AN: Hello . . . So, I got one review on my first chapter. *wince* How flattering. Well, to be fair, it's only been up for a few days . . . Anywho, here's chapter 2! And many thanks to my one and only reviewer, Spoiled2theCore!
Disclaimer: Do I look like I own anything? Oh, right. You can't see me. Well, I look like someone who owns nothing.
"The Sands of Time had swept through, stealing life and warmth from everything they touched. And I, who had unleashed the cataclysm, had been spared. Were there others like me that yet clung to life, hiding in fear among the ruins? It did not seem so."
Chapter 2: An Insanely Vivid Dream
"Uhngh," I groaned. I didn't want to wake up, but the splitting pain in my head wasn't being very cooperative. I groaned again and partially opened one eye. The next moment both my eyes were open wide and I was sitting ramrod straight, staring at my surroundings, my headache virtually forgotten.
I was in an opulent room, floored with white marble and decorated with Indian-style rugs; however, there was no furniture to speak of, and over two dozen other frightened-looking girls were huddled in the room with me. I, like them, had my hands and feet bound in front of me, and I was wearing a white skirt-type garment —my collection of random facts gathered from my reading informed me that this was called a sarong— and a white piece of cloth was wrapped around my chest somehow to give me short sleeves and adequate coverage. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before.
I regulated my breathing carefully, trying to calm myself down. Breathe in for the count of three, hold; breathe out for the count of seven. Eventually my heartbeat slowed. Alright, I could explain this. I'd gotten into a car accident, right? Maybe I was still unconscious, perhaps even in a coma, and was dreaming. Yeah. That worked. Except this had to be the most vivid dream I'd ever had, by far. I had that terrible headache, the stone floor was smooth and cool underneath me, and I could feel the individual fibers of the rope digging into my wrist.
Yeah, so what? It's just an insanely vivid dream, I tried to convince myself. It worked, sort of. But that didn't stop me from trying to wriggle my hands out of the ropes. I gasped in pain when I tried to open my right hand; a sticky red scab came off to uncover a flawed circle cut into my palm; the ring. Wincing every step of the way, I carefully extracted the metal from its prison of flesh. I must have been gripping it hard. That was going to leave a scar.
I glared at the innocent-looking blue stone. "This is all your fault," I told it. "If you hadn't been at that stupid antique shop then I would've been long gone before that deer ever made an appearance." The ring didn't answer. I sighed and slipped the still-bloody thing onto the ring finger of my right hand. I noticed with grim amusement that some of the other girls were giving me weirded-out looks; one of them seemed oddly familiar. Her sleek black hair, with the exception of one strand that hung across her face, was pulled back in a neat bun. She wore a red sarong, unlike all the rest of the girls, who wore the same attire that I did, and her top was a red, slightly more elaborate version of my own. She was also incredibly beautiful, with large brown eyes and flawless dusky skin.
I didn't have time to think about what was so familiar about her, for at that moment, a gray-bearded man wearing a blue turban, a shirt of chain mail, and a sword at his belt entered the room, with an obvious subordinate following behind. He was tall, and exuded a commanding presence that demanded he be recognized for what he was: someone used to having his orders obeyed. All of the girls, excluding myself and the girl in red, immediately prostrated themselves in a position of complete subservience. It was a bit disgusting. Apparently the man in the blue turban agreed, for he gestured impatiently.
"Raise your faces," he commanded imperiously. "I wish to see you." The girls obeyed, and I noticed something that I hadn't before: with the exception of me, all of the females in the room had dark skin. The tall man examined the girls one by one, evaluating them as if they were just pieces of meat, sometimes proclaiming them 'acceptable,' which was the other man's cue to take them outside to some unknown destination, and sometimes giving a subtle shake of his head that indicated that they were to stay. The girl in red was dubbed 'acceptable.'
Then it was my turn. He made me stand up and turn in a slow circle; I kept my eyes on the floor, not protesting. I knew that now wasn't the time to be stupid, even in dream world. "What interesting coloring," he murmured, fingering a lock of my long brown hair. I stiffened indignantly, and without thinking looked up into his eyes. They widened in surprise. "Blue eyes!" he said, sounding quite pleased. "A rare treasure indeed. She is acceptable," he told his lackey. The man nodded silently and steered me toward the door.
Great. What now? I asked myself. My question was answered when the man passed me off to another one just outside the door. An intense wave of heat hit me like a tsunami, and I could see the outlines of palm trees against the sky when I peered over the ornate stone walls. The second man took me to a stone-paved courtyard where a strange contraption awaited me.
It was roughly circular in shape, with a pillar rising from the center, wooden, and had wheels on the bottom. It looked like a crazy man's wagon, but I saw the girls who had gone before me being bound to the sides of the pillar by soldiers in blue, who were carrying strange spear-like weapons. I felt dread pool in my chest. It seemed like I should recognize this scene, but something was just . . . off. One of the soldiers shoved me up onto the slave-carrier and bound my wrists securely with straps of leather. I noted with a sort of wistful pleasure that I had been stationed next to the girl in red; for some reason I just got good vibes from her.
