[quote=@persianversion]
Whatever Ketill’s reasons for dragging them even further north after the trial, he would never seek to explain it to Najla or Basim. It was not as if she could demand an explanation now, or refuse to go, though she had wished to refuse numerous times. The thoughts crossed her mind often as they traveled, to wake Basim in the middle of the night, to take off on their horses long before Ketill could chase after them. There were few things that could catch a skilled Sawarim rider, after all, something that Najla found herself repeating in these desires quite often. They’d be long gone before Ketill could enact whatever fate he was pushing them towards, and he’d be left behind to fume about it in the snow, with only Yasamin to take it out on. Even in her imagination, Najla had no desire to take the girl with her, it seemed. Still, every blast of wind, every shiver up her spine, it all served to remind her that these were dreams, nothing more. They’d be dead before they were even far enough to flee, the cold or hunger would take them within days if Ketill was not there to stop it.

Still, the question remained, [i]why?[/i] Why would he bother to feed them, why was he bothering to keep her alive when he could have cut her throat at any time? Who would stop him? She knew he was capable of it, the only thing that had kept him from doing so in the palace was Basim, who had somehow managed to stop an axe from falling towards her. Yet Najla could not believe that Basim was the sole reason she was being kept alive now, though the more she thought on it, the more Najla realized how far away Ketill’s motives had always been from her grasp. Men had never been so difficult to understand. Most wanted gold, many wanted power, lust, the blessings of the Sawarim or Monarch, all the lovely dreams she could have dangled before them when she had them in her hands. All she knew for certain was that Ketill wanted her dead, and for some desire, some purpose greater than that, she was breathing. It was near enough to give her a headache, though she could think on little else as they travelled, watching the land slowly collect more and more greenery along their path.

Najla never asked where they were going. Ketill’s answers had never made sense to her regardless, and his mention of the ‘world tree’ was only more confusing. She’d been among the Monarchists for some time, and had always felt she knew a great deal about their faith, though it did not make her any more partial to it. Yet, she had never heard of a shrine called the ‘world tree’, nor could she guess at what it was. Monarchists had never mentioned such a thing to her, but these were a different people, it seemed. Perhaps a shrine, of sorts, one hidden deep in the mountains. Perhaps she was to see the end of the world. Regardless, Najla had no choice but to follow, and no more words would be spoken about the outcome of the trial. It did not seem that Ketill was willing to talk about it, and all Najla found was from the bits and pieces Basim and Yasamin had understood. Therefore, they continued north after their goodbyes, and despite the rough travels, the sight itself felt worth it.

Despite all her imaginings of the world tree, of this strange, mystical site Ketill seemed so intent on bringing them to, she felt her breath catch in her throat at the first sight. The tree was larger than any she’d ever seen before, nothing like the small, bare trees that struggled to survive in her home. This one was immense, its tendrils curling to the heavens themselves, and the first sight left no doubt that this was where Ketill had meant to bring them to. Whatever his purpose, she could still not fathom, but the splendor of the tree left no doubt that this was their destination.

It was only when they moved closer to that strange wooden house that Najla even noticed it, for her focus had been centered upon the tree itself. From afar, she could tell little but the fact that it was a curiously carved house, of a craftsmanship she could not understand, but admired. The wooden carvings grew even more magnificent as they walked closer, and had it not been for the family that exited, Najla might have studied those forever. Rather, she found herself distracted by the symbols that were drawn onto the people’s foreheads, in a red liquid she could only guess was blood. From where, she didn’t wish to think about. As if she did not know what Ketill’s tattoo looked like, Najla’s eyes moved towards his forehead, as if judging the difference. These people were not Servants, of course not, and so those symbols did little but confuse her farther, despite the faint similarity. It was not as if their strange words helped either, and so Najla was silent as Basim questioned Ketill regarding them. While knowledge in itself was a prize to her brother, Najla was far more concerned with just what it would do for her, and in this case, that meant what it would tell her of her fate. Since she’d been in the north, most of what she’d learned regarding that had been of little use. 

When she entered the house, just behind her brother, Najla’s eyes first went to the man that sat there, seemingly waiting for them. A bowl of that deep red liquid was held in his hands, and for a moment, Najla wondered if that was why she had been brought here, to be added to that mixture. It seemed not, for Ketill was quick to lean forwards, accepting the man to draw that strange symbol upon his forehead, just as he had with the family before, it seemed. She only watched this strange process for a moment, but her attention was quickly drawn by the hall.

She stepped into it carefully, her movements as gentle as they were when she entered a Sawarim temple. Perhaps some aura of holiness had lent that gentleness to return to her movements, or perhaps it was simply awe as to what lay before. In truth, she had never seen a sight like this. Najla walked down the line of statues slowly, taking in every exquisite detail. She’d never seen people like these. She’d never seen anything like this. Najla was unable to help herself as she eyed the statues, reaching her hand out to graze the wood lightly. There were so many of them, were they people? Characters from their legends, perhaps? She might have assumed as much, but the bowls before them, filled with various items, suggested something stranger than a tale. No people would have reason to offer a hero of legend such items, but they’d give them to kings, Gods, someone who could open their own hand in return. But these could not be either, they were far too many to be king or God. Rather than allow herself to question it further, Najla merely watched as Ketill approached, waiting to see what he’d do. When he dug the ring out of his pocket, offering it to the man in the throne, Najla watched as he simply stared at the man, wondering what he was getting out of this. A ring, but for what?

Whatever he had wanted, he received. Najla’s frown deepened when she heard him thank...the man? Himself? It was an odd thing, she imagined, to thank someone who had only taken, but his next words would quickly force her to forget this strange behavior.

[i]“What? What do you mean?”[/i]

Nothing. She was given no response, and yet the words lingered in her mind. She was to be dedicated. What could he mean by that? What the hell was a dedication? Najla had forgotten the statues in the room within moments, and now her eyes were firmly on Ketill, trying to demand that he clarify himself.

