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RUBAIYAH'S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN and she felt a wave of ache and exhaustion course through her body, all of it suddenly focusing in the front of her head as though a hot iron stamp was being pressed upon her skin there, as though she was but a camel being branded by her owner. She stirred and a groan escaped her lips, her hand raising to touch her forehead as if touching would instantly make the pain go away—or perhaps she was merely making sure there was not indeed a hot iron being held against her forehead at all. Her gaze strengthened when she found nothing but the heat of her own pulsating forehead beneath her fingertips, and her eyes saw the underside of a dark roof beneath which she lay.

Sensations became more known to her slowly, as if each coming forwards one by one and making their introductions to her. The ground upon which she lay, was moving and jolting. It was a rickety wooden surface underneath her, and she could sense the big wheels holding the surface up, rolling on the true uneven ground and striking against an odd stone here and there as the whole contraption jolted.

There was no fully open side, and she was immersed in a darkness only illuminated by a slight ray of sunlight pouring in through a tear in the thick cloth that was covering the entrance of the.. caravan, she was in. She couldn't sense which direction she was going in, for the sound of the wheels against the ground was hard in her ears, as well as the sound of hooves of.. horses, she fathomed, for only horses would be moving this fast. Horses or donkeys, because cows and camels did not very much display the same haste as the one she was presently feeling.

There must be riders as well, if she was alone in this caravan storage, riders must be leading the horses. But.. where?

It came to her with sudden force then as a wheel of the caravan hit a bigger stone and the whole thing jumped an inch or two off the ground, making her gasp as she lost her balance.

It was then that she felt the chains on her ankles. She sat up and reached for the chains with her hands in panic. They were thick iron chains, and they were attached firmly to a hook at a corner of the caravan, making sure she was joined to the contraption—slaved to it.

She was being taken to Hegra, was she not? She remembered with growing anxiety. She had been lured in by a peasant boy, to whose mother the capturer might've promised food and pennies in exchange for the aid. She remembered the strong hand at her neck, choking her until she saw darkness engulf her. She remembered.. going out to the marketplace with Akbar before that. She remembered her clothing being recognized, everything the seller had said that had terrified her. She remembered the stranger.. Ahud? That was his name, was it not? He had said even more terrifying things about her past. Ruba remembered all of it clearly. Then she had run away from him, and when she was being lured in by the peasant boy, she had had a vision of being saved alongside a little boy from off a street in the aftermath of a hoard of incoming riders by an attractive dark man with half his face covered—the very same man she had often seen in her recurring dream along with that girl in blue screaming at her.

There had been spoken sentences too that she had remembered, hadn't she? A snippet of a conversation she had had with this dark stranger—savior, but Rubaiyah couldn't remember the words again no matter how hard she tried. She remembered only the intense look in her saviour's ebony eyes—pools of coursing dark swirling with an intrigue and.. desire? As he had looked at her in that vision.

She couldn't any longer classify that as a vision, for she had well and truly been in that scene. She had been taken back almost—an experience akin to a momentary reversal in time, much different than seeing things in her dreams. She had embodied a moment in her past, and though that moment did not align at all with anything Ahud had told her of her past, she could not dismiss all his spoken words entirely for how could you ever expect someone else to recall for you every single bit of your own life?

That dark attractive stranger who had saved her in that memory, the very same one who had called her farashat rayiea in her recurring dream—he could very well be the rayis Ahud had spoken about. The conqueror, usurper, leader of the kind of thugs that Ahud too appeared to be. But at the same time, that dark man could very well not be any of those things. Allah, how could she even begin to be clear? All her beliefs and thoughts were rebellious wisps of luster in a witch's potion bottle, battling each other but never settling.

She let out a frustrated exhale, her heart constricting in her chest as she yanked at her chained feet, hearing the clatter of the iron chains. She was trapped again. Not her body—for yes it too was trapped, but her mind. She had thought her mind had caved in and would agree to tell her things. Hadn't it felt willing enough in that last moment? It had felt as though she had found a fissure and the gap was widening, but that had been before she had been strangled to oblivion and her resolve had completely eviscerated in lieu of her limp senses and body.

Anger coursed through her and tears prickled at her eyes at the realization. She was trapped again, and the fissure in the mind had closed. She hadn't even gotten a proper chance to reach inside the segway that had been offered to her—the slit that had opened up, and now it was all sealed as though a fresh wound that had scabbed over.

