Chapter 19

November 11th, 2020

Through the gate of Sumud, someone charged Zecharaih. Caught entirely off guard there was nothing Zechariah could do as his assailant launched herself at Zechariah, and pressed herself against him tightly.

“You're alive!” Nawfa cried hugging him tightly. “I could barely believe it when Mudaris came back from scouting. Praise Al'haraabu! I thought for sure you were dead.” She squeezed him tightly again and he was reminded again of bother her strength and beauty.

Zechariah felt tears coming to his eyes. He'd never been greeted so passionately before in his life. No one had ever cared for him. It was strange, and it made his mind reel, but he embraced her back. “I thought I was dead many times over.” He shuddered, his emotions overwhelming him. “What happened? How did you find us?”

“Come.” Nawfa said. “We'll talk in a bit. For now, you need food and most certainly, you need a bath.” Turning to the others she said, “Come, all of you. We are safe here. Sumud protects us.”

Nawfa led them into the Keep of Sumud, along narrow flights of stairs and passages, past room after room and the entire time, Zechariah saw the Ghabar Rajali everywhere. They were packed in tight, like termites in a hive. Every room was full, and many were overfull, as they slept packed on the the floor side by side. Eventually, they came to a mess hall tightly packed with tables and chairs, and took seats on the tight end of a table. There was quiet chatter among some, and Zechariah was full of questions himself, but every time he tried to speak, Nawfa would shush him and tell him, 'Later, later. We will have time to speak later.'. Zechariah didn't want to speak later, he wanted to speak now. However, he found that the eagerness to speak on matters vanished quickly when, of all people Khayrat came walking in carrying trays of food expertly, his black curly hair bobbing with his quick step and his broad smile.

“Zechariah my friend!” He cried out as placed the dishes upon the table. “I hear you cleverly infiltrated the Draconian ranks to spy upon them!” He laughed easily as he began to serve the escaped prisoners as though they were kings and not filthy peasants. “Very devious of you.”

“I...don't think that's quite...”

“Nonsense!” Cried Khayrat sitting down opposite him. “I won't hear it any other way no?” Without waiting for a response he continued. “Good. Now, this is good food. Food you don't find in those boring towns of yours. These foods, are Ghabar foods. I cooked some of this myself. Here, eat. Eat!” He said eagerly passing loaves of flat bread around and, tearing a pieces off, scooped up some of the contents in a bowel and popped it into his mouth, showing the others how to eat without utensils. He picked at the food with his hands and never made a mess or dropped a bit. Zechariah was embarrassed that was not so deftly talented at eating without spoons or forks but he took comfort in the fact that the others at the table also seemed at a loss for this kind of dining. However, Khayrat's uncanny capacity for easy conversation, soothed the table and soon, had most people smiling and eating greedily and Zechariah found that his questions faded away to be talked about 'later' as Nawfa kept insisting.

As they finished up eating, there came through the kitchen doors three men carrying a large pot of boiling water, and a fourth carrying a stack of low shallow washing buckets. Placing the buckets on the floor in a circle, the others placed the pot in the center and Nawfa stood saying, “Oh good, the baths are ready. Every, get naked. It's time to get clean.” By this point in time, Zechariah was becoming accustomed to his nudity, traveling with the caravan first, and then being prisoner to the Draconians where he'd had to relieve himself under watchful eye, he was surprised to find that he still had reservations about stripping naked but, he pushed past those cultural burdens with much more ease than he had before and was among the first to remove his filthy clothing. In short order, their clothes were bundled up and, without any thought of ceremony, tossed into a fire. They stood in the buckets and were quickly doused with ladles of hot water. Zechariah shivered as a pleasurable tingle passed down his spine. Then, a more pleasurable one as Nawfa picked up a sponge and began to scrub him down. He tensed up, his eyes darting to Khayrat who seemed not to have noticed at all as he was scrubbing down one of the women Zechariah had been imprisoned with. Zechariah felt like he should protest but an odd portion of his mind said, 'why bother?'. His heart raced as Nawfa touched his entire body and he prayed that he would not humiliate himself. It was, he quickly found, an impossibility and as he tried to distract himself he failed, and he stood at attention. He looked down at Nawfa who was kneeling in front of him, scrubbing his legs with a smile on her face as she looked up at him. Mercifully, she didn't speak, mock or tease him, and simply continued her task which, he soon realized, she stayed standing in front of him to block the view from others.

