A/N: Thank you so much for all your support and for keeping up with this slow book :) Please share it if you know anyone who would be interested!
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Northern Mesopotamia.
I killed and killed today. I can no longer will myself to feel. I have lost all connection with my soul a long time ago, and I am no longer afraid of death.
I anticipate it.
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1 Moon Past 🌒
Amaan gazed outside the forgery absentmindedly. The call for Fajr prayer resounded around the small town, swelling as more voices joined. The sky was a canvas of ink fading in water, the stars twinkling their goodbyes. The barren lands beyond the last line of homes was quiet and ominous as ever, hiding the future in its dusty mist.
He had somehow been unable to leave this tiny, innocent, irrelevant town. It held nothing for him, yet he rejoiced in the comfort of being around people. Rejoiced in the distraction from his thoughts.
He was selfish, for he remained behind for one other reason. Ishtar, he had learnt her name was. He did not presume the feeling in his chest for her was love- for he could live without her, but he enjoyed the clash of humour and humility in their encounters. Almost every day fate bought them to stumble into each other, and each day Amaan prolonged his stay just a little longer.
He watched as slowly candles lit up the few homes that still had inhabitants and men began making their way to pray, some tugging along half-asleep children. Amaan almost smiled. He had been that child once, wishing nothing more than to go back to sleep. Now sleep evaded him entirely. His mind would not let him rest. The images that played before his very eyes even as he walked and talked only reminded him of his horrific ordeals.
The Last Man Standing. A title no one had survived to give him.
His chest tightened with pain as he remembered once again.
"What is all the commotion, Udad?" Amaan asked as he observed the scrolls before him, frowning at the imbalanced accounts. The growing noise was not helping him focus.
Udad, his loyal confidant, stepped outside of their tent to investigate. The air rippled with the sound of him drawing his sword as a precaution, a sound Amaan had grown accustomed to.
"Do you believe the Fire Worshippers have offered the right price for our goods?" Igedir asked, his hand resting unconsciously on the hilt of his dagger. One ebony finger swept across the scroll before Amaan, pointing at the figures, "I feel they are not reciprocating as they should be. There could double the amount of rice, and their is no shortage of horses for them to offer us mules"
Amaan ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully, "What you say is true Igedir..." he leaned forward, dipped his quil in ink and then scribbled a few adjustments, "perhaps we can demand instead-"
"Amaan! Igedir!" Udad burst inside, his sword drawn, his eyes wild, "the town is under attack! We need to leave - immediately!"
Amaan shot to his feet and armoured himself as quickly as he could with Udad and Igedir assisting him. He grabbed his shield and spear, heart thrumming against his chest strongly. They were not afraid of battle, but nor did they anticipate it. Behind him, Igedir set fire to the scrolls without a word. They could no longer trade here, their vital information had to be burnt.
Outside Meddur and Wararni were already readying their camels. Amaan's camel obediently lowered himself on his knees and Amaan stepped atop him, pulling the reins sharply to rise back up. He turned his mount around and had to pause for a moment as the sight before him hit him like a tonne of bricks.
The archamaedic town before him was alight. There was fire everywhere, and he tried not to notice the irony of the fate of the fire worshippers. Amidst the flames, in unmistakable formation, an army of black marched. Their horses were not startled by the fire nor smoke. Their dark armour reflected the blaze, making their hooded faces that much more sinister. Amaan watched as soldiers detached themselves from the formation and entered homes, dragging women out and undressing them ruthlessly. He saw how the men were killed with no mercy, and children tossed into the flames. His stomach heaved. He had seen bloodshed and war in countless battles, but the darkness of this army was too strong, too sinister.
"Ya Allah..." his men murmured around him, their eyes glistening with angry tears, their fists clenched.
"Amaan" Udad placed a hand on the son of the chief, "Amaan, we must flee. We cannot help them, it is of no avail"
Amaan nodded and turned his back on the town, riding into the night with his men following. Camels were not ideal for this escape, but the cover of the night would protect them for some time.
Or so he thought.
They had not ridden a mile out that an arrow came whizzing past Amaan's head. His ears, attuned to the sound an arrow makes as it whistles through the ear, allowed him to duck just in time. It lodged itself in the sand before them, startling his steed. Several more followed and he found himself thrown off the camel, landing on his knees in the sand. His men made sounds of surprise, and then anger as they wheeled around to help him.
"GO!" He roared to them, raising his shield. His heart pounded for the first time in true fear that the men he loved so much would die for him.
