Authors Notes: It's me again! Haven't died, just busy! Updating with another chapter and replying to some of your lovely reviews!
First off, i've had a ROCKET in the amount of favourites and alerts on this story so than you so much to everyone who's done that! It means so much to me that you're all following this story! I hope it lives up to your expectations. To all those people who left comments on any other chapter other than 9 - the last one - thank you! I'd love to reply to them all, but if by chance you've only read up until the chapter you've commented, a reply here is going to seem really out of context!
Replies for Chapter 9:
Mina: Yes, Nasreen has a funny way of getting under Zolm's skin doesn't she? And I'm glad you appreciate Tamina's views. She's a girl after my own heart, but this chapter might show a bit more light on where her head is at. You'll know what I mean after you read this ;)
Emilie: Thank you! Nice to see another commenter! Hope you stick around xx
Sorree: Plot bunnies, I love that XD I can just imagine little fluffy rabbits hopping around in my head. Nice to see that I've deepened Nizam's character a little for you, he was rather flat in the movie!
Starfish: Horse-sick... perhaps. This chapter will reveal all!
Edwards girl: I update when I can! Thanks for your comment, I really appreciate it and hope to see you around in chapters to come!
Artemis: I'm not going to let it die! I just can't update as often as I'd like to! :( But I really appreciate you saying that i've kept them all in character! I work hard on it, and it's glad to know that it's worth it! And yes, Nasreen is interesting. She's great fun to write! Nice to see another new commenter, and I hope you stick around too!
On with the chapter!
Chapter 10 - Fever
Zolm was up early, watching from the high temple as the company of soldiers left the city, heading for the valley of the slaves. A cloud of dust erupted from the horses hooves and drifted lazily across the morning sky.
They were after the Prince and Princess, and the dagger of time which they had stolen.
Behind him, someone entered the room, but they made no attempt at concealing their footsteps. If they meant him harm, they would have tried a more stealthy approach.
The new arrival began to speak, the voice instantaneously recognisable.
"There's nothing so glorious as to see an army ride out in the morning sun," Nizam sighed wistfully.
"My Lord," Zolm replied as he dipped his head in greeting.
"Just think, in three days they'll return with the dagger, and I will have my final victory. Once it's in my possession, you and your men may return home, I'll have no further need for your protection."
"You are already invincible, what does time matter to you?"
"You are mistaken, Zolm, if you think that I cannot be killed. I may have bargained with the gods of death and darkness, but I am not untouchable. Holy blades, such as that dagger can still pierce me. Also, if I do not feed on souls, I will slowly wither away, and the gods will take me back into hell."
Zolm looked back out across the desert at the soldiers, as they gradually began to shrink against the horizon.
"You think me mad?" Nizam chuckled, "Maybe I am. My story is one that an older brother will tell to scare the younger siblings, but you've seen the things with your own eyes."
Zolm didn't reply. If he stopped to think, really think, about the events of the last few days he probably would think of Nizam as crazy, maybe even go mad himself in the process. But there were things in this world not meant to be understood, and he was happy to leave them that way. When you dabbled in the realm of the unexplained, it was best not to dwell on it.
"You have been loyal to me Zolm," he continued, "But I know that your loyalties lie only with the highest price. My powers will only bring me greater and more powerful enemies. If you ever find yourself in a position where it is beneficial for you to use what you know against me, take this advice. Decline the offer, or I so swear that I will make sure that, alive or dead, you will suffer horrors beyond your comprehension."
"Of course, my Lord," the Hassansin replied courteously.
As Nizam left the room, Zolm allowed himself a small smile. If there were 'horrors beyond his comprehension' in his future at all, he would have seen them before now.
He considered the Persians warning for a moment longer, before deciding to leave the temple. Gradually, he became aware that he was being watched. He scanned his cold eyes around, looking for any tell-tale signs of an eavesdropper. There were none, and there were only two types of people who were that adept at hiding themselves. Hassansins, and irritating little gypsies.
