Shards of Persia Nano Novel

Chapter 31 - On the Way to Athens

“A healer that can fight?” Kave asked incredulously. They were now all 4 of them staring dumbfounded at Nim who sat on the ground pretending that a stick he was holding in his hand was the most interesting thing in the world. They had had this conversation countless times since they arrived in their battalion. Their company seemed to rotate daily but the 5 of them stuck together. Where one was shifted, the others went too. All Nim could do was nod at them.

“Can we, like, have a demonstration?” Bad piped up eagerly. The African could tell by the others that Badak was just voicing what the others really wanted to see. He nodded and the group let out a collective and excited breath. Nim reached over lazily where a knife had been stuck in a tent pole beside them and motioned for one of them to give him a hand.

They all looked at each other and at the knife Nim was holding as if he was going to stab them. The others were busy readying their weapons and preparing to be dispatched. They were given orders to go north. They weren’t told anything beyond that just that they would find out when they got there. Frustrated that the others were suddenly cowards, Azar gave him her hand. The back of her hand was surprisingly soft give how rough she always was.

Without any hesitation, Nim stabbed her in the back of the hand until the blade came out the other side. Her hand convulsed and she stifled a growl through the pain. Her eyes looked like they were about to murder him but he returned her fierce expression with a calming gaze. Taking the knife out he let the wound bleed out, some of the blood collecting in his hand.

Kave, Mazdak, and Badak reeled back. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Maz growled a knife now in his own hands. Bad was panicked and wide eyed and Kave, always the silent time just watched. Nim placed his other hand over top Azar and and when he moved it, the blood was gone and the wound was closed. In fact, it looked like there had never been any would at all.

Azar looked at her hand and tried to poke a finger where the blade had been. The pain was so real and so was the blood. “You really stabbed you! You are absolutely insane,” she barked but when she punched him it was more of a playful shove. “That’s amazing. Can you like…” she looked around to see if anyone besides the 5 of them were paying attention. She wet her lips, her eyes that familiar hunger for power that the Tower had, “kill people with your magic?”

“Also,” Maz interrupted. “If you can heal, why don’t you heal your hand?” He motioned to Nim’s burnt hand as if it was the first time any of them were noticing it.

Nim sighed, held up his hand, and said, “Magic always requires something. So long as I serve my goddess,” or as long as he was said goddess, “I can always heal people no matter how severe their wounds so long as they aren’t dead. Anahita is the goddess of healing not death.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal the still blackened scar of the stab wound he suffered in Tyre. It wasn’t festering but as long as Nim put the healing salve that Abela gave him on it daily, it kept the stench away. “If I use my magic to harm people, then something is required in return.”

“What did you do that required that?” Bad gawked pointing at he black opening that looked more like it was a mouth with tendrils creeping along his abdomen.

“I got stabbed by a cursed dagger…by someone I loved. You met her. From the inn,” Nim said simply as if it were just another idle topic. He lowered his shirt so that no one else could see. “It seems that it now opens and bleeds whenever I use magic the wrong way. My punishment, I guess for being clueless.”

They all paused to take it in and it was Kave of all people to speak for the group, “You really know how to choose lovers, Nim. You might not survive the next one!” They had a good laugh at that but Kave was way closer than he would have known. Nim almost didn’t survive the encounter, he should be dead right now.

The time came for them to leave and the five of them helped each other saddle donkeys and carts and chariots. Nim strapped on his weapons belt that drew envious looks from his new friends but he just shrugged. “You are lucky we only had practice swords, Bad,” He teased and the youth just grinned at him. Perhaps, he wasn’t the best after all. He certainly would not have won in front of the king without magic, and both Kave and Azar had the look of killers.

The 1,000 strong arm of the Persian army made it to Sidon, a city just north of Tyre. Nim asked if they were going to walk the whole way and Azar laughed. Apparently she didn’t think Nim would survive the mountainous climbs and that priest wasn’t made for walking. In the time it took to get to Sidon everyone had taken turns partnering for drills so that they have a fairly reasonable understanding of their fighting prowess. As far as they were concerned, the ranking went Azar, Badak, Nim, Kave, and Mazdak when it involved close quarters combat. Azar was their de facto leader as she had the most experience and was generally the smartest of the bunch.

Instead of walking through Anatolia, as Nim had thought they would, they entered the city and paraded through to the harbor. Nim had never been on a boat since he left Aasha as a boy. The ships that sailed on this sea were massive and designed to haul whole armies along the coast. However, their commanding officer designated their company and 2 others to board smaller boats to sail to Cyprus. Persia had been having difficulties maintaining their hold on the island and they were to be sent ahead to secure safe passage. As they were a fresh company, the main directive fell on one of the other companies with senior warriors to lead the group. A large sum of money was given that they were to first attempt to bribe and then if that didn't work, secure the channel until they could make landing to help reinforce their position. However, they had done this a number of times before and saw no reason this would be an escalation. Their main purpose was to sail around Cyprus and onto Greece.

The sea was relatively calm as they left Sidon for Salamis, Cyrus. It took a few days, but they traveled faster than the main fleet thanks to a ruby imbedded into the main mast of the ship. The sails seemed to always be full, no matter which way the wind blowed, and rowing was easier so it took less breaks and rotating to make progress. The waves were must larger as the shore disappeared and the more experience sailors of the group seemed unconcerned with any of this. The nights were the hardest for Nim. He was restless and there was no hull to seek shelter so the ocean’s current did little to calm his nerves or help him find sleep. By the time they made land at Salamis, a coastal city that sprawled halfway up a nearby mountain, Nim was regretting every single life choice that led him to this moment. He never wanted to see the sea ever again. The only problem is, no matter where he were to go in Salamis the water was always within sight.

They were allowed off to accompany the head of their battalion to the harbormaster, the official that gave permission for all to both dock and pass through the channel unbothered by the island’s own military. They’re numbers weren’t as many as Persia, but the fact it was a large island with rugged terrain, and the only means to invade is by boat, meant an offensive would be quite costly. Better to do business, for now. Nim had a feeling that sooner or later this island would belong to his empire anyway. People rarely said no to it for very long. The visit was short and it went as well as it was expected to go. The commanding officer of their group lit a torch on their boat signifying safe passage, and as soon as the small fleet carrying the rest of the division passed by, they were back on their boat and racing to catch up, without so much as a good night’s rest in an inn.

Now that they were safely on their way and attached to one of the main ships, they learned that their mission was not only to reinforce the divisions already set up but also to spy out the Athenians that were the empire’s erstwhile ally. They had successfully allied with Athens to obliterate the Spartan fleet at the Battle of Cnidus but several of the higher ups were getting antsy that Athens was planning to double cross them when they were at their weakest. The plan for Nim’s company was quite simple. They were to infiltrate Athens - Kave and Azar, as well as two others that could speak Greek, were to lead the others in chains as if they were captives. Once in the city they were to burn the storehouses of the Athenians, not enough that they were to think they were under attack. They were under strict orders to make it look like an accident. The rest would divert the armed forces of Athens into an entanglement with Sparta, a smokescreen to keep a tighter leash on their ally.

Nim was just happy to be in a place where he got a cot and the waves for once lulled him to sleep, though at that point he could have slept anywhere. The voyage did not last long however, and in the days that followed life normalized for everyone on board. He got to know the 15 others that would be joining them. All of them either greek or Persian. Nim still couldn’t bring himself to trust any of them but they soon trusted him as he was the go to for all their ailments. Seasickness, rope burn, cuts, nasty falls, one guy was half drowned by the time they brought him to the healer. Just as he had been taught, Nim first reached into his bag to pull out salves, potions, tonics and other remedies and used as little magic as possible, masked by all the other things he did for them. His talents also awarded him nicer and nicer accommodations, not that any accommodations on a boat were nice, but the generals and lieutenants had a habit of keeping him closer to them and that meant access to better stores of rations and a better cot at least.

By the time they reached the harbor, navigating through the Persian warships already stationed there, everyone on board had come to rely on Nim in some form or another and, though he enjoyed being needed, he really didn’t think it was necessary to treat someone’s upset stomach every 10 minutes. As they disembarked, he caught the general and commanders grumbling that having a healer made their men soft, it was loud enough that he was pretty sure he was made to hear. Anyway, they set about putting their plan into motion. The 5 of them and some others were bound with rope that was then tied together and were led off the boat in a procession.

The story was they had tried to mutiny needed to be held until they could be properly dealt with. Kave and the other responsible for this rouse seemed to be rather convincing. A large welt from a blow he received in the back of his head by the back of a spear seemed to punctuate that they were captives. He understood why it had to be him but it didn’t mean he liked it any better. He would have to wear that mark until they were freed.

Athens itself was sprawling. With the Areopagus, hosting the city council and Acropolis, with the temple of Athena, towering over the city, Nim was suddenly struck with it’s similarity to Poura. The major difference for him was that many of the buildings were slope roofed and the colorful banners and fabrics that adorned almost every surface were of different colors, many of which were not common in his region. The others seemed to suitably impressed as well. However, their sense of grandeur was cut short when they were handed over to their greek guards and shoved into cells. They seemed very eager for their impending deaths, even though Nim couldn’t understand anything they said. Somehow, Kave, Azar, and the other were able to convince the guards currently watching the jail to relieve themselves and let them take their place. Everything seemed to be going to plan. Now all they needed to do is wait for nightfall and they would make their way over to the barracks to set fire to their arsenal, and then scale the Acropolis to vandalize the temple. The Athenian forces should empty out of the barracks before they break out and then it would be a simple task to take out some priests of an inferior god. It should have all gone according to plan.

Word Count - 2292

Chapter 32 - Sacrifice

Night fell and right on time, Kave unlocked the cell hosting the traitors. 15 total crawled along the streets in various directions for this coordinated hit. Kave, Azar, Bad, Maz, and Nim made their way to the barracks, which was situated conveniently close to the jail they were sent to. Made sense to Nim, in case of a break who better to put down a rebellion than the military. What should strike fear into the hearts of criminals proved to be easy access for the 5 of them.

The jail sat at an entrance to the military installation, and the guards were preoccupied by one of the other interruptions so the 5 of them were able to sneak in with relative ease. The building they were targeting, one of 3, was two stories with rooms on the top and bottom that served as a dorm and armament. Carefully they peered into one of the rooms. It was a large open space with cots and mats strewn about, obviously a sleeping quarter. They cursed their luck however, when it was not actually empty, in fact, not all of them were asleep! They ducked around a shaded corner to regroup. There were at least 30 people in there milling about when they all supposed to be in a coordinated assault on a Spartan asset.

“We need to abort,” Maz insisted, trying to coax them back to the gate they entered from. But the others seemed generally opposed to a retreat. “We just approach from another side,” was Kave’s response and that got everyone’s agreement. They rounded the other corner but it also had entrances out the other way and a guard this time. A fire set in the opposite building got their attention though and the men occupying the room filed out in a hurried frenzy. Perfect. They 5 of them quickly made their way up to the second floor, where they were supposed to set fire to their store room. However, the Athenians quickly regrouped and set about searching the barracks for intruders. As Bad and Azure set about dousing the targets in a flammable liquid Nim got antsy that they’d have to fight their way out. He begged them to hurry.

Nim hissed at them again as he heard footsteps and what happened next was a flurry of motion and violence. Kave set fire to the store room, and with the heat at their back two lines of soldiers flanked them yelling to submit. Their faces were hidden but that wouldn’t help conceal them if they were caught. Badak was the first to respond, screaming and running at the soldiers that came up the stairs they were headed towards, Kave at his heals. They nearly jumped on the lot, tumbling down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and blades, clearing a path for the other three to make an escape. Nim and Maz grabbed the other two on their way out and they scrambled toward the exit dragging their comrades along with them. Somehow they made it clear of the barracks and hidden enough that the lot that ran after them diverted in other directions, more fires causing them to scramble to aid the city that was now clearly under attack.

“Nim!” Azar yelled as she pressed the wound at Badak’s chest. “Save him!” She cried as she begged at him helplessly. The panicked look on her face and the heat of the moment, he didn’t realize that the hard and sharp Azar actually had emotions. He dived to his knees and pushed her away. When he reached inside to assess the damage his heart dropped. There was no pulse and no sign of life. He dived deeper and deeper. He had to find him. He had to! However, much he looked, he couldn’t even find whatever consciousness he was looking for, he wasn’t Ishtar. He couldn’t see people’s souls like she could. A wellspring. Yes! Look for that wellspring!