We were tied there for over an hour, more and more people of various rank and station joining us as time went along, before the procession finally moved out, into the hot, shimmering desert. The soldiers in blue were everywhere; a few people, most notably the man in the blue turban, were important enough to be able to ride horses. I squinted at the sun and wished hopelessly for sunscreen, knowing that my fair skin would burn horribly if I were out in the direct rays for too long. Ah well. I sighed. There was no help for it.
Some of the other girls were whispering to each other, and no one punished them, so I figured it was okay to talk. "What's going to happen to us?" I asked Red in a low voice. She grimaced.
"I heard that we're going to be given to some rich old Sultan as harem-girls," she replied. "The King only picked out the best and most beautiful." She smiled grimly. I spared a moment to be surprised that blue-turban was a king. I was about to ask Red what his name was, but before I could speak she turned a questioning gaze on me. "Who are you? I don't recall seeing you around the palace, and with your coloring, I'm sure I would've remembered."
I shifted uneasily. "I'm not from around here," I said after a pause. "I'm actually not sure how I ended up in this situation. One minute I'm just minding my own business, and the next I've been knocked unconscious and I wake up a slave. My name's Jenny," I added as an afterthought. I'd told the truth, more or less. Red nodded thoughtfully.
"Jenny. That's a strange name. Mine is Farah."
For an instant, my thoughts zipped around crazily in my head, but then everything clicked into place. The strangely familiar girl in red. The man in the blue turban, who was also a king. The blue clad soldiers. The crazy-man-wagon, traveling over the desert with a girl named Farah strapped to it. And something I hadn't noticed before: a golden amulet hung around Farah's neck, with a familiar symbol engraved upon it. Holy armadillos. This was . . . O-my-freaking-holy-armadillos!
I could almost hear the Prince's voice: Trust not a man who has betrayed his master, nor take him into your own service, lest he betray you too. I looked up at the mounted men with new awareness.
"Are we going to Azad, perhaps?" I asked Farah with astonishing calmness, hopefully showing nothing of my whirling thoughts. She shrugged noncommittally.
"I really don't know. We are heading in that general direction though, so it's a distinct possibility." She scowled. "Although Azad was supposed to be one of our allies. I doubt the Sultan will take that into consideration when he is gifted with the pride of our treasury." I nodded. I already knew that we were going to Azad, of course, but I wanted to test Farah's knowledge. A new thought occurred to me: was there any way that I could prevent the impending disaster? Did I want to? After all, I knew that everything turned out alright in the end. How was I to know if my messing with things would cause the outcome of the story to be different?
Besides, came the stray thought, this is just a dream; you don't care. I started. Right. A dream. I'd forgotten for a minute there. Speaking of which, how the heck was I going to wake up? I didn't want to be stuck in dream land forever! Wait a sec . . . Maybe I was dead, and this was hell. My lips twitched at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought. Yeah, right.
Well, it was certainly hot enough. I closed my eyes and hoped with all my might that the journey would end soon.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It didn't. It went on for hours longer, until I was as red as a tomato and just about willing to kill someone for a glass of water and an aspirin. Farah made sympathetic noises. I thought it was awfully nice of her to be concerned about my sunburn when she had just transitioned from princess to slave, and had her father murdered, all in just a couple days. Then again, maybe it was just easier for her to focus on someone else's pain than her own. If so, I had no objections.
When we reached Azad and the guards untied us, I collapsed unceremoniously on the edge of the slave-carrier with an audible groan. My legs were killing me. The other girls did much the same, although they at least made an effort to be dignified about it. Of course, we weren't allowed to rest for long. As soon as the 'notables' had made themselves presentable for their meeting with the Sultan, a few guards herded us into a rough circle and guided us down the long hallways of the Sultan of Azad's palace. Most of it was familiar to me, although when I had seen it it'd been much more dilapidated and decidedly less . . . well, real. Eventually we were brought into the throne room itself; King Shahraman was already there, along with his son and the Vizier. The walls were draped with red curtains and various foreign or rare items, meant to impress important guests. A cage filled with exotic animals was dragged in behind us.
I stared at the Prince in fascination, although all I could see was the back of his head. (Well, actually his headdress.) I glanced from him to Farah and back, then, realizing what I was thinking, sighed moodily, smacking the heel of my palm against my forehead and shaking my head adamantly. Didn't I have enough problems on my plate without adding two fictional character's love lives to the mix? . . . It was a rhetorical question.
The King and Sultan greeted each other warmly. "My friend!" the Sultan exclaimed. They embraced.
"Your visit brings joy and honor to my poor and humble dwelling," the plump man said, gesturing expressively with his hands. I snorted under my breath, and Farah gave me an amused glance. "If only you had given me time to prepare a proper welcome!"
