Author's notes: This chapter was so hard to write, not helped by my heavy work load with Uni, so apologies for the wait.

Ever tried to write a battle scene? They look cool in movies but they're a bitch to write!

Also, this is the penultimate chapter so only one more and I'm done. My first chapter was, believe it or not, posted on 26th December last year. Wouldn't it round things off wonderfully if I could finish it on the exact same date one year later? I make no promises, but it will be something for me to work towards. Maybe then I'll be able to settle into some exam revision. They're in January. Urgh.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Not going to do replies for this one. Might for the next chapter depending on when I finish and post.

Enjoy xx

Woffles92

Chapter 19 – A Demon's Fate

"Protect the dagger!" Dastan yelled. They closed ranks around Tamina as the unearthly creatures advanced.

"What do we do?" Garsiv hissed.

"Well, we can't kill them, we can't tell if the people are still in those bodies or not!" Tus interjected

"Decisions, decisions," taunted Nizam from his position of safety.

Zolm was trembling with suppressed rage as Nasreen's body lurched awkwardly towards Tamina. Then, she stopped and raised lifeless eyes in his direction. His heart guttered as he wondered if by some miracle she was somewhere underneath the curse, fighting to come out. But as she began to move in his direction, he knew his hope had been misplaced. The Hassansin looked up quickly to see Nizam giving him a smug grin.

"I saw that this one was of particular interest to you when I took her life. No punishment is too cruel for those who betray me Hassansin!" he spat, "Will you defend yourself and risk injuring her? Even you can't be so heartless as to hurt an innocent woman."

His words burned into the serpent masters ears. There had been a time, long ago, when he wouldn't have thought twice about cutting her down. However recent events had subjected his icy heart to a partial thaw. He should have known that something like this would happen. Feelings made you weak and now he would pay the price.

She lurched towards him, swinging the blade in her limp hand with clumsy swipes. He blocked her blow easily. That wouldn't be the problem. Could her body outlast his? It would take only one mistake from him for her erratic swipes could deal him a serious injury. And what if she injured herself?

In the centre of the room Dastan was looking at the faces as they made their way towards him. It felt like something out of a nightmare. In the crowd he spotted a girl that couldn't have been more than six years old. And then, to his horror, he saw his father.

"We can't hurt them," he said decisively. Even if the people who had once owned these bodies were long gone, he still couldn't take that risk.

There was a clash of steel as an Hassansin and one of the advancing bodies made contact. Dastan leapt forward as the warrior made to strike. He stopped the blade with his own.

"We can't hurt them," he repeated.

"I don't answer to you, Prince," replied the Hassansin shrugging him off.

Dastan wheeled, blocked an aimlessly swinging blade, and turned in Zolm's direction.

"Zolm!" he cried over the noise of metal on metal, "Your men can't hurt these people!"

But the serpent master wasn't listening. He was locked in his own personal battle with the girl, who looked to be just shy of adulthood. The look in Zolm's eyes betrayed what she meant to him. What Nizam was doing was twisted beyond all comprehension. Looking around he could see that the formation around Tamina was beginning to break up as the mismatched band tried to defend themselves from Nizam's advancing militia.

He looked around trying to take in everything at once. Seso and Amar were trying to fend off a group of about 3 of the corpses. His brothers were also deep in battle on either side of Tamina who looked frightened, yet determined to protect the dagger at whatever cost. He began to formulate a plan. If he and his brothers surrounded Tamina, perhaps they could move slowly towards the front of the room and get close enough to use it against Nizam. Just then a searing pain erupted from his calf. Swinging around he saw the child had managed to come up on him unnoticed, and her blade had caught his leg. He looked up desperately for help when, to his horror, he saw an Hassansin stab his father's lurching body. There was too much going wrong. In a moment of panic, he cried out.

"Tamina! Give me the dagger!"

She deliberated for a moment, and then, trusting his instinct, threw. The prince caught the blade and pressed down on the hilt, hoping that she had filled the blade for just such an occasion. She had.