[i]“Ketill!”[/i]

She did not press farther, watching as he walked away. The panic had started to settle in her stomach, and she felt the worry seep through her veins now, wondering just what he intended for her. Seeing that she would get no answers from Ketill, Najla turned back to the statue, only to see the merchant’s son standing in Ketill’s place. He was looking at the statute with a far different look than Ketill had, one that spelled something akin to fear, but with a fierce strength behind it, trying to allow that strength to override the fear completely. She recognized that look in a man’s eyes. They always tried to slit their throats after.
 
[i]“Who is that?”[/i]

Najla pointed at the statue behind her, at which the merchant’s son finally turned his gaze onto her. He’d been staring intently at it, lost in thought, but the sound of her voice would quickly draw him out, even if he had missed her words themselves. His frown was enough to show her that, and Najla said the words again, slower, leaving no doubt he’d be able to hear it. Her finger was still pointed at the statute, and the son took a step closer before answering, gazing into the statute’s eyes as if it could look back at him.

[i]“Audrun.”[/i]

Suddenly, Najla felt the heat of the desert on her back. There was that sickening feeling in her throat, the dangerous turning of her stomach, her ears filled with the sound of a man’s roar. The smell of burnt flesh returned to her senses, briefly, before it was chased out by a new panic in her stomach.

[i]“What is he?”[/i]

The boy looked at her once more, still confused, it seemed. It was not that he did not know, but her question was oddly worded, especially for one who could not fathom she would think it was a mere man, perhaps, nothing more. Instead, he merely repeated his word, slower, as if she had not heard.

[i]“Aud-run.”[/i]

There was nothing more to be gained from that. Najla abandoned the boy to his strange thoughts, knowing he would not be far behind. Instead, she was quick to catch up with Ketill, Basim, and Yasamin. She did not press Ketill any longer, for his silence had made it clear that he would not entertain her questions. Assuming that her brother would not know, Najla instead aimed her question at Yasamin, who seemed somewhat surprised at them. Still, it only made sense, for of the three of them Yasamin must have been the closest. 

[i]<“What do you know of those statues? What were they?”>

<” I know as much as you do.”>[/i]

Even in her panic, Najla had to suppress the urge to snap at the girl. She had not expected her to continue bowing and offering titles, but Yasamin had not hesitated to start speaking to Najla as an equal. An annoying notion, but not one worth dying for.

[i]<“He never spoke of Audrun to you?”>[/i]

[i]<“Of who?”>[/i]

[i]<“Fuck.”>[/i] Najla turned around, having given up on the girl. Rather, she looked up ahead, moving faster so as to catch up with her brother. It did not occur Najla to ask him, nor would she have an opportunity to, for her attention was on the gathering they were quickly approaching. She had simply assumed that Basim would not know, that if he had, he would had told her long ago. It was a dangerous assumption, simply foolish for someone who’d been through what she had, but she would never be able to think such a thing of Basim. Rather, she simply looked up at him with a worried gaze, wondering what would become of him when she was to be ‘dedicated’, whatever that would mean.

As strange as the setting was, the gathering almost felt like a familiar sight. It was a far easier atmosphere than the harsh travels they’d known so far, much more similar to the easy lifestyle she had once known. Then, they’d been so carefree because they had nearly every reason to be, there was no worries as to when their next meal had come from, or where they’d lay their heads that night. That certainly wasn’t the case here, and yet, the people had no qualms about inviting them to join. She would not recognize the people that pulled Ketill and her brother forward, not until she was already seated in their midst. Regardless, they were quick to open their hands to them, and Najla looked into the basket Basim handed to her curiously.

[i]<“What are these?”>[/i]

Basim shrugged, chewing through the handful he’d grabbed. Perhaps Najla might have refused, but the nature of the gathering gave her no reason to doubt the food. It was a strange deviation from life in the palace, where they’d never pass food around so freely, at the risk of being poisoned by people much like her. Still, seeing as how Ketill had eaten them, Najla held none of these fears now, and took a handful before passing it to Yasamin, who spoke up quickly.

[i]<“What do you think they are?”>

<“I know as much as you do.”>[/i]

Whatever satisfaction Najla had gotten from repeating the girl’s words to her, it would not last. The taste of the mushrooms was odd, certainly not enjoyable, though she chewed through it regardless. There was nothing else to do. She would not be able to leave, not so long as Ketill held whatever strange intention he held for her. She would not tell Basim, more to protect him from such knowledge than anything. All she could do was wait.

The longer she waited, the less difficult it got. The effects were not entirely obvious at first, though she had seen how oddly the people around her were acting. Yet as the night went on, Najla found herself far less worried about what was to come for her. Her mind simply could not linger on those thoughts. Rather, she felt far more like her time in the palace, and she’d found that the mushrooms had made her feel somewhat lighter. She could not understand most of the words the northerners were speaking around her, though this did not seem to bother her. Her gaze was focused on the fascinating sight around her, broken only by laughter when she caught sight of her brother being pulled up to dance. He’d hated being forced to do so in their home, but the mushrooms had made him far more content now, and the smile returned to her face every time her gaze moved back onto the pair.

Otherwise however, Najla was somewhat silent, though she was certainly enjoying herself. Speaking to any of the northerners had been made into a difficult feat, and a rather unnecessary one. The scene itself was fascinating to her, and Najla seemed to be able to focus on little else but the sights around her, the fires lit up as the night grew darker, the immense trees that surrounded them, nature she’d never seen the likes of before. While it had seemed a forbidding territory before, it was quite beautiful now, and she had laid back onto the ground, her eyes on the stars above. She felt almost as if she could see the lines that traced them together, the path her God took as he moved above his people. 

[i]“Your people, do they dance?”[/i]

It took a moment for Najla to realize the voice was speaking to her, and when she turned her head to see the source, she nearly startled. It was a man, one she did not recognize as part of the family who had invited them, though it did not seem to matter. He was built much like many of the northerners around them, tall and strong, so that even when Najla pushed herself to sit up, she still felt quite small beside him. In this strange mood however, she greeted him with a smile, upon which he repeated his question, realizing she hadn’t heard.

