Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 26

"The maiden charms the beast," I teased Amina, fondling her from behind as Arslan trotted past uncharacteristically gently. "How did you do it?"

"As I tamed this one," she nudged me with an elbow.

My dark mantled monstrosity of a warhorse tossed his head sideways, bleating abruptly, his fang-like front teeth snapping as he cleared the way beneath the canopy of leaves. I did not know where Amina was taking me, but I was glad to have survived the wild goose chase in one piece.

I had been surprised, intimidated even, to find Amina here in the middle of nowhere. So deep into enemy territory. After all, I had left her back on Muslim shores before we set off for our botched attempt at a siege.

"Not that I don't appreciate your coming," I began once we had escaped the Romans.

"Don't flatter yourself, you weren't that good," she goaded me with a suggestive side-eye.

"Charming," I scoffed. "As I was saying. I appreciate you jumped by in time to save my skin, but...how are you here?"

How? The question sent a shiver down my spine, though I had an inkling to what the answer was.

She paused for a long moment before responding, masterfully keeping the ever unruly Arslan at bay and on course.

"I am a woman of the gods," Amina finally replied, her voice low again. There was a hint of irrevocability to it that suggested she would not entertain any other theories.

Magic, I kept to myself, remembering the day she had blown on a knot back in Crete. My army had met its demise not too long later. What I had left afterward were scraps; my force a mere husk of what it had once been. And now, after this wretched storm sent by the gods to taunt me in their life long quest to batter me to a million disintegrated shards, I had nothing left.

My son...

But no. I would not let them win. The immortal bastards saw fit to toy with me since I was in my cradle. I would never give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken. Not after all I've been through. Not after all I've lost. Not after all the pain, the agony. The momentary glory and triumph that made it all worth it.

And al-Khalidun...

They were working in collaboration with the foul deities of the heavens. They all wanted to destroy me. To see me, the great Hanthalah ibn Ka'b, huddled over and defeated at last, bowing to them and begging for mercy.

But one thing they did not take into account was who I am.

I was Hanthalah ibn Ka'b. I saw tribes die gushing, I trampled nations beneath heel, I swam in knee-high pools of enemy blood and tears.

And Hanthalah ibn Ka'b submits to no man. Hanthalah ibn Ka'b does not recognize any superior, however divine they may be.

Fuck you, Hubal, and your entire pantheon, I thought, as Arslan finally trotted to a halt in a remote clearing some miles north of Finike. It was nestled between heavily wooded terrain, resting at the foot of a looming mountain above, towering over even the sun. The latter was only half-visible past the peaks, sending a plethora of different hues raining down over us.

And at the center of it was the last thing I expected to see.

A friend.

I hopped off my saddle, darting to the poorly erected encampment. My brother Mundhir looked up from his feet, his eyes wide and his appearance beyond disheveled.