Chapter 11............
For Salim, who worked the cranes at Cabras harbor, the past day or two couldn't have gone any better. Firstly he now had a pocketful of cash and secondly a new scheme to extract more. He hated the job at the docks, it was badly paid and he longed to be back home in Africa. The fact that it was his own lust for money and stupidity that had landed him in his present predicament was of no concern to him, his only thoughts were of how wealthy he would now be back home. Salim was a gambler, working his way on freight ships all over the Mediterranean, gambling, and invariably losing to most of his opponents. He'd ended up in Cabras after a particularly dry spell and had been forced to take any work going to pay for his passage back home, not daring to work any of the freight ships due to his heavy gambling debts. So when Rashid had come to him asking for information, he'd spied the opportunity to make a fast buck. Now, with the arrival of the Medjai, a spot of devious underhand deceit would surely have him speedily away from the Island.
As the day progressed, so did the steady climb in the temperature. Samia was aware of the light but just couldn't seem to make her eyelids open, however hard she tried. Everything hurt, the back of her head especially. Small images filtered though her mind, flashbacks that didn't make sense, everything was if it were being played out by someone else and Samia was just a bystander in it all.
She sensed the noise around her, she sensed the ties that bound her in a position that was so alien to her but couldn't grasp that this was actually reality. The droplets of sweat oozed freely from her pores and she tasted the saltiness as they reached her parched lips. Telling herself to concentrate she closed out everything else and listened to the conversation going on around her. As the story unfolded she found herself being gripped by an icy cold fear and shook as she remembered the events that were now coming into clear focus.
"Ardeth," she whispered, feeling the tears escaping her eyes as she frantically tried to remember.
Unfortunately her small whisper had been overheard and Rashid was soon by her side.
"So, you've woken up as last," he sneered. "I was beginning to think that would never happen," he said as he watched her shrink away from him into the corner of the room.
Her eyes had opened a touch and on first sight of him she'd shivered, mustering all of her will she'd painfully scrambled as far away from him as she could. But as the room was so small and she was boxed in a corner she only managed to put a about a foot's distance between them. She could smell his foul breath, see his mocking sneer but what scared her most of all was the cruel intent set on his face.
"Let's just stop a minute and try to piece this together," stated Mustafa, after seeing the anguished looks on his men's faces.
"What do you mean," asked Pedro. "It's obvious they've both been taken," he cried.
"What I mean is that every picture tells a story," he said as he paced the room studying the trail of blood intently.
"Riaz, come here," he shouted to the solemn, studious young Medjai.
Riaz stepped forwards, "What is it Commander?" he asked as he crouched down by the wall next to Mustafa.
"Look at the imprint here, what would you say caused that?" he asked.
Riaz studied for a moment at the indentation in the bloodstained wall. "Scimitar," he stated. "You can tell by the curve and the depth for the weight."
"That's what I thought also, you notice the bullet hole and the casing in the wall ," he said as he continued to study the scene.
"Yes, if you look at the height of the marks it's obvious that whoever was here was stood and not crouched, so that means a hit in the thigh perhaps," said Riaz.
"That would be a fair explanation, as you can see over there," he said pointing to further along the wall as he stood, "more stains, but this time much higher, another hole complete with bullet," he said.
"It's too tall for a woman," stated Riaz. "So we can safely say it was the Chieftain."
"And whoever shot at him did so to injure, not to kill."
"Look over here," shouted Juan.
The sheets on the bed had been torn and a bloody boot prints were clearly visible on the tiled floor. A closer look told them that whoever was the owner of the boots had gone out of the window.
"I think this clarifies things somewhat," said Mustafa. "It appears our Chieftain is indeed alive, I really don't think whoever did this would have gone to the trouble of ripping sheets for bandages before marching him right out of the window, do you?"
"Someone's been dragged out though," shouted Oscar from the side of the house. "Look at the trail leading to the tire tracks, there's two sets of footprints, neither with any blood on them and a trail in the middle of them."
