Date: August 20, 2000 (Aether: December 19, 3906)
Place: Palace of Warlord Karakas Nohar
Cast: Ranjeet, Shahar
Emits: Achmed (Khalid), Nohar guards (Thalia), servant/Agni-Haidar (Sabirah and Ranjeet)
Scene: Ranjeet, leading a contingent of Khalida warriors and Agni-Haidar, infiltrates the Nohar vara to rescue his wife, Shahar.

Palace of Warlord Karakas Nohar:
      The simple, if still luxurious, adornments of the Warlord's Palace reflect the Clan's minor status. Rather than a profusion of gold ornaments, the furnishings of the Clan take the form of intricate stonework etched into every column, wall, and floor. Shapes of magnificent stone animals threaten to emerge from their granite prisons, so lifelike are they.
      The Clan's history has been forged by a weaver's hand in tapestries that line every hallway. Some scenes are from a time before the God-King, from a time when the great Varati Kings struggled to hold the Clans together.
      Guards, wearing golden and red armor and armaments, wander everywhere in hurried fashion, as if aggravated or excited by some news. Servants in similar livery carry about their duties, but in a bored, hopeless fashion.

Murmurs seem to echo in the dark caverns of the Nohar lair, so that there is rarely a true silence deep within the rock. Servants have learned to tune out the talk of their betters, lest they find a lashing awaiting them. Thick guards in gold and crimson stride like large cats through the decorated tunnels, shoulders straight and their gait filled with purpose.

Those who serve the Clan retreat into the shadows as these men drift past, carefully keeping their eyes on bundles in their arms or, if they bear nothing, they look to the floor. The only time they seem to look up is when they pass the door that is said to hold a woman known as a Lioness. Perhaps they feel a bit more sure of their place to know one favored of the dead God-King is held within their walls -- a sign of better days to come?

The torchlight flickers angrily against the heavy door, keeping it and its guard illuminated while deeper shadows consume most of the rest of the hallway.

Achmed stands rigid beside the wooden and iron door that holds captive the Shakir of Clan Khalida. The towering kshatri warrior shuffles his feet every now and then and fights temptation to lean on the sword-spear in his right hand.

The guards at the door stand on full alert, their heads merely inclining to acknowledge the passage of their peers. Fewer of them today than usual. The kitchen staff have been soundly beaten for serving what must have been tainted meat the night before.

Now, nearly all the staff and almost half the guards are sick to their stomachs, wracked with abdominal cramps and high fevers. Even a few who are ill serve, and others who have been within the city walls, guarding against false intruders, have been called back to hold the house safe.

Again, there is the sharp rap of boots against stone, but this time the pair stop before the acting pair of guards. Bowing deeply, hands touching chest and arching out, the new pair straighten. "Namaste. We are here to relieve you and maintain the vigil for the next shift." The Varati man's face is unfamiliar, perhaps, his accent thick and from the eastern lands where many have come in support of Nohar's cause. Still, there are so many newly-inducted guards these days, and with the sickness and others being called in from the city walls ... how can one possibly know them all?

And from within the room, from the dark, near-windowless chamber in which the former Pasha and current Shakir has been held, there is...

Nothing.

No sound, no motion, no evidence anyone stays inside. Food is brought within, removed later in the same state as its arrival. No light seems to penetrate. The area behind those doors seems, for lack of a better word, lifeless. It has been thus for days, since the rumors began, worse since Viyla's visit. Is Shahar Khalida even alive in there?

Achmed's gaze narrows in tired scrutiny at the man relieving him. At length, he nods and sketches a less than respectful bow, perhaps simply a fatigued one, and offers, "Namaste. The woman is eating and has made few noises."

He steps away from the doorway and looks again at his relief, "I thought Hakan was relieving me. Is he sick too?"

Baha of Nohar looks over at the new arrival with cold, emotionless eyes, belonging more properly on a viper than a human; dead eyes without a soul gaze at the unfamiliar man. Tall, perhaps even taller than most Varati, the crimson and gold are particularly flattering over the rippling form of sinewed steel. The corners of his mouth turn up with faint distaste, and rather than easily passing over his position to the 'relief,' Baha chooses instead to put his hand on his falcare in a belligerent and challenging gesture.

"Aye," the man replies gruffly. "He has the constitution of a wyvern ... only finally succumbed an hour ago. We just came in from the city walls, and thus had not yet been assigned a duty. I am Kaimakam Navhar, this is Kaimakam Shinbrah."

