AN: I know this has taken awhile for me to post but to be honest I am trying to bring this storyline together before I get all crazy with it to the point it doesn't make any sense or sucks. I will tell you that eventually this storyline will fall into the movie, but that is many chapters away. I really am trying to make this a great story that is interesting so if it takes awhile to post it is simply because I am going over and over and over the chapter to make sure that it will fit with the direction I am trying to go. For this chapter alone I have scrapped 3 drafts because they sounded bad or didn't fit with the story or the characters. I do hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed finally piecing together this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. Just a forewarning this is rated M for a reason so if you expected that would just be for sex you where wrong. There will be blood in this so just a warning. Also by the way: This is a very short chapter. It is meant to be short so don't think I just couldn't come up with anything lol. Also I have had a few ask how to pronounce Shraga's name. I pronounce it like Shrah-gah. If you say it slow actually pronouncing the 'h' it will sound funny, but if you say it a little faster it sounds better.
He had fallen asleep holding onto the pendant. His fingers were curled tightly around its edges, afraid of letting go, even in his sleep. He had become very dependent of the pendant. H e liked the connection it brought them. He also liked that it seemed to calm him, except for the day he had felt her fear and what he had thought was desire. That was days ago, and he was months away from getting an answer out of her. So he just depended on the connection so he could feel her. It brought him peace of mind.
He could tell by her steady heart beat that she was fast asleep and soon after he followed her. All through the night he could feel her, he dreamt that he was next to her in her bed. He could also smell that soft scent of hers, clean and enticing. It was a wonderful night in his dreams until in the distance of reality a battle cry was let out. It was wild and crazed sound that carried over the entire camp like a clap of thunder from an oncoming storm.
He heard it even in his sleep but he couldn't pull himself out of his serene dream. He tried to wake but he couldn't. He struggled for a moment in confusion but simply figured that he would wake when he woke. Her scent was too enticing and kept him locked in place anyways. She rolled over into his arms and he wrapped them around her sleeping form. She was naked in his dream and he let his hands softly graze over her smooth skin. He could feel with the tips of his fingers as her skin prickled into gooseflesh from his touch.
After a few moments of enjoying her flesh he kissed her forehead and said goodbye to her, it was time to wake, it had to be time. Yet that did not work for him like he thought it would. He still lay with her in his dream unable to come back to reality. He didn't let it bother him too much though. He drew little circles on her back instead of worrying. She felt nearly sinful to him. He couldn't wait to get back to her to know if her flesh really felt this good on her back.
Garsiv could hear the horns of his men, sounding that they were under attack back in the real world. He needed to rouse but he didn't want to let her go. He tightened his grasp on her and buried his nose into her flaming red curls, letting the hair tickle against his nose as he inhaled deeply. Such a clean scent filled his senses that he was further pulled into his dream. Eventually he couldn't even hear the battle that was taking place on the outskirts of the camp because he blocked it out so he could enjoy what he was feeling now with Shraga.
"You need to leave," she whispered into the crook of his neck. It was a dream but he could have sworn he could feel her breath playing across his skin. He hadn't noticed that she had awoken in his dream, but it pleased him to know she was aware of him now. He leaned back so he could look at her. He smiled fondly down at her, but she did not smile back. Her lime colored eyes gleamed up at him. He thought he saw happiness there because she had not smiled, but he suddenly realized that it was fear that was glazed over in her eyes.
"I don't want to leave," he whispered back in protest. He leaned in and tried to kiss her and she turned her head, denying him. His lips ended up pressing against her cheek lightly. He withdrew and looked at her confused. He didn't know how being denied by her set with him. Part of him wanted to be upset, and part of him wanted to laugh at her boldness, even in his dream she was just like his Shraga.
"You have to. You will die if you don't," she said as she ran a hand down the side of his face. He grunted unhappily and his mind was brought back to his camp was under attack. Reality started to quickly suck him out of the dream as her words further sunk in. He would die if he did not wake. He was detaching himself from her after the weight of what she said took full effect of him. She was telling the truth. If he just laid there he would be a sitting duck for a sword to the throat. If he were going to die it was going to be during battle, not when he was fast asleep on his bed roll dreaming of his wife.
"Be safe," she said as he finally let go of her.
"I will," he replied right before he finally woke up with a shudder.
It was just in time too. A Scythian burst into his tent, armed with a long sword just as Garsiv opened his eyes. This man had blood on his face, and wore a grin fit for a barbarian. He said something that Garsiv didn't understand but what he did understand was that this man wasn't here to kill him. If he was, he would have already attacked. Instead he shouted in that foreign language that Garsiv didn't understand over his shoulder.
Garsiv rolled to his feet quickly and armed himself with the sword that Shraga had given him in one fluid movement. The man spit of the ground to show that he was not afraid of Garsiv. Garsiv smirked at the action and then attacked. He was great with a sword, but he quickly learned so was this Scythian barbarian. Their blades clanged together in unison and both fighters realized that they were evenly matched.