Rubaiyah lifted herself on her knees and reached for the wall that she supposed the riders were seated with their back against. She chose the opposite wall to the cloth wall, for the ting tear had now shown her the direction the vehicle was moving in, the scene of the road she was upon was receding backwards—being left behind.

Her first instinct had been to tear the cloth wall entirely and spill out onto the road, letting the caravan go on ahead while she collapsed on the ground—the injuries sustained going to hell. But the chains around her ankles were not lengthy, and bound her tight to the opposite corner, so even if she managed to tear the cloth wall, she wouldn't be able to escape and would instead dangle half in and half out—perhaps killing herself brutally.

She reached for the wall of the caravan where she supposed the riders were seated and banged her fists desperately on the wooden separation, crying to be let out, but her voice—and the commotion of her fists—caused no sound that wasn't drowned out by the intensity of the speed of the caravan as it struck against the uneven road, stubborn stones and potholes.

Ruba tried again and again, screaming, begging to be let out, but the speed of the caravan did not falter and she fell back on her hips when the vehicle jolted again, the chain at her ankles tugging at her and not letting her wander farther off.

She composed herself, brought her knees up to her chin, and could not do anything to stifle the sobs that erupted from between her lips and neither could she staunch the tears that cascaded down her cheeks.

Her shoulders shook as she cried, sudden terror almost choking her. Akbar—Allah, the dwarf must be looking for her! And Khairunnisa Sayida? What would she make of Rubaiyah's disappearance? Would she think Ruba merely abandoned them after taking advantage of the family's food and board and their hospitality? And Ferhat Khayyi? What would he think? He had saved her life—his act greater than the dark man's act of saving her from off a street, for had not the latter thing been only a vision she could not even properly recall again? So indeed, with her past life alien to her, Ferhat Khayyi's act remained the most significant thing she had ever experienced. She owed him her life, and she simply could not bear to have him feel that she had taken advantage of his efforts.

Her hand went up to the thick Greek carved ring she wore as a pendant around her neck, the ring tucked against her skin under her dress as she pulled it out.

The ring! Allah, she could've—should've—asked Ahud about it. Perhaps he had known it, or would've been able to at least recognize it from somewhere. Perhaps if his spoken words and recollections about her past were lies, he would've fumbled upon being shown the ring? Perhaps he would've said something more.. concrete, that would've actually resonated with her? Or even something that would've properly convinced her that she was being made a fool.

She tried to detain the overwhelming regret of forgetting to show the man the ring, the disdain of not knowing tugging at her heart. How could she have not remembered to show him? Allah, she could've even asked him to tell her her birth name! If he was a truthful man, he would've given her her name in less than a second had she only asked.

She shut her eyes, trying not to be angry with herself and curse herself for her stupid mistake.

Rubaiyah swallowed thickly then, finding that her throat hurt in the midst of the act—a reminder of how she had been strangled. She wondered if there were reddened finger marks on her skin, and as she touched her neck, she found her skin to burn and prickle, lined with indentations—indicating that there were marks left.

She wiped at her tears, trying to think more of her present. There was no use at being terrified that she had lost her chance to clutch at the seams her mind had offered her as memories, and there was no use being afraid of the predicament she was presently in.

One thing was certain at least. Ruba was being taken to the city of Hegra, which, if the stranger she had met in the Thāj marketplace—Ahud—was to be believed, was her home city.

She recalled more of what Ahud had said, half scared that perhaps none of that too would come to her again, but thankfully, it all did.

The governor of Hegra was her patron, and he had sent her to Agrabah to perform at the royal wedding. Then after she had gone missing, he had hung four women in the city square to draw her out. That was the gist of it. Ahud had also said that the governor intended to use Ruba as an asset against the rayis, maybe that was why he had resorted to violence to drag her out when she hadn't come back of her own accord.

But could not a patron—her patron—want her present for just the sake of it? She earned money by performing for his clients, didn't she not? She was a reasonably talented court dancer—if she was a famous one as Ahud had claimed. So why then must it be assumed that the governor intended to use her as only a weapon or a shield or even strings to control a marionette—the rayis—with? How could she carry so much weightage for a man such as the rayis?

