KILLING TIME
By Allegra
See Part 1 for disclaimers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE : I first posted this chapter back in 2010 as a rather half-hearted conclusion to the story. Then, recently, I had pangs of guilt and decided it was time for a bit of 'story surgery' where I try to mend all the wrongs I have done to my fiction! I was utterly ashamed of the way I cauterised this story, so I am re-posting it, with the last paragraph cut, to make way for another chapter. I hope that Part 5 does a little more justice to Dastan's healing process. Thank you to anyone who held on during the massacre of 'Killing Time'!
PART 4
Dastan's eyes followed the glowing knife as it moved towards his leg and he tried to lift his head to watch where Tus was going to place it. But, a firm, smooth hand pressed his forehead back to the ground and a foul smelling rag was jammed into his mouth like a gag. In his confusion, the prince struggled against this new intrusion but only managed a feeble grunt of protest before Tamina's face swam into his vision, her long hair brushing his forehead. "Sssh, be still, Dastan. We are not going to hurt you."
"I would not be so sure," Tus murmured before catching the princess's admonishing glare. Quickly changing tact, he glanced down at Dastan and added hastily, "All will be well, little brother. Trust me." It pained him to even so much as look at his adopted brother, knowing what he was about to inflict.
He gave Tamina a sharp nod and Dastan felt her hands move down over his arms, holding them firmly to his side, then a pain of unimaginable excruciation. It could have been little more than a few seconds but time seemed to slow and the prince could smell his own flesh burning in the confines of the small tent. He screamed through the cloth gag, his damaged throat pushing out a pitiful sound that was quickly lost along with Dastan's consciousness.
Tamina lowered her entire body weight onto the prince's thrashing arms and chest, trying to soothe him but knowing her words fell on deaf ears. Tus cursed loudly, finding his own release for the horror of melting his own brother's flesh and hearing the agony it caused.
Finally, the job was done and he sat back on his heels, panting with relief, his hand quivering with the sudden release of adrenaline. "There's a calming poultice in my pack then we must bind it to avoid infection."
The king purposely avoided Tamina's stare; he did not need to see her face to know the appalled expression he would find there. The job was not yet done, there was still a deep wound close to infection from another blade in Dastan's side. Tus could not afford to allow himself the luxury of emotion until the dirty work was over. "I must reheat the blade," he asserted, numbly, his gaze faltering as it slid over his brother's face.
Tus ducked out of the tent and jammed the knife back into the hot coals. He ran trembling fingers over his face, disgusted at his own weakness. He clenched his hands into fists, watching his knuckles whiten, as if trying to muster a courage he no longer possessed but still the tremors held. He swore into the flickering flames. He had cauterised wounds before, had even seen to a deep slice into Garsiv's arm two years ago. But Garsiv had struggled with all the fury of a bull in the ring and it had taken five men to hold him still as the deed was done. He had been vital, kicking and screaming all the way through then sitting up and knocking back several wine skins single-handedly before the hour was out. This time was different. It was Dastan's stillness that terrified Tus, knowing how close he was to losing him once and for all. "Stay strong, little brother," he whispered, the words barely travelling from his lips but the king knew they would find their mark.
Inside the tent, Tamina rummaged for the poultice and carefully unscrewed the lid as she leaned over Dastan's injured leg. The skin around the melted wound was hot to the touch and scorch marks blackened his flesh in places. The princess glanced up at Dastan's face, his features lax after so much torment. She hoped he had found somewhere safe to retreat to in his head until Tus had finished cauterising the other cut. Tentatively, Tamina ran a damp cloth over the area and, when the prince did not stir under her touch, she took advantage of his pain free state to do a more thorough job than might have been possible, were he awake.
Next, she wiped away what soot she could from the shiny, blackened skin on Dastan's thigh, scooped a liberal amount of the earthy smelling unguent and dabbed carefully around the inflamed red area. Satisfied that she had done her best, Tamina stood and tugged fervently at the hem of her shalvar, recognising that the white cloth was probably the cleanest material they had to hand. She made a mental note to boil up some more rags once they had finished with Dastan. The last thing they needed was to try and smuggle a naked princess back into the Nasaf or Alamut, with all her clothes bound around the prince as makeshift bandages! With a reasonable length of fabric wound around her hand, Tamina carefully set about binding Dastan's thigh.
As she ran the white cloth around his leg, Tamina listened to the laboured wheeze in Dastan's throat. Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last, his chest rising to a hitch then falling. They came in uneven strides, sometimes as harsh pants in quick succession and other times so far apart, Tamina feared him dead. Unaccustomed to dealing with injuries of any kind, the princess felt helpless as she wondered how she could help. The scratched barb marks adorning Dastan's throat like a ruby necklace had stopped bleeding some time ago and, apart from cleaning them and keeping infection out, there was little more to be done to alleviate his compromised breathing.
Tamina's mind slid back to the night Dastan had discovered the dagger's power, the memory of her calculated seduction. It had failed then and the princess had only cared about having her treasure restored to her by any means in her power but now...what she would give to have that moment again under different circumstances.