"So, it appears they have Samia," sighed Pedro.
Alejandro and Miguel had just reached Cotillo and noticed that the village appeared to be deserted. They swiftly made their way over to Pedro's house, but on hearing muffled noises coming from the inside were immediately on their guard. They warily approached the front door thinking that Pedro could be in danger.
"I think we should go back to the village and discuss our options. We can rally the men and form two search parties. One to find Ardeth and the other to find Samia," said Pedro.
"That, I think ,would be the best idea, we can pick up supplies and plan out routes," said Mustafa wearily. He knew his men would be anxious to find their leader, but he also realized they were in strange territory and that they would need the help of the locals to even know where to begin to search.
"Miguel, be careful," whispered Alejandro as Miguel tentatively entered his father in law's house, rifle at the ready.
Alejandro followed close behind as they made their way through the house watching each others backs.
"What the?" cried Alejandro as he recognized the figure at the bedroom cabinet. "Please, give me one moment and I'll explain," was the reply.
"So, how do we do this?" Rashid sneered. "Are we to be nice to you in order for you to tell us what we want to know? or should we just beat it out of you? You have the choice," he grinned maniacally. Rashid so enjoyed moments such as these. It was one of the few times he truly felt in his element, all the sadistic side of him would flow freely.
"Maybe we should refresh your memory a little," he laughed as he motioned to another man stood beside him with a pitcher in his hand.
Samia spluttered as the barrage of water hit her, only realizing too late after she'd attempted to swallow some to quench her raging thirst that it was salt water.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are we thirsty?" Rashid mocked. "Hamman, get the lady a drink would you," he ordered as he grabbed Samia's hair roughly and pulled her head as far back as he could.
Hamman returned with the water and cringed as he saw what Rashid had in mind.
Rashid took the small beaker of water and poured it onto Samia's forehead, the hold he had on her meant that when she lunged forwards to try and catch a few precious drops her head was pulled once again backwards denying her the liquid she needed so badly.
"Of course, I'd be glad to let you drink if you tell us where the boy is?" he smiled evilly.
Samia quickly shut her mouth and closed her eyes. She would have turned her head away from him if given the opportunity.
Rashid let out a hollow laugh. "Well, we'll see how you feel after a while under the scorching sun shall we?" he snarled, dragging Samia into another even smaller room where the roof had caved in, leaving it open to the elements and the fierce mid-day sun.
She was making plans the moment the heavy door was bolted behind her, but her luck wasn't in, the smooth walls were far too high for her to scale and she could hear noises on the other side. She knew there were men surrounding the outside and sank to the floor.
Pedro and Juan forced open the door to Alejandro's bar and guided the rest of them inside. Once in, Juan and Hector swiftly set about the task of gathering the supplies they'd need for trekking through the harsh terrain. Mustafa had commandeered the large oak bench in the middle of the room and had settled his men around it.
Hector subscribed to the age old theory that an army marches on it's stomach and had soon produced baskets of bread which he set down on the table in front of the thankful Medjai. Along with cheese and some fruit from the larder, he made sure every man ate his fill before getting down to the task of planning their next move.
"Where do you think he'll have headed for?" questioned Mustafa. "I'll wager he's gone looking for his son."
"You're wrong," said Pedro. "He knows his son's safe. He'll have gone in search of Samia, they've become very close."
"Close, how close?" enquired Mustafa, reading the coy look on Pedro's face. "You mean to say they're lovers?"
"I don't know about that yet, but it was with that purpose that Maria and I left them alone last night and arranged for Hamid to stay at my daughters house on the pretext of camping out with my grandson," Pedro explained sheepishly.
"I see," grinned Mustafa, thinking it was high time his leader chose a woman, but he had to admit, his timing had been completely off. "Well it was a good thing in some ways they were alone or else Hamid would be lost to us right now."
