Author's note: Many thanks to Ocecat, Saddened Soul, Hannah, Melanie, Shian, and anyone else who read my story but didn't review.
Ocecat - actually the last chapter was not shorter than the others because I've decided to make all chapters exactly 3 pages long (when written in Word using "Times New Roman" no.10); However, I've made this chapter longer because I couldn't brake it into 2 separate chapters and also because this chapter ends the first part of the story. (This doesn't mean that the story ends here; I'll try to post chapter 10 as soon as possible.)
Saddened Soul - The Dahaka will be back soon, don't worry. He just went to freshen up a bit, but he'll be back 'cause he doesn't give up that easily, does he? Come to think about it, he doesn't give up … ever.
The Dahaka (really pissed off): "It's my job. I take it seriously, man!"
The Prince (trying to sound concerned): "You look kinda tired. Have you ever considered retiring?"
The Dahaka: "You know, you're right. I think I'll do that …… right after I kill you."
Sorry about that, but I've been watching some stand-up comedy lately and I felt like writing something funny for a change.
Yeah, basically I'm updating every Monday but sometimes I make an exception from that rule.
Hannah - yep the servant girl was the fake-priestess, and you'll find out much more about that later on in the story.
Melanie - the youngest prince yelled at her, namely THE PRINCE.
Episode IX : "Escape "Later on that day, the Prince returned to his tent to inform the priestess that everything had been arranged for her to be escorted back to the city. He had had a long conversation with Markug on that matter, who suggested they took her with them to Babylon, but the Prince disagreed, claiming she would only slow them down. Word came of the victory of the Prince's oldest brother, in the northern regions of the empire, after he had been sent the troops he had asked for earlier and King Sharaman was now requesting an audience with his two sons who were in charge of his armies. Thus, the Prince and Markug, as well as a few other men, were to go immediately to the royal palace, leaving the soldiers on their positions, since all the Syrian soldiers seemed to have vanished over night, after their latest defeat, and the Persians did not know whether they had retreated or were planning other surprise attacks.
Upon entering the tent, the Prince saw the priestess desperately looking through some large trunks settled on one side of the tent. He tried not to make any noise as he stepped inside, curious to see what exactly she was searching for. When she discovered a trunk full with gold and precious stones, the woman appeared so fascinated by the beautiful things shining before her eyes, that she forgot what she was looking for. She took out a few pieces of jewelry and admired them with a deep craving in her eyes until suddenly she gave a start, as if hearing a strange noise, and in one very swift movement, she turned her head to see the Prince staring at her with his arms folded. He found this very peculiar because he hadn't made any noise at all, but he did not give her the time to acknowledge his bewilderment.
"I thought those who serve the gods have no interest in material things."
"Feeling better?" she asked with a sweet smile, deliberately showing fake concern.
"What are you doing looking through my belongings?"
"You told me I would see little of you during my stay here and yet you've bothered me so many times," the woman avoided answering his question.
She dropped the jewels back in the trunk and before he could come up with a reply she got up and walked proudly before him, disappearing behind the curtains, into the small bedchamber. The Prince's patience was beginning to grow thin and he immediately followed her, catching up with her just as she was about to sit down and enjoy the fresh meal the servants had brought earlier. He knew exactly what he wanted to say to her but she did not give him the opportunity to speak.
"Where am I to leave?" she asked while sitting down before the table.
"Tomorrow morning."
"Perfect."
The Prince thought for a few minutes whether he should try to get some answers from her, seeing how she was not even bothering to look at him when she spoke. Finally making up his mind, he turned to leave without saying another word, remembering more important problems he had to attend to.
"You ought to eat something," the woman called out to him just as he was stepping out of the room.
"Why? You didn't use enough magic on me?"
Hearing his mocking commentary, the woman smirked and lazily turned her head around to look up at him, with a cocky smile on her lips.
"I used no magic on you, just very efficient treatment."
"Why did you go through so much effort to heal me?"
"Who attacked you?" the woman tried to change the subject, in another attempt to avoid answering his question.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Mine's more important."
"You go to war, you're bound to end up with a couple of wounds. That's how things go."
"It was more than a wound. Please, tell me what happened," she pleaded, actually sounding serious this time.
At first, the Prince gave her a curious stare, but then he sat down at the opposite side of the table and proceeded in answering her question, and at the same time, taking a few bites from the many plates on the table.