A shake came and as he tried to claw his way through looking for any sign of life he was abruptly brought back to the moment by a slap across his face. “I can’t…he’s…he’s dead,” Nim whimpered, he realized he had been crying. It was Maz, he was dragging him and the body into a better hidden position.

“I know. Nim, I know. So is Kave. We have to get them out of here. The mission. We need to abort the mission.” It took Nim a long moment to register what Maz was saying. “We need to leave them. It’s hard. But it’s easy to explain that there was a jailbreak and the problems were a result.”

“No. We need to take them with us…” Nim protested but he already knew what this mission was.

“We were always meant to die, Nim. This was a suicide mission. The fires, the chaos. It was all meant to be blamed on the jailbreak and with no one surviving, there would be no one to talk. Now let’s go.” Nim hated that Maz was right but still he wished there was some way to save his friends. If they couldn’t save their friends, they could at least die with them as Kave told them in Damascus.

“You go. I will follow when I can. I will finish this,” he growled, eyes full of tears and anger as he got to his feet.

Maz was about to stop him, but Azar just nodded her head and motioned for him to follow after her. There was nothing left for them to do now but run, only looking back to see Nim stumble down the empty street, his figure silhouetted in the night. They weren’t really sure what he was going to do or if he would survive but they weren’t going to be able to convince him otherwise.

As they headed off, Nim made his way to the Acropolis. Climbing the stairs proved easy enough as everyone was busy with the chaos below. He only hoped, if he were to survive, he could see Azar and Maz again. At the top though, there were already guards, somehow news had already made its way up here that there had been a jailbreak and they were to kill any one out that wasn’t a soldier or a greek.

They raised their weapons and Nim smirked, his muscles pulsing with energy and adrenaline as he called on his magic to heal him. He waited a moment to see if that was still within the rules of his magic and when his wound didn’t open, he launched his attack. He caught a spear tip in his hand and used the momentum to absolutely mangle his hand, but was able to use the other man as a shield as the guard attempted to run him through with a sword. Ripping his hand off the spear with a scream, Nim healed the hand in time to grab his dagger and stab the man, now bleeding from the sword wound in the neck.

Short sword and dagger in hand, he made quick work of the man who just helped to kill his comrade. There were two more, one was behind him and stabbed him in the back, running him clean through. Nim coughed blood but was certain he could stabilize himself in time. He yelled in gritted agony as he leaned back, sliding the sword to the hilt. The man, stunned at the stunt just stood there, never seeing anything like it. Nim now, took out his dagger of Verethraghna and stabbed it backwards into the guard, setting him ablaze and pulling the sword out of his opponent as he leapt away. The healer spun around healing himself quicker than ever. There was one guard left who started to run away. There could be no survivors.

His aim was true as he flung the dagger the short distance away before the man could finish his attempted retreat. 4 dead guards and now the temple. Nim quickly retrieved his weapons and stalked into the temple.

—————————

Maz and Azar somehow made it back to the ship undetected. In the chaos the night of the 20 sent on the mission only 3 others came back. The captain of the ship raised his eyebrows as they came back and reported their missions successful. He was also expecting no one to make it back but there was always a chance that a god had favored them. He stowed them away and Maz and Azar waited anxiously for Nim to make it back too.

“He’s dead, Maz. He never could have made it out. He was a dead man walking anyway with that wound,” Azar said now for what seemed like the hundredth time. A commotion above deck drew them to their feet and they peered out into the night seeing that the temple was also set ablaze. It wasn’t large or all encompassing but the shouts from the others signified that enough damage was done to be a success. Nim had really done it! But surely there was no way he’d really be allowed to live. Someone would have caught him.

Suddenly, the ship lurched. “We are leaving,” Maz realized and Azar burst up onto the deck, shouting that they couldn’t leave yet. Nim was still out there somewhere and they couldn’t just leave him. If he was alive, and that was not a guarantee, he was a deadman and Persia needed someone to blame for what happened. He’d be the scapegoat. There was silence then.

Maz waited but the only thing he heard was the waves and the creaking of the ship. Finally, he couldn’t bare it and stepped up into the sea breeze to find Nim standing there, having just made it as the ship left.

The general was called over from his quarters and Nim, Azar, and Maz were made to stand in front of him. Nim had the look of a killer in his eyes as he stared unflinching at the general, blood soaking his clothes. Azar and Maz looked at each other, understanding they could either be commended or be forced to drown just as easily, returning from a mission they were supposed to die in.

“Report,” the lieutenant barked at the general’s side and everyone blinked at him not realizing that the full command of their ship was staring at the lot of them. “Don’t just stand there. Report!”

“The barracks were ransacked and all of the objects were met, sir,” Azar said coming back to herself, those soft emotions they saw from her earlier having been completely wiped away. The lieutenant looked at the other 3 and they reported that they eliminated anyone who knew how many prisoners were being held in the cell. Since it was a Persian matter, no official record was kept, they were just holding them as a favor of an ally.

“And you healer, seems that your crew came back before you with a missing objective. What happened?” The commanding officer motioned to the fire at the temple that was now drifting away.

“All threats were neutralized and no one saw me,” Nim said, feeling numb now as the adrenaline dumped like a ton of bricks. No one saw me, that is left alive, he wanted to add but he figured they all got the point.

The general looked at all of them and with a nod, he gruffly congratulated them on a mission accomplished and gave the command to lay low. They were needed in Cyprus. In the time it took them to sail here, the king had sent word he wanted to take the island so they were to rendezvous with another force and coordinate an assault. They were leaving immediately and as a reward for not dying on this mission, they would be given another chance to try again and hopefully be more successful this time.

The three were then dismissed and found their way back to their cots. None of them spoke the rest of the night and instead collapsed into a deep sleep.

Azar was the one to shake the other two awake the next morning. There was no rest of the weary and they were needed to maintain the order and function of the ship. Mending sails, healing seasickness, and rowing when needed. Life on the sea never let up but it was a busyness that allowed them to focus on something other than the deaths of Kave and Badak. They didn’t even get to give them a proper burial, they would have been rounded up and a Persian official would distance the empire from the carnage, blaming it on the dead and congratulating the Athenians for taking care of the garbage. Enough damage would have been done that set Athens back enough to still be reliant on their allies for support.

Their deeds and service to the empire, however, did not go unnoticed. As they continued to pour themselves into their labors, the general himself wrote commendations of their deeds when praise came from the king at such a successful endeavor. The gossip on the ship was Nim had single handedly wrecked Athens as revenge for his fallen comrades. However, instead of basking in the glories, Nim found solace in his mourning with Azar and Maz.

“I’m sorry,” he said during an evening they were gathered and alone, a rare occasion recently. “I really tried to save them. They were the bravest of all of us.”

“I know,” Maz said, chewing tack and looking at nothing in particular, he didn’t say much these days but it was enough.

“Kave said we would be lucky if we all died together,” Azar said her sadness deeper at the mention of his name. She had to force it out and Nim couldn’t help but think there had always been more there between them. “Badak was always so full of energy. I didn’t think he’d ever die. He…was so young…”

Maz gave a pathetic excuse for a laugh, “You hear him tell it, he was 35 and married. Every time he told us how old he was it always got older.” This drew sorrowful mirth from the other two.

“We have to survive,” Nim said, his voice defiant. “We have to live for them or their sacrifice to get us to safety is for nothing.”

Word Count - 2395

Chapter 33 - A Reprieve

The ship laid anchor as it joined the rest of the armada that had assembled for the assault. The general and his lieutenant were needed at a meeting to discuss tactics and so he needed to choose someone to promote to keep people in line. That honor fell to Nim. Not only for his prowess displayed at Athens but his function as a healer meant that the boat ran smoothly and there was no denying that it did run well with someone who could fix all their problems and ailments. Thus, Nim was promoted to commander. There wasn’t anyone that Nim hadn’t treated on the ship to disagree with the decision as the others left to discuss war plans. In fact, everyone seemed amicable with the decision.

It took several days but their general came back and instructed that Nim take two people for a covert mission. He had run it twice with Maz and Azar so everyone was in agreement that it should be the three of them. The empire’s goal was to take Paphos and Salamis and split the Cyprian forces in two, however, to take Salamis they needed to weaken the offenses, once fighting was directed on that side of the island, the armada would move in to lay siege to Paphos. In order for this operation to be successful, the trio would need to sell to Soli, and then across the channel to an unprotected part of the island, traverse hostile land, make it to Salamis and then take out enough of the defenses to make a frontal assault on Salamis feasible. However, this time, unlike the suicide mission in Athens, if it was viable, they were to abort. New recruits were easy to replace but their recent performance and promotions led them as far more viable assets alive.

As they left on a smaller boat, similar to the one they took out of Sidon, they only felt themselves slightly more lucky that this mission had a chance they weren’t supposed to die though the were definitely be sent to their deaths. Even still, with three it definitely made it easier to get in and out unseen than the absolute chaos that unfolded in Macedonia. Still the cheery rowdy attitudes they had when they first met felt like an eternity as they rocked back and forth along the waves, lost in thought waiting to make land at Soli. They would spend a few days there to get the equipment and supplies they’d need before getting on an even smaller boat to make it onto the island of Cyprus. The boat hurried along the coast of Anatolia, soon they were at their destination, the trip was silent and there was a sorrow still hovering in the air that it was 3 and not 5.

Soli used to be a small village but had, like much of the world, prospered under the Persians even acting as a mint for Persian currency. Now it was a thriving center of trade and an important part of connecting the royal road - which connected Saris in Anatolia with Susa in the heart of the Elam and just east of Babylon - to vital sea trade. They docked in the harbor, carrying special permissions from the general, bearing the mark of the king. The city was a combination of older buildings and new constructions, the heart of the town was mostly older buildings of mud brick that had several layers of facade crumbling in areas. It was another town that made him ache for home. Maybe after this campaign he might have some freedom to go back to Aasha and see the people he left. He doubted it though and the trio made their way to the city’s administrator to submit their documents.

After this they found room in an inn on the outside of the city center, facing the beautiful mountains. It was one of the most beautiful sights Nim had ever saw. Mountains to the north and water in the south. Many cultures valued this orientation because it symbolized protection and prosperity, two things Soli had in spades. They had managed to use what they were given and some politically savvy moves to do very well for themselves. The inn they chose was large, clean and well stocked. The tavern was spacious and for once didn’t smell like stale spirits and vomit.

They took seats in a corner facing the entrance and sat comfortably. They ordered a round and some actual food for once, their sea bellies aching for real sustenance. “I’m from Cilicia,” Azar murmured into her ale, softly so no one else was likely to notice. It was the first sign that she hadn’t grown mute since that night they talked about their fallen.

Nim and Maz looked at each other startled. Maz piped up with, “Aren’t you from Lydia?” Nim nodded, welcoming the distraction. At this point, any bit of information that was new about them was rare. They had fought together, bled together, and almost died together, but they were in a somber mood for weeks following the death of their comrades.

“I did work in Lydia, and that’s where I came from when we met in Damascus but this is my home.” She said nodding around. They both nodded waiting for her to say more but she looked rather like she wanted to stay hidden. Her battle hardened features and scars seemed to soften and meek the longer they sat there then it dawned on her. She didn’t just mean Cilicia was her home or even Soli. She met this inn. They looked around the room as if of the same mind much to Azar’s growing embarrassment.

“Stop. Both of you,” she growled threateningly. She was obviously doing the calculations of how much effort it would be to cut them both down there, and neither of them doubted she could. She was still the best fighter between them. Maz though, ever the trouble maker grinned mischievously. For a minute it felt like they were all back in Damascus.

“So do you think they still know you here?” Maz asked ignoring all the threats and scowls she threw at him. “Like, if I were to say your name,” he said and took a deep breath as if he was going to. Azar grabbed her knife and looked like she was legitimately about to cut his throat.

“Flower?” An elderly voice piped up. Nim coughed up his ale when he saw a sweet old woman’s face light up looking in their direction. He stared wide-eyed at the woman and to Azar. He mouthed the word “Flower?” To her and then to Maz and blinked. “Is that you?” She gasped as she waddled over. “Oh it is you!”