[i]“All people dance.”[/i]

Her answer brought a smile to the man’s face in turn, at which he simply turned his gaze back to those dancing before them. Whether it was the effects of the alcohol or mushrooms that had induced such curiosity to come speak to the foreign ‘guest’, it did not seem to matter to either of them. 

[i]“What song are they singing?”[/i]

Najla spoke her words slowly, though the man seemed to understand easily, for she gestured towards the men singing by the fire. She had not understood a word of their songs, but the man would be eager to explain, happy to indulge the foreigner’s curiosity.

[i]“They sing of the Gods.”[/i]

Najla frowned then, turning her gaze onto the man. She’d heard that phrase many times before, often from Ketill, though she had often simply brushed it aside, believing he was speaking nonsense. He was a madman, after all. Still, she pushed further, for despite the effects of the mushrooms, the sinking feeling in her stomach had not left.

[i]“What Gods?”

“Audrun, and his daughters and sons.”[/i]

That sinking feeling turned into a chasm, and Najla felt as if her blood had spilled out of her already, leaving her weak and unable to reply. Were those the statutes she had seen? Was Audrun the God Ketill had mentioned, the one he’d screamed when he had dragged Yazan out of the flames? She’d never heard of such a God from any besides these people. She had spent years among the Monarchists, learning from them, but this Audrun had never been mentioned, he could not have been part of their faith. Above all, the Monarchists had a God, no more, and certainly not one with sons and daughters. The thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to process this, her thoughts dulled by the mushrooms and ale, when the man spoke again, oblivious to her newfound panic.

[i]“You will not dance?”[/i]

Najla turned her gaze onto him, suddenly angry. He had not brought upon himself, though Najla would not try to soften her actions or gaze. Rather, she stood up without another word, leaving him on his own so that she could walk towards the edge of the gathering on her own.

There were too many questions, ones she would not be able to fully think through, not in such a haze. The only one that came now was whether she could run. Whether it would be better to find death in the snow, or to remain long enough to understand the information that had been put before her. She’d find her death either way, it seemed. It was only when she recalled Basim’s words, that he might have been a substitution, that Najla made her decision. Or rather, she’d let her exhaustion make it for her. She rejoined the gathering, unwilling to sleep anywhere that wasn’t near a fire, and rested her head. Perhaps the question would be answered in her dreams, but that night was a blissful one. Though she had grown tired of laying her head on the ground, that night brought no dream but darkness.

It was quite a harsh awakening to be brought back to reality by Ketill, though she had slept well into the day, only to be woken in the afternoon. Still, Najla could not help but yawn as she forced herself up, following Basim and Ketill to the gathering. The conversation the night before had not been entirely forgotten, though Najla did not recall enough of it to worry. She only remembered bits and pieces of the night before, and the way the stars had shined was a more vivid memory of the sudden fear she’d felt. It would not take long however, for that to return to her.

As they rejoined the crowd, Najla strained against the crowd slightly, trying to see over the heads of those that were far taller than her. It was easier to let Ketill do that, and then to move beside her brother, where she stood and watched as the animals were led out.

It was not a strange sight to the Sawarim, to see an animal’s throat slit. Even Basim had grown accustomed to that sort of violence, for it was how they were meant to kill the meat they ate, to drain it of its blood first. Yet this was...different. Far different. The way the strange man lifted the knife in the air, the way the people cheered as the animals died, the way the men collected the blood in the buckets, none of it was the same. That chasm in her stomach felt as if it was returning, though Najla could not understand why. The sight of the merchant’s son would be enough to explain it, shortly.

The crowd fell silent, and Najla watched, unable to look away, as the boy was led to the stone and laid down upon it. There was that familiar look in his eyes, the one she’d seen when he had been facing the statute, but this was again, different. As the man raised his knife into the air, Najla willed herself to look away, realizing just before it happened that he’d follow the same fate as the animals before him. Her will was not enough. Najla could only look into the boys eyes, and felt as if he could see the statue of that strange man before him once more. Audrun.

Her breath caught in her throat as the man brought the knife down, cutting the boy's throat. Her eyes were wide in horror as she watched him drown in his own blood, trying to use that last bit of strength as if it would stop his fate. Yet she did not look away. Najla merely watched, her mouth slightly open in shock, as the boy took his final breaths before finally, his body stopped moving. That name remained in her mind, and with it, the chasm in her stomach deepened, as if the memory of her conversation before would be pulled back with it.

Before it could, Najla was startled by the sudden feeling of some liquid falling onto her face. She would not be given the luxury of believing it was water, not even for a moment, for she was quick to spit out the blood that had fallen in her mouth. She raised a hand to wipe the rest off her face, only to hesitate when Ketill grabbed Basim’s hand, telling him it gave him strength. While Basim was quick to lower his hand, Najla’s hesitation did not last. Her gaze remained on Ketill, as if she could hear him scream that name even now, and she smeared the droplets of blood on her cheek as she tried to wipe it off, only to be distracted by a cry behind her.

Najla turned along with the crowd, watching as the woman was dragged by the men in front of her. She was frozen in horror, though her mind was still trying to piece together all that she’d learned before, all that she was seeing now, all while wondering what was going to happen. More death, more blood? It seemed to be all these people knew. Was this to be her fate, which one of these had been the dedication that Ketill had promised? It seemed it would not happen now, and yet Najla could only watch as they threw the rope up over the tree branch. She prepared herself, ready to watch this woman being hung, but it seemed even that was not enough. A gasp slipped past her lips as the knife flashed and suddenly, the woman was yanked up, blood running down her clothing.