"I was in battle, surrounded by many enemies, and they all kept attacking me from every direction, but it was no big effort scattering them like flies. A few minutes afterwards, they were all lying dead around me. Then, one more attacked me. He didn't seem much of a skilled swordsman so I easily disarmed him and was about to deliver the final blow when his helmet accidentally fell off and I saw he was just a boy, no more than fourteen years of age. I couldn't bring myself to kill him and I lost my concentration for a few moments; just enough for some coward to attack me from behind. I was not too quick in putting up a defense, since he took me by surprise, and the bastard actually managed to cut me. Of course, he didn't live long enough to enjoy his victory."
Finishing his little tale with a superior grin on his face, the Prince noticed that the priestess looked as though she was trying to suppress laughter. He himself did not know what had come over him that made him share his memories with her. Perhaps he had just felt the need to boast about his adventures and prove his abilities, just like in his youth. Dropping back on the plate a fruit he had intended to eat, the Prince stood up ready to leave, not appreciating the priestess' lack of consideration for his glorious deeds.
"Get ready. You may be leaving much sooner than tomorrow."
"That was a nice story, but I was not referring to that wound," the woman stopped him again from leaving. "I sensed a dark presence last night. What happened that made you scream like that?"
"Nothing happened. I was just …… angry," the Prince said the first thing that came to his mind, hoping that would be enough to make her stop asking him any more questions.
"Angry?" she chuckled, understanding his real intentions. "Sometimes anger, is the mask of the man who is shy and afraid."
As soon as he heard that, the Prince didn't waste any more time talking to the woman and left the tent boiling with fury deep inside, because she had plainly told him to his face what he had refused to admit for a long time.
Later on in the evening …Returning to his tent with the intention of catching some more sleep, even if it was on the floor, since he didn't want to be in the same room with the priestess and be asked some more questions he didn't want to answer, the Prince sensed some familiar aromas in the air. He approached the bedchamber and peeked between the curtains to see what the woman was doing.
"So you finally decided to come back?" she asked all of a sudden with her back turned at him, making him wonder how she had once again sensed his presence since he hadn't made the slightest noise.
Since there was no turning back, the Prince pulled the curtains aside and stepped in. He saw new candles in shades of green and white arranged in the same order as the previous night, and the woman preparing again something, by combining various herbs and oils.
"Lay down," she ordered him, not bothering to even look at him, as she went about her business.
"I'm fine. I don't need any more of your witchcraft."
"Your body may be fine, but your mind and spirit are not. Now lay down. And you might also want to take off that armor. You will most likely fall asleep quite soon."
"Just like last night?"
"That was for your own good. The pain would not have been easy to bear."
"You should have let me be the judge of that."
Receiving no answer from the priestess, the Prince finally decided to do as she said, thinking he would at least get a decent sleep, after she will have finished with her wannabe magical performance.
"Close your eyes," she told him as she kneeled down between the lit candles just as she had done the previous night, and placed her left palm on his forehead.
Though he was making great efforts to hide his amusement, the Prince decided to play along and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly. The woman, having her own eyes closed, removed her hand from his forehead and reached out to get a small cup, containing some sort of perfumed substance.
"Your spirit is tormented by a dark force," she informed him, as she brought the small cup in front of her.
Whatever ritual the woman was about to do next, is something the Prince did not find out that night, for the minute she spoke those words he jumped up like burnt, grabbed the cup from her hand and threw it violently across the room, its content spilling over some of the cushions around the table. From the look she gave him, he knew she probably thought he had gone mad, but in his mind he knew he was right, because no man likes to be reminded of the thing that troubles him the most.
"That's not helping."
"Then there is nothing more I can do for you."
Her expression turning serious and her voice presumptuous, the woman stood up and turned to leave but the Prince caught her wrist and pulled her back.
"Perhaps there is. Not all remedies come from the gods."
The woman was taken aback by his sudden change of attitude and she found a bit disturbing the way in which he seemed to be examining her. After a relatively long period of silence, the woman wanted to say something, but the Prince was faster.
"As a priestess, are you obliged to live a more distinct life?"
"What do you mean?" the woman was dazed by his odd question.
"Are you allowed to have your own family or must you live a secluded life?"
"Why the sudden interest in priesthood? Slaughtering people isn't that rewarding anymore?" she smirked.
"Just tell me, I want to know."
"The great goddess Bast wants her subjects to enjoy all good things life has to offer, so yes, we can have our own families."
"Good," he grinned. "Then the gods' wrath will not be upon me."
Before she could make out the meaning of his bizarre response, she was pulled downwards, by the wrist, with more strength than before.