But the truth of that was in front of Ruba, she realized solemnly. If the governor—her patron—wanted her present because of her work, monetary value and for respectable reasons, he would not have sent a man to strangle her, chain her in a caravan and drag her to Hegra. He would not have hung four innocent women in the city square.

Ruba shut her eyes. Who had those four women been to her? Her mother? A sister? An aunt? Neighbors? Tears struck her eyes then, she couldn't remember having any such relations for her heart recognized no such love, so had their deaths been for naught?

No, she thought defiantly. Perhaps, it was better that they died before seeing Ruba in this state. Who in the world would ever bear a loved one forgetting them entirely? Who in the world would ever continue loving a person who knew nothing of their love and life anymore? Perhaps it was better that those women couldn't see Rubaiyah in this state of hers—with her mind a blank mess.

She shut her eyes and tried to resign herself to her fate, for there was nothing else to do. She could hope that the governor would be kinder, but that was not a possibility considering his actions that Ahud had told her of. If the worst came to worst, the governor—as a result of a possible hate for the rayis—would have her immediately killed, or, to save himself from the rayis' retribution and keep her for bargaining purposes, he would have her imprisoned.

The only thing was, in her heart of heart, she still could not fathom that someone loved her or cared for her so much that another man would be compelled to use her as that person's weakness—the rayis' weakness.

Rubaiyah could not even imagine herself to be so loved that it endangered governor's reigns on their cities. The whole notion of it was.. shocking. Had she loved this person—the rayis—even a fraction of that love back? Had she reciprocated even a tiniest bit? She could not remember, she could not understand if she had.

She shut her eyes tight, tears wrecking her again. She missed Akbar desperately—his guidance, his firmness, his calm explanations. She missed Khairunnisa Sayida—her boundless scientific knowledge, her opinions on scholarly matters. Ruba missed Ferhat—his brief words of authority, his kindness to her, his care for her, and she even missed Ghaliyah's detached and dismissive remarks.

Rubaiyah missed their familiarity so much, because they were truly the only family she knew.

Suddenly then, as she let out a defeated exhale, the cloth covering the opposite end of the caravan was torn through cleanly—by a sharp blade—and a figure jumped in noiselessly, ducking himself into a ball from the streamlined projection initially employed use of, before landing softly on fours onto the space right beside where Ruba was chained.

She let out a gasp and tried to shrink herself away, but her panic instantly subsided when she saw the familiar face.

It was Ahud. The stranger from the marketplace. The thug from the band of the infamous rayis.

He tucked his dagger—the silver hilted and unique one the seller from Thāj had so fantasized about—into a leather scabbard at his belt, and raised the palms of his hands, his eyes wide with caution and his demeanor equally cautious but calm.

"Sayidati," He spoke, his voice a careful whisper.

The riders—drivers—of the caravan did not know of the intruder, and it was likely that he had instantly torn into the back of the vehicle from the side of the road—having hidden behind a roadside tree or a bush. The intrusion—even in Ruba's perception—had been so quick and noiseless that had she blinked, she would've missed it, and then the shock of opening her eyes and finding Ahud just crouching beside her would've rendered her unconscious. So it was no wonder that the caravan drivers—men of the governor of Hegra—had seen nothing.

"It is alright," Ahud uttered. "I have come to help you. I will take you away from here."

"That man, he—," Rubaiyah tried, her heart desperately pounding in her chest. "He said he was taking me to the governor—in Hegra."

"Yes, sayidati," Ahud managed, "If the governor manages to get his hands on you, it will not bode well for the rayis."

Ruba shut her eyes and shook her head anxiously. She had not yet allowed most of what Ahud had told her before to register inside of her completely like a slab of stone might bear scratching of words and sentences, so her frustration was fear was entangled like webs of a spider's silk.

Ahud touched the chains at her feet, and traced them to the hook. He reached for something in his belt, and retrieved something heavy with which he started hitting at the hook to break it. The hook was a thick iron thing—a ring encased half into the wood of the caravan, through which the thick chains were looped. Ahud was timing his hits with the jolts the caravan took, so that the noise could be muffled and would not stand out. But there was no way he would be able to make either the iron of the hook, or the iron of the chains, to give in with the rate of his present hitting.

The hits needed to be harder and faster, which meant more noise, and the drivers getting suspicious.

Ahud realized that, and before Rubaiyah could protest, he abandoned the hook and started hitting furiously at the chains to break them, and the noise of the hefty marble thing he carried clashing against the iron was clear, loud and indistinguishable.