To his dismay, the touching didn't stop after Nawfa had rinsed him off. It continued as she began to dry him off and, his breath quickened as she dried all of him and he felt himself getting quite hot. As he was getting dried off by Nawfa with her damnable knowing smirk, there came in others carrying clothes for them and it was with great eagerness that he accepted the clothing. However, he found that it was unlike any he had warn before. The outer robes of the Ghabar Rajali he was familiar with as he had used some while traveling across the Barrens. However, these clothes, their undergarments and inner layers of robes, were unfamiliar to him and so, Nawfa also dressed him. It was with painstaking effort that he did not explode.

“Welcome my friends, to Sumud.” Khayrat said speaking up and addressing the escapees. “For the time being, you are safe here. So go now, rest well and sleep much for tomorrow there will be much conversation to be had. Please remain here tomorrow after breakfast, and we will discuss what you witnessed during your captivity.

They were led away through twisting halls and then began to split up. Room being tight, those that had come to serve were also the ones who had room for them to sleep, and so each was sent away with their leader. Zechariah only realized this when he was suddenly alone with Nawfa. His heart beat a little faster and he wondered why he had put off her advances so many times. Why had he refused her? Yes he was somewhat scared of Khayrat's retribution but, he wasn't sure he cared at this point. Zechariah started when, all at once they stepped through a low door and upon a small serving walkway that overlooked the settlement of Sumud. Not facing the Draconians, it wasn't under observation being such a tiny door in the middle of nowhere on the Keep. The small balcony on which they stood barely had room for two to pass each other sideways. Nawfa stepped down the balcony a little giving Zechariah room to join her and looking down, he noticed just how high up they were, and his stomach turned and he felt ill.

“Why look down, when you can look up?” Nawfa asked softly pointing to the sky. It was a bright night and Zechariah hadn't even noticed. He looked up...and his breath left him. Lights illuminated the sky. Lights of a hundred colors, things he believed he could not truly see. It was as though swarms of tadpoles swam throughout the sky shining different colors and, central to them all, sat a prismatic orb of a moon. It was chaotically beautiful.

“W-what is it?” Zechariah asked in awestruck by the sight.

“I do not know. I wouldn't be surprised if no one knew. This is the first I have ever heard of it. I noticed it out of an arrow slit and knew I had to see it in full. It's beautiful isn't it?” She asked quietly, her eyes bright with the same wonder that was reflected in his. This time however, the wonder he beheld was not in the heavens, but stood right beside him.

“Incredibly beautiful.” Zechariah breathed and Nawfa turned to look at him, her smile bright upon her face.

“I'm not entirely sure we're talking about the same thing Zechariah.” She said with her standard flirtatious smirk and sideways look. “One might think you were looking at me and not the wonder of the heavens.”

“They would be right. I am looking at you.” Zechariah said evenly, staring into her eyes, the glitter of a hundred colors reflected therein. She paused, her smile fading a bit as she considered his words. He stepped closer, his heart beginning to race as he reached a hand up to touch her arm. “Nawfa-”.

He hadn't the opportunity to finish his sentence as she suddenly turned to him and leaned in kissing him deeply, His heart jumped in his chest and raced as he put a hand behind her head and one on her hips, embraced in passion. Her hands began to wander over him and though he had no experience, both with her guidance and eagerness to learn, they danced together in the night under the shimmering night sky. Robes hiked high, and dropped low, hips pressed together, they rejoiced in the beauty and love that they shared for each other. Zechariah caressed her bosom and on a gently whispered command, grasped her and his breath caught in his throat as he overflowed within her.

“I'm....I'm sorry...I don't kn-” Zechariah began until Nawfa placed a finger upon his lips.

“It's perfect. Besides...” She began to rock her hips again, and Zechariah gasped in pleasure. “I'm sure it won't be long before you can dance again.”

He kissed her passionately again, and indeed, it was not long before he was moving in her once again, this time able to please her far more than he had on his first attempt. So they held each other, and loved one another as the gazed not into the cosmic wonder that flashed above them, never to be seen by any eye ever again. Rather, they gazed into each other's eyes for there is little that shines brighter than passion.

