Scheherazade and the King Ch. 09

Yanamari's hand was on the door when she heard a creak from behind her. She turned around to see the door fluttering on its hinges at a slight breath of air.

She thought of the family, their bones left to bleach in the sun... She laid the sack of food on the table and walked outside. She looked around the garden for a spade but, when she could not find one, she dug with her bare hands. It did not take long for her to excavate a hole big enough for the family's remains.

But, when it came time to place the bones in the shallow grave, she found she could not. Something that felt like instinct held her hands back.

My people do not belong in the ground.

A thousand reasons why she should not return to the beach immediately presented themselves at the forefront of her mind but she was following her heart, not her head. With sudden resolve, she got to her feet and went back inside the house, dumping the food she had collected across the table. She found a piece of clothing from each member of the family to wrap around their rotting skulls and carefully moved them from the spikes into the linen bag. She did not cringe as she slung the bag of bones over her shoulder. By the grace of all the gods she knew, she would deliver them to the great beyond.

She made once more to leave the house and that was when she saw it: The light spilling in from the ajar door had caught a scrap of grey fabric in its glow. She walked over and picked it up slowly. She had seen that shade before. Recently, in fact. It was the same colour that the Irlazken soldiers wore.

Yanamari shook her head: No, no... What crimes could a peasant family like this have committed?

Still, she pocketed the fabric as she pushed through the door.

She made her way back along the meandering footpath, past the grove of gurbitz trees with their crimson fruits, and down to the sea once again.

It was hard to imagine that the waves that brought her ashore could have calmed so much in just a few hours. Though white peaks still adorned the cresting waves, the ocean that stretched beyond her now was a shadow of the mighty force that had torn the Raja to pieces the night before.

She walked out into the ocean and placed the bundle in the water, whispering a prayer under her breath.

"Bury me 'neath the flashing waves,

That guard my island deep,

And let my spirit wander still,

And let my soul never sleep,

Till the mountains raise my land to me,

And the stars fall from the sky,

For my heart is with Irlazken,

And, by the grace of all the gods above, so am I."

She did not know where the words came from, nor not if they would have meant anything to the people she was burying, but they sounded right.

Yanamari let the bundle of bones go and watched as it sank and rolled away from her into the shadowy depths of the ocean. For a moment, she simply stood in the sea, feeling the cold water course around her legs and fingers.

How can such a threatening force feel like home?

She sighed and began wading back through the breakers to shore. She would make her way back to the cottage to gather the food stores she had left behind and —

"Halt!"

The command stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face the sounding voice and spotted an Irlazken soldier on horseback several paces down the beach.

Without a moment's more hesitation, she began to run. Her feet sent sand and surf flying up behind her as she sprinted for the staircase in the cliff. But the horse was faster still and she had only just reached the steps when a hand caught her arm.

She twisted away violently but instead of loosing his grip, the soldier tumbled off his horse and they both went headlong into the sand. Yanamari clawed at the ground as she scrambled to her feet but the soldier grabbed her ankle and yanked her back to the ground. She rolled onto her back and flung a kick at his head. The soldier grunted but his helmet did its job. Yanamari growled in frustration and kicked at the beach instead, sending sand flying into his eyes. The soldier cried out and instinctively let her go. She was on her feet in a moment, only to see another five mounted soldiers charging across the beach. Yanamari cursed under her breath and swung her boot into the soldier's stomach, knocking the wind from him. She sprinted back towards the staircase and began to climb. Below her, something knocked against the stones and clattered to the ground. Then another and another until one at last found its mark in the soft earth and stuck. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the arrow quivering just inches from her head. She turned around slowly. The soldiers on horseback had reached the base of the cliff and their arrows were drawn.

"Surrender — or this one goes through your heart!" One of the soldiers roared.

Yanamari held her head high: "I don't think your king would be very pleased if it did."

"And why's that?" The sneering reply came.

"Because I am the girl you are searching for."

The men glanced at each other, their bows slackening ever so slightly.

"Be that as it may, I needn't kill you to slow you down and if my hand is forced you'll be the only one to regret it. So surrender and come peacefully."

Yanamari hesitated for a moment but she knew he was right. They would have to be the worst archers on Earth to miss her at such a close range and she did not much relish the thought of an arrow through her leg.

She climbed down slowly and allowed the soldier to tie her wrists behind her back. He pulled her onto the back of his horse and they rode down the beach until they came to a horse towing a carriage with small, barred windows.