The whole table sat stunned as Azar stood up, took a large pull from her cup and then swept the short elderly woman off her feet in a hug. They have seen this woman literally kill, and now here she is…a flower? If the two women weren’t embracing, they would never have believed it.

“What have you done to your beautiful hair? It used to be so full of flowers. Your skin as well, dear you are in desperate need of time in our mountain springs!” The old woman said, handling her hair and cheeks roughly. Meanwhile, Maz and Nim were working very hard to commit every single detail to memory. The image of Azar en looking at a flower and it not wilting under her gaze was too much to imagine, let alone her hair full of them!

“This is the best day of my life,” Maz whispered breathlessly to Nim. He could only shake his head in agreement.

“Savta (grandmother),” Azar complained desperate for her to stop but still fearing the rather of the woman should she address her any other way. “Please…” her eyes were pleading but the old woman’s voice grew harder as she saw the worn travel clothes she was wearing.

“You must change out of these rags. I will not having you tracking all this mud into the inn I and your grandfather have worked our whole lives to keep clean! You will come. Come now girl!” She said as she walked way and barked the last menacingly as she realized Azar was not following her. She didn’t even bother to glance back at the snickering men who sounded all the world like little schoolboys and followed are her grandmother, shoulders slumped. Even a mighty warrior knew not to cross a grandmother.

When she was out of earshot and disappeared into a backroom, the men leaned back. It was Nim who first spoke, “I…don’t think I can ever unsee that. Flower.”

Maz finished his drink and ordered another while they ate their fish. “I can’t imagine what they are doing back there. You don’t think…she isn’t going to…Nim, that would crazy.” Nim also had a thought and really hoped it didn’t happen, they were days away from going on a dangerous mission and the last thing he needed to happen was to start seeing her as a woman. But, in a way only her grandmother could manage, it did happen.

When Azar came back out she was wearing a pale blue sundress that swept her ankles and her short hair was done with a flower tucked behind her ear. Her skin looked freshly scrubbed and, for the first time in perhaps years, and since piece of dirt add been scrapped off that calloused skin. “There. That is much better. You can join your friends and then once we are done serving our guests, you must catch me up,” the grandmother gave her a pat on the bottom to send her on her way and then went back to the part to yell down a rowdy customer that was trying to bully her husband into not needing to pay the tab.

“You must be flower,” Maz blurted out and Nim, snorting, elbowed him in the ribs.

“I can still kick both of your asses. I have more leg room now so I can shove my foot deeper,” she snarled and sat down. They also took notice briefly that her figure was much different without being wrapped so tightly to accommodate the armor they normally wore. However, they thought if they stared too much, it really might be the death of them. Keeping their eyes far away from her neck line, they stifled their laughs.

“So, Flower,” Nim said, before putting his hands up in a sign he was unarmed she she threatened again to slice them open, “Azar, why didn’t you stop us from coming here if you knew that your family owned this place? I mean it has a beautiful view of the mountains that’s for sure. We could have stayed someplace else.”

Azar still managed to surprise when she looked over to her grandmother still bickering with a customer and smiled. Not the wicked smiles and smirks she gave when she was telling a dirty joke or generally thinking about violence, but a soft smile that made her face glow warmly in a way he hadn’t ever really seen before. Is that what coming home was like? Nim suddenly felt that pang of wanting to be home and not walking into a death trap. Would he have such a smile, a smile that made the murderous vicious of Azar look, if not beautiful then something very close to it.

“It’s good to see family, Nim. I don’t know what it is about it. I would kill a thousand men and then a thousand more if it meant getting to come back to my grandmother scrubbing every last blood stain off my skin like I’m school girl coming home with muddied clothes.” Nim and Maz thought it was a very sweet sentiment aside from the killing a whole army bit, but the tears that welled up in her eyes told them that they had no business making fun of that fact. She was still Azar and could probably rip through a whole battalion given the right circumstances.

“We will be at peace here. You should also get cleaned up. We won’t have many days like this,” Azar said as she dug into an extra helping of pies and bread her grandmother brought over complaining that she was far too skinny to attract the right sort of husband, while scowling at the two men with her. When the two men suddenly seemed like it wasn’t worth the bother and they didn’t really need to get cleaned up it was her turn to smile at them, and it was more wicked than anything they had seen from her. “Savta, these boys also need cleaned up.”

The glee and mirth in their eyes was replaced by panic and dread as the short woman waddled over. “Yes, I can’t have filth following my granddaughter. If you want to win her heart you need to look the part!”

They started to stutter that they weren’t interested in Azar but she just batted her eye lashes and said sweetly to her grandmother, “Oh yes, these men have been hounding me to marry them for days. But, I just can’t take them serious looking like that!” Nim tried to stand up to leave but before he knew it, he and Maz were grabbed with super human strength and being dragged into the back room that Azar had just come out of. It was Azar’s turn to cackle loudly.

When they next appeared in the common room, both boys were cleaner than they ever had been in their life. Their skin felt tingly and their hair was freshly cut. The grandmother had scrubbed every last inch and gave them fresh clothes in the local style - linen tunics and trousers. They were both dyed in blues and purples and if they were robes, Nim would have thought he was a priest again.

They looked all the world like wealthy aristocrats even though their faces were dazed and confused and read more as schoolboys who got a stern talking to. Maz sat down ignoring the wide grin painted on Azure’s face and, with a trembling hand on his mug said, “I don’t think a woman has ever touched me like that before.”

Nim nodded and took the seat next to him, “And I now know more than I wish I did about marriage customs.”

They all sat for a moment grinning into their food, thinking about how far they’ve come and how, at least for Nim, this was the only time in his life he felt like he knew what family was. They finished their food and raised the tankards. “To Kave and Badak. May their souls find piece and may they lend us their strength in battle. Our swords are their swords and whenever they strike, vengeance is brought on our enemies,” Azar’s toast, though continuing to threaten violence, was heartfelt and it was met with hearty agreement by her companions. “And,” she said, her wickedness returning as the two took long pulls from their mugs, “To Commander Nim and Mazdak. You entered here boys but you will be leaving as men!” They both spat out their ale at that and a yell from across the room screaming that they would still need to pay for it.

Word Count - 2565

Chapter 34 - A Fantasy

They were graciously each given their own rooms with plush mats and plenty of room. It was the first time any of them had had a real place to sleep in a very long time. When they were awake, Maz was eager to go out into the city to see more of the trade and business so he left before breakfast. That left Nim and Azar to listen to her grandmother complain at length that youth need to conserve their energy. Nim agreed to stay at the inn for the morning to help with cleaning and chores. He never thought he’d ever be eager to scrub floors again but here he was. Raza’s jaw would drop to see him do so with gusto. Azar hiked up her dress to her knees and got to scrubbing with her commander. She had given up trying to convince her grandmother that she was a soldier and not a princess, but there were battles that she was always destined to lose. As long as they were here, she didn’t see the harm in making her family happy, and it gave her a chance to show Nim she wasn’t just a weapon. Well, Nim and Maz, but mostly Nim.

When the floors and tables and chairs were cleaned, Nim went outside with Azar’s grandfather to assess some damage that needed to be repaired from a recent storm but they had been too miserly to pay for help. He was happy to help and Azar helped with putting dishes left to dry overnight back in the cupboards. It was an odd and comforting feeling to be home and to be doing household chores. Especially for Azar, for as long as she could remember her life was conflict. She had been sold as a slave in Lydia, though it seems her parents said they lost her, to cover a debt. After making it clear she was a fighter, or perhaps to spite her for the damage she had done to certain men, she was thrown into militia and had grown up doing the empire’s dirty work for coin. That she still had family that treated her like she was special and not a bargaining piece and that cared deeply for her, it really meant something to her.

When the morning cleaning had finished, Nim sat down with her grandfather and went over all the places that ached and pained him. Old injuries from wars fought, to more recent scraps and ailments that slowed him down. He listened to each memory and as he listened, without the old man realizing it, Nim healed him in turn. Bad knees, scars, hearing loss due to some sort of infection and a cough that he swore was never there before but the old lady argued there was a night in the last decade he didn’t wake up hacking a lung like it was his last breath. While he sat with him, Azar took her grandmother out to the market to help buy the food for the day. By the time they were back, the old man was doing jumping jacks and running around the tavern to show off he was as spry as a 40 year old.

The grandparents laughed and joked about what they could now do and Nim wasn’t at all sure they were just talking about maintaining the inn! Azar placed a hand on his shoulders and gave it a squeeze as he massaged his hands. “They are a sweet couple. It feels good to help people again,” he said quietly to her, placing his hand over hers before remembering exactly what they were. He cleared his throat and moved away from her. “I should see if your grandmother needs any help, so that they can live out their dreams of…turning their room upside down? I don’t know what that means…and I don’t want another lesson.”

Azar smiled as he walked away to join them and her heart sank. What was this softness? She’d just have to watch him die. There was no need to get attached to him or anyone. She needed to be ready to kill and if she bought into this illusion it could kill her or worse, it could kill Nim and Maz if they weren’t careful.

By the time it was lunch, Nim had healed as much of the grandmothers grievances as he could. It seemed she spent most of her time talking about how beautiful and talented Azar was. He tried to ignore as best he could what she was trying to do but she brought up many good points, a lot of which he saw on the battlefield as well. He pushed her insistence though out of his mind and found an excuse to go do something else as soon as he had finished with the last physical issue that she seemed to be suffering from. She bounced around the inn at service time as if she were a young barmaid again and, even handle the rowdier customs with grace and a smile instead of her usual sass.

“You’ve already made so much of a difference for the only two people I care about in my life. I don’t know how to thank you, Commander,” Azar said softly as they sat outside and enjoyed fresh bread, with a nice helping of a hearty stew and mead. Nim placed his hand in hers and they just sat there quietly enjoying the breeze. It was a tender and innocent moment that they know they could rarely afford but it was enough.

With a sigh, Nim let go and finished his meal. “I would do much more than this if I could. Azar, I would stay here forever and let your grandmother whip me into whatever vision she has, but we both know it is a fantasy.”

He stood to walk both of their dishes to the kitchen and Azar grabbed his arm lightly. “I know. We don’t have much time, but perhaps we can have this fantasy for a little longer.” Nim was shocked at first, that she was being so soft and feminine, but the forwardness by which she spoke was Azar to the core. He smiled and nodded and walked away.

With the dishes cleaned, Azar’s grandmother basically kicked the two of them out when they offered to help clean up after lunch service. She seemed to have energy to spare and told them to go enjoy themselves. Youth didn’t last forever. This time, Nim didn’t make the same mistake with a woman and chose to wear at least a dagger and short sword. There would be no more stabbings done by women that he was growing fond of. Azar though this was a good tactical decision and tied several knives to either of her thighs and one at her calf in case there was any trouble. Nim felt he should have been ashamed watching her legs but Azar didn’t seem to mind.

“Ok, prince charming, show a girl a good time,” Azar said linking her arm around his as they walked down the lane. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, “Commander Prince Charming.”

Nim raised his eyebrows, he couldn’t believe the transformation. A good bath, clean clothes, and family really changes a person in unexpected ways. “At ease, soldier. We don’t have anywhere to be. Let’s just see if we can find Maz.” He had been gone for quite some time they realized and started listing places he could be.

Soli was really a market of wonders. In the marketplace he saw for sale not just fake trinkets and false idols that had no magic at all, but more often than not, at least more so than in Tyre or Damasus, they were the real deal. It’s just that the sellers didn’t really know what they were selling so some of the junk that looked impressive was marked up higher than rusted or worn or tarnished pieces that were pulsing with magic at least to someone as sensitive as he was. Nim whispered as much to Azar, a little too close, causing the previously hardened killer to stifle a giggle.

“We should pick up some of this stuff. I can test it when we are on our way to Cyprus,” Nim said and Azar, remembering their mission seemed to suddenly keep distance from him and nodded that it was a savvy decision. He regretted having to remind her why they were there, and the sudden distance made him want to grab hold over her but he let her go, it was for the best they didn’t get too comfortable in this temporary role. They had agreed to enjoy such a fantasy but they couldn’t let themselves be consumed by it.