For once, they did not heed his command and Meddur was the first to suffer the consequence. He could not raise his shield in time. Amaan could recall a hundred times the exact moment the arrow pierced his chest. He could recall a thousand times the small gasp that escaped his loyal warrior's lips.
He was vaguely aware of the anguished howl that erupted from one of his men. He could not grieve yet. He had to fight. The sound of hooves made him turn around.
It seemed a group of the cursed soldiers had broken away for this chase. They jumped lightly off their steeds and surrounded him and his men, hoods hiding their faces. Amaan, Udad, Idegir and Wararni closed in together, back to back, shields raised in one hand, spears and swords in the other.
The soldier before Amaan raised his whip and hurled it at him at lightening speed. It was swiftly cut down by Udad, and Amaan took the opportunity to launch his spear at the bastard. It lodged itself in his face, and Amaan was grateful the night did not allow them to see the horrific effect that must have had.
The remaining four seemed to realise the Tuareg men were not to be taken lightly. With hisses and snarls they pounded, using unusual weapons Amaan had never seen, ferociously attacking them. He drew his sword and fought back, using his sharp eyesight to its full use- the Tuareg were a nomadic people. He has travelled just as much during the night as in the day. He has met as many bastards trying to ambush him in the night as in the day. He was not afraid. And he was determined to fight that much harder for Meddur.
Udad was the next to fall. Amaan had been too ferociously engaged in battle with one of the cursed soldiers to notice Udad had been segregated from him. He remembered as clear as day Udad's strangled scream, a scream that haunted Amaan's every dream, a scream that betrayed just how painfully Udad had died.
Amaan did not turn around, but his vision became blurry with tears. He hacked away at his attackers, left and right, drawing blood and having blood drawn. Another one fell and another of theirs, Wararni. And another of theirs, until it was only Igedir and Amaan left standing.
Their laboured breathing filled the dull night air as they surveyed the carnage. Behind them the sound of chaos grew louder, and the towering blaze cast the faces of the fallen in a golden hue.
Udad, Meddur, Wararni. Their bodies lay motionless, weapons protruding out of their chests of necks, blood seeping warmly into the sand.
Amaan and Idegir wordlessly visited each one, pulling out the weapons, closing their eyes and kissing each eye lid before moving away. They had no time for a proper burial, and that thought cut Amaan through his very heart. There was no honour in conflict.
"We must leave" Idegir said hoarsely. His breathing was unnaturally strained, causing Amaan to truly observe his last man.
Even in the darkness, he could make out the dagger buried just under Idegir's ribs, at a spot where the armour must have slid. The blood stained the metal, and Amaan felt his heart drop.
He couldn't lose Idegir too.
He moved forward despite the warrior's protests and yanked the dagger out. Idegir gasped but Amaan felt deaf to his pain. He forced the wounded man's trembling hand atop the wound and pushed down, applying pressure.
"Stay" he ordered.
He headed to his camel, the last one standing as well. She patiently stood, chewing away absentmindedly. He pulled out a shirt or a shawl or whatever the fabric was- he did not care. He needed to use it to stop the bleeding.
Once he had tied a makeshift bandage around Idegir's (now bare) chest, he lifted him up atop the camel, tying him into the saddle so as to remain upright.
"A-Amaan, I could n-not p-possibly..." Idegir tried to protest, his face contorted in pain.
"Hush Idegir" Amaan whispered, lifeless as ever, "you would have done the same for me. Now let us leave this wretched place"
Idegir nodded in agreement, wincing as Amaan stood the camel up.
Before they set forth however some strange instinct caused Amaan to wander back to the bodies. He carefully averted his gaze from his comerades. He needed to see what was below their hoods.
He knelt before one with murder in his heart. He wished he could kill the demon a thousand times if it would avenge his fallen men. A tear escaped his eye, and then another. His shoulders shook as silently broke down.
With fingers that trembled with his grief, he reached out and roughly jerked the hood back. The face that was revealed was none too old. Pale, handsome, but cold as the ice of the bitter winter snow. His fingers lodged under his chin and he tilted the lifeless head up. The sight of his neck made him almost gag.
The skin was smooth until it reached the jagged Arabic script burnt into it. The words looked as evil as those who wore them. They were darkened scars but carried much pain. He spat on the ground beside the soldier and walked away.
They had defeated their enemy. But they too had been defeated.
