Blackness, suffocating and unending, Prince Zaki groaned while he grovelled along the rough nothingness below. He cursed the unending torture, the relentless barrelling upon his back. His limbs trembled while he clawed forward. It took all his strength to keep his face from sliding along the roughness, sparing his flesh from a pitiful flaying.
Damn you!
Zaki’s rage withered on his tongue. Grunts and groans filled his mind, gasps and frustrated huffs, but the prince refused to be shamed. The darkness, whatever it was, wouldn’t keep him under its thumb any longer. He stilled his disgraceful crawl, but then the full weight of the darkness came down upon him. It drummed him flat, tempting him towards submission. Zaki shut his eyes and delved deep within himself. There was no chance of losing now.
The prince prepared his arms, clenched his splayed fingers into fists and roared strength into them. His lungs emptied, he made no progress, but quivering ceased. They were still, calm, ready for more work. He paused again and waited for the searing tightness in his chest to cool.
Zaki roared once more, rising from the roughness until he rested on his knees. The oppressive darkness relented to him. He splayed his fingers to spare his knuckles, and recovered quickly. A moment later his chest cooled and expanded, his limbs were ready for more.
A rumble in his chest ended behind gritted teeth, now the prince was on one knee. He shoved the darkness further back, then rose from his haunches. From bent back to straight and proud. Prince Zaki puffed his chest and thumped it with a roaring challenge to the darkness. The hammering continued, but it was little more than a tug to pull him down. His struggles were far from his mind now. Zaki scanned the eternal darkness, seeing nothing beyond his nose, nothing to hear beyond faint whispers.
Darkness was Mazin’s ally, not his. He didn’t need it to be. There were times he was unnerved in the night. Thanks to Mazin of course, the boy didn’t realise how bright his eye glowed, like blood in the shadows. Ma said Mazin lived in the darkness when they were little. She’d yelp when he suddenly emerged from the shadows, defying her Tamer senses. Zaki didn’t fear the dark, he wasn’t a child, but whatever this was, it wasn’t natural.
Zaki blinked to remind himself of his eyes. Strange silks adorned his body, he didn’t recall falling asleep in anything but a loincloth. Then again, he couldn’t remember falling asleep at all.
What is this place?
The prince demanded, but his thoughts remained unspoken. He dared a few steps forward, feeling tight sandals wrapping his feet. Slow at first, the darkness did its best to steal his balance, then he was striding. The surrounding whispers strengthened, turning into muffled speech. His fine hairs suddenly shot up, Zaki almost lost his balance when he stopped. He flapped his arms as unseen eyes swarmed around him.
Zaki’s anger returned, burning away his imbalance with fire. Someone, something, watched him. Whatever controlled this place, whoever dared to torture him, their eyes were on him. His chest rumbled while his eyes searched.
How dare they control me; how dare they make me grovel?
The prince beat their hammering, he would beat their judgement as well.
Show yourself coward, you won’t watch me for your pleasure!
His enraged words seared his throat. Zaki spread his arms and spun around, egging on the watching crowd, hoping for a reply.
A ripple in his periphery caught his eye, and he spun towards it. The swarming whispers faded, but the unseen watchers undressed him from their shadows. Zaki narrowed his eyes and pierced the nothingness to see a seated silhouette. Beckoning hands caressed him towards it, encouraging him to discover more, but his feet remained rooted. Something else held him now, beyond the oppressive darkness and hammering. Then a pair of ruby eyes blinked at him.
Formless and floating above, glaring down with subtle curiosity. Zaki shut his gaping mouth and caught the dark Feline’s head tilt, despite not seeing the body. He wanted to say something, question it, but he was tired of his words failing to escape his tongue.
His fine hairs became erect again, but the dark Feline vanished. Prince Zaki crossed his arms over his chest, but the blow struck through them. Knocked off his feet, Zaki reached behind to brace his fall, yet found nothing. Down into the endless blackness he fell, clawing at his throat, unable to scream.
Zaki snatched at his torn silk blankets when he woke up. His fingers raked through the ruined rich fabric, tangled in the mess he made. He sat up, freeing his hands with a savage yank before tossing it aside. The early morning hammering from Master Roole eked through his closed shutters. Along with a fresh orange morning sun, shining its warmth onto his ochre yellow floor. Bile threatened his tongue, but he forced it back down.
The prince collapsed down on his feather stuffed mattress when his racing heart slowed to a stroll. He sank further into his bed and listened to the palace wake up. None of it distracted his mind however, that strange dream wouldn’t let him go. It drained him, Zaki wanted to go back to sleep, but every time he shut his eyes, the darkness haunted him.