She was not alone. Najla felt her blood run cold as more bodies were raised into the air, blood seeping down their pure white gowns. It was a horrible sight, splendid, in the light of the fire, but horrible all the same. The blood was splashed onto the ground, the man shouting words that seemed familiar, that would have sparked that light of recognition if she could hear them. It felt as if the memory of the night before, of the answers she’d received, were waiting on the edge of her tongue, and yet, she could not bring them to light. The horror was first and foremost in her mind, she could focus on little else. 

Her eyes traced the swinging body as the winds seemed merely to toy with it. The body swung from side to side, the blood dripping down from the feet, and Najla watched with a horror that bordered on fascination. She could hear Ketill muttering under his breath, but did not strive to hear his words, for all of her attention was on the body before her. She did not know why, it should have been unremarkable among the multitude of others that hung from the tree, but for some reason, she could not look away. Though none were keeping her here, it felt almost as if she was forced to watch, held by something unknown. Najla pulled the cloak around her tighter as the winds picked up, swinging it side to side, and finally, all the way around.

The realization seemed to knock the breath out of her. While she could vaguely hear the sounds of her brother trying to control his sickness, Najla did not seem to notice. Her eyes were frozen in horror upon the girls features, and Ketill’s words rang in her ears now, chilling her in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. That was meant to be her. That was meant to be her throat cut, her blood trickling onto the ground, her body left to hang like an ornament. Whatever reason that had kept her from such a fate, it did not comfort her. As Ketill spoke, she could only look upon the girl with an entirely wordless horror, unable to move, think, or act. It was only when he had quieted that she finally spoke, her voice so soft that she was not certain he would hear.

[i]“You have to bury her.”[/i]

Finally, she tore her gaze off the corpse swinging in the wind. Her eyes shot up to Ketill’s face now, staring intently at the man she no longer recognized. They had known each other for years, both suffered and committed awful acts for the other, but she still felt as if she did not recognize him. Still, her words only halted briefly as he instructed them to enjoy their final night here. It was impossible now. The words moved up from her throat quickly, though her voice was only slightly louder, barely audible, the horror would carry in every word.

[i]“Did she not serve you well? Did she commit a crime, did she hurt or insult you? [b]Ketill![/b] What was this meant to answer for?!”[/i]

She received no answer, only watching as Ketill moved off to rejoin the others, away from the swinging corpses. Najla did not move to rejoin, not yet. Her gaze turned back onto Yasamin, then onto the bodies behind her, around her. The Gods had favored her. Gods, more than one, more than the Monarch or the Sawarim, but many. Audrun, and his daughters and sons. The thought fled back to her in a voice that was unfamiliar, a conversation she could barely recall but for the sinking feeling in her stomach. She’d spent years believing Ketill was still a Monarchist, that all his words had been the ramblings of a madman, and now she was faced with the truth, swinging from the branches above her. He was no longer a Monarchist, and if his false Gods had not found this tenacious ‘favor’ in her, that would have been her fate.

While her brother tried to recover from his sickness, Najla abandoned him to it, walking forward in a daze. She could feel the revulsion, the fear, and yet, it did not rise in her throat as it had when they’d left the Sultanate. The violence still sickened her, but there was no grief to aid in pulling her nausea from her throat as it did her brothers. Despite her words, she did not grieve for Yasamin.

She took another step forwards, her eyes moving onto the girl’s corpse again. What pitiful luck she’d had, in being given to Ketill at all. No doubt, she’d been chosen at random among the other Broacienian women in the harem. Yasamin must have thought otherwise that day, Najla could have imagined the looks of jealousy on the other girls faces when Yasamin was called forwards. Then Najla had sunk her teeth into the poor girl in an effort to do the same to Ketill. Had this been why? It had not occurred to Najla that she truly had been a stand-in for her own death, for she could never have imagined that a sacrifice was truly necessary at all. For someone who could not understand the complexities of a religion she’d only just seen, this death seemed far more personal, just as her own had meant to be. 

[i]<“Najla!”>[/i]

She turned around to see the source of her name, only to see her brother slowly straightening up, having collected himself some. She did not reply, only watching as he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, glancing back at the crowd. He did not look at the corpses that hung above her, and seemed revolted at the notion that Najla had stepped deeper into the branches of the tree, deeper among the swinging bodies. For her part, Najla had not seemed to notice. Her thoughts had preoccupied her enough, so that a part of her might have assumed she was simply in the gardens of home, the bodies above her little different from the candles they’d placed in colored glass, to swing from the greenery there. The horror on her face proved otherwise, but there were few hints beside it.

[i]<“Where are you going?”>[/i]

Najla did not reply, her eyes moving to fixate on her brother. He looked so much like Jalil, sometimes. Their faces were so similar, though she realized that Basim might have forgotten his brother long ago. He was younger when Jalil had vanished with her, though he’d held plenty of memories with his brother, she could not have guessed how many had lasted the test of time. She was certain he did not remember that Jalil had shared that thick black head of hair. While the curls had softened Jalil’s face, they only ever served to make Basim look younger than he was. Even their voices were similar. Jalil had only ever spoken to her the way Basim did, with little of the teasing inflections Harith had taunted her with. Only their eyes were different. Had it not been for the dark black of Basim’s eyes, watching her worriedly, Najla might have guessed that it was Jalil standing before her now, a ghost that had come back to her side once more. 

Suddenly, a slight splatter on her forehead pulled Najla out of her thoughts. In her daze, Najla did not quite realize what it was yet, despite where she stood now. She could have imagined it was rain, a sensation she had not known for some years, but when she reached a hand up to wipe it off, this hope was quickly drawn from her. Some part of her that still held control forced Najla to keep from looking up, knowing she would lose her stomach the way her brother had, even if the corpse would not have been familiar. Najla forced herself to step forwards, away from the corpses, and towards her brother once more.

[i]<“Aren’t you going to answer?”>[/i]

[i]<“Hm?”>[/i] Najla was careful to walk around his sickness, suddenly realizing that he’d spoken to her after the first question. [i]<“What did you ask?”>

<“I asked if you were alright.”>[/i]

Najla nearly glanced back at Yasamin once more, but forced herself to look forwards, to keep her gaze on her brother. It seemed Basim was worried that she grieved for Yasamin, as her words would have suggested. Najla’s answer would clarify that all too quickly, for while she pitied the girl immensely, there were greater fears to deal with.   
 