Despite their bickering and determination towards different goals, Tamina could not deny the growing attraction she felt towards the urchin prince and she knew in her heart he had been feeling it, too. It struck a knife deep into her heart to think that they might never express the feelings that were deepening in her even now. The Dastan lying before her was a fragile shadow of the vital man she had known mere hours ago. Tamina would have given the world to have the dagger back in her possession now. But this time, she would willingly give it to the prince if it could restore him. A tear slid down her cheek and Tamina swiped it away in shame as Tus returned to the tent.
"Move aside," he directed roughly, brandishing the glowing knife in front of him. "You must pull the blade out for me."
Tamina nodded, gulping back the urge to vomit. She quickly moved to where the spiked blade protruded from Dastan's side and waited for Tus' signal. With gritted teeth, the princess pulled at the blade but it would not move. Dastan's face contorted with the pain, even in the depths of unconsciousness. "It will not move!"
Tus covered her hand with his own and added a brutal force Tamina had not dared use herself. With a sucking sound, the offending object burst from Dastan's side, blood sluicing across the pair's fingers. Tus pushed Tamina unceremoniously aside and pressed the still glowing knife edge to the wound. Dastan gasped, his breath coming in sharp pants and his head lolled from side to side as his limbs weakly tried to deflect this sudden source of pain.
The princess moved to calm him, gently taking his face in her hands. She carefully removed the rag from his mouth, satisfied that he was no longer in danger of splitting his tongue in two with the pain of endurance. "Ssssh, Dastan, be still. Ssssh." At first, he resisted her touch, fevered words of nonsense escaping from cracked lips until, with calm coaxing, Tamina managed to settle him and Dastan stilled once more.
Tus had set aside the knife and was probing the last of his brother's more serious wounds. "This blade is not so deep. I think stitches will suffice, it has pierced skin and muscle but has not endangered his organs." He spoke more to himself than Tamina as he rummaged in his pack, knowing there were rudimentary medical supplies buried at the bottom. His hand found the coarse thread with a needle jabbed into the reel for ease of access. The king pressed Dastan's side where the last blade was embedded and glanced at his brother's face as he worked the metal towards him.
The young prince continued to mumble unintelligibly, only gasping in a sudden breath when Tus fought to free the metal from his skin. The size of the blade made it almost impossible to remove without slitting Dastan's flesh open further but Tus made quick work of it. No sooner was the metal free than the king stuffed a cloth against the wound, soaking up the sudden rush of blood that slid down Dastan's side and onto the mat.
Tamina wrung a second cloth out in the fresh water and folded it carefully across the injured prince's forehead where sweat beaded and trickled down his temples in fevered rivulets. "Let me stitch. I have had plenty of practice," she said, a small smile reaching her lips.
Without complaint, Tus moved aside, handing her the needle and thread. At first, he busied himself binding Dastan's leg and spreading some of the healing ointment on his little brother's more superficial wounds. Then, he found himself watching Tamina sew. So intent was she on her task that she did not feel the heat of his scrutinising gaze at first. At first, she was too busy fighting disgust at piercing Dastan's skin over and over with a needle, pulling flesh to meet flesh tightly but without puckering. It was a horrific butcher's task and Tamina hardly felt her embroidery skills had prepared her adequately for it but she was loathe to back down now that the offer had been made.
Slowly, disgust turned to focused concentration and Tamina grew more concerned with keeping her stitches small and neat, hoping they would not leave Dastan with too great a scar. Finally, nearly completed, the princess glanced up to see Tus' unwavering stare upon her and she felt herself blush. His eyes watched her every move with a strange intensity and a glint from the small lamp which sat between them.
Caught red-handed, Tus cleared his throat and ran his hands through his tangled hair. "You have made a good job. Dastan will hardly bear a scar."
"That was the intention," Tamina replied, looking up at Dastan's face. "He is hot to the touch. I fear a fever is coming on."
Tus followed her gaze to Dastan's still face tilted towards him, dark lashes veiling hollowed cheeks, parched lips parted. "He has lost a great deal of blood...I fear a fever is inevitable. We must give him as much fluid as he can take." Tus pressed two fingers to his little brother's throat and watched carefully for a minute. "His heart beats are diminished, without enough blood to push around his body."
"Sor...fath..." Dastan's voice came in a whisper, struggling to respond to his brother's touch.
"Dastan?" Tus whispered, urgently. "What are you trying to tell me, little brother?" He cupped a hand to the young prince's cheek, willing him to open his eyes. His thumb brushed lightly back and forth over the chiselled cheekbone, the touch providing as much comfort for Tus as the young prince.
Dastan's fevered murmurs continued, speaking to ghosts beyond his reach. "Mu...forgive..." The words became increasingly difficult to decipher until they were nothing more than broken syllables.
"Dastan, listen to me," Tus pressed on. "You are safe and we will make you well. Dastan? Listen to me." The king's hand absently smoothed the hair from his little brother's brow, noticing the furrows of disquiet he found there. It took him a second to realise that Dastan's eyes were now open, no more than a sliver, gazing ahead without recognition. "Dastan," Tus urged again, needing to feel the connection between them.