They walked with a healthy space apart after that with Azar taking up a spot a half a step behind him. He regretted the new formation until he heard Maz calling for them then the sudden change was a reprieve. He had an image of Maz running up to them seeing them holding hands. They would never ever live that down ever. Nim waved Maz over, who had more than one woman beside him. “What have you been doing, Maz?” He said, his eyes narrowed. Though, if Maz knew, he could level the same gaze at him!

“Nothing, Commander, just enjoying the sights of Soli. I even have some guides,” he said with a grin and a wink, both of the girls flanking him giggling. “Well, I guess we should be preparing for that thing, eh?” He said and then whispered something to both of the girls who giggled again and waved as they departed. He was going to ask what he said but figured it was best he didn’t know.

Azar, though, seemed to regain her previous hardness and confronted the boy. “You understand we can’t jeopardize operational awareness. We don’t know who could be a spy or working for the enemy. You shouldn’t be so frivolous.” Maz bit back a retort he knew everyone present would regret, probably something aimed at the both of them, but thought better of it and agreed in the end he should be more careful.

“For what it’s worth, Maz. I think you could handle those two girls if it came to a fight. Just…watch you back. You might get stabbed and I’m not around to help,” Nim said trying to soften the tension. His wound was well known and often saw. Maz was reminded of the previous night where Azar’s grandmother tried to give him some healing remedies for it and reprimanded him for not dressing his wounds properly. It wasn’t worth arguing the point about the intricacies of love, cursed weapons, and the limitations of healing magic. The pair of them took Nim’s jest as an order to cool it and they obliged.

Walking as a trio, Nim continued to point out magic that was being sold for a fraction of what Babylon would pay for it. Local magical items that the magic capital of the world hadn’t yet pillaged. Some were of limited capacity that they would have escaped notice, but there were some that screamed power that he was surprised Esfandiar hadn’t demanded. Old magic too. Well, whatever gave his friends, and he realized he now thought of them as friends, actual real friends, the first of their kind, any edge they could have to keep up.

That night after dinner, they took a look at the items they had bought when the common room was little more than a few of the normal evening riffraff. There were a handful of rings, a bracelet, 3 talismans, a dagger, an emerald, two sapphires, and an idol of Mithra. Of the rings, one was particularly useful for their purposes. It allowed the wielder to freeze anything they touched with a thought. This was given to Maz, as well as another that Nim had told him would force anyone back, a good stunning technique. They each got a talisman that Nim had identified as a breathing ward, that they could theoretically breath under water, which would come in handy for their amphibious operation. The dagger went to Azar, since he didn’t know yet what it did and he was apparently a sucker for having a woman wield unknown magic around him. He gave them both the sapphires, each etched with a word that he recognized as synonymous with Anahita but didn’t yet reveal their use as a conduit. He couldn’t imagine after all this then revealing that, oh by the way, he was soul bound to a deity. Best to cross that bridge when they got there and never hoped they did. Nim though kept the emerald and the statue but didn’t give any indication of what they did. The other two were satisfied with their new toys they took almost no notice at all of what Nim kept for himself including the rest of the rings.

When it was time for bed one of the girls from early managed to find her way there, and Maz guided her to his room with a wink. Well, they were certainly going to have a good night, Nim thought to himself. Azar and Nim waited until Maz was gone and then they made their way up to their rooms. “We leave tomorrow night. I wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell you both but we are ready so we should go,” Nim said softly.

Azar nodded and before turning around to her room, before she could change her mind, closed their distance and kissed him. They held each other for a moment. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to carry her to his room but he just stood there. Azar sighed and rested her forehead against his. “Then I guess this is goodbye to my prince charming,” she muttered, which just made it so much harder. Why did they have to come here? And why did they have to have this moment? “It’s ok, Commander. Tomorrow we will pretend like none of this ever happened.” She said when he never replied and she walked away from him, went to her room, and gently closed the door, only hesitating that moment longer to see if Nim was coming. When he made no move, she shut the door and he’d see her no more until the morning.

Word Count - 2406

Chapter 35 - Sacrifice

Nim cursed himself when realized his miss opportunity. He spent all night tossing and turning, half of him wanting to kick down Azar’s door and the other told him he was being stupid and just go to bed, he made his bed now he needed to lie in it. The end result was a restless sleep and waking up to the immediate feeling of irritation. Today was the day they would move out. He did tell Azar that he wanted to make his way at night but his frustration made him change his mind, they would leave as soon as he damn well pleased. Was it fair to punish them for his indecision? Absolutely not. Was he aware of that fact? Only vaguely, as he put on his armor that had been washed and polished by the elderly couple downstairs. He looked truly like a ranking official of the Persian army and he now hated that fact. He also hated that it didn’t smell like vomit, sweat, blood and seawater. Why did everything have to be so perfect when he felt the exact opposite. At least his traveling cloak still had his favorite holes. No. That was replaced too. There really was no escape for him and this time he felt trapped for a different reason. No one was making him do anything, or manipulating him now, but he just wanted to turn back time and take his decisions back. He strapped on his weapons belt and went down to the common room where Maz was waiting.

He seemed to be chipper and in great spirits. “Commander Nim, good morning!” He greeted heartily. “Never going to get tired of saying that! I hope your sleep went well!” He continued jovially. Nim wanted to ring his neck. Why did he get to have a good time, probably all night, and the only thing he had to roll around with was his regret? He certainly didn’t seem like the one in charge. His look must have been fierce because Maz backed down and mumbled something to the grandfather who just shrugged and nodded.

He sat at a table alone brooding finishing a breakfast that had already been waiting for him when Azar came down. She was also wearing her armor and cloak, which like the pair waiting for her, was cleaned and polished until even from where they sat they could see their reflection in the layers of metal decided to dissipate sword blows. Her mood was much better than his as she greeted Maz with relaxed tones. Oh, she seemed to sleep just fine, Nim growled at himself. Just be a man and not a boy and take the loss - she seemed to be fine.

Nim finished his breakfast, got up to join the others. When he sat down at the bar with the other two, Azar got up and left to busy herself with her packs. Nim cleared his throat and stared at the bar’s clean surface like it was fascinating how they got it so stain free. “She’s probably just nervous about traveling. You know, leaving family she forgot she had, it can be hard.” Maz said trying to sound casual but also feeling the awkwardness of the moment. Something clearly happened between the two of them and it wasn’t any of his business.

As much as he hated this situation, Maz was right. They all just needed some space. Their little fantasy was never going to last more than the night, but what a night it would have been. Nim raised a mug of fermented grape juice that couldn’t yet be called wine to Maz and they knocked back the rest of their drinks and got ready to leave.

“The plan,” Nim said bending over a map of the Soli and Cyprus that he purchased yesterday with Azar. He nudged away the guilt pangs he was still suffering and continued, “we will leave as soon as we can and we will land here.” He pointed to a point just south and west of point of the island that raised itself to the mainland like a lance. “There shouldn’t be any fortifications. Their defenses should be gathered at the anticipated invasion points.”

“Commander, with all due respect,” Azar’s voice was icy but her expression respectful. “The reason they aren’t going to have fortifications here is because, as we saw from the boat two days ago, it’s spine of mountains along the north. You want to climb those and then infiltrate Salamis from the north?” She seemed exceedingly incredulous at the notion. Had she really gone so soft in a day?

“That is the plan yes. So pack light. We will traverse the mountains, avoiding any passes that might be guarded and then come into the city as travelers. We will need to hide our armor. Perhaps even leave it in the boat.”

“So we are to try to cripple a whole city without protection?” Maz asked now he was doubting him. With both of his friends showing no support for the idea, he was seriously starting to second guess himself.

“I am with you, nothing will happen,” he tried to put on his most convincing voice but he faltered.

Azar’s hands slammed the table and she spat, “Like you were able to protect Kave and Bad? Where were your special healing powers when they were dying?” She then stormed out of the inn, grabbing her pack and heading in the direction of the docks.

“She…didn’t mean that, I don’t think. There was nothing we could have done. They risked their lives to save ours and we would have done the same,” Maz said gently though the damage was done. They finished packing and made their way down to the harbor, discussing more about their plans once they made it to the island. There was a better chance of being undetected if they made their way through a few towns and then to Salamis so they could develop some history with the location and a reason for being there though time was running out. They were only supposed to take a few days to make it happen and they already wasted one. They shouldn’t take too much time if they were going to do it at all. With the fractured relationship between Azar and Nim, they weren’t quite sure they were still good to go.

The duo found her at the boat checking all the equipment and making sure it was still able to make the journey. When they came around she had seemed to cool off, which Nim was thankful for. She helped them with their gear and grunted at Nim with a sharp nod. That was as good of an apology as he was every going to get from her and he was going to have to take it.

They untethered from the dock and pushed off into the sea, heading across the channel. It was quite and as far as they could see there was no one along the other coast to suspect that they were coming. The trip took most of the afternoon and the sun was setting when they ran ashore. The beach was slim and uninhabited butting up against the mountains that ran the length of the north part of the island. They dragged the boat further inland so that it wouldn’t get washed away, and stored their armor under a clothe. It wasn’t the best security but the circumstances of their infiltration changed. Then, into the woods they dashed, cutting through thick brush and steering clear of any trails that seemed to be manmade. They spent the night hiking up and then down the mountain until they came to a clearing that stretched for miles, farms and villages dotting the landscape. The first made contact with civilization but choosing to take a road winding into a village. It was heading east and south, exactly where they were bound for.

It was mid morning by they reached the first signs of life. It was a village of maybe 10 people, all one big family by the look of it, locals. They were an eclectic bunch to the Cyprians. They had never really seen a black man but the other two they paid them no notice. Nim was able to pass his experience off as a trader up from the south and being led on a tour by some of his contacts here on the island. The locals seemed to buy that. There were all sorts of people crossing the island nowadays between Paphos and Salamis. They asked for to buy a donkey for their packs as they were tired and paid well for it. In the next town they ditched their traveling cloaks for something that looked more like what the locals were wearing and by the time they made Salamis at the end of that day, they had picked up enough of the accent and perfected their story as traveling merchants, with bags to support their story, that they easily got past the guards and into the city proper.

Once inside they paid for an inn. The three of them shared a room they set out making their plans. The city was, to their frustration, better fortified than last time, it seemed between when they left their armada to now, the city caught wind of a possible invasion. They saw barricades and spike traps being set up as defenses to make it hard for the Persians to make any progress without having to remove obstructions and leave themselves open to a counter attack. They also stationed giant slings that could throw tar balls onto the ships as they got closer, it would be an issue but not impossible for the Persian army to overwhelm the city, but at great casualty. The trio, though, were running out of time on what to do about any of it. The option was still that they abort and report that Salamis cannot be taken easily. However, Nim was insistent that there might be a way to clear a path.

They continued to debate options for trying to convince people to move the obstructions to different places and keeping a record for the invasion party as to where to move their forces, but their choice was made for them as they heard an explosion. A great roar of flame as a tar ball fell into the ocean missing a ship. The Persian army had not waited for their scouts but instead decided to launch anyway. The three of them ran outside the inn as the calm that blanketed the city as they prepared whipped into chaos and frantic shouting to stop the ships.

“Don’t wear armor, he says,” Azar growled and glared at Nim. A soldier ran past them and she grabbed him, stabbing him in the throat while the men shouted for people to keep going and to destroy the Persians! Under the cover of the night and fear, Azar took off the armor the soldier was wearing and threw it on over her clothes. “This will have to do. Get yourselves suited. It’s war.” She then ran into the thick of it, not waiting for the others to follow her.

It wasn’t hard to find frantic people running this way and that to take out without being noticed. When they were reasonably outfitted, they ran to join Azar who was undoing one of the spike traps. It was slow work as the trap was a convoluted construction. Nim pointed to his finger and looked at Maz signifying the ring. With a thrust of his hand, the barricade and trap came tumbling down. Azar did not look impressed but accepted the help. It wasn’t long until people around them, as the fight drew to a silent lull, to realize that there were people messing with the blockades. They ran into an alley and then picked their targets based on how many people were paying attention. However, that all came to a head when another ball of fire lit up the sky, this time hitting a ship. They needed to take out those devices! They stopped nitpicking their way through the streets and ran as fast as they could to the water’s edge to see not one but two Persian ships set ablaze. There were three of these ballistas each firing in turn now that they got them operational.