[i]<“I don’t…  I cannot understand. I heard of his Gods so often, all his strange words, and I did not...I ignored all of it. How could I have been so foolish, how did I-”>[/i] Suddenly, a shiver ran up her spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold. [i]<“What favor could his Gods have found in me?.”>[/i]

Basim was silent for a brief moment, worried eyes glancing towards where Ketill had rejoined the group, before looking at Najla. Ketill had said his gods favored her, for a reason it seemed none of them could imagine, but this was little comfort when they had seen just what he was capable of. After a few moments of thought, he opened his mouth again, to speak or comfort Najla, but she did not allow him to. Rather, she stood up on her tiptoes, kissing Basim’s cheek swiftly.

[i]<I do not mean for you to worry, my blood. It seems I am to live, for now.”>

<“Should we bury her?”>[/i]

Najla glanced back, though it would not stop her pace for long. Rather, she began to walk back to the group, and Basim would be quick to join her, walking alongside her in an effort to leave the corpses swinging behind them.

[i]<“I could not even bury Jalil. I fear I’ll have less luck with her.”>[/i]

They would not be able to enjoy that night. Najla tried, desperately. She took the mushrooms that were offered to her, any ale that was handed over, but it was not enough to make her look away from the swinging corpses. Rather than participate in the festivities, she would find that these only made the realizations worse, and so she laid down, praying that sleep would come before she had to think on these Gods any longer.
 
[hr]

Najla awoke as the others began to stir around her, well into the morning. She might have slept for longer, but it was not of her own accord that she awoke, for Basim roused her gently as Ketill came to collect them, taking them to whatever corner of the earth he’d imagined for them now. While her brother had a clearer head than she did, Najla was clearly unwilling to come along with Ketill now. It was not as if they had a choice, there was no one else that would grant them protection, and they would not survive in this unforgiving territory on their own. Still, she had not forgotten what he did to Yasamin. Whatever his intentions for her were, Najla did not want to see them.

[i]“I’m not going. Leave me here.”[/i]

It was Basim that tried to urge her forwards, but he did not need to, it seemed. Ketill was quick to grab her and push her forward rather forcefully, with little care as to her complaints. It was futile to resist, but it did not mean she would not try, though her protests had long quieted by the time they reached the horses. Not because she had become accustomed to the idea of leaving to wherever Ketill was so intent on dragging them to, but because the night before had left her with no ability to refuse. The drink and drugs had left her head pounding and the nights of sleeping on the ground had left a toll on her body, which was far more used to sleeping in comfortable beds. If Basim had been prideful enough to fight the way Najla was, she might have continued, but her brother seemed to realize their situation far better than she did.

So she fell silent as they traveled, reluctantly so, but it didn’t seem to matter to either of the men she traveled with. They were far more concerned about their survival, and Najla often found herself wondering how Ketill truly intended to last in the wilderness like this for long. Perhaps he didn’t. Rather than imagine all the ways they might freeze in this unforgiving landscape, Najla tried to preoccupy herself with merely taking it in. These were sights no other Sawarim had ever seen before, and perhaps would never see again. The thick, dense forests that crawled up the sides of the mountains were a stunning sight, and she could only guess at what it would take to climb up to the top of one of those mountains, whether man would ever be able to accomplish such a thing. Perhaps not, for they’d see to the ends of the earth from so high, a power that was perhaps better left in the hands of God. Upon reaching the lake, Najla resisted the urge to move closer to the water, to feel it with her own hands. The desert oases she had seen were nothing compared to this. Had she seen the ocean itself, Najla might have been unable to resist the urge to touch it, but even though she could see the end here, it was a difficult feat to resist. The biting cold of the wind would be enough to convince her however, and she dismounted as Basim and Ketill did, remaining silent as they spoke.

Basim was right. This was no home. She glanced around the land, wondering exactly where Ketill intended to shelter them. They could not sleep on the ground here, one more night spent clutching her cloak around herself would be enough to cause her to freeze, Najla knew. Had he brought them this far to die? Was he so foolish that he believed they’d survive here? Whatever the reason, Najla spoke none of these concerns when Basim was sent off to find food. The mention of stale roots was near enough to make her stomach turn, as she had found herself dreaming of the spiced meats and sweet fruits of home often on their trip. It was better than nothing, perhaps, but barely.

She was snapped out of these thoughts by the sound of her name, which caused a frown to appear on her face. Najla glanced over at Ketill as he continued to chop down trees, wondering just what he intended to do with them. Construct some shelter, no doubt, but what good it would do them, she could not know. Still, the command was enough to cause her frown to deepen. It was a strange sensation, to be ordered around like this, as she had long forgotten what a command had sounded like from anybody, especially Ketill. It was far more reminiscent of the first time they’d met, when she had been given as a slave, but they were entirely different people now. Somehow, even the sound of a command did not make him sound like the Servant he’d been before.

[i]“If you didn’t want to freeze, we should have gone south. I don’t know what good a fire will do here.”[/i]

Despite her words, Najla was not entirely intent on freezing to death here. She gave Ketill no time to answer, though she doubted he would even have granted her a reply if she had lingered. Rather, Najla began to follow the path her brother had taken, looking for firewood. Finding dry branches was a more difficult task than she’d imagined, but Najla quickly found that the easiest method was to look for the dead branches still hanging from trees, and snap them off if she could. Many of them, she could not reach, but she had managed to gather a few in her arms by the time she had reached Basim. He had been turning back, only a few of those roots she despised so badly in his hands. It seemed like a meager meal, but he did not seem entirely upset by the find, though this pride was quickly stifled by the surprise when he saw his sister with a small armful of branches.

