Small Connections

The sound of her bare feet slapping the stone floor echoed as she bounded down the golden hallways, glaring from under her scrunched brow. Her feet moved so swiftly that the soldiers guarding their posts barely had time to straighten. The layered armour that perched on their shoulders clinked as they moved. She ignored them. Usually she would nod to them in acknowledgement, but she was far too pissed off to do that right now.

I need to hit something, now!

Her fast-paced strut did nothing to quell the storm brewing inside of her, she was spoiling for a fight. A fleeting thought about stealing one of the palace guard's polished spears and bringing the whole legion down on her, at least that might be a challenge, she scoffed in anger.

Zahra was the Pharaoh's Champion. A different rank entirely to the soldiers that guarded the Pharaoh's halls. They never bothered her and she never bothered them. Shaking her rage from her shoulders, she pushed open the tall double doors and entered the training room.

As the heavy stone doors groaned open. She was shocked to find her father, Tadal and the Pharaoh in conversation. At least they were until she entered.

Normally, she would try and hide her surprise, but it was too late, her raised eyebrows and agog mouth gave her emotional state away. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked up to the small table sat at the side of the large room. Supposedly, this training room was reserved for the palace guards to come and hone their combat skills. As soon as Zahra permanently moved in they quickly vacated. It seems that sparring with the largest Egyptian warrior she could find, allowing him to get in a few hits and then breaking his arm could earn you a reputation.

In these boring days that past it was mostly just her, which was more than fine. Taking the long white cloth from the side table, she began to wrap her knuckles. Small grains of sand were embedded deep in the material and scratched at her skin. Huffing at the feeling of tiny specks of glass, she knew would need to go to the Marketplace and get more, but being the Champion didn't earn her much time off, she spent nearly every waking hour in the Pharaoh's presence. Except when he went to his council meetings, which she was notinvited to.

The thought made her wrap her hands more violently than she cared to let on. Why wasn't she invited? She was the Pharaoh's Champion!

Recently, there have been more of these Council meetings. Many of his closest priests and subjects attended, even the apprentices were granted an audience, but she was not. It was the only place he would go, and she couldn't follow. Her father palmed her off with excuses, it's just a bunch of know-it-all people talking about how to stop grave robbers and things, it would be too boring for you anyway.

Deep down she knew it was because she didn't have magic within her, that was why she was not allowed to join. Even though she stood just outside, something felt not quite right about being away from his side. There were no windows in there, so she had no hope of scaling the palace walls and eavesdropping. The most recent meeting he attended left the Pharaoh steaming with rage. She silently followed him as he walked for hours around the gardens before he calmed.

  Still, they stood there, not talking or moving. She fought the urge to squeal and when no one acknowledged her entry, she retorted sarcastically.  "It seems I interrupted your after-council talks", she kept her back to them as she pulled the material around her knuckles so tight that she felt her blood flow falter. "Forgive me."

  ****

Tadal grunted to himself. His spirited young daughter had a tongue like a whip. Her lack of manners would surely land her in hot water one day. Thankfully her immense skill and rank as Pharaoh's Champion was enough to keep her safe, for now.

Watching her as she walked to the training pit that was padded with a thin layer of sand, he noticed that her black fighting suit was silent and didn't make a noise when she moved. He felt a pang of fear and doubt.

What will become of her when my time comes?

The guilt was unbearable. He had lied to his only child and it made her feel that she was inferior to the priests and guardians that also protected the Pharaoh. She thought it was because she was not a sorceress and had no magic within her. That couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, it was because she had so much magic dwelling dormant within her, magic that was like nothing they had seen before. That was why she wasn't allowed to join them. If the people who conspired against the Pharaoh knew of her powers. It would surely seal his daughter's fate, just like Mahad and the others… He would never allow that to happen and for him to truly protect his child, he needed to make the ultimate sacrifice. But he first needed to make sure she was protected.

It was not death that he feared, or the endless pain and suffering he would undoubtedly endure. Everyone has their place in this world. He had his place, and his wife had hers. The fear of leaving his young daughter was crippling. How would she cope? Who would protect her?

His time was coming soon, and he would need to be prepared. Not for his sake, but for hers. As he watched his daughter punch thin air, flipping and spinning with a feline grace, he was reminded of his wife. Even though she was not their child by blood, Kaa's strength and spirit poured out of Zahra. When he set out to find The Forgotten Oasis, he had hoped to find a cure for his wife's illness. In a way he did, there he found Zahra as a tiny infant, he brought her home and they raised her as their own. Suddenly, his wife had a new lease of life and together, they were happy. As Zahra grew and her talents became apparent, it was clear that she had a much higher purpose than to simply exist. A higher purpose that his wife apparently shared.

Her loss still haunts him.

It haunted them both.

It was her time, he would say to Zahra.

She was taken too soon! Zahra countered. She didn't understand what needed to be done. Not yet.