The people around him began moving in reverse. To his relief he saw the Hassansin's blade withdraw from his father's chest. There was relief as the wound the girl had dealt him vanished. When the jolt came that signalled his return into regular time, he sprang forward out of the girl's swinging blade. Next he dodged through the fighting just in time to block the black warrior's blade from piercing his father.

"Either you're with us or against us," Dastan hissed dangerously. The Hassansin grunted in reply, but made no more moves with intent to cause injury.

Returning to his original plan of guarding Tamina he twisted around. He spotted her just in time to see Garsiv, reeling from a particularly strong blow, crashing into her. The momentum sent her sprawling to the ground, knocking the wind from her chest and the dagger from her hand. His heart leapt up into the back of his throat as the blade vanished from view.

Zolm's concentration was broken by the flash of gold and silver near his feet as the dagger slid towards him. He dove down to retrieve it. His hand found the blade and he clasped it tightly around the hilt. Looking up, the first person he saw was the Sheik's manservant.

"Hassansin!" Seso yelled holding a hand out to receive. He understood. The throwing skills of the African were second to none. There was a deep wound in his arm to attest to that. This would be their only chance. He leapt to his feet and threw the blade in his direction. It flew through the air, spinning as it went, into Seso's waiting hand.

Zolm turned to re-orientate himself into the battle. She was too close for him to do anything. At the last moment he realised he had seen this scene before. The blade wielded in Nasreen's hands pierced him deep through the abdomen.

Seso threw. Nizam could see it coming and tried to dodge. It was coming too fast for him to completely avoid it. He raised his arm in an attempt to deflect the blow.

Zolm staggered for a moment, then reached out a hand and touched her unresponsive face. He wanted to say something to her, but nothing would come. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Oddly, there was no pain. Knowing the damage done was irreparable; he gritted his teeth and pulled the weapon out. Blood flowed freely from the hole and he knew it wouldn't be long before death's cold fingers would drag him away. He looked up at Nizam, hoping to see his wish for vengeance fulfilled.

The blade caught the Persian, but it was impossible to tell if it had pierced flesh or merely glanced of his clothing. At that moment, the corpse army stopped. Everyone looked up expectantly. In a panicked moment, Nizam ripped his sleeve to see the damage. He let out a triumphant laugh, and hope for those who had come to bring him down seemed to flicker and die. Bending down, he retrieved the sacred blade and brandished it in the direction of Dastan and the others.

"Nothing but a scratch!" he boomed looking around at their fallen faces. "Finish them!"

But his perverse troops remained motionless. Suddenly, and almost indiscernibly at first, the cut on his arm began to weep. But it wasn't blood that trickled from the wound, it was sand. Nizam dropped the dagger and it clattered to the floor. He used his now free hand to staunch the flow. For an instant it seemed to work, and then the sand seeped through his fingers. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he found he couldn't. His chest heaved a few times, followed by retching until sand billowed out of his mouth with every cough. Next, sand tears spilled from his wide and terrified eyes. Nizam stumbled forward. His skin began to shrink to the shape of his bones. Wounds began appearing on his hands, his face, all bringing forth more sand.

It was then that Zolm's vision blurred. He didn't mind so much. He had seen all he had needed to see. Nizam had only moments left now. Maybe he would see him in hell. Maybe he would see Nasreen. The thought was amusing to him, and he allowed himself to smile. Contented, he finally gave in to the overpowering urge to close his eyes and sleep.

A sudden wind began to whip up, sending sand flying all over the room. Tamina found Dastan and grabbed onto him as the wind became violent. The roar was deafening and vision became impossible. With a bang, they were flung to the floor.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the wind was gone. Slowly everyone began to stir. Opening their eyes, they saw a layer of sand covering everything in the room. Nizam was nowhere to be seen. There was a moment of serene calm. Dastan and Tamina exchanged a look of confusion.

A scream pierced the silence.