"How much of that did you hear?" he asked the seemingly empty room.
There was no immediate reply. However, a few moments later, she slipped out of the shadows and smiled at him.
"My, what friendly company you keep," she chuckled.
"And you're losing your touch if I know when you're watching me," he smirked.
"Oh, you know nothing of my touch… but I could easily arrange it," she purred as she approached, swaying her hips in a way that would have driven a lesser man insane with lust. But of course, Zolm was not an ordinary man, and the wiles of the female sex had never plagued his mind.
If he had to admit to himself that, however slight, she did stir some kind of feeling deep inside of him, he wouldn't act on it. Besides, it was a fleeting notion, barely even there at all.
"Why are you still in this city, let alone the palace," he asked, somewhat exasperatedly, "You've just overheard what you're messing with. A smarter person would leave."
"But where's the thrill in being smart?"
"If you long for death, then you might as well tell me. I would be more than happy to oblige. I promise it will be quick and… relatively painless. I can't guarantee that if you're found by anyone else."
"I'll take my chances."
Her stupidity sparked the anger again inside of him.
"Listen," he hissed, "This is my final warning Nasreen. If you insist on staying here, then the next time I am unfortunate enough to cross your path, I'll either kill you myself, or hand you over to Nizam."
"Now that's just being mean," she pouted, "And I think you're overestimate your ability to catch me."
She made a lightning fast movement to prove her point which he instinctively blocked and countered. Nasreen dodged under his arm, but he caught her and twisted her other arm. Without noticing, she had managed to produce a dagger from somewhere which she held against his throat. However, the way he had her grappled, his sleeve was next to her neck and slowly but surely, the snake emerged and began to eye up the prefect spot for a strike.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, unwilling to admit that the other may have an advantage.
"Draw?" she offered.
"You first," he taunted, unmoving. He didn't trust her at all, and there was no way he was going to release first.
"If you insist."
With her leg, she gave a well-aimed kick to his knee, knocking him off balance, so they both went tumbling to the ground. He hit the ground first, absorbing most of the impact, with her landing a moment later on top of him, still with the knife pressed lightly against his throat. In the tumble, his snake had been thrown from his sleeve and now slithered off in the opposite direction to sulk.
"Now isn't this embarrassing," she giggled.
"Get. Off." He growled.
"And just to rub salt in the wound…"
Before he could do anything, her lips were on his. It took one horrified instant for him to realise what she had done, and then she was gone. As she sprang from the floor, he reached out to grab her foot but she just danced out of his grasp.
"Until we meet again," she laughed, before disappearing out of the chamber.
He brought his fist down angrily onto the ground. Getting to his feet, he wiped his mouth roughly on his sleeve, then, spat onto the ground in disgust.
He took a few deep breaths to try and control himself. He wanted to ring her scrawny little neck as punishment for doing suck a vile thing. He needed to take his anger out on something. Catching sight of the traitorous snake, he picked it up. It hissed violently in protest of being manhandled. With a satisfying smirk, he flung it out the window and watched its writing body fall through the air. There were a million more were it came from, and it made him feel a little better. But only a little.
When Dastan finally awoke, he felt as though his body had been severely beaten, all over, and with hard wooden clubs. His head felt heavy, like his brain had been removed and replaced with sand and stones and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Looking around, he saw that he was in a small dark room. The uncomfortable straw mattress beneath his tired body was the only piece of furniture, and the only light came from a candle which had nearly burnt out.
Trying to clear the fog from his memory, he attempted to recall how he had gotten here, but could manage nothing. Using all the energy he could muster, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Tamina was curled up on the floor beside the mattress using her arm as a pillow. He was relieved to see her. Perhaps she could clear up what had happened.
With great effort, Dastan rolled onto his side so as to reach her. Gently, he tapped her shoulder. In one quick movement, she sprang up and grabbed a small dagger form the floor beside her. Almost as soon as she had picked it up, she dropped it again and her mouth fell open in surprise.
