Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 14

"Not one of your men, then? A woman?" he snorted. And that was when I made up my mind.

I sighed, calmed my breathing and snuck a glimpse at Amina the witch, huddled in a corner.

"Go," I wagged a finger at Umaymah. "I want you gone."

My daughter raised her head and opened her mouth, but I was having none of it.

"Just go!"

My roar silenced whatever protest was about to escape her mouth. She rose from her knees and walked out. Ibn Qays' men had retreated some time earlier, on his orders. Now, the tent was empty but for myself, Amina and two dead men.

I began chuckling. It was worth it, just to wipe the smugness off the bastard's face.

"How did you find him?" I asked.

"We stumbled upon him, on our way here," he replied. "I don't think we would have spotted him if it weren't for the woman killing his horse and crushing his leg."

Umaymah did that? I thought. Maybe she did have some of me in her.

I nodded.

"Wouldn't have known who he was either if it weren't for Suhaib."

"Suhaib?"

"Ah. Yes. Suhaib used to be Christian. He is a Ghassanid of some other minor clan. Yet he is aware of this one. He immediately identified this lout upon seeing him."

Ibn Qays kicked the chief in the ribs, sending him toppling sideways with a grunt.

"How is it that you have a Ghassanid in your ranks?" I asked, though I thought I already knew the answer.

"Oh? Mu'awiyah did not provide you with an informant? Not even a similar individual to make this expedition easier for you?"

I scoffed. I didn't need someone else making things easier for me. But I did not prod him on that slight.

"So, you're going to Rhodes now?" I asked instead.

Ibn Qays nodded, eying the sprawled chieftain at his feet as though he were a vulture eying prey.

"Rhodes. Crete. Perhaps Sicily," he pondered. "Maybe Kos again. The Mediterranean is a hotbed for wealth, is it not?"

I nodded, smirking.

"It is. Fortunately, you will be enjoying the splendor of a place far greater than any isle in the sea."

Ibn Qays craned his neck toward me with a perplexed look.

"And where would that be?"

I studied the chief struggling to ease himself back on his knees. He was also wearing a confused expression. My hand was tucked into my robes, fumbling beneath heavy layers of cloth.

"Heaven," I answered calmly.

And I stabbed him.

In a split second, I conjured a dagger I always kept hidden from plain sight.

And I stabbed him.

I stuck it right into the side of ibn Qays' head; and I was reminded of a horrid morning much like this, of a similar wound and blood spattered on the walls. Long ago, when I was a child.

Only this time, the blood spattered everywhere on the tent. I was drenched in it, as was Amina and the wide-eyed chieftain. Ibn Qays' breath caught in his throat and he began fumbling at his waist for his sword. He found his hilt, but he did not have the strength left to draw it.

He began gasping, his mouth wide and his eyes watery. I twisted as the blade sunk deeper into his skull and he began gurgling. Blood poured out of his mouth like the fountain back at Mu'awiyah's palace. A pretty sight. Finally, he began choking on his blood and fell to his knees, clutching his wound.

I yanked the dagger free so he could bleed out. On his knees, a plethora of blood spurted from the gaping hole in his neck; finally, he toppled over face-first into the ground, unmoving and unbreathing. He did not rise again.

My hands were sticky and slick with his blood. Amina's face and garments were splattered with it yet she remained unfazed. I was beginning to take a liking to her. The chief, on the other hand, was horrified. He struggled to suck in breath as droplets of blood dribbled down his face. He attempted to crawl away from the bloodbath, his eyes wide in horror; he was unable to remove them from the still bleeding corpse, drowning in a red pool.

I shushed him. But when he failed to calm himself, I placed a foot on his broken leg and delighted myself in the resulting crunch. He began shrieking, wailing with a surprisingly high-pitched voice. I shushed him again.

"Keep it down," I told him in a calm voice. "No amount of howling will save you now. You're a dead man charged with apostasy ... and murder now as well."

For the first time, he shifted his bewildered eyes from the corpse to me. I smirked as they widened further, realization dawning on him. I hunched over and cut his bonds with the dagger. I put a finger to my lips as he attempted to scramble away from me, the pressure on his leg firm all the while.

I grabbed his right hand and placed the dagger in his palm. I shushed him again as he began weeping and screaming. I folded his fingers into a grip on the dagger's hilt. There were cries of alarm and the sounds of footsteps coming from beyond the tent flap. Men were coming. Hopefully ibn Qays'.

"I'm going to Rhodes," I informed the shocked man that I sentenced to die.

And I smacked him across the face to still his cries.