They each had several guards to load, aim, fire, and protect the machinery. They would have to hit them in turn and work together. Nim gave the signal and Maz, sneaking along the shadowed wall that served as the mount took out the first guard and Azar pounced on the second. They made swift work of the first ballista crew that were distracted troubleshooting some kind of hitch in the mechanisms. Nim worked to cut the pulleys and levers that made the contraption work while Maz emptied the oil over the wall that was used to quickly light the tarballs. Azar kept watch. It wasn’t long though that, the first ballista failing to fire caught the attention of the other crews. Men from the other stations came to investigate what was happening.

Maz signaled he would take care of the lot of them and that Nim and Azar should go on to quickly finish the job. Azar looked apprehensive but Nim gave her a shove and they ran off into the night, hiding as the soldiers ran past them. They only heard the gutted cries of the slain as they made their way to the second.

“Maz, are you ok?” Nim asked silently, his voice projected into the younger man’s head. “I don’t feel anything wrong.”

“Nim? What?” Maz pulled his sword out of the soldier and made a face.

“I will explain later, can you join us?” He asked hurriedly as Azar and he huddled behind a column supporting the next device.

“I’m not hurt too badly. I should be able to come help,” Maz said, still sounding confused as to how the hell Nim was talking to him. “If we survive, you owe an explanation.”

“Maz is fine, we need to keep going,” Nim told Azar. He said this both as a reassurance and as a command. She looked over his shoulder at him, scowling at first but seeing the concern in his eyes, her face soften and she led the next attack. A sword in the back of one guard and Nim took out the other. However, they were ready and one of the soldiers jumped onto Azar, blades at the ready.

Nim growled and threw out his left hand as if he was going to catch something thrown at him. The man’s blades caught on something in the middle of the air, forcing him to let go and knocking him backwards onto Azar instead. She rolled out from underneath the attacker and stabbed the man with her dagger probably a few times too many but for good measure. Nim coughed blood as another soldier fell on him. He healed the sliced entry the man made and quickly kicked him off him, throwing a knife into his neck and finishing the job with a horizontal slice through the same mark. By the time they had taken out the guards Maz had caught up panting and helped to secure the second ballista. There was on more left. Nim was still coughing blood as they finally ran into a battalion of Cyprian soldiers sent to stop the sabotage.

“I got this, you get to the water and hope those medallions work how I think they might,” Nim commanded. Maz followed his order but Azar protested. “I promised I would protect you. I won’t fail you like I’ve failed the others. Now go,” Nim said.

“Commander, it’s been an honor,” Azar said, saluting Nim. She looked like she wanted to say more but he simply just nodded and mouthed the words “I know” and she was off into the night. He turned to face the army just as they started their advance.

Calling forth more magic than he ever thought possible, teeth bared, Nim launched himself forward teeth bared and his blades whirling. An explosion rocked the nearby ballista fortification, blasting through both the enemy forces and knocking Nim out completely.

Word Count - 2723

Chapter 36 - Report

The necklaces that Maz and Azar wore did indeed do what Nim had said they would. They were able to dive from the parapet of the first ballista, into the water at the moment the explosion came. Without looking back, they dove deep into the sea currents and came out on the north side of the bay undetected and anyone who saw them dive, unable to follow. Tired, exhausted, and bloodied, the duo made their way over the mountains, this time picking a well worn path on a smaller mountain and through an unguarded pass. It wasn’t long until they reached the boat with all their armor still laid across the bottom. They both were as silent as the night their other comrades died.

They were on the ocean and half way back to their rendezvous point when it was Azar who spoke up first. “We should have died with him. At this point we will die alone.”

Maz had spent half the night screaming into his head hoping that some how the noise would give him some clue as to whether his friend was still alive. He reasoned if Nim could talk to him, it should go the other way as well! However, there was no such luck. “Well you are in luck, we are apparently very difficult to kill. We might not ever have to worry about that. The only thing we can do is get back and give a report to our general.”

They fell into silence again as exhaustion finally caught up with them, not having Nim around to refresh them and fell asleep adrift at sea, they took turns waking up to make sure they were headed in the right direction but they never fully gained consciousness until they saw the war vessels crowning the horizon silhouetted by the dawn’s light.

They made it aboard and gave their report. The general nodded as they told their story. He asked about the blockades and whether they remembered the positions. Maz hunched over a map and circled all the places they encountered resistance or noted the barricades. Azar took over the story, She reported on destroying the ballistas and taking out as many of the soldiers as possible before beating a retreat thanks to the heroics of their commander. The general was very interested in the order of these events and exactly what was said and how. Once they had shared all they remembered, they were dismissed back to service on the boat while he met with some of the others.

Maz didn’t think he’d miss scrubbing a deck and repairing nets but it was busy work that took his mind off of everything that happened. Kave and Bad were dead and now Nim. He wouldn’t let Azar know, but he was half expecting to see Nim aboard alive and well like had happened in Athens the last time they thought he died.

“You know,” Azar said, accidentally pricking her finger and sucking on the wound, “I am going to miss the healer. Now I have to take care of my own cuts. I almost don’t remember how.” Maz gave her a faint half hearted chuckle and continued his work. “He…has to be alive, Maz. I don’t know what to do now if he isn’t.”

Maz couldn’t meet her gaze. His heart hurt but he would never show it. He reached into his pocket and took out the blue sapphire he was given. It was etched with symbols of Anahita. “We can pray,” he said numbly, he never knew a prayer to be worth a damn but he showed Azar the sapphire. She took her’s out too. They both closed their eyes for a moment before getting shouted that they weren’t allowed to sleep on the job.

Neither of them would admit it to the other, since neither of them particularly cared much for the gods, but they prayed to Anahita hoping against all odds that their friend was safe.

The next day the lieutenant called them both over so that the general could speak to them. “I have confirmed your heroics and your efforts have successfully allowed a tentative foothold on the island. Our forces do not have full control of the city or its surroundings, but it is stable enough that the city should be ours in a matter of days. The armada here is to set up a blockade around Paphos so that no help or supplies can come in or out of the city by ship. You have both done well in your focus and you are requested to return to Damascus for a commendation. That is all.” Azar and Maz saluted and turned to prepare to leave at once when the general stopped them, “And one more thing. Commander Nim’s body was found among the deceased. Our military had made the decision to ram the last ballista with a fireboat while your unit caused a suitable distraction. There was a miscalculation as to how big the blast would be especially with all the flammable projectiles and your commander was caught in the blast. His body has been retrieved but I do not have news as of yet as to it’s status. I would not hope for the best, if I were you. Perhaps you will hear word in Damascus. You are dismissed.”

Azar and Maz looked at each other, first excited and then, seeing the hope in each other’s eyes, their hearts fell. It was going to be a long and lonely road back to Damascus and at least they didn’t have to take a small boat back, the general was sending an envoy around Cyprus to deliver news of their progress with the blockade and allowed the pair to board the ship on their way back to the mainland. Despite all that happened, they were exceedingly glad at the prospect of never being on a boat again. Still, all along the way back, they prayed fervently for their friend, so much so that others were beginning to think they were actually religious.

Word Count - 1011

Part Seven - A Race to Rescue

Chapter 37 - Save Us All

“Nim…” A heart beat. Faint. Imperceptible. “…Nim.” The name seemed to echo into a void. “Anahita…save Nim.”

It was like a game of table tennis with the name seeming to ping off unseen surfaces.

“Anahita…” Soon the two names joined together in a cacophony - an echoing refrain of “save” and “please.”

This went on into the darkness for an eternity. A new verse joined, “Save Bahman Farhad.”

A symphony of pleas. “Nim…please…” It was the sound of Bahar bleeding out on the floor in Poura.

A woman’s scream and a thud as a man slunk against a doorframe.

Suddenly, a small flame in the darkness. It danced and surged with the cries, screams, pleas, and wails of the voices. And then…light.

Nim opened his eyes and sat up. He looked around wildly and searched for his weapons. He found the dagger he had won in Babylon at his side but no others. He was in a bed of some sort. Not just a bed but a temple. Wait, he knew where he was. A strong hand forced him down as wet cloth wiped the sweat from his body.

“We need to stop meeting like this, Nim,” the voice was warm, tender, and familiar. He blinked back a sudden swell of tears and looked over at the woman carefully taking care of him.

“Abela,” he breathed and she smiled a tense smile, one that he wasn’t sure meant she was happy he was alive. He decided to push his luck. “I’m glad to see you still haven’t chosen to chop me up and sacrifice me.” She said nothing to this except punch his wound with the wet cloth, drawing a pained moan from his lips and she stalked away. He got up and put a robe on, sheathed his dagger, following after her. He needed to get back to his ship. He needed to get back to his friends.

“I don’t know why the bothered bringing you back,” she said realizing that she was being followed. “You are just going to leave again and play soldier.” Nim shook his head he still must be exhausted. This is the second woman to be angry with him in such a short amount of time. Might as well bring Ishtar in while she was at it. Why were women always yelling at him?

“I have to go,” he said trying to explain himself. He realized it was the middle of the night and they were the only ones in the temple. “What if I explained to you.”

“Explain what?” She rounded on him and stalked over, all the world like she was going to hit him. “Explain what? I should have left you in Poura. I should have left you in Babylon. You were the first person I was charged with training. I was young, stupid and ambitious. But no. No. You were the one to leave me. I followed you across the empire. I didn’t want to. Hell, I wanted to strangle you more times than I can count. You were a dullard when I found you, and a coward in Babylon. And yet, Anahita chooses you. I don’t know what makes you so special. I don’t think I want to know what you’ve been doing since you went to play war. I thought we were a team Nim. I thought…I thought…”

She was in his face now, seething and then the slap came. It was so hard it sent him backwards both from the shock and the force. The sound echoed through the halls of the temple. He definitely deserved that.

He rubbed his cheek but soon found it only made it worse and straightened himself. He spat blood on the tiles of the sanctuary. “Anahita is bound to me,” Nim said quietly, trying to pick his words carefully. “Or I am to her. Something happens in the future that inexplicably links us. To save ourselves from Ishtar’s attack we somehow merged into a singular person. It’s…” he looked at his hands, “Hard to explain. I think it has something to do with something called the Loom of Fate. For a brief moment when I recovered, I wasn’t quite myself and I…had a conversation with the Priestess Khannah trying to get information about it.”

She crossed her arms and for a long moment looked as if she was going to come at him for round two. Instead, she sighed and said, “Ok. Fine. Let’s say that’s what happened. The Loom of Fate is a myth. The only thing I know is that the king has spent years trying to find it.” Nim gave her a knowing look. “That’s why you wanted to join the military? On the hope of what? You might be able to get attached to whatever unit he sends to retrieve it?”

Nim shrugged his shoulders. When he thought about everything he did and the gamble he took in the palace, it all seemed like a wild goose chase. “Would you believe me if I said I thought it would work?”

“I don’t doubt you thought that, but you are also an idiot,” she huffed. “You clearly still do. Else you wouldn’t be going back.”

“I have to go back because my friends probably think I’m dead,” he countered, he left out the fact that one of those friends was Azar whom…well…he didn’t quite know what they were, hell he didn’t know what any of his relationships to any of these women actually were. He really needed to sit down and have a conversation about that some day. Today, probably was not one of those days. “I have to go back to make sure they are safe,” he said, his voice soft and earnest.

“In the morning report to the barracks. They should have some sort of news. I was told to send you there as soon as you recovered,” she wrapped her arms around herself. She had spent the weeks and months they had been apart beating into any man who looked at her funny whether it was a slave, a priest, or a a client. All of her anger and frustration at her loss of control and the absence of her goddess or the next best thing, made her harder than she ever was before. Now, however, she felt weak and vulnerable, all in front of a man 6 years her junior. “I don’t want you to leave me again,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

Nim felt at the end of what he could handle. He understood her hurt. She was so fiercely devoted to her goddess and then he woke up that first time, having Anahita’s powers, she was their fiercely loyal to him. He threw all of that away and now she thinks she had a second chance. However, he didn’t ask to be brought to this temple. He didn’t ask to see her again. He just woke up and he had his own mission to accomplish. Still, he touched his side and gave it more thought. “Let’s get some rest, and in the morning, things might look different.” She at least nodded to this and to his surprise, he grabbed her hand and led her back to the bed he woke up in. She raised her eyebrows as if to say not in this world.