The introduced guard beside Navhar grits his teeth and places a hand upon the hilt of his blade in response to Baha's actions. Navhar, however, coolly examines Baha before placing his hand upon Shinbrah's wrist.

"What ... are we so thirsty for the blood of the Khalid's Agni-Haidar that we would choose to drawn upon one another? Your shift is finished. To perform our duties and serve our cause, we must make sure that we maintain discipline and follow our orders. My orders were to come and relieve you so that you could take sustenance. The kitchens have been cleaned and new healthy food prepared. Best to arm yourself against illness and eat to keep up your strength so when the enemy arrives, we will be ready to cut him down, neh?" The words seem to be spoken more for the benefit of Shinbrah, but clearly it addresses them all.

A pair of young women hurry past, only able to spare a momentary glance for the guards in front of the Khalida woman's door. The shorter of the two moans and holds her stomach as the second acts as a support for her friend. Her soft words of comfort drift into the background, like the buzzing of a mosquito.

The shorter moans again and almost doubles over, only the other woman keeps her from stopping. "Not here," is heard before the two are down the hallway and around a corner.

Baha does not remove his hand from the hilt of his falcare. Brief of speech, he states the obvious, "You are not from here." It is uncertain as to whether he addresses both Janizars or merely Navhar.

Achmed watches the exchange between his companion Baha and the relieving guard with an almost impatient expression. When the exchange settles, he blandly asks of Navhar, "Who is the officer of the watch? He would have given you orders to relieve us."

It is well that Ranjeet convinced the Agni-Haidar with him to not kill both of the guards they subdued. The other one required subtle but painful convincing before sacrificing certain answers that were necessary safety measures. It was only confirmation, having infiltrated days ago and garnering such information himself. Servants might pretend ignorance and deaf ears, but they practice something else entirely.

The man calling himself Navhar addresses Baha first with a cool and concise, "No ... I am not. I came with the reinforcement leagues from the east. We arrived five days ago." And, indeed, they had only just arrived recently. His accent confirms his eastern birth.

Then to Achmed, "The officer of the watch is Karthak ... who despite being quite stricken, has refused to step down and pass his authority to his second." Another true fact, though Ranjeet was surprised that the man did not fall. These rebels are tougher than he expected on many levels. But it matters not -- he will prove to be excellent confirmation of their legitimacy.

Achmed swats Baha on his steel shoulder plate and glares angrily "Are you satisfied, Baha, or would you rather wait for Warlord Karakas Nohar to come visit you in person?" He snorts. "Enough of this. I am going to find my bunk before I fall asleep standing up."

Achmed hefts his sword spear and begins stalking down the corridor's length.

Baha appears disgruntled at Navhar's answer, as if the mere presence of forces from the east means that his clan is being infected with racial impurity. However, his hand does leave the hilt of his falcare. He does not look away from Navhar's companion, who he seems to feel is a threat to his regional racial superiority. Achmed's swat merely produces a grunt to indicate satisfaction and he follows, though still maintaining an eye on Shinbrah.

Achmed growls tiredly and cynically at his companion, "Next time Baha, we won't let anyone relieve us. That way we can guard that cell every hour for the rest of our lives? That ugly little ganika you're so fond of won't like that. I think you're her only customer..." His voice trails off into silence as the two move down the hallway.

Navhar/Ranjeet stands strong and patient, brow furrowed out of annoyance for this delay in his duties. Stepping forward as they depart, he indicates for Shinbrah to follow his lead, taking the exact positions of the pair that just departed, each matching the temperament of the man -- Navhar where Achmed stood and Shinbrah in Baha's place.

And so they wait, even though it takes a heavy hand upon Shinbrah's arm to keep him from trying to smash the door behind them down. "Patience," Ranjeet murmurs under his breath. After a long moment, he turns to Shinbrah and rumbles, "Walk the hall and report."

The latter guard bristles at the order, but in the end does as he is commanded. When he returns, rough clipped words are spoken. "Clear."

Nodding, Navhar dips into the shadow of the doorway, rumbling, "Then cover me." He pulls out an earthen jar, wrinkling his nose, and spills the contents of it upon the floor. Oh gross .... someone's been sick here! It is good cover should any question the existence of only one guard at the door however.

Slipping the key he palmed earlier into his hand, the door is unlocked and opened, "Shinbrah" left on the other side to guard them both. Best be quick before that brings the whole house down upon their heads. Why, oh why does the Khalid not train clever and secretive Agni-Haidar who understand the advantages of deception and illusion?