An embarrassed silence hung over the younger warriors, none of them dared make any comment, they knew full well Mustafa would have their hides.
"With that in mind Pedro, I suggest that a party of us go back to the house and follow the tire tracks until we find out just where they took her to."
"What the hell?" cried Alejandro as he opened up the door to his bar and saw at least twenty men dispatching most of his remaining stock into saddlebags.
"Never mind," shouted Miguel, "let's just get him inside," he urged as between them they dragged the unconscious body through the doors.
"Where the hell did you find him," asked Pedro, nearly getting crushed in the rush of Medjai warriors who ran to swiftly pick up their Chieftain.
"He was at your house, in the rifle cabinet," answered Miguel.
"In the rifle cabinet?" asked Pedro, looking rather puzzled.
"Oh hell, no, not in it, rummaging through it, but I guess you'd already emptied it," he stated, looking at his father in law now wearing a couple of handguns and brandishing a lethal looking rifle.
"Get him on the table," ordered Mustafa, quickly taking control of the situation.
"How long has he been like this, do we know," enquired Riaz.
"Only a couple of minutes," replied Miguel. "He was just about to tell us how he got to Pedro's house and then slam, he dropped like a stone. I'm presuming it's blood loss that caused it?"
"It would appear that way," said Riaz, before barking orders out to two of the other men to fetch all the things he would need to clean the wounds out thoroughly before stitching them.
Riaz and the others quickly stripped off Ardeth's bloodied shirt and trousers and began the task of cleaning the wounds. The one on his thigh was the worst, they surmised that the shoulder wound was simply a deep graze and knew they had been right with their previous deductions back at the house. He'd certainly been on the move when that happened.
Ardeth groaned as painfully he came too. His head was spinning and it took him a little while to focus on a worried looking Mustafa hovering over him.
"Thank Allah you're here at last," Ardeth croaked. "We need to move quickly, they have my wife."
"Your what?" spluttered Mustafa, thinking Ardeth had given into delirium. But the look on his face was deadly serious, maybe, just maybe they'd already taken advantage of the solitude Pedro had afforded them.
"I'm afraid you're going nowhere right now my Chief," stated Riaz, motioning to Alejandro to bring the bottle of alcohol.
"Ardeth, drink some of this it'll ease the pain," said Mustafa. He knew full well that Ardeth never drank alcohol, but desperate times called for desperate measures and they had nothing else available to ease the pain or cleanse the wounds.
"Mustafa, you know I wont, I have to keep a clear head to get Samia back," he argued.
One moment his mind was full of Samia. How could he have let her be taken? The next he knew nothing but the searing pain in his leg. Once again he turned his thoughts back to Samia, Allah he'd kill anyone who laid a finger on her. The guilt he felt for not being on his guard and letting her be taken away from him was overwhelming. The pain of that guilt was so real, blindingly real, or was it the pain in his leg that was real? He couldn't think straight anymore. He didn't know which hurt the most.
"Ardeth, we're leaving in a few minutes to go and search for her," he explained.
"Well, what are we waiting for then, stitch me up quickly and let's get going," he grimaced as he tried to move his leg off the bench and only succeeded in increasing both the pain and the bleeding.
"Alright then, if you think I should," he said, quickly grabbing the bottle and taking a huge gulp of the brandy. "Anything to get me out of here quicker."
"Ardeth, you're not going anywhere, you're not up to it yet, you've lost too much blood," said Mustafa.
Ardeth couldn't reply to that last statement, he was too busy biting down on the leather strap Riaz had given him. He felt the searing pain as the alcohol oozed into the damaged tissue. He tried to kick out as the needle slowly pulled his skin closed again, but the effort was too much. "More," he shouted, indicating to Mustafa that he needed the pain dulling some more.