Meanwhile, in a more shabby part of the encampment, where the common soldiers stayed, a young man was pretending to be asleep, lying on some animal skins on the bare ground, this being the only kind of bed available. When he was certain that the other three soldiers he had to share the tent with, were fast asleep, he reached for a leather bag he kept hidden under a pile of clothes next to his bed and took out from it a copper urn, the size of a larger orange, and with peculiar markings on it that he was unable to clearly make out in the darkness of the tent.
This was the first time he had had the chance to look at the urn, after taking it from that temple, due to the constant agitation of the past few weeks. He examined it carefully, making use of his tactile senses, since his eyesight was not too much of a help in those circumstances. With his fingers, he traced the engravings on the surface but found nothing unusual until, what appeared to be a dim blue-greenish light flashed between the lines of the engravings. The soldier jumped up in an instant, blinking several times as if there was something wrong with his eyes.
For quite a while, he simply starred at the urn, turning it around in his hands, waiting for something to happen. When nothing happened, he attempted to open the lid, but to his great disappointment, he realized he was unable to do so, no matter how hard he tried. Settling with the idea that he must have imagined seeing a light coming from within, he took a deep breath and leaned back down. After all, it didn't really matter what or if there really was something inside, as long as he could get a good price for it, and he was positive he would get a very good price. Smiling satisfied, he put the urn back in its place and went to sleep for real this time, holding one hand over the pile under which his most precious possession lay.
A couple of hours later …The woman woke up with her heart beating very fast, just like the first time she had fallen asleep in the Prince's tent. At first she was confused and scared, not knowing where she was, but then she recognized the surroundings and remembered she was in the bed she had slept in for the past couple of days. She calmed herself down, beginning to rub her eyes to become fully awake, when she started shivering all of a sudden. She found this rather odd, since her dress and the sheet with which she had covered herself every night where enough to keep her warm. The problem was that, this time, the sheet was touching her bare skin.
Realizing this, she suddenly jumped up from the pillow, trying to understand the reason of her condition. Memories offering a possible explanation went through her mind, but she refused to accept them, until she took notice of the Prince sleeping in his usual place. Her eyes narrowed and her hands clenched the sheets around her, as she watched him sleep peacefully as if he had done nothing for which he should have qualms of conscience. But she had no time to express her anger when a soft sound caught her attention, a mewing to be exact. A broad smile appeared on her lips and her face lightened all of a sudden. In a swift movement, similar to that of a feline, she jumped over the Prince and landed in a crouched position on the floor, from where she retrieved the priestly robe she had had to wear during her "trip" to the Persian camp.
Before exiting the tent, she cast one more glance at the Prince, who was beginning to look agitated, like he was having a nightmare. Then her eyes caught sight of the cup he had thrown from her hands the previous night, and its content, which had not been entirely spilled. She looked back at the Prince, this time with a compassionate stare and after a brief period of thinking, she sighed heavily, as if she had just consented to do something which was not completely to her liking.
"After all, it was not exactly …… unpleasant," she said to herself as she went to pick up the cup from the floor.
When she finally exited the tent, passing by the two guards who were sleeping soundly on the ground, before the entrance, the woman came face to face with the cat that had mewed before. She was a slender cat, with bright green eyes and gray fur with black stripes.
"Hello Nasmat," the woman greeted joyfully the cat she knew too well. "I was wondering when you might show up."
Staring right into the woman's eyes, the cat answered with another mewing and then ran off. The woman smiled delighted and quickly followed the cat.
The following morning …The Prince woke up calmer than usual, though he had had the same nightmare that was haunting him for almost six years. It was the same nightmare, and yet something was different, something that gave him an air of tranquility. This time he no longer allowed the shadows to envelop him and he stopped all of a sudden from running, drew out his swords and turned to face bravely whatever was chasing him. He woke up the minute he was preparing to stroke the dark shadow behind him, before the dream would make more sense, but this had been enough to gave him strength and courage to confront whatever was after him. If what had happened two nights ago in the tent had been real and if there was any connection between that incident and his dreams, then his pursuer would attack again and when that happens, he will be ready.
Standing up, the Prince felt something wet on his forehead. He wiped it with his hand and discovered a perfumed substance, whose smell reminded him of the potions the priestess made. Remembering the priestess, he looked to his left, but found no one there. He got out of bed, got dressed and afterwards searched the other part of the tent and the surroundings, but the priestess was nowhere to be found and none of the guards knew anything about it. The more puzzled one was, however, the young soldier who had stolen the urn, for when he woke up, his bag was no longer where he had left it. He was both astonished and upset, but he could not possibly accuse his comrades of theft, because they would not be too comfortable with the idea that he had no intention of sharing with them the fortune he would have made after selling the urn. Another misfortunate character was a poor guard, whose horse had gone missing.