No reaction from inside the chamber. The place is still as a tomb, and no candles, no torches help penetrate the shadows that crawl all over the room with the tiny, useless windows. If Shahar is within, she is not immediately apparent, though breathing and the vaguest shape inside a corner's softly greyish black disguise of darkness suggests that perhaps the Lioness of Khalid is there indeed, waiting. Watching? Sleeping? Who knows.

Stepping within, Ranjeet closes the door securely behind him, moving into the darkness quickly. Softly, his voice hisses her name, "Shahar?!" All the while, he fumbles with his clothes, removing armor quickly, drawing out spare clothes hidden beneath -- some for her, some for him.

Disguises are the key to their escape, though he has had a devil of a time trying to explain that to the guards and Agni-Haidar under his command. Of course, they do not respect him -- what is he to them? A pampered diplomat? He has proven himself to be resourceful though, his training as an Akhund spy serving them well in getting through the various blockades and obstacles.

"Shahar!" he hisses again, moving closer to the dark shape that is so very still.

Within that corner, movement occurs. Negligible, to be certain, but movement nonetheless. The woman within the darkness shifts so that what remains of light in this chamber, this cell, spills across one hollowed cheek and illuminates the greenish gold of her feline irises. But no leap to action, no charge into whatever effort is requisite to set her free. Just that slight shifting, no more, no less.

A flint is found, a candle lit as he moves over toward the figure, bending close so that he might see what these dogs have ravaged upon her. Ranjeet's teeth grit in barely contained rage as he drags her close. "Shahar, I'm here. And we have to hurry if we are going to get you away safely!"

He would embrace her close, kiss her and comfort her if they had more time ... but that can wait until later. He does not know for how long he can trust the Agni-Haidar without to hold steady and not come bursting in. If they are seen dashing through the hallways carrying the Pasha of Haven, Khalid Atar's favored daughter, they won't have far to run.

Misunderstanding, misapprehension, misgiving. All show in Shahar's eyes as she looks upon the face of her beloved, her soulmate.

He might as well be a stranger.

She is starving, so much is said by her waxy complexion, the dull, tousled mane of her formerly luxuriant locks, the hollow eyes, the turned-down lips. Save in the months after that assault that nearly slew her, she has always looked hale and hardy. No more.

Yet whatever has shredded the soul of the proud Lioness of Khalida, whatever has managed to snuff out the powerful flame that has cast such brave, bold light across Haven, cannot entirely withhold her spirit, and with the tenuous strain of one imagining something too good to be true, she croaks, "Ranjeet?"

Biting his lip in silent dismay, he sweeps her frail figure up easily into his arms, carrying Shahar to the bed to set her upon the edge gently. Ranjeet covers her mouth with his in a gentle, reassuring kiss, his hands stroking over her hair, shoulders, and back soothingly. "Aye, it is me, Shahar ... this will all be over very soon. Promise. I need you to pretend that you are sick ..." Not that such a thing will be difficult in her current condition.

His mouth draws to a thin line, his brow a dark cloud of silent rage. "Come, let me dress you in some common serving clothes and we can be away." His hands work quickly and efficiently, stripping away the material she wears and shedding his own as well.

Wrapping her tenderly in the sari of the Clan colors, he murmurs, "I have twenty Khalida guards and Agni-Haidar with me ... we shall exit these chambers and leave a false guard by the door. Nearly half the Clan is suffering from mild poisoning -- so you will be yet another victim of the spoiled food. I'll carry you out, dressed as a servant as well. No one is going to stop a sick servant for fear that they will catch some of the stench themselves ..."

As he speaks, Ranjeet finishes dressing her in her disguise. She certainly looks hideously ill ... her ravaged features will be even more convincing than any acting she might be able to proffer. But there is no joy in that fact, just a bitter determination that, no matter what, he will see that Shahar is free of this place and safe.

The words flow past her, around her, through her, as if she were a pillar and the words a wind that skirted without penetrating. Mercifully at this moment, being malleable, being easily guided, works well for Ranjeet's purposes. Shahar obeys with thoughtless agreement, allowing him to remove her attire and place her in clothing suitable for their disguise, their escape: perhaps even Khalid himself would have trouble realizing this thin, bedraggled creature is what remains of his precious Lioness.

But then, Khalid is the cause. Khalid is no more. Therefore... Shahar is no more. Did she not say as much nights earlier, when this madness truly sank its teeth into her psyche, a viper sending poison to her very soul?