Amaan felt his throat burn as his lungs fought for air. His heart hurt, a pain in it deeper than any remedy could cure. Tears fell from his eyes and he cried out in anguish, throwing his head back and blinking up at the heavens. It happened every single morning. These attacks of the past, wrenching him apart.
With what face could he return home?! With what honour could he assume his position? His people were better off believing him dead.
Ishtar arose groggily to pray Fajr. Her flimsy night gown trailed behind her as she made her way to the washroom. As the water ran down the marble sink, she thought again about the only thing she seemed to be thinking about lately: Amaan.
Her eyes flirted up to the mirror. A blush had already graced her cheeks, and her eyes were slightly bright, fully awake. She shrugged her mane of morning hair and hastily made wudhu, trying half heartedly to banish the ebony skinned warrior from her mind.
She prayed, and then readied herself for the day. There were barely any families left in Taghrid anymore, and even her own was preparing to leave.
A wave of sadness washed over her as she stepped outside with no particular destination in mind. Silently her father's guards joined her, but she paid them no heed. She did not want to be carried around in a palanquin in a ghost town, and she was most certainly tired of her father's antics. He was growing quite irritable, and she was sure it was because his career had come to an unfortunate end with no town to rule.
Ishtar found herself outside the forgery. She blinked up at the dark iron doors, wondering why she'd allowed herself to come.
The two people she seemed to care about the most were up in there.
Amaan probably doing whatever he did to help out, and Falaq, who had refused to meet Ishtar ever since that fateful day of Amaan's arrival.
What glimpses she had caught of her best friend were of a completely different woman. She was prouder and stronger than ever before in the way she carried herself, and yet her gaze had lost that mischief, that blaze, and settled for a cool, cold flame instead. Her features had arranged themselves to be serious and blank, carefully emotionless, with all the beauty and smoothness of the most exquisite marble. Where she went, it was with her brothers- and she hardly went anywhere at all.
"My lady, do you wish for me to call upon the inhabitants?" Her guard asked, breaking her out of her reverie.
"No...no that's quite alright" Ishtar replied sadly, making a move to leave.
That was when the door opened loudly, making her wince at the sudden heavy sound.
"Ishtar?" Raza asked in surprise. He was bare chested and covered in soot, a bundle of wood over his shoulder. She blushed, he had an impressive physique and she wished he would hide it.
"Assalamualaikum Raza" she replied in a dignified fashion, looking just past his head instead of his eyes, "how are you and your family faring?"
"As well as can be in these troubled times" Raza grinned easily, and she almost smiled too. He just had that effect on people.
"Did you come to see Falaq?" He inquired.
"No! I mean- that is-" Ishtar sighed and hung her head in defeat, "I do not believe she wishes to see me"
"Naw that's not true!" Raza smiled, but then grew grim, "her training has intensified, she does not allow herself for any distractions. I think this impending...event has caused her to be withdrawn, but do not fret! She will be happy to see you"
With that he motioned her inside. Ishtar followed, slightly anxious. She did not believe Falaq would be happy to see her. In fact, she almost dreaded facing her friend in case she was hit by a cold exterior.
Inside the men were hard at work. Ishtar kept her gaze lowered and mumbled her salaams as they walked past. She wondered if Amaan was amongst them, but felt too shy to look around for herself.
Raza stopped outside a plain looking door hidden within the dark corners of the forgery.
"She's inside, wake her up if you need to- she'll have to rise soon anyway"
With that he walked off, leaving Ishtar anxiously outside Falaq's room.
Quick! Think of something to say!
Be angry. That ought to do it.
With that in mind, Ishtar did not bother knocking and pushed past the door. She opened her mouth to begin her rant when she saw her friend was deep asleep, laying on her stomach on her small cot. She released the breath of fire she had been holding in and quietly walked over to her, taking in his different Falaq looked when she was asleep.
Her raven black hair cascaded down her back and fanned over her pillow. Her face was calm and relaxed, the frown gone from betwixt her brows. Her eyes had slight bags under them, extenuated by the shadow of her lashes cast over her cheeks. Ishtar wished Falaq could see how beautiful she was when she wasn't so uptight!
She sat by her friend for a good while, not having the heart to wake her up.
"I miss you ya Falaq" Ishtar whisper-whined, "won't you come see me sometime? I'm leaving at the end of this week, who knows if we'll ever see each other again? There is so much I want to talk to you about. I know you will hate me for beginning with Amaan. I'm truly head over heels for that man, yet I see no future- when I leave for Damascus, I will never cross paths with him again. I just wish he'd have asked for my hand. But I know he does not love me. He's far too great for that.