At first, the injured prince did not respond to his brother but his chapped lips moved in whispered words, begging for absolution, for forgiveness but finding no reply. Tears shimmered in his eyes before carving a path down his temples and onto the makeshift pillow beneath his head. Then he seemed to react to his brother's grip and turned a horror stricken face to Tus. The fear and desperation reflected in those eyes almost took the king's breath away. "I am sorry...I wish..." Dastan squeezed his eyes closed against a sudden spasm of pain and his words melted into a strangled cry of agony.
Tears mingled with the sweat of his mounting fever as Tus struggled to make his brother understand that all was forgiven. It struck his heart like an arrow to believe that Dastan might die still believing that he was hated and tainted with the death of their beloved father.
Tus took his brother's face in his hands, forcing those tormented eyes to focus on his. "Dastan, you are absolved! Sweet brother, you must let the guilt go. Let it go. Sssh..." Whether Dastan had heeded his words, Tus could not tell as he lapsed into more semi-conscious ramblings.
The young king released his grip and sat back onto his heels, rubbing the palm of his hand across his stubbled chin. He started when he felt a slender hand on his shoulder and met Tamina's reassuring smile. He forced a twitch of a smile in return and quickly stood, refusing to succumb to the emotions rising inside him. It did not matter that he was in the company of a princess – it was not appropriate to reveal his weaknesses. "I will fetch more water. His fever will rise still before it abates."
Tamina watched the king go, feeling every ounce of his fear and love for the young man fighting for his life at their feet. Sending a silent prayer to the gods for Dastan's survival, she turned her attention to the one thing she could do to help, preparing something simple for them to eat.
~~~ PoPoPoPoPoP ~~~
Dusk gave way to starlit night and Dastan's fever grew until it raged like a fire through his traumatised body. He shook with cold one moment and feebly pushed against the smothering heat of the blankets the next. The prince walked a path somewhere between living and dead, talking to loved ones long passed into the spirit world, where neither Tus nor Tamina could reach him. The princess wrung out endless cool cloths and draped them across Dastan's burning skin in an attempt to keep the fever at bay but her efforts were all but useless.
"He cannot withstand this much longer," she said to Tus. "His brain and heart will fail."
"But what more can we do?!" Tus cried in desperation, flinging a cloth across the tent.
Tamina thought for a moment. "We could take him to the oasis pool. It is not much but it will be cold by this time of night. It might just be enough to break his fever."
They lifted Dastan on his blanket, each taking one end and carefully manoeuvred him out of the tent flap. Throughout, the prince did not protest or acknowledge his discomfort, so lost was he in his delirium. Tamina staggered to keep up with Tus' desperate pace until they reached the edge of the camp. Moonlight shone on the rippling water as they lay Dastan down.
Tus jerked his head in the direction of a rocky corner of the water. "That part looks shallow enough." He knelt beside his brother. Dastan's skin was pale and clammy, beads of sweat standing out across his forehead and pooling at the base of his neck were his pulse throbbed erratically. The king pulled his brother upright by his arms and gestured to Tamina to take his legs.
Together, they waded into the water at the shallowest point. Tamina gasped at the sudden cold but felt her heart lift a little – it boded well for bringing Dastan's fever down. Tus stopped when they were thigh deep and the king drew his brother up against him for support as Tamina pushed the prince's body further down into the water.
Dastan gasped, ragged, uneven breaths tearing through his chest. His eyes remained closed but his head turned from side to side in agitation. His limbs flopped uselessly as he made un co-ordinated attempts to escape the freezing cold all around him.
"Ssssh, Dastan, be still," Tus said, pressing a firm hand to his little brother's forehead, forcing him to stop flailing. At first, Dastan resisted but his defences were weak and, in the end, all the fight left him. Tus and Tamina waited with bated breath, watching with growing concern as Dastan's fevered words ceased and were replaced with chattering teeth. The prince's whole body shook with tiny tremors and his lips started to take on a pale blue hue.
"We must get him out," Tamina said, noticing the purplish tinge now spreading up from Dastan's fingernail beds.
Now that he was soaked through, even in his emaciated state, the Persian prince was a dead weight and Tamina struggled to keep Dastan's body off the ground as they returned to the tent. Once inside, she bundled him up in the blanket and rubbed his hands and feet. Without shame, the princess pressed her body along the length of his, trying to give Dastan some warmth. Tus' face showed shock then slow understanding. "Come on," Tamina instructed, fearlessly, until the king took up a place on the other side of his brother.
At first, the pair were too busy trying to reheat the injured prince's body to feel awkward and Dastan's chattering teeth all but drowned out any other sound. Then, as time wore on and their patient relaxed into a deeper, less disturbed sleep, Tus and Tamina found themselves oddly intimate in the confined space of the tent. "Thank you, princess, for your help. I am glad that I am not here alone."
"For Dastan's sake, so am I," Tamina shot back in death-bed humour. Then, more seriously, she added, "I am glad to be here, too, no matter what the outcome."
"The gods have delivered us enough pain. Do we not deserve some good fortune?"
"Let us pray that you are right," Tamina replied. "Goodnight, King Tus."
"Goodnight, Princess Tamina."
~~~ PoPoPoPoPoP ~~~