“At least lay down. I can give you some peace,” Nim said, his voice mirroring the fatigue he was feeling. She obeyed and he curled up around her hugging her close. An envelope of warmth encompassed both of them and Nim worked to take away all her aches and pains and fears and worries. Soon she was asleep and he followed soon after her. Giving her back what she had lost all this time, was the least he could do for her.

Abela woke up the next morning alone. She wished she had it in her to be angry but she felt so warm and protected, it was as if she could feel her goddess again. She got out of bed and told the others that Nim had felt better in the night. He had left to return to the military and she had collapsed in exhaustion. This seemed to sit well with them but there was a shared frustration that he left so soon after his recovery as if he were never a priest of their order to begin with. She didn’t really have it in her to argue and just said it was his choice what he wanted to do.

Meanwhile, Nim made his way across the city. It felt good to be back and for a moment he could almost allow himself to be pulled back to those days of cleaning the temple and learning how to heal people. That all came to a screeching halt when he came to the barracks. The guards saluted him, “Commander.” He waved for them to relax and went into find the commanding officer of the station to give a report.

He found the man and Nim gave his report of what happened and his involvement. The man seemed not to really be that interested in what he had to say but still dutifully recorded it. “Is there something the matter, sir? I just told you how we helped to secure Salamis.”

“That’s old news, Commander. The invasion was almost a month ago and we have full control of the city. Still. I have a summons for you to return to Damascus. There is mission for you, something to do with artifact retrieval.” Nim took the documents and looked over them. He couldn’t believe he was out for so long. Maz and Azar must really think he died, and who knows where they are. “You unit is still alive,” the officer said as if reading his mind. “They are currently on the same mission and you will join them.” Nim could have danced out of the barracks with as much joy that danced in his heart. Finally good news! He waited to be dismissed and then headed back to the temple to get his things.

Before he could make it back there was a woman running to him sobbing. “Nim! I found you!” It was an old woman who threw herself at his feet. He felt ashamed in that moment that his hand was already at his dagger. It was Ishtar’s mother. He bent down and helped her up.

“Tell me you worries, child,” he said by default. Tyre really made him play the part of the priest again! He wiped away her tears and holding her at an arms length, squeezed her shoulders to help calm her down.

“They…they took Yusef. They took my husband. I don’t know why? They arrested him. They gave this order from my daughter for his head,” her shaking hands produced a papyrus written, indeed, in the handwriting of Ishtar.

“I will take care of this. Please be at ease. Your husband will be returned to you,” he said and this gave her some amount of hope and again pangs of guilt struck him as he knew he made a promise he might not ever be able to keep. Still, it looked like all roads were leading to Damascus, though this order said Babylon. He was not far from the barracks and waved one of the soldiers he had met moments ago over and asked him to see the woman back to her house.

It was time to have another talk with the oracle.

He made it halfway up the stairs when Khannah herself was waiting at the top. Her face was tense as if she wanted to burst into tears but held it all in. He could not handle yet another woman crying at him and pushed passed her into her own temple. She followed hurriedly after him and when they were both inside she said, “They have Ishtar’s father.”

He blinked and his brow furrowed. “I know that. I ran into her mother. How do you know, and why do you care? I was on my way to ask you what you knew,” he said his head now hurting. Something was coming, it felt as if his mind were being split into pieces but as long as he focused now he could himself together. He felt at the ledge of the unknown, the very moment he had spent his whole life waiting for.

Khannah threw up her hands and sat down and pulled out a kind of vase. She poured a large cup and waved for him to sit down. “Listen, I’m not here for any more of your good times. We shared once and that was enough.”

“Ass. This is for me,” she hissed and downed the large bowl almost in one gulp. “I knew this day would come but I was hoping it was still a ways off.” She poured him a modest cup and refilled her bowl. He sat down slightly amused by the scene of her partaking so heavily in her own supply. Indeed, when he smelled the concoction it was the same as what she served her clients. She was definitely going through it.

“Fine,” he sat on the cushion and drank the liquid slowly. When she had consumed her second bowl she corked the vase, shoved it under the table and straightened up. “As you know. This is a temple for the god of time, Zurvan. We are a hidden order and very few even remember he is a god and fewer still know that others worship him.”

Nim nodded and waited. “Yusef, Ishtar’s father, is also a priest,” her words were slow and deliberate and looked at him as if he were supposed to know what that meant. She grunted and reached over and finished his cup. “You idiot,” she growled, and he found he was really getting tired of women calling him that. “Ok. I will spell it out.”

Again, Nim nodded and waited. “He is one of the few people who know where the loom is,” she held up her hand, already anticipating his flurry of questions. “There are 4 priests who know its location and they are scattered across the empire. No, I am not one of them but I know who they are. “This way you can’t find it without having everyone together.”

For the third time, Nim nodded and waited. She poured another drink of something different and handed to him. “Ishtar is very special. She doesn’t need all 4 people because she can see into a person’s past.” Now it was her time to fall silent and let him work the rest out himself. It took him a moment but then it hit him.

“He’s seen the loom, she knows where it is,” he said at last.

“She would see where it has been. Remember no one but the actual priests that are tasked with guarding it, know its current location. I’m in the middle of trying to get it moved again, just in case they can deduce its whereabouts.” She looked as if she was not saying something.

“What is it?”

“You know the High Priestess guarding the loom,” she said after he finished his cup of tea. “I cannot tell you more in case you get captured and the information tortured from you.” The answer was screaming at him but he couldn’t bring anything to bear.

“Where do I fit in this picture then, priestess? As you know, I’m not a priest anymore. It’s not any of my business,” Nim replied slowly. It was only a half truth, he had just promised Aliyah to bring back her husband.

“You are Anahita,” she said blankly. “If you want answers on how to restore yourself and Nim, you had better start caring a great deal. Only you can stop what’s going to happen and only by doing so will you get the answers you and Nim have sought these long years. Please. Save Yusef. Save Ishtar. Save…us all.”

Word Count - 2674

Disclaimer - King shenanigans. Viewer Discretion Advised.

Chapter 38 - Immortals

“You have done well, my son,” the king said fully satisfied at the feast. It was only a few days after he had deployed his units south to Egypt and to cause problems in Athens. The king, who normally travelled extensively with his army had decided to stay to get to know his son and this priestess better. There was a strong feeling he had that he would have great need for her.

Vash bowed, also pleased. It was about time someone was proud of him. He didn’t exactly know what he had done to make his father so jovial but he was not going to ask specifics. He was also very happy that his life with Ishtar had started so well. She was still apprehensive but he spent much of the following days after the ceremony dedicated to getting to helping her with whatever hobby she wished. Everything was at her fingertips, even him. She was the only one he was more than happy to obey.

“Bring me your wife. It’s about time she knew a real man,” he said at last licking the remnants of sauce off his fingers as if he still had an appetite. The king was a tall man, and strong, handsome even in his age. He kept a very happy and healthy harem in all of his palaces so Vash was surprised at his sudden interest in her.

It took all his strength not to show how upset he was or how low his heart dropped. He might raise his voice to a satrap, or to a general, or to a priest, but he would not go against the wishes of the king. “As you wish, my lord,” was all he could choke out with a bow.

He disappeared from his father’s room and quickly brought Ishtar, his eyes filling with tears, she saw exactly what her husband feared but also kept a brave face. She had come to love this man, even if he cheated her in the past there was still room for him to better himself. “It will be ok,” she whispered as he left her.

The door closed and she locked eyes with the king who was lounging now on his bed. “Come, I hunger,” he commanded and motioned to a bowl of grapes. Her eyes narrowed darkly, her figure swaying just the way she knew he liked. This was her first time in his chambers, but her mentor and teacher, Khannah had plenty of experience with him and she kept note. She grabbed the fruit and sat at the edge of the bed.

Artexerxes ran a finger along the nape of her neck and opened his mouth. If she had a dagger she’d slide it right down his throat. You could take her cursed dagger away from her but you couldn’t keep her bloodlust away. She slowly fed him a grape - she didn’t have much choice in the matter - it was obviously not the fruit he wanted but he ate it anyway. Her mind desperately wanted a way out of this. To have the king’s favor meant a lot to many people, she could set herself up for a life time of playing the king’s harem game, but…that wasn’t the life she wanted. She needed a way out of this without angering the most powerful man in the world.

“Does my son keep you happy?” He asked, his voice heavy in a way that made her want to wretch. He leaned in, and it took all her willpower not to either scratch him in that chiseled face or run out screaming. He kissed her shoulder and she could barely hold her grimace. Think, Ishtar, think.

“I know what you want,” she blurted out, and she didn’t really, she just needed to buy more time. This surprised him for a fraction of a moment, enough so that she could strategically put distance between them and face him. She took a deep calming breath. She needed to be careful here. He cocked his head at her as if he found her incredibly curious, like a new plaything. He tried to close the ground she found but she put his hands in his. “The loom,” she breathed, begging, pleading for this to work. “I know where it is. Or…where it was.”

He stopped then, all thoughts of whatever conquest he hoped to achieve that night meant nothing. This was the only clue he ever had to his true heart’s desire. “It is real? Are you sure, girl?” He asked, his voice carrying with it the threat of consequence should she be lying.

“Yes, it is real,” she said but it seems she said too much. Verifying it was real was enough for him to start piecing together how she knew. He was silent long moments looking at her. She took her chances and stared into his eyes watching him think through what she just said. The things she saw made her heart drop instantly. He had eliminated anyone from Babylon knowing the secret, he had already vetted them multiple times through the years. He had secretly suspected the Oracle knew, she saw that was one guess but then…

He smiled wickedly. “Your father.” His breath was fast and he nearly leapt out of his bed. She tried to deny it, tried to say it was anyone else - Vash, the Oracle, even that Priest/Warrior Nim, anyone else she could throw at him as a scapegoat. “No, no, no, no. It would be your father. Yes. It’s not my son or he’d have blurted out to the nearest person for a promotion. He certainly through that boy at my feet fast enough. It wouldn’t be the Oracle. She won’t tell me, why would she tell you? It’s not that boy either, he has certain gifts but he’s a servant of Anahita and not Zurvan. Yes, you must have a personal connection to this information if you were sitting on it for so long.” He was now clothed and walking out the chambers calling for his guards and advisors.

The sobs left in his wake echoed after him. Vash ran into the room finding his wife collapsed into the folds of her evening wear on the bed wailing. He gathered her up and rocked her whispering any gentle thing he could into her ear. When her sobs turned to heaves, then to muted sniffles into his shoulder he asked, “Tell me what happened? What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. He did nothing. But, Vash, he is going to take my father. I…I tried to get away. I just wanted to distract him but he is too smart, he figured it all out…”

The young man didn’t really understand what she was saying but continued to whisper he would fix it and that they could go together to make an appeal to his father. Everything was going to work out, he promised. This was one promise, Ishtar knew, he would not be able to keep but she wanted so desperately for things to be fixed. She wanted to believe his words with all her heart. Despite her husband being a prince, she felt a twinge of guilt as she also wished Nim were here.

The next morning, news came in a flurry. Athens had been sacked with the triumph of a small hit squad. The Temple of Athena was also caught up in the blaze thanks to the work of a healer turned soldier. Vash and Ishtar were in the audience chamber with the king when they got the news, they were there to appeal their case but got caught up in the official proceedings of the day. They looked at each other and both knew it must have been Nim. Artexerxes caught that too and seemed well pleased with himself. When it came time for their audience, though, the mood of the court had shifted away from whatever excitement the king had for the loom and was fully on war preparations - a continual and ongoing obsession he had. The campaign in Egypt was not fairing as well as his northern ambitions. Ishtar was sent from the room so that his war cabinet could convene and thoughts of her father’s imminent arrest seemed, for now, to be a thing of the past night’s evening passions.

Days turned to weeks, and the young couple slipped into a routine. They would be sent to Babylon to conduct some diplomatic business there. The war effort needed more magic and they were to pressure the Tower into complying. Vash had insisted he had ruined his reputation with the institution over his handling of his priestly duties but the powers on high decided a broken relationship was better than none and besides he was going as a prince and not as a priest. He had the authority, he was reminded, and he should act like it when they go. His wife was still a practicing priest, though because of her knew social status, she was not able to act as such for awhile. Still, they combination was valuable enough to the empire. Honestly, Ishtar was just glad to be free of the control and wished the king had chosen some other city as his base of operations.