"You're awake!" she gasped, flinging her arms around his neck. This sudden movement sent a stabbing pain shooting through his head but he ignored it. Then, she let go and punched him on the arm.
"Don't ever do that to me again, alright?" she hissed through clenched teeth.
Dastan rubbed the place where she'd hit him.
"Do what? Tamina, I have no idea what you're talking about. The last thing I remember is leaving the Oasis with you."
She sighed, and paused for a few moments to compose herself.
"You got sick," she began, "You fainted, fell off your horse right in the middle of no-where. An outlaw patrol passed and I made them a bargain, because there was no way I could have gotten you to the desert camp by myself."
"What did you bargain?" he asked cautiously.
Tamina winced before she spoke.
"The horses."
Had he not been too tired, he would have been angry. But what was done was done. He nodded his head in understanding. Besides, he could just steal them back if he needed to.
"You had a fever. The innkeeper told me when we arrived it was probably a bad humour in your food or water. All I could do was wait until the fever broke, or it killed you."
There was a silence between them, as Dastan processed the severity of the situation. But he was awake now, and so discerned that he had been granted life over death.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that on your own," he mumbled apologetically.
"It's not like you wanted to poison yourself with bad river water. Besides, I can look after myself."
He chuckled a little, because he didn't doubt that she could for a second. For being a pampered princess, she had proved, in this time and the last, she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
"How long was I out?"
She paused for a moment as she tried to recall.
"Nearly three days. Go back to sleep," she urged, "It's the middle of the night. Tomorrow, if you're feeling a bit stronger, the Sheik wants to meet you."
"Don't tell me," Dastan smiled, "He's a slightly dishonourable entrepreneur that goes by the name of Sheik Amar?"
"You know him?" she asked in surprise.
"We've met before…"
Tamina understood.
Before settling back down to sleep, he watched as she stretched out her back wincing in pain.
"You shouldn't sleep on the floor," he mumbled, "There's enough room for you on the mattress."
"Dastan," she said sternly, looking him dead in the eye, "I am not sharing your bed until we are married. I thought I made it quite clear to you…"
He laughed, and she frowned in response.
"Do I look in any condition to take advantage of you, even if I was like that?" he asked.
She shook her head defiantly.
"It's the principle of the thing. Now, go to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."
Not having the strength to argue with her, Dastan lay back down and closed his heavy eyes. Within moments, he was asleep again.
In the last flickering moments of the candle, Tamina watched him. Only a few hours ago he had been perspiring, and convulsing as he fought the fever. For three days and nights she had stayed by his side, washing his face to try and cool him, holding his hand as he moaned and babbled incoherently.
It had given her plenty of time to think, about life, about death, and about them. There was an ancient saying in Alamut, and perhaps other places as well, that you could never miss the water, until the well ran dry.
The same was true about Dastan. Three days ago, if asked, she would have said that she and the Prince were acquaintances, friends at a push, with the possibility of something more than infatuation blossoming between them over time. But after three days of having to come to terms with the fact that he might not ever wake up, her eyes had been opened to the fact that she was in love with him.
She attributed some of her affection to feelings that were locked away in a forgotten place in her mind, but all the same, she loved him.
In those three days, she had been horrified to discover the very real possibility of never being able to tell him that. There were also some other things that, if death had taken him, she would lament never having been able to share with him. It was all very easy to say that she wouldn't share his bed, but having nearly lost him raised some difficult and soul searching questions. What was marriage exactly? Was it some pretty words and vows made in front of a priest, or was it something different? She had been brought up to believe that the pomp and ceremony of a wedding and the saying of vows was the most important and sacred things you could do. Now, well, she wasn't sure.
Lying back down, she closed her eyes and pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind in favour of sleep. For the first time in three nights, she slept peacefully.