Much time later, after finishing, embracing, talking and having sex again, they finally retreated into the cramped passage ways of Sumud Keep, and to the room in which they would sleep. It was cramped but not nearly as cramped as the others had been, some form of comfort provided the elites, as their rest was more valuable than the others, and they crept between sleeping bodies, and laid together, and Zechariah fell asleep holding Nawfa, and though his mind had many troubles, her scent, her warmth and her hard softness, blew them all away, and he relished in the brief moments of consciousness he had, before sleep took him.
November 12th, 2020

There is a moment of blissful unconsciousness in sleep. Not simply not being awake, but complete nonexistence of self. Often in sleep, there is some form of conscious awareness of the waking world. Or, there is the plague of dreams that keep the mind active. But sometimes, there is nothing. True emptiness in the mind of the sleeping. This is only obtainable on the rare occasions, and leaves one feeling completely refreshed when consciousness is once again attained. However, if you are not allowed to wake naturally and peacefully, you only have one option to jump from not existing, to suddenly fighting for you very life.

Zechariah cried out throwing a punch. He could not understand what he was seeing, nor make sense of the words that were falling upon his ear. As his wrist was arrested, he panicked but being released, and eventually coming to his senses, he saw Nawfa kneeling over him, one eyebrow raised in accusatory disbelief. “That makes three times you've tried to attack me, and right after losing your virginity! Really Zechariah, you are completely hopeless.” She said standing up and throwing his clothes unceremoniously by his feet. Looking around in embarrassment he saw that the room was empty.

“Where is everyone?” Zechariah asked as he began to pull his clothes on.

“Oh? Those are your first words? No, 'Hey honey, how are you doing this morning?' Not a 'Last night was amazing'? Or better yet, an apology for trying to punch me?” She said crossing her arms with a huff.

“Like you said, I'm completely hopeless.” Zechariah said with smirk if somewhat apologetic.

“Completely and utterly.” She said smiling at Zechariah as he finished dressing. “They're in the mess hall. I decided to let you sleep. I managed to save you a few bites of food but I thought you needed more sleep than food.”

Holding his stomach which growled he frowned. “We'll see after I get those bites.”

Laughing, Nawfa took his hand and dragged him out of the room. “Come on, got to get a bit of food in you before the 'big meetings'.”

Zechariah swallowed hard, holding Nawfa's hand. His mind began to race with the possible horrific repercussions that he might face and found he needed to speak. “Nawfa. About last night...”

“No Zechariah.” Nawfa said interrupting him. “It wasn't a mistake.”

“Perhaps not but, should we be holding hands? I don't want to have any more trouble than I already might be in.” Zechariah said pulling on her hand and stopping her.

She released a breath in frustration. “Zechariah, at this point I might kiss you as soon as we step into the mess hall just to teach you a lesson.” Zechariah's eyes widened in shock and was about to protest when she raised a hand. “I understand your fears Zechariah, but I will handle Khayrat.”

“I don't mean to offend in anyway, I really enjoyed last night. But...why go through all this trouble for me? You have other husbands, one's far more worthy of you then I, and there are a hundred men, in this Keep alone, who would be a better match than I.” The looks she gave him, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Utterly hopeless.” She repeated, this time without any comedy in her voice. “Do I need a reason? I did it because I wanted to. Now shut up and come with me.”

“But...” Zechariah began before he was interrupted once again.

“Shut up!” Nawfa insisted and shook her hand free of Zechariah's and marched on muttering to herself. Zechariah sighed and was once again disappointed himself as he followed her. It was pathetic of him and he knew it. He had made his decision, and so had she, and he would have to face the fallout of those decisions, even if she was with him or not.

Walking the rest of the way in silence, they began to pass the hoards of men and women who were coming out of the mess hall, having finished their breakfast. It was mostly empty when they entered the hall and saw several people all sat around one end of a table, and the other former prisoners finishing their breakfasts. Nawfa led him to the table, bowed to one of the men at the table, and then left without saying a word to Zechariah. A knot in his stomach, he suddenly wasn't sure if he was hungry, but he sat at an empty seat and ate a small plate of breads, salted meats and watered wine. It was quite the breakfast and he ate it slowly.

Eventually the hall was empty and Zechariah sat with the others looking around awkwardly as they waited for what was to come. At the end of the table, there were two individuals who sat center. One was a female in armor and tabard who's long brown hair pulled neatly from the sides and braided into a long pony tail which hung down her back. She had a looked of uncertain determination about her for she sat stiff and looked quite uncomfortable herself. The other who sat next to her, was a small man. Dark skinned with long dreads that were decorated with golden bands and weaves and also pulled together behind his head. He wore a simple cut but very lavish looking robe and he sat very relaxed, and picked food from one plate and then another sampling everything before and nodding appreciatively at this, shaking his head at that. The contrast between the two was stark. On each respective side of the table, sat advisors, one side in armor or clothing from Uthar, the other side all robes and dark skinned Rajali.