Mustafa gave him the bottle and again Ardeth took another huge gulp. His weakened state had also weakened his resolve in regard to the drinking of alcohol. Before long he felt on top of the world and hardly felt the needle doing it's job. Very soon Riaz had patched his Chieftain up, but explained quietly to those around Ardeth that the blood loss had been severe. There was no way Ardeth could keep up any sort of pace with them on their search for Samia.
Mustafa had entrusted Ardeth's welfare to three of his warriors. They were under strict orders not to let Ardeth out of the bar, and to use any means necessary to keep him there.
Ardeth took another great gulp of the warming, soothing, uplifting liquid before almost shooting off the table. He fumbled around for his clothes, falling over a couple of times in the difficult task of putting his trousers back on. His words were slurring and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, but all he could think about was getting to Samia. He'd find her now, he was sure.
"Samia........got to get her," he said, leaning up against the bench for support. His eyes were now glazed and his black hair tumbled over his eyes, making the blurred vision he was encountering seem like it was being closed off with curtains.
"Gotta go now," he said, lurching over.
"Ardeth, you're not going anywhere, you have to rest, we'll find her and bring her back to you," promised Mustafa.
"We're married," he giggled, shaking his head and smiling slightly as he let his thoughts wander for a moment.
"Got to find her," he shouted, once again his voice becoming as serious as he could muster.
The alcohol had fuelled his anger at Samia's kidnapping and the legendary Bay temper was threatening to burst forth as he vainly tried to jostle his way past the warriors and head for the door. Mustafa knew that in this condition he'd probably end up getting himself killed, so he motioned to the other three warriors now behind Ardeth to hold him.
"Ardeth I'm sorry, but I have to do this. You'll thank me later," he whispered, before landing a punch squarely on Ardeth's jaw, knocking him out cold. He knew the combination of the blow and the alcohol would keep Ardeth out for quite some time. Leaving them free to find Samia.
"I truly am sorry my friend, but you would have never forgiven yourself for not being able to keep up, at least by doing this I'm making sure your body gets the rest it needs," Mustafa said quietly, as he and a couple of his men laid a sleeping Ardeth down on a cot in the corner of the room.
For Salim, who worked the cranes at Cabras harbor, the past day or two couldn't have gone any better. Firstly he now had a pocketful of cash and secondly a new scheme to extract more. He hated the job at the docks, it was badly paid and he longed to be back home in Africa. The fact that it was his own lust for money and stupidity that had landed him in his present predicament was of no concern to him, his only thoughts were of how wealthy he would now be back home. Salim was a gambler, working his way on freight ships all over the Mediterranean, gambling, and invariably losing to most of his opponents. He'd ended up in Cabras after a particularly dry spell and had been forced to take any work going to pay for his passage back home, not daring to work any of the freight ships due to his heavy gambling debts. So when Rashid had come to him asking for information, he'd spied the opportunity to make a fast buck. Now, with the arrival of the Medjai, a spot of devious underhand deceit would surely have him speedily away from the Island.
As the day progressed, so did the steady climb in the temperature. Samia was aware of the light but just couldn't seem to make her eyelids open, however hard she tried. Everything hurt, the back of her head especially. Small images filtered though her mind, flashbacks that didn't make sense, everything was if it were being played out by someone else and Samia was just a bystander in it all.
She sensed the noise around her, she sensed the ties that bound her in a position that was so alien to her but couldn't grasp that this was actually reality. The droplets of sweat oozed freely from her pores and she tasted the saltiness as they reached her parched lips. Telling herself to concentrate she closed out everything else and listened to the conversation going on around her. As the story unfolded she found herself being gripped by an icy cold fear and shook as she remembered the events that were now coming into clear focus.
"Ardeth," she whispered, feeling the tears escaping her eyes as she frantically tried to remember.
Unfortunately her small whisper had been overheard and Rashid was soon by her side.
"So, you've woken up as last," he sneered. "I was beginning to think that would never happen," he said as he watched her shrink away from him into the corner of the room.
