Zarina’s green eyes blazed in fury. No, it was righteous wrath.
“You dared break a sacred promise, one you swore to uphold upon penalty of death, Hamed? How could you sell your vow for a mere handful of dirhams?” she demanded to know.
Hamed held himself very still, fearing that any sudden movement on his part would invite the death blow. Zarina was ready to strike him down, yes, but he reasoned that since she hadn’t done so yet, it might mean a reprieve for him.
“Habibti,” he implored her, calling her ‘beloved’ in a pathetic attempt to dampen her anger, “I had no choice. I owe too many debtors, the worst one being Saleh. You know what a dog that one is when it comes to money.”
“Then why borrow from him in the first place?” Zarina spat at Hamed. “I’ll hear no excuses, Hamed. You revealed the location of the silver platter to that foreigner. If the sandstorm hadn’t forced him to take shelter with Abu Haroon, he’d probably have stolen the League’s most prized possession!” Zarina shouted at the cringing man.
“Min fadlik, Zarina. Please forgive me, for God’s sake!” Hamed pleaded, knowing his life was as good as over.
Suddenly, Hamed made a mad dash for the cave entrance, hoping to flee his fate. He made it as far as four steps before he was forcefully jerked back by Zarina’s whip as it encircled him. The doomed man landed heavily on his back, his breath expelled explosively from his lungs.
“Hold, Zarina!” a newcomer commanded the Warrior Princess as she was about to impale Hamed on her scimitar. Looking up from the recumbent man, Zarina met the baleful black glare of Zuhayr, the Warrior League chieftain.
Hamed groaned in relief at his stay of execution. Then he wailed in pure misery when he saw Zuhayr looming over him.
“Death is too merciful for this traitor,” Zuhayr declared. “I’ll take personal pleasure in reminding him why we have such a fearsome reputation before his soul departs for Jehannum,” he added, grabbing Hamed by the collar and hauling him to his feet. “Hell will soon welcome you, scum!”
“As you wish, emir,” Zarina said and stepped back to allow Zuhayr to drag Hamed further into the caves, towards the catacombs that also served as torture chamber. As the two disappeared into the enveloping gloom, Zarina instinctively decided to follow them. Reaching the turn in the passage leading to the crypts, she stopped on impulse when she heard urgent whispering coming from ahead.
“Stupid dog! Why didn’t you get the silver platter out of the tent and meet the ajnabi elsewhere? You’ve ruined all my plans!” Zuhayr whispered harshly, reverting to the Arabic word for ‘foreigner’ in his wrath.
“Emir, your pardon. I tried to do so, but the sandstorm hit!”
“Leave now! Find a hole to hide in so deeply that Zarina will never find you. I’ll meet the foreigner myself.”
Zarina, her blood boiling, rounded the corner with murder in her heart. Quicker than the blink of an eye, she uncurled her whip to wrap it tightly around Zuhayr, effectively locking his arms to his sides.
The second Hamed had caught sight of the vengeful Zarina, he had scrambled like a scurrying rat further into the welcoming warren of tunnels that meandered throughout the caves, making good his escape.
“You’re no leader! You would barter away a mystical tribal heirloom for a handful of coins? Shame on you!”
Zarina hurled her words at Zuhayr like darts dipped in undeniable truth, not waiting for him to defend himself. Zuhayr stood stock still, his swarthy features having turned pale in fury. His hate-filled eyes glared balefully at Zarina.
“You dare attack me?” he asked, each word clipped and distinct. “You’ve far exceeded your privileges this time, Princess. Your royal lineage will not save you from the repercussions,” he threatened.
Zarina’s full lips turned up into an amused smile, as she knew Zuhayr was only bluffing to save his treacherous skin.
“I don’t fear you nor your empty threats, Zuhayr. Your duplicitous nature has finally revealed itself, something I’ve always been suspicious of. We’ll leave judgment up to the Tribal Circle, and once we’ve recaptured Hamed, your fate will be a foregone conclusion.”
Behind the princess, two men clad in black robes that billowed about them as they ran into the passage stopped in their tracks when they beheld the scene. One of the men, taller than Zarina and built like a massive, muscled bull shouted an order. “Release the Emir, girl! I won’t ask again.”
“And I won’t wait for you to ask a second time, Ali!” Zarina responded, swiftly hurling her belt knife with deadly accuracy at Ali. The blade entered his chest just below his heart, eliciting a bellow of pain from him as he tumbled to the floor. The second man charged Zarina like a maddened beast, diving at her full-tilt, causing Zuhayr, Zarina and himself to tumble to the ground. The three downed warriors separated themselves, two of them immediately taking up a stance to face the third. Zarina knew her chances of survival had just slimmed to nearly zero.
Zuhayr barked out a triumphant laugh. “How fast the tables have turned, Princess. Shall we negotiate the terms of your surrender, or shall I just separate your lovely head from your shoulders?” Zuhayr asked, immensely confident that he had gained the advantage.
His joy lasted all of two minutes, for suddenly the passage was inundated by the rest of the warriors who were all rallying to the aid of their Princess. Twenty Warriors yelling a war cry fell upon Zuhayr and his two men like locusts descending upon an unprotected field of grain.
In short order, they disarmed and tied up the traitors, then waited for Zarina’s instructions.
“Take them to the Tribal Circle! We will end this matter right now,” Zarina ordered. Her Warriors spared not a second, but instantly frog-marched their captives to the upper levels of the caves where the Tribal Circle had their chambers.
“Soon, Zuhayr, you’ll wish you had never let money blind you to the only thing that matters to a Desert Warrior, but I guess it’s one thing you lack in abundance. Honour,” Zarina remarked.
Image: Daniel Lincoln (www.unsplash.com)