His body tensed at the imagined hammering to follow, saved only by the morning light through his eyelids. There was no persuading his tight muscles to relax. Fear snatched at his throat, it was familiar, that was the worst realisation. All it did was trouble his mind.
Prince Zaki sat up; the distant approach of rushing slippers reached his ears. He jumped out of bed in a flash, enjoyed the warmth emanating from the floor, before scurrying around searching for any shred of cloth to cover himself. His frantic search produced beads of perspiration, aided by the constant humidity. Winter was supposed to be arriving soon, yet the heat remained obstinate.
He found dust-stained pants; it would have to do with Ma so close. A hint of lye soap reached him, which surprised him.
Urgent news?
Zaki stood over a washbasin and splashed the remnants of sleep from his face with lukewarm water. His doors burst open and her dress chimed with an array of gold and precious metals.
“Ah good, you’re awake,” Ma said, then shut the doors.
“It’s not too late, I hope?”
“You have time, for once.”
She pulled a face when he turned towards her, dabbing himself with a towel. Ma stuffed a roll of parchment into her turquoise dress and rushed to open his shutters. Morning sunlight beamed in, along with suffocating humidity.
“There we are, much better.”
“I was getting to that,” Zaki yawned. She grimaced at him as her kohl decorated eyes glanced at his pants.
“Don’t you have any clean clothes? Between Mazin’s reading in darkness and you wearing dirty clothes, I’m wondering where I went wrong.”
“Didn’t you come here with an urgent matter?” He fought to keep his snort from turning into laughter.
She whipped out the now squashed roll of parchment and waved it at him like a bone.
“A Tamer in the night, this one is for the crowned Prince Zaki Atum Ra.”
Her mockery didn’t stifle his eagerness. He snatched it from her painted fingers. The seal was unbroken, with the letters ‘M’ and ‘Z’ intertwined in green ink. It smelled of Ma, but his mind immediately went to Melina. Before he broke the seal, he frowned at Ma.
“What was in the other one?”
“The usual reports for your father. The odd skirmish, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Casualties, anything on Jun?”
“By the Beast boy, read your little love letter and stop worrying about your father’s duties.”
He broke the seal and unravelled the paper. Melina’s writing was half legible, she had a warrior’s temperament, but he appreciated her effort in these private words.
Zaki
You haunt my dreams too often, and these weeks are tiring. I count the remaining days of my duty here in Tiger Watch. The Great Beast is slow to rise its fiery eye, and slower in setting it. Whatever beauty I once found here, and admittedly there is still plenty of it, has faded over time. A deep knife boring into my mind, a hair’s width every day. The coming winter has lifted my spirits somewhat. I will not lie and claim to prefer the humid hell of Bil’Faridh. The pleasant coolness of the Dhaar Province is a small joy. I’m discovering my love for the chill here, though my complexion has lightened towards dry sand. It’s often wet here, and for obvious reasons, it fills me with envy. My fingers are adequate for pleasure, but they pale in comparison to you…
Zaki cleared his throat aloud to drown Melina’s words in his mind. The pleasure fuelled panic was a flash, but he still folded the letter and searched for Ma. She stared out of a window, with her back towards him, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was smiling. He skimmed past the rest of Melina’s salacious words.
Forgive my forwardness, I have kept it hidden for so long. I fear for you upon my return. I’m eager to break any fool who has latched themselves onto you during my absence. They will learn I am the favoured, the head of the prince’s harem, and I look forward to proving it. Never forget that I am yours.
Melina AR.
Zaki grinned at her signature, he wouldn’t forget it. Not that he could ever forget Melina. His heart lurched, but he squashed it with the paper in his hand. Ma floated towards his bed in the meantime, then whistled.
“Who were you fighting?” She asked, lifting his shredded silk blanket with amused concern.
“Bad dream.”
“Seems like a night horror. Should I be concerned?”
“Since when do dreams concern people?”
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Ma’s narrowed eyes almost melted him. He hoped his scent wasn’t revealing. It was too early to have control of it.
“Am I not allowed to care about my babies?”
“Enough Ma, please,” Zaki tried to shoo her out. “Can I bathe now? Thank you for the letter.”
“I used to bathe you two, there’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
“Before I forget, Heka wants to see you again, it’s urgent, whenever you have time today.”
“What does Kamal want now?” Zaki sighed. He raised a swift apologetic hand at Ma’s glare. “I’ll go first thing after bathing.”
