Chapter 9 "Haunted"

"As I listen to the king's words, I can only wonder of the horror in the other kingdoms, only imagine the wasteland that awaited there. Bermudez's men and women lay under sand and blood, their souls shadowed by the black cloak of death, death that carried them away. How Bermudez is able to stay strong dumbfounds me, why hasn't he given up all hope yet? But I can see that behind the shroud of bravado, lies despair, and if I was to pull up that veil from his face, I would see a crying man, wrinkles flooded with overflowing tears. His story made me angry, why because of his mistake am I dragged into this? How do I get myself into these situations?"

The king leisurely walked around his throne room, chewing on the apple that the Prince had chosen not to eat. His steps seemed forced, obligatory. It was clear it was hard for him to even get out of the bed in the morning.

Even his eating of the apple was enforced, as if he was acting for the sake of the stage. All he wished to do was lay on the floor for the rest of his life, but he knew that wasn't the requirements of an honorable and proud king. The Prince pondered the king's words. He leaned on the wall, that even through the invasion, stood strong.

"I know you feel anger over this, as this was not your problem to deal with, but as said before, Razgod never was one to do things the simple way." Bermudez walked over to the Prince and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with friendly tenderness. "But you and I have an understanding; we are friends under the rule of the crown, no?"

"And what rule may that be?"

"That we stick together. Garrad once told me in the Rashid deserts, after he told me about the first time his kingdom was invaded, but the invasion failed. He said 'We…are not pirates, nor captains of a ship. We do not go down with our ship, but we do not watch it sink either." The king started, pointing his finger at the Prince's face, who was watching intently. "'We get revenge on whoever removed our anchor, and then we pull our ship up from the murky depths, we rebuild our kingdom.'"

The Prince slowly nodded his head, slowly understanding the speech.

"I never forgot those words, and I never will." King Bermudez finished, throwing his apple core to the clean, spotless, marble floor.

Farah slept in the study room chair, a book lay on her lap, open to the last page and nearly sliding off of her lap. It was evident she was having a bad dream, for she tossed and turned in the ancient chair, it creaked under her. The book ultimately fell, a heavy thud hitting the floor, the book closing. Farah's neck was sweating, dampening the area on the chair where her head rested. Her nails dug into her thighs, her eyes squinted tight and her groans were chilling. She brought her knees up to her chin, arms wrapped around her shins, as if she was huddled up in a corner of a room, hiding. A spectator might think that she was mad, a wild woman belonging to a sanctuary for the mentally ill, or that she had deep internal pains, like she was dying slowly, painfully, from the inside out.

Farah ran in the vast gardens, chasing a bird that wanted nothing but to be free. She envied the bird, she loathed it because it could fly away and back again and she could not. She laughed and laughed, jumping up to grab it and tumbling down when she missed it by inches. She loved the feel of the grass on her feet, it pricking her soles. She loved the sun upon her face, and just simply the joy of the day. Her brother, Kalim, had called her in for supper many times but she pretended not to hear. Being eleven was joyous, free, and she never wanted that day to end.

Soon, Farah grew tired and so she rested by a hearty tree. The bird would soon fly away and Farah would contemplate her world as it was, a princess of a kingdom. Farah dozed off as she heard Kalim scream her name; she jumped at the abruptness of it.

She peered from behind the tree, which was slowly dying above her without her notice. Kalim had tears streaming from his face; his mouth was open screaming something indistinct and panicked-the words of an unknown warning running together into incoherent speech.

"What? What is it, Kalim?" She asked, hearing no clear answer. The blue sky above was gray at the drop of a hat, and rain fell. The world was under attack. Kalim was tackled to the ground, warriors in masks dragging him away, his nails clawing at the grass. Farah gasped and ran after her brother, who was being kidnapped, taken from his peaceful land, well…once peaceful land. Arrows fired her way, where they originated from was an investigation, for the smoke coming from the palace shrouded everything in front of her.

As the crying Kalim disappeared into said smoke, Farah squealed and ducked from the oncoming arrows. She covered her head with her arms, her face hidden beneath her, tears welling up in her eyes. Her improvised protection was shattered as her arms were grabbed by the mysterious men, leading her away, coldly letting her drag on the floor.

"Please, please, stop this madness, release me!" She begged, her pleas falling on deaf ears. She tried to pull her skinny arms away. She tried to kick her leg. She was a fish out of water, flailing around and about. She prayed to the Heavens aloud, hoping the men would hear and care, but yet again, her hopes were burned along with the kingdom. "Please…please…" Were her last words before she fainted into oblivion.

Farah's eyes broke open like a rubber band too small for what it was wrapped around. Her sobs were broken by gasps caught in her throat, a hot feeling in her chest, maybe her heart was melting. Maybe her blood was overheating it. She held her head in her hands, hysterically sobbing, and her breath erratic and uneven. One of Bermudez's remaining servants had heard her lamenting and he ran to her, trying to comfort her.

"Sana! Where's Sana?"

"Who-who is Sana, miss?"

"Sana, oh please, Sana!"