Vash and Ishtar was on their way out when they were called to court one last time as an urgent message was delivered. The messenger handed over his report and continued for the rest to hear, “the invasion of Salamis was a success. We sent a small hit squad, three of the remaining that crippled Athens, into the city. They not only mapped out a large portion of the defenses but were able to incapacitate their ballistas to allow a landing. Under the leadership of a Commander Nim, the three of them fought gallantly and it is reported that this commander sacrificed himself for his comrades so they were able to escape and make a full report of the action.”

Ishtar let out a chamber feeling gasp and buried her face into her husband. The king waved at his son to get her out of there and his mood, hearing that the very man he was hoping to make chief of his own guard, had been presumably killed in action. The king had hoped with the military experience, coupled with his combat skills and magic, would keep him alive for an eternity - no matter, he had the loom. His mood turned from one of disappointment to one of opportunity. He still had 2 talented operatives left, among many others still busy, that have successfully done all the empire required of them. He told the messenger to report back to the theater command that he wanted to see those two personally. Perhaps all was not lost!

—————————

It would take several more weeks for Maz and Azar to make their way to Damascus. Even with the king’s summons, they were posted in odd jobs throughout their trip. First they arrived in Sidon and made straight away from trying to find any news about their commander. Failing that they were stationed there for some time as they waited for reinforcements from the Egyptian theater which rumor had it was failing spectacularly even as they saw massive successes in the north.

Maz even had some time to stalk the streets of Tyre and the various temples and more than once got told off for being in places without wanting to any kind of service or blessing. He was tempted once by a rather beautiful and shapely woman in the temple of Anahita. She was fiery though and once he stopped spending money and started asking questions about a certain African, he got a swift beating from the guards there and cast out. He returned to Sidon as empty handed as they were there.

They were the commissioned to help stand guard for a visiting dignitary. They found themselves, not for the first time, missing action and actually doing something. Finally they were ordered to Damascus, they were to follow a caravan and insure safe passage of whatever goods they were protecting. It was need to know and they didn’t need to know. When they reached the city, it felt a little like returning home. Damascus was where their lives seem to really start. They even visited the inn where they shared a meal, all 5 of them had been alive then. It was a somber moment, but they were not allowed to linger for long, only for a meal as the caravan waited in a long queue to be registered and allowed to enter the city. Once inside, Maz and Azar made their way to the palace.

It was their first time meeting the king, any royalty, and anyone more important than a Satrap. They felt horribly dirty and ill prepared for the reception. Even Azar’s grandmother could not have scrubbed them clean enough to be in the presence of such wealth. Maz just gaped and caught himself more than once entertaining a theft of valuables no one would truly actually miss. Azar though was planning their escape. There was never a moment that woman let her guard down especially what happened in Salamis. She was ultra diligent and protective, bordering on motherly, to Maz. He would not die, get lost, or suffer any hardship while she was around - he was her last surviving comrade and she would die keeping it that way.

In the end, they didn’t even get to meet the king. He had moved on to some other focus. They weren’t allowed to know even where he went. They met with one of his advisors, a high ranking military general in charge of their campaign. He conveyed the honors that the king wished to bestow upon them and the invitation to join the king’s elite guard - the immortals. Maz and Azar, stunned at the offer, jumped at the chance. It meant specialized and often covert missions - or that was their main desire - more of the hell they knew. Anything to feel normal again, without stopping to realize that their normal was not normal at all.

With their eager acceptance, even Azar salivated at the opportunity, they were given their first assignment - locate and capture an old man and bring him to Babylon for questioning. They both silently wondered why they couldn’t have been contracted to assassinate someone or blow something up again. Instead they had to go abduct an old geezer because it wasn’t something, apparently, just any guard or military could do. It wasn’t even in a foreign land. It was in Tyre of all places. On their way out Maz grumbled that they could have just told him to grab the man while he was in Tyre last but neither of them were ever ones to question the empire. Obviously there must be a real threat of resistance or that there would be a faction, or someone, who would try to stop them from delivering the package to Babylon.

Word Count - 2518

Chapter 39 - Rinse and Repeat *

The first order of business now that they were officially a part of the elite Persian unit was to get equipped. They were to report to the blacksmith to get branded both of the forearm and on the side of the ribcage as a mark of their station. Any corps in the military would recognize them by this branding as an immortal. Within this special division, they were to serve on special missions designated by the king himself.

Maz was up first and as he watched the blacksmith heat his iron, he suddenly had second thoughts on this whole endeavor. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad being thrown to his death constantly. It took Azar holding him down and threatening to gut him if he dared flinch for the smith to apply the white hot iron. To help make it tolerable for everyone else and so Maz didn’t bite of his own tongue, Azar tied a strip of leathery around his head for him to bite on. When it was finished Maz tried his hardest not to cry but the sight of the bleeding bruised mess that was his arm and side left him on the very cusp of wailing.

Azar handled it much better than Maz. In fact when he pressed the iron to her flesh she told him he needed to press harder and constantly chastised him for being weak and slow. At one point she told him that her own grandmother could do a better job than he did. She didn’t even whimper through the pain for the heat. Instead, she just glared at Maz all but calling him a coward for his antics.

Their next stop was the armory. With their promotion they gained access to an extra room filled with magical artifacts as well as light weight armor that could be worn over peasant clothing, helping Immortals go undetected and protected. The armor was flexible and form fitting, a property, they were told by the armorer, of the magic they possessed. Maz grumbled that he thought his old armor would have been good enough. To this the man equipping them took one of the large swords in his collections and, quicker than he seemed capable of, gave Maz a good hard thwack. Maz doubled over wheezing, the breath knocked out of his chest but other than that no other damage. As he stood up he checked himself and the armor and there wasn’t even a scratch. He blinked and looked at the man. The armor could take a certain amount of damage before it ceased being effective. Most none magical weapons wouldn’t bother it but magical artifacts could quickly overwhelm it’s protection.

Azar put her’s own next and decided she didn’t need a demonstration. She was pleasantly surprised though at it’s flexibility. She didn’t need to wrap herself to reap the benefits of the protection. The armor was only ever made with men in mind since they made up the overwhelming majority of the fighting force, however, this armor could be worn easily by either sex. Maz could have sworn she seemed a little bit less grouchier and a little more relaxed than she normally was.

Now that they had their armor and branding, it was time for the thing they were both excited about - weapons. Maz took a spear that poisoned anything it penetrated, and a sword that never dulled. Azar took a set of throwing knives that never missed their mark, a sword similar to Maz and a very wicked looking dagger that the armorer used gloves to hand to her and recommended she never wield the weapon unaided. He said it was cursed and just the presence of the blade was enough to make the hair on the back of everyone’s neck stand up. He also gave her a special sheath and gloves for handling it. Maz wasn’t sure what Azar wanted with such a polluted artifact, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

The pair stayed in Damascus for the rest of the day. It was a long journey ahead, neither of them had ever been to Babylon or travelled east of Damascus before. They spent the rest of the day separated, rendezvousing in the morning to set off on their trip. Damascus was Maz’s hometown, so he visited some of his old haunts and reminded some of his old flames that he was still alive and kicking. He thought showing off his brand might get him lucky that evening, which it did on multiple occasions. Maz was always one to turn any situation into a favorable one.

Azar climbed to the top of one of the higher buildings in the city overlooking the night sky. No doubt Maz, as he was likely to do, was out enjoying himself but Azar preferred to sit and think. She thought about Kave and their days training together. He was the strong and silent time, most of all she liked that last quality best. Rare to find men who just knew how to shut up. She thought about Badak and how opposite he was. She didn’t get to know him very well but he was the little brother of the group and gone far too young and far too soon. He would have been one hell of an Immortal. Give him a few years and he would have bested anyone with a blade.

Then there was Nim. She regretted now, staring at the stars, all the hateful things she told him and how it was one the last things she ever said to him. In fact, it was those words, she believed, that led to him sacrificing himself for them. And, everything that happened in Soli…she shook her head. So many tragic moments in such a short amount of time. War was brutal but you had to be stronger to survive. The morning was coming early there was no more time to think about what should have been.

The duo were off in the morning after a good breakfast. Azar wanted to leave before first light but Maz had not returned to the inn overnight and didn’t see what the rush was for. Their ambition was to get to Tyre in a single day, not impossible but the trip was comfortably done planning to stop for a night or two depending on company and conditions. With a pair of fast well rested horses, they could reasonably make the trip in 8-10 hours. As long as they made it by nightfall, then they could spend the evening doing recon and planning the best way to handle the situation.

The trip went as smooth as could be expected. It was Azar that needed to rest a little longer during a break as she had not had a restful sleep. Thoughts of a certain African kept her up like a ghost. Maz was happy to oblige. Unlike his partner, he was well rested but he was also not eager to get back work. They made it to Tyre by nightfall and decided to stay at an inn, as was their habit, outside the city. Azar insisted on them sharing a room to make planning their next moves more convenient and once they had their horses stabled, the pair split up. Maz’s job was to recon their target’s house and Azar was to scout out various routes out of the city should they find any resistance. Who would resists Immortals doing their job? Well, they were too new to understand what power and authority they now held, safer was always better. If they had the time they might as well use it.

Maz made his way along the seashore, the road ran along the short bluff that ran along the beachfront. Keeping the sea to his left, he strolled along trying to be as casual as possible. He must not have been doing a great job of playing it cool as some people looked at him. Were they enemies? Civilians? Wait, why was this all so easy? He looked around and he didn’t see any fortifications or checkpoints. He had to remember he wasn’t actually in enemy territory.

Running a mission on friendly land felt wrong to him in away. Everyone looked like an enemy to him but no one caused him any trouble. He took a turn up the lane that had the house they were supposed to hit, expecting to see armed guards as if it were the house of some general. Instead it was silent and the house had no fire, the owners must be asleep. Maz crept across the threshold, again expecting some sort of rigged alarm system. And again, nothing. The door even was of simple construction, he could probably have shouldered it open easily. Instead of doing just that, he left and scurried back the way he came, still expecting there to be someone chasing him, he kept a firm hand on the hilt of his sword until he was back at the inn. He kept asking himself, why send immortals to make a simple arrest.

Azar, on the other hand, combing the streets for anything that looked like resistance, found herself in the temple district - a long street with various temples on either side. No just the temple street, but her feet carried her to a specific temple with blue and purple drapery and trappings of the religion. She had, much to her own surprise, ended up in front of the Temple of Anahita. She was about to enter when she heard two voices arguing. She ducked behind a pillar and her heart soared. She recognized one of the voices! He was alive! However, the feeling didn’t last long as she listened in on the conversation.

“Ok. Fine. Let’s say that’s what happened. The Loom of Fate is a myth. The only thing I know is that the king has spent years trying to find it.” The woman was saying. Azar didn’t really understand what a loom was or why anyone would want it but her heart dropped with what the woman said next, “That’s why you wanted to join the military? On the hope of what? You might be able to get attached to whatever unit he sends to retrieve it?”

It was not uncommon to have priests intertwined with the military. They often joined battles to perform blessings and they even constructed makeshift alters for sacrifices to their gods. It was peculiar to have one leave their order to join the ranks of the military to fight. Was this all just a means to an end for Nim? Did it really mean nothing that their comrades died? She thought she wanted more than anything for him to be alive, but now she wished she could be the one to kill him. She felt used and discarded. However, perhaps this woman had the wrong idea. She waited, praying to whatever god that he would deny such an accusation.

“Would you believe me if I said I thought it would work?” She wanted to rush in and scream at him, shove a dagger right in his throat. So they were all just pawns in whatever religious game he was playing. She stalked away, even as upset as she was she would not attack a priest in their own temple. The next time their paths crossed. He was a dead man. The irony tasted sweet that two women with two cursed daggers wanted him dead only this time, this woman wouldn’t miss.

By the time Maz made it back to the inn, Azar was already on her 3rd or 4th round of whatever it was she was having. When she saw him, she didn’t have the heart to tell him anything about what she saw so she kept quiet and buried herself in the bottom of whatever piss they were serving. Maz, though, wanted to report his findings and figure out what had gotten into his partner. He realized he wasn’t getting anything out of her and dragged her up the stairs to their room. By the time he flopped her onto her mat, she was fast asleep.