“Should we not start this meeting?” The woman asked. Her voice was deep but soft, an odd contrast that didn't quite seem to fit.

Pausing for a brief moment with hand in mouth as he ate with his fingers he looked up at the woman who sat beside with eyebrows raised. He spoke as he chewed slowly, “You' are waiting for me?”

The woman frowned and shifted in her seat. “Of course I was. You're still eating.”

“Which is something I plan on continuing.” He said as he reached for more food, causing the woman to bristle. Waving to her he said, “Go ahead.”

She looked like she was going to say more but bit her tongue. Pushing her chair back, she stood and spoke. “Greetings, and welcome to Sumud. I am Sirpa, commander of this fortress and the forces within. This,” she said gesturing to the small man who continued to ignore her and the proceedings at the table, “Is Zaeim, the King of the Ghabar Rijali.” Zechariah's eyes were wide. This was Zaeim?

“Mmm!” Zaeim protested with a mouthful of food. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “Not king.” He corrected as he picked at more food. “Leader. I lead the Ghabar Rijali. We do not have these nobles and their bloodlines as you so value.”

Yet again, Sirpa frowned, though this time it was more of a scowl than a frown. “Leader of the Ghabar Rijali. As you are citizens of Umar, you fall under my jurisdiction and law.” She said, forcefully, glancing down at Zaeim as she said so. He simply nodded quietly and picked up a goblet of wine and took a long drink. Being captives of the Draconians for some time, we need to know about your experiences, and more importantly, what you saw. It may help us survive this.” Turning then to Zaeim she asked, “Do you have anything to add?” He shook his head and continued his feasting. This 'Zaeim' was certainly not what he had expected.

“Very well. Let us begin.” She said taking her seat and the advisors on both sides of the table produced a scholar each who prepared to take notes on what was said. “What was the exact date that you were taken hostage?”

The following hours were spent retelling their ordeal in great detail. At every step, Sirpa had more questions about more details. How many Draconians do you estimate there were? How well armed did they appear? How many magicians did they have? How many blacksmiths did you see? How many healers? How many resources did they take from you? Etc. etc. This time however, Zechariah found that the others were more than eager to talk, being unafraid of these new 'captors' for, as Zechariah listened and observed the proceedings, he began to realize...that they weren't leaving Sumud. He filled in information where he felt the others had missed things, and was able to provide different insight as he had spent such time observing them but for the most part, he remained silent. There was only one man he wanted to talk to and he wasn't here. He wasn't sure when he would have the opportunity. After what seemed to be several Rises the conversation led to their rescue and the end of the interrogation was coming to an end. As it began to wind down, a question was asked that peaked Zechariah's ears more than the others had. “When are we going to be able to go home.”

Sirpa seemed to set her jaw and sit even straighter, if that was possible. Throughout the whole thing Zaeim had at first snacked constantly, and then sat back, and listened silently, sipping on his wine. He had asked a few questions here or there, but for the most part seemed uninterested in the proceedings. But at this question, he raised his eyebrow and eyed Sirpa.

“I regret to inform you, that you will not be returning home.” This statement was met with cries of disbelief and at first Sirpa raised her hand to try and silence them, but after seeing that they ignored her, she seemed to become quite angry. She stood up suddenly silencing the protests and said in a firm and solid voice. “We do not have the resources to afford manning a shipment of people to escort you back to safety. This is where Shimara has brought you, and it is here you will serve until such a time that you are able to return home, considering the safety of this entire garrison! Now, I am giving you this day to rest and gather yourselves. Tomorrow, I will expect to see each of you in the training fields. As of this day, you are pressed into service for the defense of Umar.” She gestured to her advisors who stood and they marched out of the mess hall without a further word.

They sat in silence for a bit until Zaeim leaned back in his chair and said to a servant, “I don't suppose I can get a refill on my wine?”

(Extra for Nawfa to say at a later date.) “Zechariah, I have a few husbands yes. And I love all of them, and I give them something, and they each give me something in return. Khayrat is my passion, and that will never change. But he's strong, and rough, and powerful. You're different. You give me gentleness, and grace, and compassion. Things that Khayrat and my other husbands don't. That's why you. So shut up.