[i]<“For the fire?”>[/i]

Najla merely nodded as she adjusted the branches in her arms, looking down to the roots in Basim’s hand.

[i]<“Is that all you found?”>

<“No. I found shit.”>[/i]

Najla frowned, looking up at her brother with a confused expression. Basim caught her gaze quickly, and grinned at the sight. It was an expression she’d not seen on his face for some time, though it was certainly a welcome one, even if her confusion had induced it.

[i]<“I’m not joking, I found actual shit. At least I think so, I didn’t get close enough to touch it. Something must have left it. I just hope it’s an animal.”>[/i]

His words caused Najla’s confused frown to turn into a smile, one that did not fade even as they walked forwards. It was strangely amusing to hear her brother talk in such a manner, though perhaps it was the thought that she wouldn’t be forced to eat berries that brought her some happiness. There would be much more to deal with, in order to jump that hurdle, for first they’d have to find the animal, if it was still near, and then deal with the task of killing it. Neither of those were skills she or her brother held. Even collecting the firewood had been difficult, and some of those branches she held were still green within, the dry ones not enough to start a fire with. Perhaps she’d tried, but effort would not keep them warm for the night. Likely, Basim would be sent after her to collect more, but for now, they walked back towards the makeshift shelter Ketill was building.

[i]<“What do you think we’re doing here?”>[/i]

[i]<“He said this is home now. I think he intends for us to live here.”>

<“Yes, but for how long? He won’t keep us alive here forever. I don’t know if he could, or why he’d want to. I don’t even know why I’m alive now.”>

<“You heard him. His Gods want you alive. He’s not the sort of man to take that lightly.”>[/i]

[i]<“That’s what I thought, back when he only had one God. Then he abandoned that God for these. How long until he abandons these Gods for me?”>[/i] Basim did not answer, nor did Najla expect him too. She adjusted the sticks in her hand, sighing slightly before she spoke. Her voice was softer now, filled with regret. [i]<“I should have known. At the Al-Uba’yd, I should have known, I never forgot how he screamed Audrun’s name. If only I had sought that answer further…”>[/i]

Her voice trailed off, but Basim’s was quick to pick up. The way he looked at her was odd now, though Najla did not quite notice anything until he began to speak, and even then, it was hardly suspicious. His voice was tentative, questioning lightly, a tone he’d perfected years ago, when he’d learned how to get information out of his far less level-headed siblings. 

[i]<“What would you have done, if you had known?”>[/i]

[i]<“I don’t know.”>[/i] Another sigh, and she tried to contemplate the question, though it would only take a moment before she spoke again. [i]<“Most of his value came as a Monarchist, it’s true. But if he’d converted, he’d only be a stranger beast to the people. I don’t know what I would have done with him in the Sultanate. But I certainly would not have followed him here.”>[/i]

[i]<“You would have stayed in Broacien?”>

<“Fuck, Basim, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter what I would have done. Even if my choices had been the same, they would have been better simply because of what they were informed by. There’s power in the knowledge itself. ”>[/i]

There was a few moments of silence again, where the only sound was their footsteps in the frozen ground. They’d gone somewhat deep into the forest in order to fulfill whatever tasks Ketill had given them, though Najla had made certain not to lose track of where he’d remained. She had evaded death one too many times in the north already. 

[i]<“It’s my fault. I should have known. I should have pressed for it, asked for it. Even at the gathering, I’d heard that Audrun was his God. I’m sure someone told me, but that ale...maybe I just wasn’t meant to know. Or maybe I was drunk. But someone told me, I am sure of it.”>

<“Perhaps it was me.”>[/i]

Najla frowned slightly now, though she could not imagine Basim was being serious. She continued to walk, adjusting the sticks in her arms as she did, her tone nonchalant at first.

[i]<“No, not you. What would you have known to tell me?”>

<“I knew.”>[/i]

It was not his words, but his tone, that stopped her in her tracks. Najla’s frown deepened now as she looked up at him, trying to understand just what he meant.

[i]<“Knew what, Basim?”>[/i] He did not reply, and Najla did not let the silence last. [i]<“Basim!”>[/i]

[i]<“All of it! I knew Ketill wasn’t a Monarchist, or a madman. He told me, that night at the Al-Uba’yd. I tried to give him the cross, and he refused it.”>

<“You’ve known since then?! How could you not tell me?”>[/i]

[i]<“There were many reasons, but you said it yourself. His value to you was because he was a Monarchist-”>

<“I’m your blood, Basim, you held loyalty to the dog before me?!”>

<“It wasn’t about loyalty, it wasn’t about any of that!”>

<“Go fill your mouth with goat shit if it will stop you from lying to me.”>[/i] 

The anger had peaked now, and Najla thrust the bundle of sticks at his feet, ready to storm off. She had never been so angry with Basim before, and it seemed she had nearly forgotten he was the last of her blood, all she had left. She was ready to start yelling again, to storm off, seemingly with no intention to pick up the sticks once more. It was Basim’s hand that reached out, pulling her back.

[i]<“Someone else is here.”>[/i]

At that, Najla looked over to where Ketill was engaged with another man, in a conversation she could not hear. It looked tense, even from this distance, a fact Basim had no doubt perceived when he tried to pull his sister back. The anger towards her brother had not faded, and she wrenched her hand out of his, though she did not try to move forward. So they merely waited, in silence, until the man turned and left. Najla was quick to walk towards Ketill as soon as she saw that she was able, empty-handed, and with no intention of explaining that to Ketill. She merely watched as Basim followed, having picked up the sticks she’d dropped. It was Basim that asked of the man, for Najla’s anger had left her uncaring about little else, watching her brother with a frown as he approached, though he would speak to Ketill first. He knew his sister would forgive him, eventually. She had no other choice.