They loaded her into the cell and bolted the heavy, wooden door shut. The carriage rocked into motion and Yanamari stumbled, crashing against the side of the cell.

"Fuck," she murmured, sinking to the floor. She rested her head against the wooden siding and cursed again.

Against all fucking odds I made it here. Just to be captured because I —

But she could not complete the thought. Her courage rallied and her heart swelled. She had delivered that family to the great beyond with dignity. If nothing else, she had done that. Perhaps they would thank her when she reached the great beyond herself.

Now that I am in Ekaitz' hands, it should not be long now.

But she was not ready to surrender just yet. She stretched her fingers and felt around the bindings until she found the knot. For miles and miles as the carriage jostled along, she focused solely on picking the knot apart. Finally she felt it loosen and she lifted her freed wrists into the air.

"Yes!"

At her exclamation, the carriage jolted to a sudden halt. The colour drained from Yanamari's face and she quickly looped the rope around her wrists and held them behind her in case the soldiers came to check on her.

But all at once a commotion sounded outside the carriage: She could hear men shouting, the sound of steel crashing as swords met. Arrows fell with a thud against the wood of her prison and frantic brays came from the panicked horses. They were under attack.

At the same moment she realised what was happening, the carriage lurched forward. She pressed herself against the wooden siding but there was nothing to hold onto. She felt the floor pitch unnaturally beneath her and suddenly the carriage tumbled onto its side. Yanamari cried out as she was sent flying. Rocks and dust came flying in through the narrow openings until the carriage finally ground to a halt.

Yanamari crawled towards the door and pounded her fists against the wood.

"Help! Please, somebody help me!"

She heard footsteps and the jangling of keys before the door was wrenched open and two pairs of hands reached inside to haul her out.

A masked figure stood before her and two more clung to her arms.

"Who are you?" The masked warrior barked.

A woman's voice.

"I — I am not telling you who I am until I know who you are and what you are to Ekaitz." Yanamari replied with more bravado than she felt.

The warrior seemed amused: "You're not from around here, are you?"

She stepped back and then commanded: "Bring her."

A bag went over Yanamari's head and, with a firm grip on each arm, she was hauled to her feet and lead on in darkness.

For miles and miles they seemed to travel. Yanamari could feel the landscape changing beneath her boots — soft grass now, forest leaves crunching beneath them another moment, loose rocks testing her ankles the next — and she was mightily grateful not to be barefoot.

As she settled in to the steady rhythm of the march, her adrenaline began to fade. All at once her exhaustion caught up with her, taking hold of her limbs and rendering them to lead. Her step faltered and, were it not for the firm hands on her arms, she would have lost her balance completely.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I have not had anything to eat aside from some berries."

"It is not much further," came a voice to her right. Another woman.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Quiet!" The voice of the first warrior she had spoken to came from ahead.

Grudgingly, she obliged.

Time passed in silence until the hands on her arms pulled her to a halt. Voices whispered just beyond her earshot and then she heard the grating sound of a large rock moving out of place. She was led inside what must be a cave or a tunnel — the air around her was suddenly damp and cold. The stone rolled back behind them and the darkness she was shrouded in grew darker still. All at once, someone pulled the bag from her head. She blinked as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. For there was indeed light... the walls of the tunnel were glowing a faint blue.

Yanamari recalled all at once the tale of Mo and Noor and laughed in spite of herself.

"What's so funny?" The warrior ahead of her snapped over her shoulder.

"Are you Qadir then, and these your forty thieves?

A yellow glow appeared at the end of the tunnel and the warrior shrugged.

"It's been an age since I've heard that tale. But we might as well be."

They stepped out from the gloom of the tunnel into the warm glow of a bonfire. Shadowy figures pooled around the hearth, their voices seeming to echo. It took her a few moments to realise why — they were inside some sort of cavern. Towering manmade columns intermingled with nature's own architecture, stretching deep into the void. Some of the women were eating while others focused on sharpening the tips of spears and arrows. Yanamari could see the metal glinting in the firelight.

The warrior who had been speaking to her commanded silence by her very presence and the women quieted as she walked past them, leading Yanamari towards the fire.

Yanamari studied the faces of the women as her captors pulled her closer towards the light. The women were all of different ages and races but they each wore their hair long and braided with shells, bones, beads, flowers, and feathers. And each had a single coin dangling from an ear or braided into their hair — just as she did. They eyed her with the same amount of suspicion and curiosity that she was certain her own face was betraying.

