The Call of Crows

Chapter 2: Death on the Dunes

Shahla stood in the throne room of her palace, her eyes wide with shock.

The steel of scimitars glinted in the dim torchlight as the city outside was ablaze with the destruction of siege warfare.

Her breath was frozen in her lungs, her legs paralyzed. Shahla reached down, touching the silver, gem-adorned curved dagger that was the only item on her person that had been given to her by her Bedouin family.

"Arhab..." her voice trembled. "Why?"

The advisor she'd come to know and value as a friend stood behind the men with scimitars, unable to meet her eyes. He stood with over half of her husband's court behind him.

"I am sorry, princess," Arhab muttered. "But Prince Ahmed was bound to meet this fate eventually. If we go to Prince Ali and show our disloyalty to his brother...he might spare the city."

"Ali is a puppet of the Nikan," Shahla choked up, panic overwhelming her senses. "You know this. They won't spare us."

"We have to try, Princess," Arhab said. "For the sake of our people. I was hoping you would understand that, but...I suppose you Bedouins aren't to be blamed when you have ever only needed to look after your tribe. Nations are different, Shahla. We must make sacrifices to save our people. Now either come with us or we'll have to subdue you the hard way."

"Y-you wouldn't..." Shahla barely whispered.

"I would, Princess. I'd do anything to end this war." Arhab signaled his men to advance.

Nothing but the noise of whistling wind was noticed as throwing knives sank into the necks of the men closest to her.

Shahla wanted to scream, but couldn't will her voice to cry out as shadows dropped from the ceiling and plunged their blades into the defectors.

Chaos erupted in the throne room as cloaked men and women clashed with the traitors. The Asasiyun had come to rescue her. But she could only watch in horror at the slaughter before her.

A firm hand gripped her shoulder. She looked up at Najeem Al-Iqbal with trembling eyes. He was an Asasiyun of tall stature, his black turban wrapped around his face to obscure his features.

"Come, princess. The enemy has breached the walls," her bodyguard said. "We need to leave."

Shahla didn't get the chance to respond before Najeem took her by the arm and dragged her away from the fighting. They slipped out the back entrance of the throne room and exited into one of the palace's many winding hallways.

An arrow whizzed past the both of them, Shahla's heart seizing in her chest.

"The next one won't be a warning shot, Hashashin!" a palace guard knocked another arrow in his bow. He was backed by two other men with spears. "Hand over the princess!"

Najeem gritted his teeth, "Can't even get the name right."

The Asasiyun leapt into the air, twisting himself while in flight and drawing a scimitar from his hip. Shahla whirled around, as he took down his opponents.

Najeem cut off the tip of one spear, thrusting his blade through the wielder's throat before turning and throwing the broken spear tip into the other's ribs. He grabbed his blade slashed at the archer with lethality.

It was over in an instant.

"The splinter faction spreads wider than we could've anticipated, princess," Najeem muttered, cleaning the blood off his blade. "We must flee south to the Al-Kubra desert."

Practically dragged by the much faster Asasiyun, Shahla made her way through the dimly lit palace halls and down a staircase she hadn't even noticed existed, exiting into the palace kitchens.