The news hit their party hard ... all save for perhaps Ranjeet. In turn though, like the tempering fire of a forge, it has only made the Khalida guards more determined to bring Shahar back to Haven. Ranjeet cautioned them all against the propaganda of war and rumors -- what better way to rally your forces than to say that the leader of the opposing one has been killed?

For himself, Ranjeet cares not. Indeed, if they had not taken Shahar from him, Ranjeet well might have empathized with these rebels and joined their side in this crusade. Save that he knows in his heart that they will not succeed. The God-King of the Varati people is not so easily doused.

The only concern now are the Agni-Haidar -- in their fervor and service to their God, will they forget their duty to bring back the Pasha and strive instead to kill as many of these infidels as they can whilst they are in their midst? Ironic really, for Ranjeet could have murdered nearly the entire household if he had chosen to, by substituting one poison for another ... but that would have defeated the purpose and might have resulted in Shahar's death, as well, if she had partaken of the food.

Ranjeet dresses himself quickly and then gathers their things into a pile, shaping it in the corner from whence he drew her out, recreating a human huddled form there to hopefully fool any who might look in briefly to assure themselves she was still within.

Turning, Ranjeet strides over to the bed and scoops up her pliant form, tucking Shahar against his chest. Two very light knocks are rapped upon the massive door and only when two more are returned does Ranjeet open it and step into the hall again, eyes demanding that the Agni-Haidar waiting there say nothing.

The door is relocked, and softly he hisses, "Remember, Navhar fell ill and was removed -- you know nothing more than that and are awaiting his replacement. You have no key, so you cannot let anyone in even if they command it. That is the policy. We will meet outside the gates and the pre-arranged rendezvous point. Understood?"

The Agni-Haidar warrior's head swivels so that his lifeless eyes settle upon Ranjeet. He only nods soundlessly.

For her part, Shahar need only do what Ranjeet says, without complaint. She is to play the role of one fallen ill, and in this instant, she is for that role typecast. Easily done.

Further down the hallway the long shadows shift slightly. Is it the flicker of the torchlight on the walls, or did someone hastily slip into a doorway to avoid detection?

Intent on getting Shahar out of here, the subtle shift of light escapes Ranjeet's attention as he moves down the hallway with his burden. To those he passes, little explanation is needed -- so many have fallen ill throughout the night and day in the middle of their duties that the sight of one servant carrying another holds no surprise or suspicion for those whom they pass.

Ranjeet keeps Shahar's hair over her features, the veil also helping to disguise her face from any who might know her or have seen her -- either servants or guards may have had the opportunity from time to time, so it is best to take no chances.

He does not have too far to go, though ... just a few more levels of stairs to the storage areas where the rest of the group lies in wait, hiding....

So few people have seen her since her arrival, and so different does she look upon this unscheduled, impromptu departure under the veil of subterfuge, that Shahar should be safe enough. That she is ill should be evident to any who glimpse her, and her stooped, defeated demeanor should serve her well until she can be reconciled with her usual self.

The shadows in the hallway go quiet, perhaps it was nothing more than the dancing flames on the torches. Or else the one residing in the cloak of darkness has gone still and silent as the stone in which they live. Dark eyes peer down the hallway at the unusual movement near that door, but any alarm to be raises is held until she is certain of what she's seeing.

The stairs are dark, but Ranjeet moves swiftly and surely, slipping behind a tapestry to open the door to a storage room he discovered -- rarely-used and a good location. All that lies between them and freedom from this place is a long line of stairs leading to a servant's door along the western side of the structure. From there, it is merely a few yards to the city streets, where it will be easy to get lost among the crowds. Uniforms were hopefully appropriated from those too sick to don them, offering the Khalida and Agni-Haidar false colors to flee the city under.

Slipping into the darkness, Ranjeet peers for a moment before taking a sharp breath, the cold metal of a dagger at his throat. "It's me," he rasps softly, hoping the Agni-Haidar doesn't choose to slit it after all.

During the flight, Shahar lay across Ranjeet quite motionless, neither assisting nor impeding the manner in which he has been stealing gracefully through the halls of this place that, despite its general ambiance, has served as her oppressive prison for weeks on end. Perhaps she imagines she is in a dream, perhaps she is ill from what appears to be dramatic weight loss, perhaps she is simply in shock. But whatever the cause for her state, she is not yet reactive to the reality that her husband, her beloved, brave husband, has come to take her away, to take her home.

