Dastan awoke so suddenly and forcefully that he didn't initially know what was happening. The room was dark, aside from the faint glow of torches beyond the curtains, on the balcony. He gasped for breath, and yet the tiniest movement was agony. Warmth spread at the center of his chest. Oh, no…
"Help…I need help!" he croaked, voice barely rising above his pounding heartrate. One hand clutched at the covers over the epicenter of the pain; the fabric quickly dampened. The other fumbled clumsily for someone, anyone nearby. "Tamina! It's…I'm…"
A gasp triggered an abrupt coughing spasm, further pain, and a pitiful moan. His roaming hand brushed something solid, something that moved, followed by a yelp of surprise.
"Dastan, what's wrong? Farrah, come quickly, bring light!" Tamina's voice shifted quickly from drowsy confusion to sharp insistence.
Dastan tried to pull her hand toward him, pushing the blankets away at the same time. Neither move was very successful in his current state, but the princess got the message. She exposed his chest just as the healers rushed in with a flame to rekindle the indoor sconces, which illuminated a large, dark, wet stain. Both women clapped their hands to their mouths.
"Grab everything we have, now!" Tamina snatched the compress from Dastan's forehead, the closest thing she could use to stem the gaping hole that had appeared. Dastan cried out in earnest from the pressure. It took both her and Farrah to keep him somewhat still.
"Try not to struggle, your Highness. It will only hasten the bleeding," said the greying healer.
"Stay with me. That's it, keep looking into my eyes, please," begged Tamina.
Dastan's vision began wavering in and out of focus, or was that just the flicker of the torchlight? Tamina's cool hand cradled his cheek, so his head couldn't slip to the side. He brought his shaky hand up to rest on hers, and a delicate chain brushed his palm. His adoptive mother's bangle and rings.
"You're still wearing it…"
"It was a gift." Her words quavered, almost to a whisper. "Did this happen during the battle at the sanctuary?"
"What…?"
"Where you left off in the story, I made you pause to rest. Were you wounded there?"
"No…though the Hassansins did overwhelm us. You were knocked out before you could return the dagger to the gods…I can't say I was entirely sorry at the time, to be honest. I wasn't ready to let you go, whether it protected the world or not." Dastan attempted to turn his grimace into a smile for her. The position of the stab wound made breathing incredibly difficult. He could only speak in quick bursts. "So as I said, they stole the dagger. We had to follow them, back to Alamut, not just for the dagger itself, but to protect the Sands. In order to take on my uncle, however, we needed allies. Tus was still in the city…overseeing the supposed search for evidence of treachery—yes, I know you have no weapons forges, the accusations were all part of Nizam's lies."
"How were we to make it passed the guards alive, let alone convince your brother of the truth?"
"With some help from some new friends, as well as palace servants loyal to you…first we managed to get the dagger back, and you and I slipped into the royal chambers. I had to force Tus' hand somewhat, make him see in such a way that couldn't be ignored…I explained as fast as I could, what Nizam was doing, how the dagger worked…and then I plunged the blade into my own chest…"
Tamina went stark white, redoubling the healer's efforts to stem the current bleeding. Dastan fought to remain conscious through the pain. Waves of vertigo distorted his perception. The occasional shift in pressure to his chest, whispers between others in the room, anything going on around him made less and less sense. How much longer could this continue? The thought of his family sprang into this head, so unexpected that he attempted to sit up. Unsuccessfully, of course.
"How do we explain…if I don't make it through this…"
"Don't say that, you're going to be fine. I'm right here with you, just hold on a little longer. Keep telling the story."
Despite every effort to do so, he could feel his grasp slipping bit by bit. Never quite into blackness, but hovering on the edge. On and on this extended, an endless corridor of fiery torment.
He couldn't quite pinpoint when the agony plateaued, and at last began to ebb. Whether by paralysis or simply exhaustion, Dastan could hardly move, let alone speak. Delirium muddled his senses. What was left of his energy seemed to drain away as the episode receded. Still, something about his demeanor must have changed, because the presences hovering nearby became less frantic, a solid strength he could latch onto.
"Easy now, let the fading do its work," a kind voice coaxed. Dastan wasn't about to argue.
A different kind of pressure encircled his chest, he felt it every time he breathed in. One hand wandered up to investigate. Fingers closed on top of his, though they didn't mask the folds of linen stretched across his ribs. If he really concentrated, he could make out a petite silhouette leaning close in the predawn light. "How long…?"
"Mere hours. Farrah took a chance and stitched the…the wound, hoping it would slow things enough for bandages to do the rest until, well, as you know. Then we fed you small amounts of water at a time. The wound may be temporary, but as far as we can tell the loss of blood is very real."
"You're not getting rid of me that easily…"
This drew a quiet laugh from Tamina. She took his hand in both of hers, tucked it protectively under her chin. Close enough that Dastan could feel her heartbeat. Her cool touch compared to his abating fever.
"And what of your brother?" she asked. "It must have been horrible for him as well, seeing you resort to such drastic measures…"
"I trusted our bond as family, that he would use the dagger, and realize he could stop me from doing it again. Which he did, thankfully."
"You shouldn't have had to go so far to be heard."
"Exactly what he said, in fact. You two might just get along better than you think." A dull throb, nothing like the height of the episode, made him pause a moment. Tamina frowned. She beckoned someone forward—the other healer, he must have taken over to let Farrah rest after the previous commotion.
"It's passing now. For that matter we're nearly to the end of the whole previous time, and then this trial can be over. We can start moving forward," insisted Dastan.
Tamina remained quiet. Dastan tried, in vain, to catch her eye. "Tamina…? It is almost over, right?"
"I…I don't know…the forces at work here are powerful, the hand of the gods themselves. The text only mentions a 'judgment' of the dagger holder's true character as the threads of time meet. It doesn't say what that means, or how it might play out."
"At the sanctuary, you were willing to accept destiny, even if it meant death. Maybe this is mine. I'm not exactly blameless in what happened."
"But you said yourself, you did not commit the forbidden act, and you put a stop to it before the destruction became irreversible."
"Does this power make the distinction? I saw no disadvantage to using the dagger at first, in fact I readily made use of the small amount carried in the hilt. I was the one sent back with the dagger in the end. Considering everything I've endured so far, I'd say the judgment has already been made."
"Yet listen to how much you've changed as a result. Destiny is as ever-present as the Sands. It is also fluid, shifting and changing shape. Do not disregard the impact of faith."
"Faith in what, in this case? Do you have such faith, Princess? Because I don't even know where to start. What reason would they have to show leniency simply because I wanted to be spared?"
She caressed his shoulder gently with one hand, the one adorned with the bangle. Her features looked like they wished so desperately to convey what she couldn't seem to find in words.
Sigh, that took longer than I wanted...reminder to self, I should finish stories before posting them, I should finish stories before posting them, I should finish stories before posting them...