Finally, the women flanking her stopped and pushed her to her knees. The warrior ahead of them pulled off her mask to reveal dark skin and amber eyes that bore such an uncanny resemblance to Shariyar's that Yanamari had to steel herself from shuddering under their molten gaze.

"Who are you?" Yanamari asked again.

"I will ask the questions," the woman said.

"Then ask."

"Why were you being held by the king's men?"

"That I will not tell you until you answer my question: Who you are and what you are to Ekaitz?"

"Why are you so concerned with Ekaitz?"

"He wants to see me dead."

"Then we have that in common," the warrior said, a wry smile twisting her lips.

"What quarrel do you have against the crown?"

"Only that it currently sits upon the head of a tyrant. You ask who we are — we are the doan jende. Rebels. Traitors. Outlaws. Our mission is to see that false king knocked from his throne."

"The doan jende —" Yanamari chose what she said next carefully: "I have heard the rumours of how Ekaitz gained his power."

"And why do such rumours concern you? Who are you? Why do you wear the uniform of a Persian?"

"I was a prisoner aboard the ship that was wrecked last night."

"Which ship?"

"The Raja. She was a Persian vessel."

"What were you doing aboard that ship?"

"I was a prisoner."

"Why? What did you do?"

"I betrayed my country."

"Persia?"

"Irlazken. Three Irlazken ships of war accompanied the Raja... but if they made it to shore safely, I know not."

"Three?"

"Yes."

"For you? You must be one hell of a prize, girl."

Yanamari's eyes narrowed.

"If you are hoping to fetch a ransom for me then know that I would sooner die than be held by Ekaitz."

"Do you have a name?"

Yanamari's jaw steeled slightly as she tried to weigh the consequences of telling the truth against those of lying.

Finally, she said: "Yanamari."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

The cinder-eyed woman glanced around and then chuckled: "The collective memory of a people is a strange thing. It is funny how little it takes to convince a people to forget their own history and the ties that once used to bind them together. It was not that long ago that Princess Yanamari was kidnapped from the very palace we are now sheltering beneath. But, in the years since Ekaitz claimed the throne, he has rewritten history with rope and sword. Now Yanamari is known as a traitor instead of the princess who sacrificed herself for the good of her kingdom."

"I do not know if I am her. My memories before five years ago are lost. I remember waking up a captive of the same pirate who kidnapped the princess. But he never called me by my name. When he abandoned me to the desert, I had neither speech nor sight. Those senses were returned to me by Daarkan magic, as improbable as it may seem."

"Magic is not so improbable to us. If you are an Irlazken woman, then magic is in you too. If you are our queen, then magic is your birthright."

"I can only tell you what I know," Yanamari said. "But I have been told that my name is Yanamari. I heard the pirate speak of a man named Mikolas who I am told is my father... and that he is dead now, at the hands of Ekaitz, as is my sister. Perhaps none of this is true. Perhaps I am just another captive of pirate but I feel that I know this land."

"So they caught you when you washed ashore?"

"No, I escaped at first but then I came across a murdered family and I — I had to take them back."

"Back to the sea?"

"Yes. I do not remember the ways of this land. I hope I did the right thing."

The murmur of ascent that whispered through the crowd of women confirmed her decision.

The woman smiled: "It was always said that Yanamari was a root-worker."

"What?"

"A healer and deliverer of those beyond saving."

"Do you know why were they murdered?"

"Ekaitz's soldiers make examples of those who cannot pay their taxes," came a voice from the crowd.

"Even children?"

"Just so."

Yanamari's brow knitted in anger.

"You know that we cannot trust you. Not on your word alone. For all we know you could be a spy for Ekaitz."

Yanamari nodded solemnly and then her eyes widened: "One of the Irlazken captains... He said he was working for the resistance. He gave me a map to find you. I do not know if he survived the wreck."

"His name?"

Yanamari hesitated, wondering for a moment if revealing his name could do the soldier harm.

As if reading her thoughts, the warrior said: "If he is a friend of ours, you can speak his name without fear."

"Deunoro."

The woman's lips softened into a slight smile and she nodded: "A true ally to our cause. If there is any justice in the world, he has survived the storm."

"What did you do with the map?" She asked after a beat.

"I destroyed it."

The warrior smiled: "Well done."

"Then he told the truth?"

"He did. And now we know that you do also."