[i]“Who was that man? I did not think any one else lived here.”[/i] 

[hr]

As the night fell upon them, Najla and Basim had made their way under the makeshift shelter Ketill had built. It was too small for the three of them, but it blocked out the cold some, though not enough for Najla’s liking. She clutched the cloak around her tightly as night fell, though it seemed she had no intention to try and fall asleep. Nor had her anger with Basim subsided, it seemed, though she had not spoken on it much further beyond a few comments here and there, always muttered in Sawarimic. She would not speak to Ketill, though her eyes rested on him often, with an anger in them that barely faded when she’d turn her gaze to her brother. Still, despite her anger, it seemed that Basim knew she’d forgive him. Even though she wanted nothing more than to yell at him, to curse him for not revealing his secret sooner, Najla motioned to him when she saw him about to lay his head down to rest, telling him silently not to rest it on the ground. It had been a common gesture of affection when they lived in the palace, stretching out in the heat of the garden, but now, it would be little more than a small comfort to Basim, who was no doubt tired of resting his head on the ground. Or perhaps it’d be a greater comfort than she realized, for her brother to realize that she still cared for him deeply, though her gaze had made it clear she had not forgiven him.

[i]<“You’re not still mad at me?”>

<“I’m livid.”>

<“Aren’t you going to sleep soon?”>

<“I’m not tired.”>[/i]

It was a lie, that much was all too obvious by her eyes. Oddly enough, it seemed as if she was intentionally trying to keep sleep away, despite the exhaustion travel had brought. Her tone left little room for argument, and as Basim laid his head in her lap and closed his eyes, Najla stifled a yawn so that he would not feel guilty. She rested a hand in his hair gently, stroking it absent-mindedly as she tried to keep herself awake for longer. There was little to keep her awake now, and so her gaze rested on Ketill as Basim began to fall asleep. No doubt, he would grow annoyed at her gaze quickly, especially since she would not seek to explain the thoughts that rested behind them, not even if prompted. Rather, she waited until she could feel Basim’s breathing steady, indicating that he’d given in to sleep. Then, and only then, she’d speak up softly, so as not to wake him.

[i]“I underestimated you.”[/i]

The words were spoken with little emotion, nowhere near how she’d spoken to Basim before. It was merely a fact, a realization that had come years too late. She pulled the cloak around her more tightly, as if that would help block out the cold, careful not to disturb her brother.

[i]“You were smart, to keep your conversion from me. If I had known, I believe I would have left you to wander in the desert years ago. I do not know how you convinced my brother to keep it from me. I may have underestimated both of you.”[/i]

She moved her hand off of Basim’s hair for a moment, gesturing to her forehead. It was almost as if her movements were all that were left of a Sultana, practiced and precise. Even though she was certain her hands would grow gnarled and bony in this strange land, she still moved as if gold weighed down her wrists and fingers.

[i]“I would never have guessed that a man who bore...those, would be able to hide his faith. Though you did not truly hide it, I suppose. I can smell Yazan’s flesh burning every time I hear this name, Audrun. I do not know why I was surprised. These Gods suit you better. They’re bloodier.”[/i]

 At that, Najla let out a soft sigh, returning to toy with her brothers hair softly. He shivered under the cold, a sight that sent a flash of worry across her face, one that would fade before she looked up at Ketill once more.

[i]“I always knew you were waiting to kill me. All those years in the desert, you endured so much, committed such horrible acts, and yet, I breathe. What could you want from me? I could have offered you a kingdom, years ago. You did not want anything from me then. Now, I have nothing to offer you, nothing I will give without cutting my throat after, and nothing you would want to take. So tell me, Servant, why am I alive?”[/i]

Her questions ceased now, abruptly, as she glanced down at Basim once more. Before, her blood had been all that she lived for. It had been her driving force to return when she was trapped as a slave in Broacien, and it had been the push that had made her ride alongside Jalil to the north in the first place. Then, being among her blood had meant an easy life, surrounded by those she loved, a comfortable position in an endless game. Now, all she had left of that was Basim. Even the Sultana she had been seemed to have been left behind, to wander in the desert forever.

That much was apparent in her figure, at least. She’d grown thinner in their travels, both due to a lack of food and her own refusal of it, a fact which she regretted often now. Even the color of her skin, which had so fascinated the northerners, had dulled in this travel, without the tender touch of the sun. Her cheeks had been sunken in, the bags under her eyes all too prominent now, both grief and hardship had taken more of a toll in this short travel than in her year as a slave. More than anything however, the change was apparent in her eyes. They were red now, exhausted, though she barely blinked for fear that it would bring her sleep. Whatever awaited her in her dreams were only memories, of that which she had lost, that which she had been. Even when they were pleasant, nothing pained her worse than to wake up from them.

Before she moved to speak again, to respond to whatever answer Ketill gave her, if he’d offer her one at all, Najla was just in time to raise her hand, blocking the noise of a sneeze so that it did not wake her brother. The weakness this travel had brought suddenly seemed more apparent now, and Najla wondered if she would fall sick as a result. In the palace, when they were surrounded by healers, it would not have brought her too much worry. Now, it would be a death sentence. For a bare moment, she seemed to weigh her thoughts, realizing that perhaps it would be better to lose herself to whatever horrors her dreams held for her rather than force herself to stay awake and fall sick as a result. Ever so gently, she moved Basim’s head off of her lap, resting it on the ground so that he would not find himself waking with a headache. There was little room in the shelter, but she rested her head regardless, though Najla continued speaking even after she’d closed her eyes.

[i]“If your Gods are the ones that leave me breathing, ask them to do me one final kindness. My family will be dumped in a single grave. The Al-Suwaidi would not even bury them, if they would not be condemned by our people otherwise. But they will be buried, at least. If Basim dies, bury him as well. He should be allowed to rejoin them.”[/i]

Najla turned slightly now, trying to make herself more comfortable, though it was impossible. Still, her words were spoken with little emotion, little despair, for they were merely the truth now. She could not beg or plead for Basim’s burial, if she lived, she would have done so by her own hands. However, the shiver that seized her now told her that it was a slim possibility she would remain.