Her eyes had opened a touch and on first sight of him she'd shivered, mustering all of her will she'd painfully scrambled as far away from him as she could. But as the room was so small and she was boxed in a corner she only managed to put a about a foot's distance between them. She could smell his foul breath, see his mocking sneer but what scared her most of all was the cruel intent set on his face.
"Let's just stop a minute and try to piece this together," stated Mustafa, after seeing the anguished looks on his men's faces.
"What do you mean," asked Pedro. "It's obvious they've both been taken," he cried.
"What I mean is that every picture tells a story," he said as he paced the room studying the trail of blood intently.
"Riaz, come here," he shouted to the solemn, studious young Medjai.
Riaz stepped forwards, "What is it Commander?" he asked as he crouched down by the wall next to Mustafa.
"Look at the imprint here, what would you say caused that?" he asked.
Riaz studied for a moment at the indentation in the bloodstained wall. "Scimitar," he stated. "You can tell by the curve and the depth for the weight."
"That's what I thought also, you notice the bullet hole and the casing in the wall ," he said as he continued to study the scene.
"Yes, if you look at the height of the marks it's obvious that whoever was here was stood and not crouched, so that means a hit in the thigh perhaps," said Riaz.
"That would be a fair explanation, as you can see over there," he said pointing to further along the wall as he stood, "more stains, but this time much higher, another hole complete with bullet," he said.
"It's too tall for a woman," stated Riaz. "So we can safely say it was the Chieftain."
"And whoever shot at him did so to injure, not to kill."
"Look over here," shouted Juan.
The sheets on the bed had been torn and a bloody boot prints were clearly visible on the tiled floor. A closer look told them that whoever was the owner of the boots had gone out of the window.
"I think this clarifies things somewhat," said Mustafa. "It appears our Chieftain is indeed alive, I really don't think whoever did this would have gone to the trouble of ripping sheets for bandages before marching him right out of the window, do you?"
"Someone's been dragged out though," shouted Oscar from the side of the house. "Look at the trail leading to the tire tracks, there's two sets of footprints, neither with any blood on them and a trail in the middle of them."
"So, it appears they have Samia," sighed Pedro.
Alejandro and Miguel had just reached Cotillo and noticed that the village appeared to be deserted. They swiftly made their way over to Pedro's house, but on hearing muffled noises coming from the inside were immediately on their guard. They warily approached the front door thinking that Pedro could be in danger.
"I think we should go back to the village and discuss our options. We can rally the men and form two search parties. One to find Ardeth and the other to find Samia," said Pedro.
"That, I think ,would be the best idea, we can pick up supplies and plan out routes," said Mustafa wearily. He knew his men would be anxious to find their leader, but he also realized they were in strange territory and that they would need the help of the locals to even know where to begin to search.
"Miguel, be careful," whispered Alejandro as Miguel tentatively entered his father in law's house, rifle at the ready.
Alejandro followed close behind as they made their way through the house watching each others backs.
"What the?" cried Alejandro as he recognized the figure at the bedroom cabinet. "Please, give me one moment and I'll explain," was the reply.
"So, how do we do this?" Rashid sneered. "Are we to be nice to you in order for you to tell us what we want to know? or should we just beat it out of you? You have the choice," he grinned maniacally. Rashid so enjoyed moments such as these. It was one of the few times he truly felt in his element, all the sadistic side of him would flow freely.
"Maybe we should refresh your memory a little," he laughed as he motioned to another man stood beside him with a pitcher in his hand.
Samia spluttered as the barrage of water hit her, only realizing too late after she'd attempted to swallow some to quench her raging thirst that it was salt water.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are we thirsty?" Rashid mocked. "Hamman, get the lady a drink would you," he ordered as he grabbed Samia's hair roughly and pulled her head as far back as he could.
Hamman returned with the water and cringed as he saw what Rashid had in mind.
Rashid took the small beaker of water and poured it onto Samia's forehead, the hold he had on her meant that when she lunged forwards to try and catch a few precious drops her head was pulled once again backwards denying her the liquid she needed so badly.