"I tried to find Yunis, sayidati, when I saw you being abducted," Ahud uttered in the midst of his efforts. "But that bastard could not be found. I left him a message in the place we were staying at, as quickly as I could. If he finds the message he will come. I hope he does."

Ruba couldn't answer in her panic, for the chains were not close to breaking and the noise was too much.

It was then that the caravan halted on the road, and the riders jumped down on the gravel, making their way round to the back.

"Damn it," Ahud muttered, abandoning his task and bringing out his dagger as he turned to face the incoming men.

"Stay back, sayidati," He cautioned, taking on a fighting stance as he neared the torn entrance, through which Ruba could see the sandy and deserted road the caravan was upon.

"And while you wait, please pray that Yunis comes to his fucking senses because I'll strangle him myself one day on account of the fact that he's never there when I have need of him."

Rubaiyah could not help the certain elation that she felt inside of her at Ahud's confidence and his unique playfulness on the subject of his cousin. But she knew that he was disguising his fear that this escape might not prevail because his partner was not here alongside—perhaps this was the first time Ahud was being made to do something of this sort by himself and there were doubts in his heart that he was trying to stifle. It was his sudden human-ness that struck Ruba, making him appear more than just a thug and a mysterious figure who carried some details of her past on his tongue.

She remembered suddenly that Ahud had told her he couldn't go back to the rayis without her. Not he and not his cousin. Both of them were in self exile because they did not want to face their rayis without bringing Rubaiyah along. She had been their task and they had failed at it. As a result, the two of them had been estranged from their band—friends, thugs, compatriots—for such a while. Ruba felt guilt strike at her heart for being the cause of it. And now, Ahud would face enemies all alone, shoulder-to-shoulder with none of his friends and nor even his cousin.

Ruba grieved for him, feeling hurt that a loneliness not much different from her own should inflict upon someone else.

There were two men who appeared, drawing swords to face Ahud, their white trousers billowing like giant balloons as they prepared themselves in a battle stance. They were both staunch, thick men, with oily faces and stout physiques—sporting scraggly beards and vile expressions of anger on their faces. Rubaiyah recognized the one to the left of the pair, he had been the one to strangle her and tell her that he was taking her to the governor in Hegra. He had even apologized for it, though Ruba doubted such an apology could be considered one at all.

Ahud jumped out of the caravan to fight them on the road, not wanting them to attack in Rubaiyah's close vicinity lest she got hurt.

Ruba felt her heart rise up in her throat, terrified and afraid for Ahud more than herself.

The fighting commenced instantly, and in a cloud of dust, Ahud was upon the two men. Rubaiyah saw that he was now armed with two of the silver-hilted daggers—each in one hand. His movements were sharp and swift as he parried and slashed, his opponents countering with a big sword each. He was the younger of the men, as Ruba had realized when she met him in the marketplace, Ahud seemed merely less than three years younger than herself, and Akbar had claimed Ruba was no more than twenty five. The men Ahud was facing were clearly years upon years his elder, with grey streaks in their beards and their thick skins protruding with ale and food underneath than any hard muscle.

Ahud kicked one of the men's legs, and in an instant the man was clumsily face flat on the ground with Ahud pounding a foot hard down atop the man's head—breaking his face in against the hard ground—all the while sparring with the other man, his two daggers against a single but heavy sword.

The man on the ground lay still as blood pooled where his face was, the simple act of having his face caved in—facial bones broken—making him go limp and unresponsive.

The other man—the one who had strangled Rubaiyah—was the one putting up the real fight against Ahud. The man slashed his sword hard at Ahud, and in his attempts to counter, one of the daggers was ripped out of Ahud's hand, the same hand badly cut as droplets of blood splayed whilst the dagger clattered to the ground.

Ruba inched forwards, biting the inside of her cheek and watching Ahud glance merely once at his forsaken dagger. His hand bled profusely, but he barely noticed it, beginning to spar against the sword yielding opponent with only now a singular dagger brandished in his good hand.

"Ahud!" Rubaiyah cried out, desperate and anxious for him. "Be careful, please!"

She could not comprehend the sudden care she felt for him, perhaps it stemmed from only the fact that he was younger than her—a mere young man loyal to his leader. But it was more than that. Ahud was the first figure from her past who had.. found her. She did not remember him, and he had indeed told her many things that had terrified her, but was he not at present trying to rescue her? Despite being only one against two?