[i]“I don’t care what you do with my body. I will never be allowed to rejoin them regardless of how much soil is used to cover my face. So long as you bury him, you may throw me to the wolves.”[/i]

[hr]

It was not entirely surprising that she rose the next day, but it was still a slight relief, when she knew it was not entirely guaranteed that she would do so. Nothing was guaranteed here, it seemed, a fact which Najla had learned all too quickly, though there was little she could do about it. Her ability to help came mostly in gathering firewood, and though she was able to help her brother forage for food from time to time, it seemed she was more than willing to leave that task to him. To come from a life of being served food on golden trays to snatching roots out of the ground at any chance was no small change, and one that she was perhaps not able to adjust to.

Still, it did not mean she would remain entirely useless, though her skills were few and easily replaced by another’s hands. This was only aided by the fact that she seemed reluctant to be near Ketill, if he remained at their ‘camp’, she’d have no issue with leaving the bare warmth of the shelter for any reason. Otherwise, Basim was responsible for much of which would have fallen to her.

Her anger with him faded bit by bit, but it still remained. Worse than that, there was a growing distrust building in her thoughts, one that was only fueled any time Basim and Ketill spoke to one another. Despite Ketill’s repeated attempts to take her life, Basim held little reluctance to speak to him, often piping up to ask questions about the land they were in and the people that populated it, though there were few nearby. When her thoughts were logical, she could understand these interactions for what they truly were. They needed Ketill to survive out here, nothing had been made clearer than that. Her brother’s curiosity didn’t harm their chances, if anything, it was certainly beneficial to learn about the land they hid in now. Yet, Najla would often find herself eyeing them suspiciously, as if waiting for the day Basim would choose to side with Ketill over her. For someone who valued their blood as highly as Najla, it was utterly irrational thinking, but the boredom of her new existence left her with little else to think on.

It was Basim that helped fill this boredom, and it was with him that she’d gone off into the woods again. He’d picked up on foraging somewhat quickly, and was eager to pass his newfound knowledge to his sister, who did not quite care to hear it. It was not as if they had much else to do, however, and so she had followed him into the forest, where there were slightly more options than the barren nothingness they’d built their shelter in. 

[i]<“It’d be harder to be lost in the desert, I think. At least there is no need to worry about water here, and there is some food, at least.”>[/i]

[i]<“Food makes you thirstier.”>[/i] Came Najla’s response, spoken almost absent-mindedly as she inspected some of the mushrooms growing at the base of a tree, wondering if these were fit to eat or if they’d induce the same effects she’d seen at the world tree. It would not matter, they had nothing else to eat. [i]<“Even if you have it, eating it without water present is little different than beckoning to death itself.”>

<“That only proves my point.”>[/i]

[i]<“So it does.”>[/i] Najla stood up then, passing a handful of those mushrooms to Basim before she wiped her hands of them. The Sawarim obsession with cleanliness had not left her, and even in the midst of such aimless conversations, she often found herself craving the luxury of a bath. 

[i]<“But the cold and snow do quite the opposite, I believe. I’d rather die with my head buried in sand than snow.”>

<“May God will it so.”>[/i]

Basim’s remark was clearly teasing, and earned a grin from Najla as she turned to walk back towards the shelter, eager to be near the fire again. They continued to speak on this, a conversation that went nowhere, but was simply to warm the mind for the time being. Najla had grown quite bored already by the simplicity of their lifestyle here, survival left little room for the more enjoyable pursuits. Basim had adjusted more easily, curious even regarding such mere survival techniques, but the fact that he pressed with such conversations such as these indicated that he was feeling similarly. Still, Najla indulged him, despite the fact that she had not quite forgiven him, and they’d continue to speak on their path until noises forced her to halt in her tracks.

The sounds were familiar to Najla, even if the situation was not. The grunting of men, the clashing of weapons, sounds she’d heard often when she had gone to watch Harith or Ketill train. This was no training session however, that was entirely clear. They moved just close enough to see, only to halt. There was Ketill, she would have recognized him anywhere, but others as well. Men she did not recognize, men that were trying to kill him. Before she could do much of anything, Basim tried to step forwards, and Najla’s hand wrapped around his forearm now, pulling him back harshly with all the strength she could muster.

[i]<“Don’t go! We should go-”>

<“He needs help!”>

<“What’re [b]you[/b] going to do? Come on-”>[/i]

Her pleas were ignored as Basim ripped his arm out of her hand, running towards the scene quickly. Najla remained frozen, though luckily, she did not call after her brother. Perhaps it was the fear that froze her, but whatever the reason, the effect remained the same. The men struggling against each other would not know of his presence until it was too late. She could see a body laid out beside two struggling men, one she recognized on the ground, one she didn’t on top of him, ready to end it all. 

Basim did not hesitate, though Najla wanted nothing more than for him to do so. He ran towards the pair, snatching an axe from the ground that had likely been dropped in the fight. Bridging the gap between him and the men fighting, Basim raised the axe, bringing it down into the man’s neck from behind.

He was not strong enough to drive it in too deeply, and yet, he did not quite have the strength to pull it out either. And so Basim simply released the axe, allowing the man to fall onto the ground, gurgling as blood pooled out of the wound on his neck. He did not even glance down to see if Ketill was okay, not until Najla’s voice sounded again. She had not hesitated now, and ran towards her brother, grasping his hands quickly.

[i]<“Basim, my blood, what possessed you to do that?”>[/i]

Silence. Najla glanced down at the man, still in the throes of death, before up at her brother again. 

[i]<“That was the first man you killed, hm?”>[/i]

A nod answered her, at which he drew his hands from hers, though gently, clearly not intending to hurt her. Whatever he felt at the first death he’d enacted, it was not entirely apparent on his face. Still, Najla knew he was shaken. She had known her brother long enough, she could see that much in his eyes. Rather than push him, she turned her attention to Ketill, looking around at whatever remnants of the carnage he’d left.

[i]“What happened?! Who were those men?”[/i]
[/quote]