Daughter of Sand

Prologue

The hooded man paces, muttering in a tongue that is all-too familiar to his captive. She knows that he is cursing her; he is cursing her by all the gods he serves. Ishar, the god of death, Aresh, the goddess of blood, Kasiq, the god of pain, and above all, Tza, the god of assassins. As these names and more pass his lips,  she doesn't even have the energy to mingle her own curses with his.

Tonight is the night she dies.

 Not even bothering to shift to relieve the agony in her wrists from the shackles that force her hands above her head, she watches him. The ooze of blood and sweat dripping from her body are of minor concern to her. No, her focus is on him.

Without warning, he strides forward and backhands her across the face, his signet ring scoring deep into her cheek.

"Where is she?!" He roars the syllables in the same tongue as before, his patience clearly wearing thin. Wearily, she spits the blood from her mouth, not making eye contact. Fingers like iron grip her chin, and her head is forced toward him. As he trembles in rage, she can feel his hot breath on her face, and realizes again: tonight is the night she dies. Squeezing cruelly, he glares into her unusual, pale eyes. "Hala Al-Kaddam, I have not released you from my service yet. I am still your master. You are oathbound to me, I command you to tell me where she is."

Without breaking eye contact, she utters four English words.

"That's not my name." 

He releases his grip on her, disgusted with who she has become in the years since he had known her and trained her, since she had been one of his faithful assassins.

Since he had loved her.

In the light of a single torch, flickering from its place on the wall, she can just see the outline of his form.

"My name is Deborah." 

He slaps her again, her blood spattering a nearby wall.

"You will tell me where our daughter is, if you wish to live to see her again."

Her chuckle catches on the blood pooling in her throat and mouth, and comes out as more of a hacking cough than a laugh. She spits again.

"Our daughter... our daughter is safe. Safe... from you. You will never find her. I will never let you make a monster out of my child. My life is a cheap trade for her protection."

The man's pent-up fury is finally fully released, as he kicks and punches the almost-limp body hanging from the chains. She swings slightly, unable to exert the effort to even try to defend herself. Again and again he strikes at her, her body screaming from the pain. As he finally pauses, she summons her strength, and spits her blood and saliva into his face. Hissing rabidly, he pulls a wickedly gleaming knife from his belt. Deborah smiles and closes her eyes.

Tonight is the night she dies.