Did you get the answers you wanted from Ustad? Did you find out who you were? Is that why you are withdrawn from me? I promise ya Falaq, you could be some demon queen, but I would still love you as a friend and as your sister. I wish you wouldn't push me away. You are still human, you still have a heart. Pour it out to me, I know you will feel better. I wish I could say I am here for you, but I will be whisked away in just a few days and each hour that passes throws me in dread."
Ishtar sighed. Why was she wasting her breath? It wasn't as if Falaq could hear her, and now she was just getting upset. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes and stood up, wanting to say something harsh but unable to. Only Allah swt knew what her friend was going through right now.
Ishtar gathered her skirts and quietly exited the room, unaware that behind her Falaq opened her golden eyes and gazed at the door for a long, long time.
Ustad once again watched his pupils train. They were a flurry of blades and other weapons, moving fluidly between each other, each unable to defeat the other. As chaotic as the scene before him was, it was the most perfect harmony he had ever witnessed. His boys and his girl would never go against each other. They simply would not be able to, mentally not at all and now physically.
Each one had a blind fold on. Each one held a different weapon and would rotate it when he made the call. Sweat glistened on their skin, their breathing was laboured, yet the room thrummed with their combined energy. They moved faster than any Hashshashin he had seen. They were each perfect in their own regard, strong and fearless of the darkness that wrapped across their eyes. He could see them rely on their other senses as though it were natural to them, and his chest swelled with pride.
"Change."
Falaq's tiny razor blades were passed to Ehsan while Zain's whip was passed to Falaq and so on.
"Continue."
And again they stepped into motion,
"You have done well with them"
Ustad did not have to look behind him to see it was Amaan who had joined him.
"I am proud of my efforts and of theirs" Ustad acceded, eyes not moving from his pupils.
"They move faster than the ones I encountered" the Tuareg male observed, running his hand over a lock of his hair draped over his shoulder and onto his chest.
"You are welcome to test your skill" Ustad offered, hiding a smirk, "I would be interested to see the outcome"
Amaan laughed a bitter laugh, "I am no longer a worthy warrior"
Ustad shook his head but said nothing. Amaan would have to learn on his own that loss did not break a warrior, it made them.
"When do you plan to leave?" He asked instead.
"I...I do not know"
They said nothing else, each preoccupied with either his thoughts or his task.
The rotation ended, and Ustad called them in for a break.
The men and girl rinsed their faces and settled down for lunch, breathing heavily.
"Ya Ustad" Ali called cheekily, "do you not need to brush up that physique?"
He earned a slipper to his head by Marwan who shook his head reproachfully, but hid his grin.
"Be thankful" Ustad returned calmly, but with an amused twinkle in his eyes, "the day I brush up my physique will be the day I hold to account the hidings you deserve for your antics"
Ali swallowed and his brothers laughed, making fun of him with their jokes.
"Falaq, come here, I have something for you" Ustad called.
"Why is it she is the only one who receives gifts?" Zain complained light heartedly.
"Would you like womanly gowns too ya Zain?" Ustad asked, a smile dancing on his lips.
The men sniggered as Zain's ears turned red and he muttered things under his breath.
"Do not worry Zain" Falaq teased, "I will share my womanly presents with you, I am sure you will find them becoming"
More laughter echoed around the table, and Falaq followed Ustad with a full blown smile he hadn't seen in weeks.
He stepped inside his chamber for a moment, picking up the package carefully.
"This is for you" he told Falaq kindly, "it is only becoming that a returning princess look the part"
"JazakAllah khair Ustad" Falaq replied automatically, grasping the bundle. It was heavy, but she could tell it was all material. She opened up the cloth wrapping carefully.
Inside was a beautiful burgundy robe gown. The sleeves were large and trailed down, while the bodice was more fitted yet modestly so. Intricate golden work covered the hems and neck. With it came a large, heavy velvety burgundy head covering. It was only to be draped around the head loosely, and was to be held in place with a beautiful jewellery head pieces.
She felt her eyes widen at the gift. It was so beautiful, so elegant. It was foreign for her to beautify herself. The gesture touched her, and she gazed back up at her Ustad with eyes full of tears.
"It is nothing too extraordinary" he joked, "just something elegant and sophisticated for the daughter of Khalifa. When you go to the palace and are presented with those royal garments, you will forget all about my gift."
"Never" Falaq promised sharply, disliking Ustad's attempt to diminish from how special the gift was to her.
"I'm glad you liked it" he smiled.