With a start she realized that none of what Ahud had told her could be lies. It must all be the plain truth—all of it. He was risking himself to rescue her—following his loyalty to his rayis, despite not having his cousin to fight by his side, and even having to exile himself willingly—he was still fighting for her.

If he was inherently wrong—a thug, a criminal—and wanted to take her to his rayis, who too was an evil usurper, then surely Ahud too would've lured her into a house on the street, strangled her and chained her to a caravan headed to Qaryat Al-Fāw where his rayis was. But no, Ahud hadn't done any of that. Rubaiyah could tell now in her heart that he was truthful, right and loyal.

"Don't worry, sayidati," Ahud managed, his focus on the fight as he all but growled in his opponent's face in midst of sparring, his dagger clashing against the bigger sword so hard that the blow must be intense.

"Whatever happens, I need you to not worry," He let out, managing a quick glance thrown her way, in which Rubaiyah saw foreboding yet reassurance.

"We won't rest till you are back with the rayis! I have left a message for Yunis, as I've told you—," He ducked a blow and slashed his dagger at the cheek of the man, cutting his opponent's skin to his jaw as the man howled in pain and stumbled in his footing momentarily, a gush of blood drenching his neck and chest.

"He knows where you are being taken," Ahud continued, dagger clashing against sword again.

Ruba understood why he was reiterating his information, and she could not express the gratitude in her chest but through tears that stung her vision. Even amidst his peril he was reassuring her, lest something happen to him.

And something did happen, for before Rubaiyah could warn him—for she had seen it coming only a second before—Ahud's opponent was close to the abandoned sword of his fallen counterpart, and in the same move that he picked it up, he slashed the sword at the side of Ahud's torso before Ahud could parry it.

Ahud ducked over in pain and Ruba gasped, covering her mouth. Ahud's last dagger fell from his grip and clattered away, and his opponent instantly pounced on him and pinned him to the ground, pressing his sword against Ahud's neck.

"No!" Rubaiyah screamed, "Let him go! Please!"

The man looked up at Ruba, a grin encapsulating his vile face, clearly enjoying the turn the fight had taken.

"Please! Let him go, my chains are intact! You can take me!" She hastened in desperation. "He is hurt, he is of no danger to you!"

The man seemed to consider for a moment, before looking back at Ahud. Ahud's eyes were furious, and he was baring his teeth at the man, whilst laying still as the blade of the sword pressed against his throat harder, cutting his skin by the second.

"Please!" Ruba screamed again, and the man retrieved his sword slowly, but then much to her horror, he plunged the sword straight down into Ahud's torso.

Ahud groaned and Rubaiyah's own screams dulled her senses. The man pulled out his sword and stood up, as blood streamed out of Ahud's wound and his mouth.

Ruba's vision was blurred with her tears of despair, and she made out the man leaving Ahud's motionless form on the ground and walking around the caravan to the front. She felt the caravan shake a bit as the man heaved himself back onto the driver's seat, and with a yank of reins, the caravan pulled forwards.

Rubaiyah watched the sight of Ahud and the man he had killed—both their forms lying still in blood upon the hard sandy road, abandoned and broken, with no one in sight to offer help or to express grievance over unburied bodies on the road.

It was then that Ruba realized that the caravan was well out of Thāj by days of travel, and because of the cargo it carried, the vehicle was being made to take a longer yet discreet route to the city of Hegra—forgoing travel by the trade route, whereupon no honest merchant traveller or people of wares, or anyone at all for that matter, would be encountered except for perhaps wraiths and other ruthless beings that may dwell in the cover of the incoming night.

Rubaiyah kept her eyes on Ahud's form till he grew smaller by the second, smaller than the size of her nail against the bright blaring and scorching sun of the afternoon sky. All the while she willed him to move, to stir, but he did not.

She shrunk herself into a corner of the caravan, her knees pulled up to her chest, despair marring her soul. The cloth covering of the side of the caravan had been torn, so at least she could see the world she was passing outside. Being let to stay in the darkness without being able to see the sky outside would've crushed her indefinitely. Knowing not that somebody had attempted to rescue her, would've preyed on her loneliness mercilessly.

Ruba breathed in through her tears and shut her eyes tight to pray for the soul of Ahud.