Zaki stomped along the grey stone passageways of the palace, fingering the topaz pommel of his khopesh. He tried it around his waist. The fine leather chafed his waist, his oak coloured and thick pants failed to guard his skin. As tight as it already was, he kept hold of the hilt when dealing with stairs. It wasn’t long until he gave up entirely, surrounded by grey ghosts and palace guards in the middle of a busy passage, and strapped the khopesh to his back.
The prince resumed his journey in greater comfort. It felt right. Now his unencumbered mind focused on what came next. Kamal Heka was as dreary a teacher as the most uncharismatic archivist. Zaki met many so-called charismatic archivists, even the best of them according to their peers, struggled to keep his attention for longer than a page. Ma insisted however, healing hands was a rare gift amongst warrior Tamers. He was excited at first, then he met the Heka patriarch. Mazin was lucky to avoid these personal lessons.
Zaki stood under bright sunlight, before midday’s fire, though still suffocated by humidity. His neck wept despite the cool air coming out of the palace behind. The fighting rings were busy, he lingered metres away, eyeing the Tamers and their tailing Tamed Sinha marching back and forth. Some limped and licked their wounds, others strode with their chests bulging.
New recruits were the loudest, beyond his eyes. Their uniform shouts echoed the booming commands of their trainer. An overwhelming mess of aromas tempted him to abandon his journey. Salty sweat, a smattering of metallic blood and pungent salves sprouted growing stems of craving in the soil of his heart.
Discipline, discipline in all things, especially when fighting is needless.
He groaned at Kumkani Lihle’s drilled words echoing in his mind.
Zaki turned left, away from the fighting rings. The pale stone palace remained to his left, and the ever-shrouded mountains of Sanctuary towered ahead. He craned his neck up while he walked, nodding at the palace guards he passed.
Unyielding rock and stone, neither black, green nor brown, yet all of them together. A sheer drop from its rumoured flat surface. Newly inducted Tamers entered and departed without so much as a whisper about their experience within. He hoped Ma would share a taste of whatever secrets Sanctuary held. Even she feigned ignorance, without a hint of deceit on her scent.
Soon I will discover it for myself.
He descended steps leading into the bowels of the palace and Sanctuary mountain. Carved into the ground, cool, yet still of organised pale stone to match the palace exterior. When the natural light faded, the stonework became artistic. Carved from hands beyond human. The script was no dissimilar to those that strengthened his blade. Running along the edges of steps and around the lights above. Crystals lit the way better than torches, with a rich glow devoid of smoke and excess heat.
At the bottom the vastness of the underground network spread out. Each path glimmering with crystal fragments, directing newcomers with different coloured lights. The studious silence added to the mysterious atmosphere, one that was similar to the archives. His Tamer ears still picked up the distant shuffling of feet, armoured boots on patrol, and the moans of the wealthy wounded. He wondered how the Unblessed experienced such a place.
Prince Zaki followed the pale yellow down the grand hall, before it jagged right into another passage that chilled him before he entered. The Hekas worked with fresh cadavers, the cold ensured they remained as fresh as possible. How they did it, he didn’t know, it just was. Beyond their making perhaps, just a location granted to them to ply their research. Whatever the cause, he cursed them, fighting back shivers as he delved deeper.
The bulbous gem on his pommel glowed brighter, attracted by the crystals. It announced his presence over his shoulder, brightening with every crystal he passed above and beside him. Palace guards nodded before returning to their statuesque states. Subtle hints of putrid decay, flesh and blood tickled at his nose. Thankfully the cold spared him the worst of it.
A palace guard in plain golden scale armour opened the doors before he arrived, bowing low when Zaki passed her. She shut the grand doors behind him and trapped him with the chill.
“You’re not Kamal,” Zaki said at the back of a tall man, dressed in eggshell white robes.
He hovered over a black slab coated by a white cloth, observing a corpse with its face covered.
“I am of him,” the man grinned in reply. “And you are underdressed.”
“His son, I assume?”
“Khadim,” he bowed. “My father thought it better to have a Tamer guide you.”
“It’s decided I can heal already?”
“That is up to you.”
Khadim chuckled, then stopped when Zaki didn’t share his humour. The man’s pale eyes jumped to his khopesh, then he gulped.
“Shall we begin?”
“Let’s, but what must I do?”
Khadim froze in the chilled room. Zaki watched the machine of his mind work, his eyes searching. From hands to khopesh pommel peaking over his right shoulder.
“May I be blunt, Prince?”
Zaki nodded.
“I was under the impression you already showed signs of healing hands. I’m here to guide your already present ability.”
“It was not my idea to waste your time. I’d much rather be rolling around in the dirt, acclimating to my blade, while you return to your… whatever your duties are.”
