The water rippled gently as Yahya stepped into the pool. His kaftan floated behind him, reflecting an ebony crescent. Khaya turned around, unsure of what was about to happen. It was easier if she didn't know, that way she wouldn't be able to fight his magic. He drew close enough that she had to turn her chin up to look at him, and despite the frigid water at their feet, the air between them bubbled with warmth.
Her eyes followed his hand as it rose to her face, and he hesitated before letting his fingers brush against the edge of her veil.
"Breathe," he said, "whatever happens, breathe."
He pressed his thumb into her forehead, and let his magic flow into her. Khaya's eyes were wide with terror as she gasped for air, but in the blink of an eye it was over, and she collapsed into unconsciousness. Yahya caught her, nearly stumbling from the dead weight, and lowered her gently into the water.
"Go," he said to Tahir, "I'll stay with her."
The ensuing silence was suffocating, but for Khaya's shallow, laborious breaths.
All he could do now was wait.
X
Darkness, everywhere.
It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe. Water, everywhere.
Whatever happens, breathe.
There was a faint glimmer of light above, the last remnants of a purple red dusk.
Pain and fear, fear of not knowing where she was, fear of drowning, dying. It fuelled her.
Breathe.
Limbs heavy as stone, Khaya thrashed and flailed her legs like a dying fish, clawing upwards to the surface like a hungry, feral dog.
The light grew brighter, twinkling and rippling like a mirage. Almost...
The water burst open when she surfaced, head whipping back, lungs gasping for air. Her veil was soaked through and half unravelled, so she pulled it off.
She was still in the courtyard, but the sky was dim and the Barmakis were gone. She paddled inelegantly to the edge of the water and pulled herself out.
How did it get so deep?
It was quiet. Too quiet for this place to still be in the palace. She was supposed to be fighting the spirit, but where was it?
"Emir Yahya? Commander Tahir?" she raised her voice, eyes darting left and right for signs of life or movement.
Khaya squeezed the water out of her hair and stripped out of her drenched qamis. She scanned the courtyard once more, this time looking for a weapon to defend herself with. Suddenly, she discerned the outline of a sword floating up through the pool. Without a second thought she reached for it.
Something whizzed past her ear, and she spun around to see Yahya standing there, bowstring pulled taut.
"Yahya?!"
He released the arrow, nearly grazing her cheek.
"What are you doing?!" She resisted the urge to curse as she watched him string the next arrow and aim it at her head. The fact that she was standing there half naked was the least of her concerns.
I am not going to die.
She sprinted for the pillars, but he was too fast, and the arrowhead tore through the air like lightning splitting the sky. Khaya screamed and brought her arms up to shield her face.
Every fibre in her being was begging for life the moment the arrow struck.
A chink of metal, and it clattered to the ground. Khaya opened her eyes, whirled with adrenaline and confusion. On her forearms were strapped a pair of gleaming steel vambraces.
...But they weren't there a second ago.
She whipped her head up and scrutinised Yahya.
The eyes...
His eyes were hewn from crystal, and she realised it was not Yahya at all, but some demonic wraith wearing his form.
I am not going to die.
As soon as the thought surfaced in her mind, Yahya â the wraith â lowered his bow, and reached for the sword strapped across his back. As his fingers closed around the hilt, his facade melted away like water to reveal another, familiar face.
Princess Rayta, sword drawn, eyes lifeless, lunged for her unarmed opponent. Khaya braced herself, and Rayta's blade clanged against her vambraces with a blood-chilling reverberation. The force threw her backwards, but she scrambled to her feet in a heartbeat and charged in the opposite direction, back into the shelter of the palace halls. She ran without looking back, she could feel the presence of the spirit like a storm, turning the air thick and heavy with anticipation. The hallways were a blur of colour and emptiness, the thundering of her feet echoing against the marble. Every sinew in her body was begging for rest, but she pushed on, the clawing aura of the wraith growing ever closer.
Khaya couldn't run forever.
She spotted Rayta over her shoulder, a fair distance away.
I need a weapon, something...
She thought of the vambraces, how they had appeared as if from thin air. How had it happened?
She skid to a halt, almost tripping over her own feet, and turned to face her adversary. Rayta was rushing towards her, sword brandished, crystalline eyes reflecting the sunlight streaming through the open archways of the arcade they stood in. Khaya held her fist out and squared her shoulders, trying to push down the fear rising in her blood.
I need to kill her, she thought, I need to live. Give me something, give me life.