  "She will be safe with me, Tadal", the Pharaoh placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, seeing his obvious trepidation.

Tadal said his goodbyes, to his Pharaoh and his daughter, before he bowed and left.

  ****

Zahra concentrated her breathing as she launched into a roundhouse and landed lightly on her feet, pretending she dudnt hear her father. A swirl of sand followed her movement in the air and fell like a golden veil to the ground.

  "Impressive moves, Champion," she spun to meet him and was immediately frozen by his intense gaze. "You indeed have a lot of heart when it comes to physical combat". His deep voice boomed off the heavy golden walls of the chamber. He commanded every inch. Every stone.

For some reason, that comment caught her guard and she went limp as she faced him. He stood on the side of the pit, arms crossed and golden jewellery glinting in the equally golden sunlight that poured through the netted windows. The way he looked down at her, you couldn't deny his divine right to be Pharaoh. 

Heart? She pondered his choice of words. Many would say that she had a lot of strength, determination or power. Never heart. She herself always felt an urge inside her to protect and fight. It wasn't about breaking jaws or knocking people out cold, although she couldn't deny that it felt great to put someone in their place by dislocating various limbs. But there was a greater good she felt about protecting others.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind, strength is something that comes from a heart that wants to help others.

  "Thank you, my Pharaoh", she sheepishly answered. Her eyes at focused on the Pyramid Puzzle that hung from his neck like a hypnotic pendulum.

  "Those gauntlets. Are they also your mother's?"

Zahra flinched. She had never told him that the jewellery she occasionally adorned was her mother's. It must have been father, she dismissed it.

When he suggested she enter this tournament, she scoffed and laughed at the idea. Her place was with the people, with the land.

And it still is.

Her father insisted that the Pharaoh was the only man who could save the people and the world. She wasn't convinced, and truth be told, she still wasn't convinced, but her father had never been so stern with her before. So, she reluctantly agreed.

She held out her arms and marvelled at the golden cuffs that covered almost her entire forearm. They were solid and gave good protection when blocking weapons or sharp blades. So far, they weren't even scratched, it was a testament to her speed and skill in combat, and her mother's before her.

They were tight against her young skin on occasion, a little too tight in the scorching heat when her body swelled.

  "Yes, my Pharaoh. They were my mothers." She finally answered.

The Pharaoh gave a curious grunt as he jumped into the training pit.

Zahra lowered to her knees, grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it into the palms of both hands, casually waiting to find out what the Pharaoh thought he was doing. This was the pit. This was her territory.

  After what felt like minutes of silence, her impatience got the better of her.

"So, my Pharaoh. Since you are in the training room and the training pit, am I to assume that you wish to train?" There was an impish glint in her eyes at the thought of sparring with the all-powerful Pharaoh.

There were rumours of his strength and these rumours were specifically about magic, rather than physical strength. Perhaps now she could see for herself and put her own theories to the test.

The Pharaoh had abandoned his sandals on the side. With a swift flick of his royal wrist, he casually discarded his navy cloak and loose beige dress with a long blue line down the middle. Leaving him in nothing more than his glittering golden jewellery and underskirt that looked well-made and laundered to perfection.

Zahra's control withered and she felt herself burn under the collar. Seeing him so bare was something very few people could say they'd witnessed if even anyone could. She fought back her blush the only way she knew how, with a snide remark.

  "I bet you don't even wrinkle the sheets, do you?"

Her father would probably scold her to no end for the comment, she would deal with that later.

The training pit was no man's land. An area where rank and standing at the palace was something you left at the heavy stone doors before you entered.

  "You can't wrinkle Egyptian silk," he retorted.

Zahra felt her shoulders collapse into hysterics.

Her guard was let down, and a faint breeze puffed against her face. A fist came flying from her blind side. Thankfully her reflexes were fast enough that she felt only his soft skin browse against her cheek as she moved her head. To knock him off balance, she leaned on her dominant leg and swiped for his feet.

A sly grin came over his face and he sniggered slightly. All Zahra felt was her one leg suddenly crippling beneath, and her back making sudden contact with the bottom of the sandy pit. What the…?

Before she could work out why the world was now on its side, she felt the crushing weight of the Pharaoh upon her. He straddled her waist like an experienced rider, with legs on either side of her torso as he held her wrists above her head, pinning her. Pushing the full force of his body onto hers to keep her submissive. His bare skin was warm and smooth against her. She felt his heat penetrate her skin.

It was no use.

Zahra grunted through gritted teeth as she pointlessly attempted to break out of his pin. He said nothing as she felt his commanding eyes penetrate through to her soul. Her lungs suddenly had no air and she took a shuddered breath as she felt his body shift on hers.