Khalid did not. Ranjeet did.

The threat of steel retreats and Ranjeet is let allowed to slip by into the darkened storage room. Deep voices murmur from within the shadows, increasing dramatically at the sight of another with Ranjeet, a female figure who appears much worse than any had seen her before. Murmurs turn to grunts of anger and a couple even make a push toward the door to go out and slay any wearing the crimson and gold.

Ranjeet blocks the way of those who would be so foolhardy as to risk all that they have gained and accomplished for the pleasure of seeing blood run upon the uniforms of their enemy. Ironic indeed, for the Khalida guards are already wearing the crimson and gold outfits -- the Agni-Haidar, however, are not. Clearly, they did not feel they could so stain themselves with such uniforms of kafir traitors.

Biting his lip to control a sharp outburst, Ranjeet turns to the head Janizar, murmuring softly, "Imphadi ... if you will not wear the uniforms of your enemy to save your Pasha and the Shakir of Clan Khalida, at least don the trader disguises we came in with. As brave and as strong as you are, you cannot defeat this army from within their own walls, at such a great disadvantage. Remember our mission -- it is to bring the Pasha home safely. I cannot do this without your support and collaboration." His dark gaze flickers heatedly between the various guards and warriors, waiting for consensus.

The Agni-Haidar return with their own dark gazes, more than one furious that this man is the one to lead them. The finest warriors of the Amir-al led by a Foreign Minister. The one nearest the door growls something under his breath that his companions in black understand. Grudgingly, they attire themselves in the clothing of common merchants, though none seem to do so with any hint of enthusiasm.

The one they have come to rescue, the one they have sought to save, shows no indication she understands the dire situation at hand and the degree of danger still standing between them and their freedom. Shahar rests against Ranjeet's shoulder, eyes closed, as the growling remonstration from her husband washes over those aiding him, and her. Time enough awaits for her to thank them, if she realizes later what they have done and recalls, indeed, who she is. For presently, cradled in Ranjeet's arms, she seems a far cry from the proud Lioness of Khalida.

Taking a deep breath of relief, Ranjeet turns to the door, indicating to the Khalida guard standing there that he can open it and proceed on out. They will lead the way to make sure the path is clear, Ranjeet will carry Shahar along with a few of the Agni-Haidar, so as not to garner too much suspicion. The rest will follow shortly after to protect the rear.

This was what had been decided and hopefully also agreed upon, though in truth Ranjeet does not feel confident that the Agni-Haidar will not snatch Shahar from his arms and try to cut their way through the city once that door is opened.

"Remember," he murmurs just in case, "Khalida clears the way, a small smattering of us follow, and the rest follow in suit to the back to cover the rear." Again, he nods to the Khalida guard and the doorway is pushed open ...

The first guards slip out of the small room, and with the garb of Nohar on, they can easily be dismissed by a passing servant. By most servants anyway. The woman in the shadows gasps and then quickly covers her mouth as she sees two different people leave that room, but two in her Clan's colors. Did they kill that man who took the Khalida woman? Did they kill the Khalida woman? She sits, or squats rather, and waits impatiently. What is going on?

How very strange! The door opens again and three more Nohar guards emerge. But there is no blood upon their swords, no bodies carried between them. Why on earth would they have been in the storerooms? Such old and forgotten ones too? Perhaps they were searching for the kidnapper and were somehow deceived and missed him and his prize capture??

Though they move with the grace and pride of warriors, their eyes seem to scan the stairway a bit too intently, as if searching for trouble. Perhaps looking for the elusive pair, yes, that would make sense.

But after only a few heartbeats of their passage down the stairs does the door open again, this time issuing forth not only the servant carrying the disguised Khalida woman limp in his arms, but five large brooding men with eyes of hate and fire. Dressed as merchants yes, but only a fool would believe them to be so. There may not be blood on their hands, but there is blood in their eyes -- a dire thirst for the stuff.

Quietly, they make their way down the stair in the wake of the "Nohar" guards.

She is to appear ill, Shahar is, and she performs her portion of this act with admirable quality. At the utterance of command from the man carrying her, she shows some sliver of animation by raising her cheek and opening her eyes to small, dullish slivers that cling to the curves of Ranjeet's countenance for perhaps three heartbeats. Then her cheek rests against him again, and she sighs, afraid this dream will be ruptured all too soon.

What is going on here? The servant woman presses her palms against the stone floor and pushes herself to her feet. Her motions are so quick she almost trips over her sari in the process. She draws in all the air her lungs can gather and as she exhales, the tunnels are filled with her alarm. "Guards! Nohar guards! Imposters in the vara!"