Zaki made to turn, but the kumkani’s words echoed in his mind again. He sighed.
“There’s no harm in trying. Let it be a final meeting, should I fail, then we may both move on in peace.”
He stomped towards the slab and studied the recently sliced cadaver upon it. Its deep umber skin was slowly turning towards frozen grey. The breasts had shrunk, with signs of violence between the legs and inside the thighs.
“Who was this?”
“A pleasurer from the cheetah district. Found with head trauma and a lacerated neck. There’s also tearing around her… uh her,”
“I’m not a child, and this is far from my first corpse. There’s no need to spare the gruesome details.”
“Of course, Prince. The cause of death was most likely a blade, the numerous fractures on her skull were not fatal. It’s not yet known if the rape was before or after death.”
“What about these?”
Zaki slipped off a glove and ran his hand along the pale scratches on her arm and stomach. They seemed old at first glance, but their location was consistent with the type of violence she must have suffered.
“The reason why she is here, Prince, even now in death, her body heals like a Tamer’s. Those scratches were closing wounds when she was brought to me.”
“Is that why they slit her throat?”
“Prince?”
“Skull fractures should be enough for an Unblessed. There is no sign of a struggle in her nails, perhaps there were many during the raping. Maybe she was unconscious, and when she came back swifter than expected, they opened her throat?”
There was a whiff of surprise on Khadim’s scent.
“My father warned me you were an unwilling student.”
“I am, but I still retain knowledge. Most of this comes from patrolling the streets with my mother. Cause of murder came to her easily, if not the motive.”
“A pharaoh and prince patrolling the streets?”
“The pharaoh was once of those streets,” Zaki clapped and whipped off his other glove. He rubbed his hands together to remind them of warmth and placed them on the corpse’s arm. “Guide me then.”
“Prince I… I cannot,”
“I know, I know, power is earned.”
He suppressed his frustration and shut his eyes, but after that he was stuck.
How does one heal with their hands? Should there be an incantation?
Shame crept in, which Khadim didn’t deserve to know. Zaki’s eyes remained shut, hands unmoved, fighting off the chill of the morbid room.
Then it came.
The all-encompassing darkness, suffocating and sense snatching. His fingers forgot what they felt, forgot the chill of the room and the nervous breath of Khadim nearby. All that remained was for the crushing weight to hammer him. Zaki didn’t wait for it. He gasped awake, snatched his hands from the corpse and the darkness vanished like a fleeting thought. Khadim didn’t react.
“How does it feel when you heal?”
Khadim tilted his head at him, Zaki took offence at first, but the Heka’s face contorted with confusion.
“How does one feel when filled with pride? It’s as if I’m fixing the impossible, weaving torn threads of life back together without needles or the flick of my wrist. I am draining the pain and suffering away, dumping it into a void where it can never harm again. I am powerful, helpful, though restrained.”
“Restrained?”
“I cannot restore, or replace what is lost.”
Khadim turned mournful, his eyes drifting beyond the corpse. Zaki placed his hands back on it again, his eyes open this time.
She was cold, hard as stone. Her deathly chill seeped into his palms. It warred for control against his heat, and slowly pressed its advantage. Zaki sought Khadim’s feelings, he willed for whatever lay inside him to heal. Something, anything on her corpse, but nothing happened. It didn’t take long for him to beg. The shame of failing in the void dream fed his frustration. Which then twisted into anger, he almost snapped the cadaver’s arm when he tightened his grip.
Give this to me!
“Prince, maybe…”
Khadim’s words faded, wailing took its place. Anguish and sorrow, rage and bloodlust filled him. Pain marked his entire body, exploding in his groin. His head dazed by numbness, then his throat seared as icy steel tore it open.
“… I should make a wound for you to heal.”
Zaki snatched his hands away when the dead woman’s arm blazed with life. His throat burned and his loins throbbed for longer than he would have liked. The wailing continued, the anguish and sorrow deepened. His nails burrowed into his palms when the rage refused to fade.
“Prince?”
“No.”
Khadim’s eyes widened at him, then the man shrunk. The man reeked of fear when his eyes fixed on his khopesh.
“Can you heal yourself, Khadim?” Zaki asked.
“N… no, Prince.”
Zaki’s nails broke skin.
Discipline, discipline in all things.
“I failed; healing is not what my hands are good for.” Zaki forced a smirk, though judging by Khadim’s reaction, it must have seemed a threat. “We’re done here, tell your father.”
The prince departed with stinging palms, a relieved Khadim Heka remained behind him, while his mind was haunted by screaming.