Shahraman smiled, leading the Sultan past us and the lions, straight to the enormous shrouded figure that I knew was the hourglass. I leaned forward eagerly; I had yet to see the real thing. "The glories of Azad are famed throughout the world, and yet, the best is yet to come. I give you, the Sands of Time!" Everyone, including me, gasped as the hourglass was revealed, the Sand inside glowing and sparkling like so many fireflies.
"May the friendship between our kingdoms endure as long as time itself," Shahraman finished, looking quite satisfied with the reaction he had gotten.
The Sultan placed his hands flat on the glass, peering inside with wide eyes. "The Sand . . . Why does it glow?" A shiver crawled up my spine; I already knew who would speak next.
"I can tell you."
I heard Farah hiss quietly; when I looked, she was glaring daggers at the Vizier. He continued smoothly, "Inside the Hourglass is a marvel that no living man has seen. Alas, only the Dagger can unlock the sands of time, and it belongs to a greater one than I." He turned to the Prince, a sly smile on his thin lips. "A young prince; dearer to his father than all the wealth in India. Perhaps he would oblige?"
My heart thumped in my chest; I silently willed the Prince to think for a moment, to show some common sense for once in his dumb princey life.
"No."
It was just a whisper. For a moment I thought that I had spoken my thoughts aloud, but then I realized that it'd been Farah. She was wide eyed and trembling, taut as a bowstring; her gaze was fixed on the Prince as he hesitantly walked toward the hourglass, drawing the Dagger.
"No!" she called again. He raised the dagger. "Stop!" she screamed, lunging against the barrier of spears that the guards had erected. "NOOOOO!"
At the last minute I broke, joining in on her cries. Only mine were much less polite.
"Stop it, you idiot! You're going to destroy everything!" Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most convincing case I'd ever presented. Prince turned to look back at us, but it was too late to matter anyway; I heard a click as the dagger was inserted into its 'keyhole.' Sound was muffled for a moment; there was a rumbling deep within the earth, and the floor trembled.
The Sultan backed nervously away from the Hourglass. "Is it meant to do this?" he asked, turning to the Vizier. The Vizier just smiled and raised his arms.
"Alisïous, adavahäd! Ochoba!" The foreign words seemed to pollute the very air he spoke them into; or maybe that was the Sands. I heard the first screams ring out as the ceiling started to collapse, and grabbed Farah's hand.
"Run!" I yelled at her, even as the first faces became gray and disfigured. Wisely, she followed my advice, running with me after a group of people headed toward the nearest exit.
"How did you know this would happen?" she asked me in an accusing tone as we fled. She clutched my hand fearfully, belying her suspicious words.
"I could ask you the same thing," I retorted. We ran through the reception hall and out a gateway in the side, closing it as we went through. We didn't speak again until she started to follow the screaming citizens up the stairs.
"Wait!" I objected, tugging on her hand to stop her. She looked at me as though I was crazy. Maybe I was. "We need to stay and help the Prince."
If anything, Farah looked even more askance. "The Prince? He's the one who caused all this! Why should we help him?"
"Because he's also the only one who can undo it," I told her firmly. "Believe me, I know." Besides, you guys need to fall in love and be really cute together.
When she still didn't look convinced, I added, "Besides, he has the Dagger. If he dies, it goes straight to the Vizier." This decided her. She followed me back to the closed doorway without further objection. We got there just as the Prince belly-slashed one of the sand creatures holding hooks, making it fall over, dead to all appearances, although I knew it wouldn't stay that way. One of the blue-clad ones holding a spear was surrounded in the aura of Sand that indicated it was coming back to life; I grimaced and looked away. That was a lot creepier in real life than it was on screen.
Farah started yelling tips to the Prince without my prompting. "Prince!" she called. He glanced up, startled. "Use the Dagger! Take his Sands!" I would've told her to be more specific, but the Prince seemed to understand. He vaulted over to the sand creature −Cool!− and stabbed the Dagger into its back, causing it to dissolve in a swirl of Sand. Okay, that was really creepy too, actually.
Farah didn't even seem to realize I was still there. "Strike with the Dagger!" she exclaimed. "Now! Finish him!" With Farah's shouted encouragements, Prince made short work of the relatively weak sand creatures. Farah looked satisfied, until I said, "This door-frame should be collapsing any moment now." She jumped; apparently she really had forgotten I was there.
"Huh?" she asked intelligently. In response, I grabbed her arm, pulling her swiftly away from the doorway just as it began to crumble. I let go of her arm and continued running, knowing she would follow.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
AN: Okay, so far this has basically been exactly like the game. I will be following the same basic storyline, with some tweaking of course, (especially toward the end,) but I'm still a bit disappointed in myself. I've never done a first person view story before; I think I like it. It makes it a lot easier to communicate the main character's thoughts on something, without all those annoying clarifications on who is thinking. Anywho, review! ;D
~Killer Zebra