She runs from her protective doorway and in the opposite direction, still screaming for anyone who will listen to come, the Khalida woman is escaping! She doesn't even look back to see if any pursue her to silence her tongue -- she just runs as fast as her legs can carry her and yells as loud as is possible. "Nohar warriors! Intruders! Traitors!"

She doesn't get any more opportunity than that. With three quick, bounding steps, an Agni-Haidar is upon the woman, his sword thrust dispassionately through her chest, choking off that last cry into a gurgling gasp, her body slumping down upon the stone staircase. The rest of the Agni-Haidar waste no time, bursting out of the storeroom, swords drawn and at the ready.

Silently, Ranjeet curses himself for not being more careful -- taking a different route ... anything that would have prevented this from happening. He knows now that there will be no controlling the Agni-Haidar, something that is both a curse and a blessing. Hopefully they can spill blood and remember their duty and their mission on this day. That is all that matters now.

Though it is likely unnecessary, Ranjeet barks out, "Move!" and starts down the stairs at a furious pace, shifting Shahar over his shoulder so he can carry her more efficiently and see where he is going.

She bounces roughly there, surely more uncomfortable, but it can't be helped. If they are fortunate, it will take some time before someone registers the servant's cry and gets help. At worst, a guard detail was just walking by at the very moment of her call. If half the battalion were not down on their knees emptying their stomachs, there would be no hope.

But perhaps, with the time it will take for them to gather their decimated forces, perhaps that will be just enough of an advantage that they can make it to the city streets and lose themselves within the tangled vara paths.

Though food poisoning has laid many of them low, the Nohar guards are quick to respond to the cries of alarm. The kshatri warriors slam out of rooms, filling the hallways with the sounds of thudding boots as the shouts reach them.

From different locations, two stars worth of guards appear. Though the Clans mimic the setup of the Agni-Haidar, these men appear to be from disparate groups in the clan, rather than two regular units accustomed to working together, given their uncoordinated arrival.

The guard in the lead shouts out in warning, "Stop or die!" The others appear more than happy to have a chance to engage in bloodshed; they stampede forth with weapons raised and do not bother to offer a chance for surrender.

The smell of blood rouses Shahar from her lethargic state; to this point, save a few movements, she has seemed catatonic, as if a brain injury were part of her issue since her detainment. Battle has a way of making one awaken from even the most dire of situations.

"R-Ranjeet...?" is croaked, hardly the silken tonality that is her habitual speaking voice, but at least she has the presence of mind to realize something is amiss.

The challenge from behind ignites the bloodlust in the Agni-Haidar. Feral growls rumble in their dark chests as they turn to welcome the dance, also giving the more frail of their party the chance to escape.

One of the 'merchants' brandishes a falcare which catches the firelight and reflects it back at the Nohar warriors, it is as if he holds flame in his hands. He charges at the rebel warriors, as do the other two beside him, they charge as one, with no fear within them. There is only desire. The desire to kill.

Those farther back are the worse for it. Half the Agni-Haidar kneel, drawing crossbows from off their backs and aiming them up above the heads of their compatriots. Five feathered shafts find their way into Nohar guards, felling them... and then another five before the press of bodies is too close to risk killing their own.

Those higher have drawn their swords, releasing a bloodthirsty cry of rage and unadulterated pleasure. Finally, they will serve their God-King in this last act of slaughter, butchering his enemies and kafir traitors. Agni-Haidar are more than soldiers, greater than mere warriors. They are the angels of death, their backs bearing the black wings of vengeance and blood -- Lions who show no mercy to their prey.

Even in these close quarters, the arrows do not find vitals in all of the onrushing Nohar warriors. Two stumble to a halt, hit by the arrows in places which prevent movement, but they are still armed. These two, Chisulo and Adofo, push back to back in a coordinated move while their fellows engage the Agni-Haidar. Nothing would please the kshatri warriors of Nohar more than to kill the Agni-Haidar. The Lions do not show mercy, but those of Nohar show a malevolent lust for spilling their blood.

Ranjeet keeps on his downward journey, his sword now drawn as he carries Shahar with one arm to hold her in place. At her soft croak, all he can spare for his wife in breath and words is, "Hold on tight ..."

For a moment, there is a rush of panic as crimson and gold uniforms rush toward him, his sword raising in reply ... only to halt, recognizing the Khalida guards. Halting for a moment, he barks, "Armor!"