It came from an adolescent who was cradling a body in night black robes. She had been one of the ones under Nizam's control. How she was alive, when all of the others were strewn motionless across the sandy floor, was beyond him. Slowly, it dawned on them that the still body, lying in a pool of blood that seemed impossibly big, belonged to Zolm. She was shaking his body, as if trying to rouse him from sleep. But nothing could wake the Hassansin now. Slowly, Dastan approached her.

The girl snapped her head up as she sensed the Prince's approach. With a snarl she picked up the blood soaked blade and waved it dangerously in his direction.

"Don't come near me!" she screeched, her eyes wild and feral looking. Dastan held up both hands, gesturing that he meant her no harm. However, this seemed to do nothing to douse her mood. She looked quickly around, then, with a sudden burst of speed, she ran towards the door and disappeared from sight.

He turned to look at Tamina, who to his surprise was consoling the little girl who was crying for her mother. So there were two who had recovered. What made them different? Then, his heart stopped as he saw Tus and Garsiv helping up an older man from the floor.

By the gods, could it be true?

It took him a stunned moment to process that his father was actually still alive. Then, he ran to the Persian King, and along with his two brothers, embraced him.

"How is this possible?" he blurted in disbelief touching his father's face, his arms, just to make sure that he wasn't imagining it.

"You fed me," the king said in a voice hoarse from disuse, addressing the two older princes, "Even though you weren't sure if I was still there or not you forced food into me. You kept me alive."

"There was a woman; she cared for the child and the older girl. That must be why they have also survived," Tus exclaimed.

Having calmed the girl, Tamina approached from behind, her eyes glistening with happiness. Seeing her in the corner of his eye, he turned from his father and went to her. He scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, the feeling of sheer joy bursting from every part of him. There wasn't a time that he remembered being happier.

He set her down and they shared an eager kiss. They were safe, they had won. Breaking apart, the first thing he saw was the other warriors in black encircling their fallen leader. His stomach gave a lurch as he was reminded of the bittersweet taste of their victory. Zolm's eyes were closed and his normally harsh, controlled face was almost peaceful.

Tamina placed her hand in his and squeezed.

"It'll be okay," she reassured.

Nizam was gone, his father and brothers were alive, and Tamina was unharmed. They would mourn the one's they had lost, but yes, everything would be alright.

When she had told him, he had been furious.

The thought of her endangering not only herself but their unborn child made his blood boil. Then, he had to sit down. He had never really thought about having children, not in the last few weeks anyway. Perhaps he had in the days leading up to their almost wedding ceremony, but it was hard to remember anything from before the last few weeks. He decided that he probably did want them, but hadn't imagined they would have come along quite so soon in their relationship.

"What else did you think would happen when we spend nights together?" she had reminded him playfully.

It was at that point he thanked that he wasn't a frequenter of the whore houses like Garsiv. Goodness knows how many urchins were running around Nisaf with his blood, if it only had taken once for him and Tamina to produce progeny.

Although they had given themselves to each other body and soul, in the eyes of society they hadn't been 'properly' married yet, with a ceremony and by a priest. So when Dastan climbed over her balcony that night, he knew he was risking scandal. However, in the unlikely event that he should be discovered, he thought that the unusualness of their circumstance would be enough to buy him a pardon.

Tamina was fast asleep, enjoying her first night in a comfortable bed. Rest wouldn't come quite so easily for the prince. He lay awake, letting his mind wander through the most surreal few weeks of his life. Looking down at her face, he tucked some stray hair behind her ear then found his eyes wander down to her stomach. With a small smile he placed a hand gently on it and marvelled. A child, their child, was beginning inside her.

It was then that he heard the noise. He sat upright and instinctively reached for his sword. The abrupt nature of his movements woke her.

"What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.

"Stay there," he hissed, walking towards the ornate dressing screen that was the only potential place for someone to conceal themselves behind. He approached noiselessly, and with one swift movement, pulled it down. There was nothing there.

Dastan spun around as he heard Tamina's sharp intake of breath. Leaning over his wife with a knife at her throat was the girl from earlier. Her hands were still coated in the dried blood of the Hassansin. The look in her amber eyes was rabid.

"I want him back," she snarled.