Chapter Thirty-Nine—Medallions and Shadows

With a rush coursing through him, Kahshar watched as the sultan unsheathed his sword. Darius al Hassarani, the Sultan of the Abassir Empire, was about to show this foreign dog what an Abassir did to an invader.

He narrowed his eyes, his rapt attention on the proceedings below. The sky light was large with a walkway running around it in a circular fashion. If Kahshar needed a better view he could move at any time.

Glancing away and looking about, he wished he could tell Oldooz or Erach what he was seeing, but they were both standing sentry in different parts of the palace.

He chuckled.

They will just have to settle for my retelling, the poor fools.

Suddenly a weight pressed against Kahshar’s chest and he stumbled back. As a thrill travelled through his body something white hot passed across his neck.

The pressure on his chest lifted. He reached for his sword, tried to turn his neck, but instead he saw blood pour onto the tiles at his feet. He felt…

Wet.

Blinking, he realized the pain was not just from his chest, but rather, his back?

Then he fell, the night and the stars swaying as a shadow moved past him.

Hands shaking uncontrollably, Kalina looked on at the group of prisoners—the very same group she had approached beseeching them to kill Darius.

The sultan had known they were here—had set a trap for them? How was she still standing here? Why was she not in chains?

“You are shaking, Kalina,” Hahkari said with a grin.

“I am nervous.”

“As well you should be. You did assist these assassins after all.”

Her heart jumped into her mouth as she jerked her head toward him.

“Do you think me a fool?”

She swallowed.

“Do not worry,” he said casually. “I will have you dealt with—just as soon as I tell the sultan of your treachery.”

Oh gods!

No!

Oh gods!

Ohgodsohgodsohgods!

“Stop sniveling, traitor.”

Shaking uncontrollably she couldn’t help but turn and flee. Behind her Hahkari laughed. “Go! Run, you little fool and see how far you get.”

She left through one of the side doors, a small passage leading to one of the little lounge chambers reserved for the best of the sultan’s guests.

There were passed out nobles on the floor among the empty wine bottles and the smoking hookahs. Kalina recognized Sanaz and Diba. Sanaz blinked awake, groggy and naked with the Satrap Ulanu’s arm around her waist—his wife lying naked face down on the settee.

Kalina ignored her and moved on, leaving the chamber and heading deeper into the palace, her sobs incontrollable.

As she ran, her jaw quivered so hard her teeth clattered against one another. She pressed her hands against her chin, but then suddenly lost balance.

Crying out, she fell on the tiles, her hands slapping loudly. Her keening sounded like it was coming from someone else. Not her.

Oh Gods—please. Do not do this to me.

To us…

She shuttered, her wet tears dripping off her face onto the tiles.

She scampered against the wall and buried her face in her thighs as she thought of home, of her sisters and her sick father—of the future she would never have.

“No…”

“NO!!!!!”

I won’t… I won’t die like this!

She got up, her knees wobbling as she trudged through the halls. She carried on like this for some time until she reached the upper chambers.

After a time her legs were more steady and she walked without stumbling. In her robes, she kept a blade there. She didn’t want to do what she was about to do…

The guard—it was Tabnak—at the secure metal door. He glanced at her as she sniffed, tears running down her face and ruining her eye liner. He looked at the wall in front of him.

As she neared, he glanced at her again, a look of nervousness and concern on his features. “What is the matter?” he asked. “Kalina?”

“The high vizier,” she sobbed, not holding back her tears. She gripped the blade with her right hand behind her back and pointed down the corridor with her free hand. She did not want to kill him. Tabnak had a young pretty wife and was intending to start his own family soon.

“What? What has happened?”

“They—the prisoners—they…”

“Prisoners? What? Why have the warning bells not been tolled?”

She shook her head violently.

Please go!

“I—I do not know.”

Now alarmed, Tabnak motioned for her to stay. “Don’t move,” he said. “I will return. Do not move, yes?!”

Closing her eyes and thanking the gods, she nodded heavily. “Yes.” She sniffed. “Yes. They—they need you.”

He ran.

She sniffed, sobering slightly, but only just, as she was very near the end of her own life, and there was nothing else for her to do but this final action against the sultan.

She looked at the seal across the door. Kahnassi had put it there. With her knife, she scraped at it, and then widened her eyes and scraped more vigorously.

The seal—it wasn’t paint!

She wouldn’t be able to get the Hajja sorcerers out of their prison.

“Whaaat do you wishhhhh of ussss?” a voice called, the sound seemingly coming from every direction, even outside of the cell.

Kalina turned about, looking for the speaker of that ominous hiss.

Realizing the Hajja communicating with her couldn’t be outside of the prison cell, she opened the metal slider on the door and glanced inside. She saw nothing, but the peephole was high for her. She pushed herself up on her toes, glanced inside.

There was nothing—

Suddenly a blood-red gaze met her, the skin around those evil eyes white and scaly. She pulled back and screamed as she fell on her backside.

“Gods! What are you?”

A hiss met her question, but there were no words.

After a time, she got back to her feet, but instead of getting close to the hole, she said, “I want to free you.”

The face—that eye—was gone now.

No answer came back.

Kalina balled her fists. “I said I want to free you!”

After another long pause, the voice came again. “The medaaallionnnn.”

“What?” she asked, confused. “What medallion?”

The same words came back to her, and then ceased.

“Where is it?!”

She left the door and ran down the corridor. She found more room back here with the guards asleep, the smell of wine in the air.

Fools.

She searched the room.

The racks were full of swords and spears.

She jerked, pulling her arms in close to her chest and almost cried out when the sleeping guard snorted.

She spotted a key on the table held around his neck by a leather cord. Eyes roving about, the lockbox was the next thing she spotted.

Hands shaking, Kalina was determined to free the Hajja sorcerers. She took a knife from the weapons rack and opened the lockbox. Inside she found a coil-like medallion incrusted with a black stone. Strange markings adorned the silver and something about it made her want to wretch.

It was a physical urge.

Is it magic?

Picking up the medallion, she gagged.

There was something deeply unnatural about it.

When she arrived back at the door, she said, “If I give you this medallion—and you are able to free yourselves—will you assist the men fighting the sultan?”

She gagged, squeezed the medallion in her fist and thrust her arm out as far as she could.

No answer came.

“Where are you?!”