He slips Shahar off of his shoulder and props her against the stair. As armor is sacrificed, Ranjeet hurriedly straps it upon his wife, protecting her fragile body should she get caught in the fray at any time.

The fracas above is drawing closer as the guards create an irreversible pressure down the stairs. Only a few Agni-Haidar have fallen, the others fight like wild animals, oblivious to injuries and pain, as they were so viciously trained.

Ranjeet studies the battle above, gritting his teeth before he rasps, "Janizar ... the bundle!"

One of the Khalida guards passes it to Ranjeet obediently, knowing not what it contains, but knowing that Ranjeet had demanded it be guarded at all costs since they entered the grounds.

Once Shahar has been safely bundled up, Ranjeet presses her into the arms of the Khalida guards. "You are searching the grounds for us -- we slipped past the guards within. Carry her in your midst by the arms so it appears she is standing. You'll be able to at least get into the city. Then disperse, change clothes, and leave immediately before the gates are blocked and searches are performed. You failed her before," Ranjeet reminds them grimly, referring to her initial capture. "Do not fail her again. Get her to Haven."

Blood flows over the stones of the vara, but it's impossible to tell who bleeds, for the attack has drawn perilously close. Growls and threats are muddied in the air which reeks with the metallic scent of fresh blood. The Agni-Haidar move and fight as if they feel nothing, but blows land and bury into their flesh. One stumbles a bit as a Nohar's sword digs into his side, leaving his companions to continue the advance.

"...Ranjeet..." No, Shahar is sufficiently cognizant of her surroundings to be aware that she is leaving the arms of the one person who could perchance reinstitute her awareness and breathe life into her shattered soul, but she is in no condition to cling. Her one-sinewy arms have the strength of a three-day-old kitten, and easily she is peeled away. Again, imploringly soft and broken of tonality, "Ranjeet..."

Some of the Agni-Haidar have pushed past the initial thrust of the Nohar warriors and now do battle with the immobile pair of Chisulo and Adofo. Yet, the battle rage has trapped the Agni-Haidar who have moved past the top of the stair and deeper into the hallway. Sharp edges turn on the merchant-clothed Agni-Haidar, attacking from before and behind.

The heavy plate mail of the Nohar more easily withstands the blows from the Agni-Haidar, but the merchant guises are a curse, as only chain and a lighter brigantine can be concealed beneath. The less accurate blows of the Nohar do more damage against the Lions of Atar, and this advantage lessens the greater skill of the Agni-Haidar.

Leaning close to Shahar, Ranjeet covers her mouth in a brief kiss, his hands catching up her face to stare in her green-gold eyes. His own are burning coals as he rasps, "I have one order for you as well, wife, and that is to live. Don't you dare give up! Live!"

With that, he kisses her again, hard and fast before taking a helmet and placing it upon her head to hide her womanly features and hair.

Lifting her up, Ranjeet passes her to the guards, nodding and murmuring softly, "Go -- hurry! Stop for nothing." They obey, not tarrying for even a minute.

Ranjeet moves down the stairs a bit farther, the blood of allies and enemies making crimson pools and waterfalls about him. Gritting his teeth, he unwraps the bundle to reveal fireworks. He had thought to use them for diversion ... but they will serve a far better service now. He has no idea how much is too much, but in this case, perhaps there is no such thing.

Bundling them together tightly, Ranjeet draws his flint from his pocket, sweat from exertion and fear running down his brow. Cursing his hands, he forces them to be steady, catching a flame and lighting the wick. It burns!

He watches it for a moment, judging the speed, and then tucks it beneath his arm, gathering his sword from upon the ground. Charging up the stairs, he cries out, "Down! The Pasha is in danger below! Retreat and protect! Retreat and protect!"

Of course, by this point she is far down the staircase ... it is merely a ruse to get the Agni-Haidar away from the guards. To get them clear of the blast.

Those that can, retreat down the stairs, brushing a bit too harshly against Ranjeet. Perhaps a form of payback for having to suffer under his command. Thick forms in lowly merchant attire lie prone on the ground, bathed in pools of blood; their own and that of many others who have suffered a gash in this hallway battle.

Supported by those who seek to save her, Shahar has no choice but to continue on. Whatever heart remains within her after the rumors that seem valid, that the kindling of her soul's fire is no more and Khalid Atar is gone, is wrenched away from her to linger with her husband. She is woman and zealot together; the zealot is moaning with a dire internal agony that engenders this near-catatonic state but the woman... she was just stirring to life again when the separation occurred. The men who guide her away shall have no trouble... but likely little cooperation.