"Of course, I'd be glad to let you drink if you tell us where the boy is?" he smiled evilly.
Samia quickly shut her mouth and closed her eyes. She would have turned her head away from him if given the opportunity.
Rashid let out a hollow laugh. "Well, we'll see how you feel after a while under the scorching sun shall we?" he snarled, dragging Samia into another even smaller room where the roof had caved in, leaving it open to the elements and the fierce mid-day sun.
She was making plans the moment the heavy door was bolted behind her, but her luck wasn't in, the smooth walls were far too high for her to scale and she could hear noises on the other side. She knew there were men surrounding the outside and sank to the floor.
Pedro and Juan forced open the door to Alejandro's bar and guided the rest of them inside. Once in, Juan and Hector swiftly set about the task of gathering the supplies they'd need for trekking through the harsh terrain. Mustafa had commandeered the large oak bench in the middle of the room and had settled his men around it.
Hector subscribed to the age old theory that an army marches on it's stomach and had soon produced baskets of bread which he set down on the table in front of the thankful Medjai. Along with cheese and some fruit from the larder, he made sure every man ate his fill before getting down to the task of planning their next move.
"Where do you think he'll have headed for?" questioned Mustafa. "I'll wager he's gone looking for his son."
"You're wrong," said Pedro. "He knows his son's safe. He'll have gone in search of Samia, they've become very close."
"Close, how close?" enquired Mustafa, reading the coy look on Pedro's face. "You mean to say they're lovers?"
"I don't know about that yet, but it was with that purpose that Maria and I left them alone last night and arranged for Hamid to stay at my daughters house on the pretext of camping out with my grandson," Pedro explained sheepishly.
"I see," grinned Mustafa, thinking it was high time his leader chose a woman, but he had to admit, his timing had been completely off. "Well it was a good thing in some ways they were alone or else Hamid would be lost to us right now."
An embarrassed silence hung over the younger warriors, none of them dared make any comment, they knew full well Mustafa would have their hides.
"With that in mind Pedro, I suggest that a party of us go back to the house and follow the tire tracks until we find out just where they took her to."
"What the hell?" cried Alejandro as he opened up the door to his bar and saw at least twenty men dispatching most of his remaining stock into saddlebags.
"Never mind," shouted Miguel, "let's just get him inside," he urged as between them they dragged the unconscious body through the doors.
"Where the hell did you find him," asked Pedro, nearly getting crushed in the rush of Medjai warriors who ran to swiftly pick up their Chieftain.
"He was at your house, in the rifle cabinet," answered Miguel.
"In the rifle cabinet?" asked Pedro, looking rather puzzled.
"Oh hell, no, not in it, rummaging through it, but I guess you'd already emptied it," he stated, looking at his father in law now wearing a couple of handguns and brandishing a lethal looking rifle.
"Get him on the table," ordered Mustafa, quickly taking control of the situation.
"How long has he been like this, do we know," enquired Riaz.
"Only a couple of minutes," replied Miguel. "He was just about to tell us how he got to Pedro's house and then slam, he dropped like a stone. I'm presuming it's blood loss that caused it?"
"It would appear that way," said Riaz, before barking orders out to two of the other men to fetch all the things he would need to clean the wounds out thoroughly before stitching them.
Riaz and the others quickly stripped off Ardeth's bloodied shirt and trousers and began the task of cleaning the wounds. The one on his thigh was the worst, they surmised that the shoulder wound was simply a deep graze and knew they had been right with their previous deductions back at the house. He'd certainly been on the move when that happened.
Ardeth groaned as painfully he came too. His head was spinning and it took him a little while to focus on a worried looking Mustafa hovering over him.
"Thank Allah you're here at last," Ardeth croaked. "We need to move quickly, they have my wife."
"Your what?" spluttered Mustafa, thinking Ardeth had given into delirium. But the look on his face was deadly serious, maybe, just maybe they'd already taken advantage of the solitude Pedro had afforded them.