As the princess raised her sword to cut her down, a crossbow materialised in the grip of her closed fingers, and without a second thought Khaya squeezed the trigger. The bolt pierced the air with a vicious crack, and the recoil jerked Khaya's shoulder painfully. The bolt had buried itself in Rayta's heart, and she lay on the ground.
There was no blood, no sound of pain or suffering.
Khaya massaged her sore shoulder and took a tentative step towards the fallen princess. She stirred, and to Khaya's horror pulled out the arrow like it was nothing more than a clump of lint besmirching her blouse. By the time the demon had risen to its feet, it was no longer Rayta who faced her.
Rehan closed the space between them in two strides, Khaya was scarcely able to turn around before he snaked his arms around her torso and crushed her against him. The familiar scent of sandalwood and smoke filled her senses, and jolted her.
It's not him.
"No! Let me go!" Khaya screamed and struggled against the wraith, panicking as a hand closed around her neck. She pulled at its hands, jerked her body this way and that, but it was too strong. Every muscle in her body was struggling, teardrops swelled at the corners of her eyelids as she let out a final, choked cry.
Spots filled the edge of her vision, and within the blur or pain, breathlessness, and blindness, she felt her fingers close around the hilt of a dagger. She squeezed her eyes shut and tears streaked her face.
I am not going to die.
With her last ounce of strength she thrust the dagger into the wraith over her shoulder. The arms around her slackened and she fell to the ground in a heap. Her vision cleared to see the dagger buried in Rehan's cheek, the momentary horror subsided as the illusion fell away in a pool of gold dust.
Khaya lay still, filling her lungs with deep breaths.
No more, please.
No more.
Something shifted in the pile of luminous dust, crumbling and solidifying into small, shimmering scales. The serpent uncoiled itself and raised its head, casting a long shadow onto Khaya's face. Faint whispers began to rise around her and thicken the air. She looked right into the snake's watery eyes.
"What are you?" She asked, still laying prone on the cold marble floor.
I have no name.
The words echoed in her head, like the serpent's voice was connected to her mind.
"Are you my friend or enemy?"
Neither. I am simply here.
Khaya sat up slowly, keeping her eyes on the jinn. "What do you want from me?"
To survive, a jinn needs a living vessel.
"...Why me? Why did you choose me?" Her chest tightened. Part of her didn't want to know the answer.
I wanted the boy, the boy was strong. If the host is not strong, they will die. But you... you got in the way.
"The boy?" She frowned. "My brother. You wanted my brother."
The snake that bit her in Jorash... she did not even know how long ago that was. She could have died, not from poison, but from the overwhelming power of the jinn inside her.
But she didn't.
Suddenly, Khaya was no longer afraid. She reached out a tentative hand, and the snake, the jinn, leaned towards it. She was strong. She had survived the snake bite, the desert, the Nizaris, and now this.
The jinn's scales were smooth and cool to the touch, its eyes glistened and sparkled.
And then it was gone.
X
Yahya peeled his eyes open. An hour had passed since Khaya fell into the meditative state, and the sun was burning high in the sky. He rose from his cross-legged position and approached her silent form. Her cheeks were ashen with cold despite the noon heat, but her pulse was still strong in her neck. A sigh of relief escaped him.
Seeing as she wasn't dead, she must have succeeded.
He swept her into his arms and lay her gently onto a mat. Towels and blankets and tea had been brought out to help her warm up and recover. He wrapped her in a cocoon of fabrics, while her shivers grew from minute bristling to violent wracking.
She blinked her eyes open to the sound of steaming water being poured from a jug. Spicy notes of cardamom, ginger, and cloves wafted through the air and curled around her like a pair of loving, familiar arms.
"Are you alright?" Yahya's low voice startled her. He came up behind her holding two gilded tea cups, and she took one gratefully. The hot drink warmed her chest, and the blazing sun lifted the water from her soaked garments.
"I think I won."
Yahya hid his smile behind the rim of his cup. "Well done."
"Now what happens? And where is Commander Tahir?" She craned her neck to survey the courtyard.
"Now you train, you learn how to exist like this." Yahya pulled out something from his robes, a tarnished silver necklace with hanging sapphires along its length. "Wear this, don't take it off unless you absolutely must."
Khaya raised a brow, but did not ask any questions.
She knew that now nothing would be the same. Her life wasn't her own anymore.
It never would be again.
X
I have decided to call the desert spirits 'jinn' from now on! I'll be editing everything when I finish the story. It's going to get more into the action now!