The immobile Chisulo and Adofo finally fall, but not before helping to annihilate the warriors of Atar between them and their fellow kshatri. Between the Agni-Haidar who have retreated and the few remaining Agni-Haidar at the top of the stair, large gaps are produced for the Nohar kshatri to rush past those engaged in battle and toward Ranjeet's position.

His cries have attracted them and they leave the lesser objective behind, charging instead toward the direction where Ranjeet tells them that Shahar flees.

Doors slam further down the hallway, and in the corridor that leads away from the bottom of the stair. The sounds of battle appear to have attracted those of Nohar in a lesser physical state. These warriors may be sick, but they can still wield a sword.

That is to be expected, and Ranjeet spins and stumbles from their blows and the slippery blood beneath his feet, but he continues to advance. With one arm, he lobs the package which falls harmlessly and unnoticed amidst the fighting Nohar guards.

Picking up another sword in his opposite hand, Ranjeet screams and rushes forward, pushing any Agni-Haidar he can down the stairs behind him as he joins in the battle. He is perhaps not warrior-born, but he has been training ever since he became kshatri. He is strong and fast, using his slighter figure and lighter weight to his advantage against the bulky and heavily-armored opponents.

Using all the fear and adrenaline within him, Ranjeet is perhaps transformed in this moment into what he almost became -- a brother of these branded men, his own removed from his back ages ago, but not completely forgotten. Any moment now, any....

A flash of silver surprises him, and jerking back, Ranjeet takes only a quarter of the blow that would have split his head like a watermelon, the blade kissing down his face in an agonizing caress, his body toppling backward.

Suddenly, the entire stairwell is filled with brilliant light and sound, the fireworks exploding all at once. The force of this explosion is amazing, flinging Agni-Haidar down the stairs, Nohar guards up, and rending the flesh of those at the heart of it into fragments and fire.

The stone shakes violently, fire gushing upward, stairs bucking like a wild and unbroken horse. Then a rain of small rocks, followed by larger ones, the stone moaning and crying out as the stairs shatter and collapse from above and below, crushing those left in between and forever separating the lower and upper halves of the stairways.

For Ranjeet, there is thunder and lightning, followed by stone and darkness, oblivion reaching out a tender hand and taking him to her bosom.

Screams of surprise and of pain rip through the hallway, barely able to break through the sounds of explosion and crumbling rock. Those Agni-Haidar left on the stairs or near the upper landing tumble lifelessly into the pile of rubble, as do some of the Nohar warriors who either mis-step or were felled by the Agni-Haidar weapons.

Dust and smoke billow from the pile of stone and bodies that now lie in the gulf between the warriors on the upper landing and those of Khalida at the bottom.

Nohar warriors continue to battle the remaining Agni-Haidar at the top of the stairs. Though the explosion threw all the warriors, friend and foe alike, into prone positions, bodies had risen even before the dust settled and continued to seek the vitals of the enemy.

Yet those Agni-Haidar at the top of the stairs now fight a losing battle. Separated from the escapees by the collapse of the stairwell, even if they triumph over the Nohar before them, they will have to battle their way out of the fortress using a separate route.

Those who are personally seeing to Shahar's well-being have bundled her away from the building sufficiently that, when the blast transpires, all that happens is an uncertainty of footing and the cognitive appreciation that Something Very Bad just happened.

Raising her head with an initial indication that she is not too far gone from her senses, Shahar mumbles, "Amir-al?" What else could generate such force? But... no. The smoke and debris yank her senses back to a darker realization, and she actually puts forth a bit of effort to cease their flight. "Ranjeet...."

The Agni-Haidar below gather themselves and those still able to move, heading after their compatriots. Those brave few who had become intermingled with the Nohar above the destruction fight valiantly, but are eventually overcome by sheer numbers.

But they did not die in vain, for through their sacrifice and Ranjeet's, the bulk of the group has managed to escape the stone edifice, disappearing within the streets of the city, slipping past the gates before the matter is sorted out, the facts discovered, and the order to bar all exits is given.

The way back to Haven will be quicker than the way in, and once above ground, they will meet with the reinforcements to aid them in their speedy journey back. Their honor will have been in the end appeased -- for the Shakir of Khalida, the former Pasha of Haven, the "daughter" of Khalid, has been recovered.

FIN  

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