"I'm afraid you're going nowhere right now my Chief," stated Riaz, motioning to Alejandro to bring the bottle of alcohol.
"Ardeth, drink some of this it'll ease the pain," said Mustafa. He knew full well that Ardeth never drank alcohol, but desperate times called for desperate measures and they had nothing else available to ease the pain or cleanse the wounds.
"Mustafa, you know I wont, I have to keep a clear head to get Samia back," he argued.
One moment his mind was full of Samia. How could he have let her be taken? The next he knew nothing but the searing pain in his leg. Once again he turned his thoughts back to Samia, Allah he'd kill anyone who laid a finger on her. The guilt he felt for not being on his guard and letting her be taken away from him was overwhelming. The pain of that guilt was so real, blindingly real, or was it the pain in his leg that was real? He couldn't think straight anymore. He didn't know which hurt the most.
"Ardeth, we're leaving in a few minutes to go and search for her," he explained.
"Well, what are we waiting for then, stitch me up quickly and let's get going," he grimaced as he tried to move his leg off the bench and only succeeded in increasing both the pain and the bleeding.
"Alright then, if you think I should," he said, quickly grabbing the bottle and taking a huge gulp of the brandy. "Anything to get me out of here quicker."
"Ardeth, you're not going anywhere, you're not up to it yet, you've lost too much blood," said Mustafa.
Ardeth couldn't reply to that last statement, he was too busy biting down on the leather strap Riaz had given him. He felt the searing pain as the alcohol oozed into the damaged tissue. He tried to kick out as the needle slowly pulled his skin closed again, but the effort was too much. "More," he shouted, indicating to Mustafa that he needed the pain dulling some more.
Mustafa gave him the bottle and again Ardeth took another huge gulp. His weakened state had also weakened his resolve in regard to the drinking of alcohol. Before long he felt on top of the world and hardly felt the needle doing it's job. Very soon Riaz had patched his Chieftain up, but explained quietly to those around Ardeth that the blood loss had been severe. There was no way Ardeth could keep up any sort of pace with them on their search for Samia.
Mustafa had entrusted Ardeth's welfare to three of his warriors. They were under strict orders not to let Ardeth out of the bar, and to use any means necessary to keep him there.
Ardeth took another great gulp of the warming, soothing, uplifting liquid before almost shooting off the table. He fumbled around for his clothes, falling over a couple of times in the difficult task of putting his trousers back on. His words were slurring and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, but all he could think about was getting to Samia. He'd find her now, he was sure.
"Samia........got to get her," he said, leaning up against the bench for support. His eyes were now glazed and his black hair tumbled over his eyes, making the blurred vision he was encountering seem like it was being closed off with curtains.
"Gotta go now," he said, lurching over.
"Ardeth, you're not going anywhere, you have to rest, we'll find her and bring her back to you," promised Mustafa.
"We're married," he giggled, shaking his head and smiling slightly as he let his thoughts wander for a moment.
"Got to find her," he shouted, once again his voice becoming as serious as he could muster.
The alcohol had fuelled his anger at Samia's kidnapping and the legendary Bay temper was threatening to burst forth as he vainly tried to jostle his way past the warriors and head for the door. Mustafa knew that in this condition he'd probably end up getting himself killed, so he motioned to the other three warriors now behind Ardeth to hold him.
"Ardeth I'm sorry, but I have to do this. You'll thank me later," he whispered, before landing a punch squarely on Ardeth's jaw, knocking him out cold. He knew the combination of the blow and the alcohol would keep Ardeth out for quite some time. Leaving them free to find Samia.
"I truly am sorry my friend, but you would have never forgiven yourself for not being able to keep up, at least by doing this I'm making sure your body gets the rest it needs," Mustafa said quietly, as he and a couple of his men laid a sleeping Ardeth down on a cot in the corner of the room.