They took this battle between just the two of them out of the tent and into the rest of the battle that was going on around them. Garsiv was happy to see that his people seemed to be winning this battle. The Scythians obviously did not expect the magnitude of men they would have to fight against in the Persian army. Nor did they realize that Persian's were real warriors that could hold their own.
Garsiv quick being happy about their near victory put all his effort into defeating this one enemy that stood against him. He took stance in a low crouch with his sword arced over his head ready to defend himself. The other man smiled and took stance as well in a similar pose as if he were mocking Garsiv. No matter though, the man could mock all he wanted. All that mattered was if he was good enough with his sword to stay alive.
The man made the first move this time. He lunged at Garsiv. He twisted his body, trying to throw off Garsiv into not knowing which way he was going to go with his attack. Garsiv had been trained by the best men his dad could afford to put in the royal army though. Garsiv knew not to read a man's body, but to read their eyes. Their eyes always told the deadliest secrets as well as the secrets to what would end their lives. The man was trying to make it look like he was going to feint left but his eyes where looking right.
And just like his eyes said, he went right. Garsiv caught him though, for he was ready for the attack. He parried the man's blade with an expert skill. Garsiv took this opportunity to swing the blade near the man's head. The Scythian ducked which threw him off balance which gave Garsiv another opportunity to try and end the man's life.
He went for a stabbing motion, directed right at the man's heart. His sword never hit home. It was parried with another Scythian's blade that had come to the first man's aid. Now the fight was unfair, not a real man's battle. Two on one Garsiv could fight against, but the odds became dangerous.
Garsiv gave himself a good shake to make sure all the sleep that had held him earlier was gone so he could focus on the fight ahead of him. He rolled his shoulders stretching the precious muscles he was going to have to use to defend his life if he wanted to go home to see his wife ever again. He smiled fondly when he thought of Shraga. He wondered if she would just laugh in the face of two opponents. She was strong and she would be able to fight these men off. He laughed then. If she could do it he was sure he could too.
The men laughed back which made Garsiv trail off in uncertainly. What reason could they have for laughing at him? He suddenly felt unsure about himself. He remembered that the man hadn't been there to kill him. His mind worked as quickly as he could make it turn over to find out what was going on. It didn't take long to realize the answer though when six other Scythian's surrounded him. They were going to take him as a political prisoner. The comprehension hit him so hard that he just smiled at the man who had found him. He had done his men proud.
Yet Garsiv was a Prince of Persia so he would not allow himself to be taken without a fight. He took stance again and arced his sword. He was ready to try his best to defend himself against eight assailants. His odds were not good, but he would go down fighting.
A man from behind him was the first to attack. Garsive spun in a fierce circle and drew his blade deeply across the man's throat to the point that he hit bone. Blood sprayed onto his face and he would wear his enemy's blood with honor. The man dropped to the ground, still living, but bleeding out and suffering the entire time that his blood mixed with the red sand of Persia. Garsiv only watched for a second as the man convulsed and gurgled as he tried to stop his own bleeding with his hands.
After that man fell, another took his place, and Garsiv returned his attention back to the fight. This man was good. He lasted longer against Garsiv who seemed to be dancing a fatal dance with the man. Garsiv swung his sword with lightening speed to come against the man's attack. The man buckled under the weight of Garsiv's attack. Garsiv could hear the man's joints and tendons in his hands and wrists pop under the pressure.
The man looked surprised that Garsiv was the fast as well as strong. To be honest, Garsiv surprised himself. His need to win had taken over and his body went into its fight or flight mode. Garsiv swung his sword again after the man dropped his sword away because his wrists stung with effort. Garsiv show no mercy as he brought his sword down, lopping off part of the man's scalp and skull in one movement. Garsiv was astounded about how deadly he was, and how sharp the sword Shraga had given him really was. The man twitched and all his muscles at one time constricted. He finally fell over, dying on impact.
Garsiv heard a shout from the man who had found him and at one time all the men attacked him at one time. He was able to defend himself for longer than he had expected to. He killed two more men. One he stabbed in the heart with precision, and the other he had hit him hard in the temple with the hilt of his sword, killing them both instantly.
Yet eventually Garsiv became overwhelmed and his muscles fatigued from the fight. He started to slow as if he were moving in thick honey against his enemies. His sword whispered through the air at a speed less than what it had been. He found himself having a hard time blocking, and he was faultering. And then it happened quickly. He felt the hilt of a sword on the back of the head. He felt as if they had cracked his skull, even though he knew the blow was only meant to knock him out.
He went to his knees and desperately tried to keep consciousness. His vision became blurry and his head started to pound rapidly. He heard the men who still lived snicker around him before one of them kicked him across the side of his face. His head whipped to the side, making his neck pop uncomfortably in the process. He fell to his side, his face coming to rest in the blood covered desert sand.
He still tried to not lose himself to unconsciousness as he laid there. Yet ultimately darkness took him.