The next morning they had walked their horses into the city, along the road Maz took the night before. He was constantly looking over his shoulder waiting for enemy combatants to jump them. Azar repeatedly reminded him that they weren’t in enemy territory and to keep calm. It didn’t seem to help and Azar had to admit that she didn’t know why they were sent to make a simple arrest. Whatever the reason, this person must be important or the king must need it to be secret.

They rounded the corner and headed up the incline to where the house was. It looked inconspicuous enough, simple and unassuming. Azar knocked on the door and a man came opened. “Are you Yusef? Is there anyone else inside?” Maz shouldered his way inside to clear the house and when he came out he shoved the man outside. He stumbled forward and a strong hand on his chest prevented him from falling. Azar let him go when he found his footing.

“By order of the king, you are under arrest. Come with us quietly and calmly or we will make you,” Azar’s voice was hard, but her eyes told a different story. Maz looked at her as if she were crazy, but she didn’t have it in her to force the man to comply, he reminded her of her grandfather and she would never lay hands on him. Maz caught the expression in her eyes and put two and two together, after all he also benefited from her grandfather’s kindness.

“I am an innocent man. I have done nothing wrong!” Yusef protested but did not fight against them as they walked to the horses. Maz tied his hands together in front of him. The man stood tall, finding some dignity within himself, determination set in his eyes, “But if the king wants to see me, I will go.”

“Oh,” Azar said as she tied his hands to her saddle with a long rope. “You aren’t going to the king.” Yusef blinked wildly and looked at them both in confusion. “We are ordered to bring you to Babylon.” The color drained from the old man’s face and he struggled now against his bonds. A swift hand to the back of his neck, knocked him out and he fell in a heap. Azar hoisted him onto the horse and secured him.

“What are you doing? That’s my husband!” A voice screamed from behind them. They turned around and a little old woman had dropped her basket of food wailing and running as fast as her legs could take her. Maz made the decision he didn’t want to deal with this, so he mounted his horse and kicked him into action, Azar followed after him and they left the woman begging them to stop in the streets behind them.

Their first step was to get to Damascus. They had never been further east than that city so the safest and most sure way to get to Babylon was to attach themselves to a caravan. When they arrived at the city gate there was one headed out. The soldiers were excited to offer to transport their prisoner with theirs in exchange for the added protection of having Immortals in their ranks. The civilians though didn’t pay them much mind as Azar and Maz were in local clothes. The caravan was made up of young families and the elderly, merchants and their guards as well as the soldiers with their prisoners.

The trip went well but it was far longer than either of them had anticipated. It take nearly a full two weeks traveling along the might Tigries and Euphrates rivers. If they had been more perceptive the amount of provisions they brought would have been their first clue to the length of the travel. It also took longer as they made frequent stops along the villages and towns that dotted the area. It wasn’t all bad though, they area was green and lush with all manner of vegetation that they had never seen before. By the end of the two weeks, Yusef was allowed to walk untethered and proved to be quiet useful to everyone around him.

It all came to a head though as they crested the final hill overlooking the city of Babylon. It caught everyone’s breath and it was an imagine no one in the caravan would forget as the sun set and decorated the brilliant city in a glow of warmth. The two week vacation that the trip felt like though came to a screeching halt as they duo were reminded of why they took the journey to begin with. They rebound Yusef, slung him on a horse, and broke with the caravan, heading into the city first. Their brands allowed them to pass through a smaller gate beside the immaculate main gate of Babylon.

They made their way directly to the heavily fortified prison at the heart of the military district. There was no possible way that Yusef would make an escape and as it was already approaching evening, they figured they would present their prisoner to the tower in the morning. Until then there was some sight seeing they wanted to do. They made their way to their first stop which of course, was the city center to gawk at the towers. So enthralled were they that they didn’t notice another couple until after Maz ran into them. It was a young man and a woman. Maz glared at them and Azar snapped as she walked past, “Watch where you are walking, fools.” Without stopping for a confrontation they disappeared back into he crowd.

Word Count - 2971

* (A joke because I had to write this chapter 3 times because my app kept crashing)

Chapter 40 - Nim to the Rescue

Vash and Ishtar spent much of their own trip to Babylon in silence. With the royal procession that they travelled with they entered Babylon only a few days before Maz, Azar, and Yusef. There were a few nights were they felt like their old selves. Ishtar had made the trip to Tyre with Nim and now she made the reverse with Vash. It gave her a lot of time to reconsider her actions and what led her to this point.

Had she not signed that contract with Esfandiar, she never would have gotten that dagger. Had she never had that dagger, she never would have stabbed Nim. Had she never stabbed Nim, she never would have needed to marry Vash. Her life would have been immeasurably different had she made different choices. Still there was something in her heart that told her, nearly showing her, a different world, a different time, where things were what she wanted them to be. That only made accepting her currently lot in life that much harder.

Vash though was incredibly comforting, patient, and accommodating. As far as princes and royalty go, he wasn’t all that bad. He clearly loved her and clearly tried to make up for the myriad of missteps he always took to lead them to where they were. If only everything was the right way around and not like this.

Their goals, however, were to help oversea a diplomatic riff that was growing between the Satrapy. Vash had experience with the leaders in question who agreed to meet in Babylon for talks. Since his mother, Abnātu made herself someone of importance, it was her idea to have Vash oversee the proceedings. No matter how far away he was, he never could escape her influence. She always had her hand in everything he did in some form or another.

This all changed though when the arrived at the palace. They barely finished the parade and all the pomp when a messenger arrived as they were getting settled into their accommodations. With a flourish and a bow the man announced, “The rebel Yusef of Tyre has been apprehended and is to be sent to the Tower for questioning by the High Priest Esfandiar of Ahura Mazda.”

The rest of those in attendance went about business as usual, but Ishtar heard none of it. The king actually did it. She hoped against all odds he would be busy with other conquests and would forget about her father. It never occurred to the naive girl that that was what an elite royal guard was for - carrying out orders while you did other things. When she could, she hurried Vash into an empty room.

“We have to do something. We have to rescue my father,” her voice was panicked near hysterical and she cried against her husband as he held her tight. “We have to.”

“Not here. We can’t talk about this here. We should still have a few days we can make some sort of plan,” he whispered. “But first I have to get through these meetings.” He stopped for a moment and then added, thinking quickly, “My mother. She owns property north of the city near the Tower. Go there and wait for me. We will make a plan when I can come to you.” His mother of course would not want to play errand woman so he flagged down a passing servant to accompany his wife to the lodgings he suggested.

Ishtar had a vague remembrance of the place. She hadn’t recalled ever spending time there, but knew it existed. There was a large shop that sold all manners of rugs and drapery used to decorate homes and business. Above was a spacious living quarters that served as Vash’s mother’s home while he was in school. It had a long center table and Ishtar had the servant put the books and scrolls she had acquired from the library in the palace on the table and then leave her. Unrolling a map of the city, Ishtar marked where the tower was, the prison, and the main gate. She really didn’t know what else she was looking for but decided to try to read as much information as she could on the loom while she waited for her husband to come to her.

Vash came later in the afternoon and paused when he saw the table full of various tablets and documents. Ishtar quickly got him up to speed, though he stopped her to ask, “There is something you are not telling me though.”

Ishtar paused to consider this and fell silent. “What aren’t you telling me? Why does your father know anything this loom the king is after.”

She took a deep breath and lead him over to one of the cushions. She had been dreading this talk and wasn’t sure how much she trusted him. What he was asking would put his father in further danger and Vash was very good at leveraging information for his own gain. He sensed her hesitation and waited, deciding that pushing might confirm whatever suspicion she had of him.

“My father is a priest of Zurvan,” she said at last. “As I am and so is the Oracle of Tyre. There are very few of us it seems.” She held up her hand to let her finish, “no, he’s not a dead god. The king wants my father because he believes he knows where the loom is. That is only half right. My father…” She paused meaningfully. She still wasn’t sure she could disclose more than what Artexerxes only deduced. “…is one of the guardians of the loom. He has seen it. He does not know where it currently is but each of the guardians are given a clue or a hint that together, identifies the current location of the artifact. If Artexerxes gets his hands on this he will have control over all of history, past, present, and future. We…can’t let him get his hands on it. We have to save my father.” Now she was spiraling and the only thing keeping her from losing control was Vash holding her tight.

They were still for long moments as they both tried to figure out this puzzle. “You know as much as your father does, I assume?” He said finally. When she nodded, he continued, “We can go to Esfandiar and perhaps we can trade the information you have for his freedom?”

She shook her head, she had already considered this angle, “My father is labeled a traitor. Even with the information, they will not allow him to go free. I do not think we have enough leverage. If we knew the location of the loom or had it in our possession, that might buy his freedom but sort of that I don’t think we have a chance.”

Vash grunted in frustration. She was right but he was hoping that the thought would bring more ideas to the table. “We have a few days before your father arrives, perhaps we can figure out where the loom actually is in that time. What is it that your father knows that could identify the current location?”

They had finally arrived at the very piece of information that, as a priest of Zurvan, she couldn’t give unless it was absolutely necessary. “I can’t tell you that. At least not now. So far nothing here makes sense. It’s almost as if what he is to say is meant from a specific person. It means absolutely nothing to me.”

Again a noise of irritation, Vash tried to at least convince her to give him at least part of it or some of it or what type of clue it was but she seemed stubbornly resistant even if it was enough to free her father. He shook his head and got up to look at the books his wife had accrued. They would need more information then. Over the next several days, Ishtar spent most of her time in that house and Vash split his time between his duties at court and bringing Ishtar more resources. They were running out of time.

“Watch where you are going, fool!” Vash shook himself out of his reverie. He was lacking sleep and exhausted by it was finally the time to make their move. Ishtar thought she might have enough to convince Esfandiar she knew more than she was letting on. She didn’t have the location but she was hoping it was enough that he didn’t know she didn’t have it. Vash was about to chase down the man who accosted him but Ishtar held him back and reminded him of their primary mission.

They walked into the Tower and past the usual gaggle of desperate begging priests of the foreign gods. They didn’t even spend time with the lower gods and one they got to the 4th level, Hercules and Korinna tried to stop them. “We need to talk to you,” Korinna said, reluctant as if the pair of them were bad luck incarnate.

“We are only here to see Esfandiar. It is empire business. Do not dare get in my way,” Vash said, his nerves that he had the audacity to speak to High Priests in such a manner meant he said all this a little too loud.

Korinna snorted and Hercules put his hands up defensively, “Seriously, come with us. You will want to hear what we have to say.” Deciding that he did not want to hear what they had to say, for fear that his resolve would melt away, they shouldered past them and up the stairs to confront Esfandiar.

When they made it to the top of the tower, Vash expected that Esfandiar would be in his study meditating again but he was already waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Apparently he was expecting them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, your highness?” The old priest said, his voice casual, feigning ignorance. Ishtar wanted to strangle the man and dangle him off the tower to make him beg for his life. There were so many scenarios that played in her head at that moment but Vash stepped in front of her.

“We have come with information you might find useful,” Vash started, it was according to a plan they had made they already knew was doomed to failure.

“And the price for this information, young prince?” Esfandiar was obviously toying with them. Ishtar looked into his eyes, she would know what it was he was hiding. He was dying. The priest had fallen sick of the last few months and spent his free time torturing souls for any information regarding the loom. He was going to use it for his own means.

“Vash, he’s sick,” she whispered to him and then out loud, “It’s a pity you tried to have the one person who could heal you killed.”

“It’s a pity you fail, girl,” he snapped back. “I would have the power to do it myself before I relied on that trash to heal me.” He seemed to be caught off guard by the defiance the pair displayed. “It does not matter now. I will have what you know.”

“We will tell you but you have to let her father go,” Vash said and before he could even get the thought out, the old croon was laughing maniacally.

“How about this, deal, your majesty,” his smile wicked, “I will give you to options. One: You don’t tell me what you know, and I torture it out of both of you and then I torture that foolish priest of Zurvan in the prison now just for fun. Two: You tell me what you know, and I will make sure all of you have a swift and painless death.” Esfandiar raised his hand to do his time honored trick of throwing someone off a balcony but the echoing of footsteps from the stairwell gave him pause.

“I prefer the third option,” called the familiar voice, it seemed to echo around the temple. Ishtar and Vash looked behind them clearly relieved that they might very well have an ace up the sleeve they didn’t even consider. Nim was alive! He was here!

Word Count - 2047