. "I am not your 'little star' and I am no lady! Now let my brother go!"
Ka'dar smirked. "You are right about one thing: you are definitely no lady. But fear not, my little star, you soon will be." The mercenary who had spoken to her approached Ka'dar with a bow and whispered quietly in his ear, his words raising the Lord's brows. "Well, that changes everything," he murmured, eyeing Halím struggling only half-heartedly in the grip of his guards. Ka'dar hummed thoughtfully and stroked his beard, his dark eyes narrowed and brows drawn. He turned to Halah with a brilliant smile full of white teeth. "It appears your brother owes me a debt. Two lives that belonged to me have been taken most cruelly. Now how do you propose we settle this debt, my little star?" He reached out to her, moving the hair from her shoulder in an intimate gesture. Halah resisted the urge to flinch away and said nothing. "What will you give me if I spare his life, hmm?" he drawled, leaning closer and cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing over her lips.
Halah drew a shuddering breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I will give you what you deserve, I swear it," she whispered. "Please let him go."
Ka'dar squeezed her jaw roughly. "This is your first lesson, my little star, the first of many I will teach you. Your life is mine and so is his," his eyes flicked to Halím. "If you displease me, if you refuse me, then I will make you watch as I end his life. But if you are good...if you are good I will give you whatever you desire. You see, with your...abilities...you will help me expand my empire. You are a very valuable asset, precious one. You are in my service now, you belong to me and no other. Do you understand?"
Halah closed her eyes. The ring was warming again, her palm was burning. The flames were rising within her and she did not fight it. She wasn't afraid of the pain this time, in fact, she welcomed it. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she could see His eyes of fire and in her mind, she could hear His whispered words. "You are not the first to speak such words to me, but you will be the last. I will never be yours, Ka'dar, Lord of The Burning Sands," she spoke his title mockingly. "I belong to another. I belong to the Lord of Shadow and Flame." She finally opened her eyes, revealing the circle of fire dancing in the pale blue, and looked sadly at her brother. "Run, Halím," she said.
The Lord withdrew his hand quickly and stepped back. "What is this?" he hissed.
"What you deserve." Halah surged forward and threw her arms around his waist, clinging to him tightly and resting her head against his chest. She squeezed her eyes closed once more as flames engulfed them both, feeling the last shred of the Halah of her past disintegrate. She heard his screams and the screams of those around them, she felt him struggle as he tried to pry her off and put out the fire, and then she felt nothing. There was nothing of him left in her arms.
She opened her eyes to find everything cast in an orange glow, the dark night much brighter now. She looked around for Halím, trying to spot his tall frame amidst the shrieking and fleeing crowd. Finally, she saw him heading towards the city gates. He was with the kind-hearted man, leaning against him for support and looking back at her with terror and confusion in his eyes. She lifted her hand in farewell, surprised to see it completely enveloped in flame. She looked at it curiously, turning it this way and that, surprised she felt no pain. Her whole body was aflame and, much to her horror, her tattered dress had been burned away though her skin remained unmarred and her hair still flowed down her back.
Halah looked once more for her brother but he was lost in the crowd. At least he was free. Halím, the only thing she had ever loved. If he was not with her, then perhaps he would be safe from Him. She turned her back and walked like a burning beacon in the night deeper into the Great Fountain City, setting alight everything and everyone she passed. She felt no regret, she felt no remorse. She was merely a tool to be used. Her fingers trailed along walls of pale stone as she weaved her way through the city, and even they burned at her touch. Her feet left prints of fire in her wake, spreading to consume all that she left behind. She would not rest this night until there was nothing left standing. Tonight, The Burning Sands would earn its name.
Halah did not know how long she roamed the desert, drifting from tribe to tribe, from one fertile valley to another doing His bidding. Decades passed, yet she remained unchanged. He would come to her at night, invading her dreams to seek what was most precious to Him. For a time she attempted to remain awake as much as possible to avoid His presence, chewing leaves and berries that would speed her heart and chase the weariness away, but He was always there when exhaustion crept in. Not all dreams she remembered, but the ones she did remember haunted her waking hours.
She dreamt of a great war before the walls of the White City where the Haradrim lay scattered and defeated, the hulking carcasses of once-great mûmakil dotting the landscape. She dreamt of a band of companions, nine of them, travelling across Middle-earth, an air of desperation about them, a sense of great purpose. She dreamt of a man, tall and dark, with a flaming sword held high and a winged crown upon his head, a host of the dead behind him. She dreamt of a pathetic, twisted creature whispering in the darkness, its large eyes reflecting any hint of light as it searched and searched for something lost.
It was within the dreams of the pitiful creature that she had found what He was seeking, a glint of gold in the creature's pale hand. She knew as soon as she glimpsed It that It was the One He sought. She could feel the pull of It, hear It calling to her, begging to be found. He was triumphant, His pleasure radiating throughout her entire being. He had promised her great reward, but her dreams had been empty of Him after that. She did not mind; His absence was reward enough. Halah enjoyed her reprieve from His presence, though her dreams grew more intense, more disturbing.
In the days ahead, she had watched from afar as line after line of proud Haradrim warriors answered His call, thousands upon thousands of them marching North to war, and she knew they marched to their deaths. She had seen it. She had seen how it all would end and she tried to lock it away deep inside, just in case He appeared within her dreams and discovered her secret, and He very nearly had the night He returned and promised to claim her.
As she sat under the date palm calmly watching her end nearing, she could hear the harsh cries of the winged beast and the bone-chilling shrieks of its master. She rose to her feet and shielded her eyes from the sand stirred by the creature's huge wings as it landed, her hair and her white dress fluttering around her. Halah swallowed her disgust at the stench, watching warily as large jaws full of sharp teeth snapped at her, hungry for her flesh. The cloaked figure on its back pulled the reins harshly, bringing the beast under control once more. The wraith did not speak but extended a gloved hand in her direction. Halah walked over to take it, giving the head of the creature a wide berth. She hesitated, her ringed hand hovering in mid-air, searching for a face beneath the hood. She saw the shade of what he used to be, the face of a king of old, a once proud ruler reduced to nothing but a slave. The image of his face faded as he hissed her name, his voice like a blade of ice between her ears. Seizing her wrist, he pulled her roughly up to sit before him. She was repulsed by his touch, by the feel of the beast's hide beneath her, but she accepted it as part of her much-deserved and long-awaited fate.
The beast leapt into the air, flapping its wings to take them higher and higher. Halah could not help but feel the exhilaration of flight. She had never known anything like it, only flight's opposite. She knew well the feeling of nearly endless falling and knew that's how her end would come. She had seen His fiery mountain explode, had seen His tower fall, had seen herself atop it standing at His side. She knew how this all would end, and a secret smile touched her dry lips. She had seen the rage on His face when realisation struck - the realisation that His precious Ring had been destroyed, that He had failed, that she had known it would happen and could have prevented His defeat. She had seen the Black Land burn, had seen the green and the good that would rise from its ashes, and it was a dream she would cling to as she fell from His tower to meet her death on the burning sands below.
THE END