A soldier had also heard the commotion and had arrived a bit later, the servant told him to go get the Prince, moments later the Prince ran in, King Bermudez not far behind. He ran to her and instantly embraced her in a hug, rubbing her hair and shushing her.

"Oh Prince," She sighed. "Sana…Sana."

"Sana is okay, he is okay, Farah, hush, it is okay now, it's okay."

Farah lay on the guest bed, looking out of the balcony a few feet away at the people outside. The Prince stood in the doorway, looking at his wife. She was beautiful even with her frayed hair and worried face. His sword and dagger lay on the floor by the bed, and he felt naked and unprotected. He never really liked to travel anywhere without his protection on his person, but there, with Farah, he felt as safe as could be. The sun came up, and Farah squinted her eyes from it.

The Prince brushed his hair from his eyes as he walked towards her. He was surprised to find her gripping her bow fairly tight from under the white sheets. She distanced herself a bit when he put his hand on her shoulder. The Prince sighed, not knowing where to begin. Lucky for him, Farah gave him a prompt.

"I had a dream, it was a terrible dream…it made me think." She turned her head to him, a look of imploring on her face, and the Prince wondered what she was imploring for. "I want our son back."

"I know."

"Do you? We sit here in leisure, while our son is miles and miles away. When do you suppose we leave? When we get his head back on a plate?"

"We will get him back, I promise you."

Farah turned her attention back to the sunrise. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Do you want to talk a walk? Get away from all of this?"

"Ye-yes. Yes, I would love that."

"Okay."

The Prince walked out of the room, grabbing his weapons and strapping them on him, he went to find the king, who was in the study talking to the two who found Farah. He asked the king if he could take Farah back down to the river, who, of course, said was all right.

Farah ran her hand through the water; ripples formed trailing her fingers, looking like the slash of a bear's claw. The Prince threw nearby rocks into the water, like the children at his kingdom had did not even two days ago. He crouched down, flicking the smallest pebbles into the water, seeing how far they could go.

Farah soon came and sat by him, putting her feet into the cool water, it came up to her shins. "Put your feet in, as well, it feels good." She told him, pointing to his boots.

He obliged, grunting as he changed positions, slipping off his boots and throwing them to the upper ground. He winced as he put his feet in.

"It's cold."

"It's cool, not cold."

He rolled his eyes, "Only to you."

Farah didn't notice the sharpness of her earlier words until she mused them over. "I…am sorry, for saying what I did, back in the palace."

"It is all right."

"No, you say that but I hear the hurt in your voice, it's just that…I hurt as well, it never has been a smooth ride with you, and I love that so much, you're the best thing in my life, but not the only thing, the other person I have is within the hands of monsters, monsters I don't even know the name of."

"What was your dream of?"

"Just seeing things through Sana's eyes, I suppose."

"We will get revenge; I won't let our ship sink."

"What ship, what are you talking about?"

"Uh…nothing."

She began to kick her feet back and forth in the water, the coolness and the morning breeze in the air was perfection. "Everything is war with you, but I understand, it runs in your blood."

"I did not ask for this, Farah."

"But you're eager to run into it, into the danger."

"'Run into the danger'? I'm running into the danger for you, for Sana! You're the one who's rushing me; I would be in the palace now developing a more elaborate plan if you hadn't spurned me!"

"So my words did hurt you after all."

There was no answer, only the creaking of their shore-lined ship that crabs and birds now infested.

"I want my honor back, my kingdom. Razgod took that from me, and I'll kill him happily."

"Razgod…that old man back at the kingdom spoke of that word, what is it?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Wait…is that all you care about, the honor and the glory?"

"You know that's not true."

Farah stood up, turning to him. "That's what it sounded like."

"I just said I'm running into danger for the both of you. That sounded like it was for you two."

"You make us sound like such a bother." She sighed, running away.

"Wait!" The Prince yelled, running up to grab his boots and put them on, and taking off after her. When he reached her, she was slipping through a narrow crack in a wall similar to the one by Bermudez's kingdom walls.

"Farah!" The Prince yelled, running at the stone wall. He watched her run into the distance as he called for her.

"Smooth move." The voice from the darkness sighed out. "Now I suppose you want us to go retrieve her."

The Prince punched the wall, his knuckles' skin splitting and blood running from it. He fell to his knees and started hitting his head against the stony ground. He screamed into the dust.

A group of men came walking towards the area, mead in their hands and swords, as well. They were most likely pirates or scavengers that were coming ashore from looting the Prince's merchant ship, all they found was food and drink.

"Look here, a crazy man…with some nice weapons." The drunk slurred. "We don't like crazy men, do we, boys?"

"No, sir, sure don't." The others announced, their words jumbled, agreeing with the original speaker.

Knowing they were there to cause trouble, and as the Prince had no time for it, his frustrations went from wailing to the bugs in the ground to inner hatred. He started to lose control of his body, his knees and arms going limp, his head throbbed and all was black through his vision for moments. He raised his head, scowling, his eyes a scorching yellow.

R&R or the Dark Prince will come for ya. He'll taunt you, make you feel inferior, say you could have been king/queen, and then he'll take your head off. And then he'll lament because he's left in the dark forever...he's a fragile man...