She was always by his side, but now he was so close. Too close. His breath grazed against her collarbone. He smelt like an intoxicating mix of cinnamon and myrrh. His Pyramid Prism dangled at the end of its chain and lightly scraped her abdomen. Her body was starting to surrender to his overwhelming power.

No…

In the palace, this was her domain. The Pharaoh may rule the land, but here, she was the sovereign leader.

Zahra commanded her body to come back to her. She would never relinquish control of her body. Her connection to the world.

She needed to unsettle him. Her place was to dominate the fight and now she needed to break his composure. But how?

  She pouted her slightly pink lips at him. "My Pharaoh," she whispered seductively. "What have I done to deserve such a thorough punishment?"

Nothing. Not even a tick of his jaw.

  "Who knew that the solemn and powerful Pharaoh, could be so passionate", she sensually bit her bottom lip, as she took a deep breath in to push her body even further into his.

The light netting of an open window blew high in a cool breeze. A few stray strands of her hair intertwined in his fingers and blew in the breeze.

She saw his eyes widen in shock.

Now!

With lightning speed, she flipped her body over. Dusty sand rose from the impact. Since he had hold of her wrists, it was no challenge to quickly slip out of his grip as his palms began to sweat, not something she needed to worry about, that's why she rubbed sand in her palms. And now, he found himself at the mercy of her body weight.

  "Well my Pharaoh, you've had a small glimpse of what it's like to see things from my perspective", she couldn't help but a quick glance at his slim, tanned and surprisingly muscular body. The Pharaoh's fatal mistake, he succumbed to her taunts. "Your magical abilities may be unbounded, but your physical strength leaves much to be desired."

To her surprise, the Pharaoh laughed. "You always find a way to surprise me, champion."

"Do you yield?" she demanded.

"How is it, a woman like you would find herself in Egypt?"

Her body flinched again, she silently cursed herself. The Pharaoh seemed to be able to poke at her vulnerability and had a way of making her feel like she was standing bare-naked in front of him. The fact she was in a compromising position, sitting on top of the Pharaoh, straddling him like a prized horse, did not help.

She knew exactly what he meant when he said, 'a woman like her'. Stretching her arms outwards she looked down at herself, a silent invitation to take in her foreign appearance. Oh yes, she was nothing like the others, putting her immense combat skills aside, the transcontinental, black fight suit from the North that clung to her like a second skin, emphasising every bump and curve of her ever-developing, womanly figure. Her light, slightly sun-kissed skin that turned a burning red if she stayed out in the sun too long without her protective salve. Lastly, her most alluring feature, her shimmering golden hair that she had piled on top of her head to keep her cool in the intense heat.

She knew how much she stood out.

Absentmindedly, she lifted her body from him and stood. It was like an invisible force that allowed her to float from her position and stand before the Pharaoh, who had already leapt to his feet without using his hands. The force surprised her, but she was still in fight mode, and her battle face knew never to break.

Suddenly she felt a pounding in her head. Perhaps that fall to the floor hurt more than she thought. Shaking it off, she looked him up and down, analysing his strengths and weaknesses. He had a decent amount of potential, which was apparent from his muscular physique, but it would do nothing against most of the warriors she'd come across.

I can't leave the poor man so obviously defenceless.

They were both a similar height, the Pharaoh stood a small foot above her. At least she could show him how to use his smaller stature to his advantage. His interesting hair stood in spikes and had various shades of colours, three to be precise. His fringe was equally as golden as her shimmering locks, with his golden headdress and jewellery, it blended in quite well. He didn't stand out as much as she.

Zahra stalked in a circle, barking commands at him.

  "Keep your back straight."

  "One foot in front of the other. It's easier to keep your centre."

  "Always keep your guard up."

  Suddenly she winced, feeling the pain in her head again.

  The Pharaoh's face flickered with a surprised look, apparently not used to taking orders for a change. Zahra ignored it and lifted his arms where appropriate, tapping at his upper arms to see how tense they were. She was pleasantly surprised by the hard muscle she found there.

Perhaps he isn't such a lost cause, she mused with a small smile. After a brief training session, where Zahra gave him sound advice about defending himself she ended with a note her father would often say to her.

"These strategies are not just for your physical strength. They'll help your mental strength too", her features fell into a soft, forgiving glow, "they'll also serve you well with your magic." She added.

The Pharaoh placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "Thank you, Zahra. You are as wise, as you are strong."

Zahra felt a warm feeling spread within her, the smile that grew on her face was genuine. Suddenly, the anger she felt at being dismissed from his side at the council meetings melted away.

She winked at the Pharaoh. "You are most welcome, my Pharaoh. I gave an oath to protect you, and I will honour that", she crossed her arms.

Suddenly, her head pounded again and the shutters came down over her features. "Even if you do annoy me at times."

  A small chuckle came from the Pharaoh's closed mouth. "Your loyalty means a great deal, Zahra, but please, we are friends now.  When it is just you and I, I'd like you to call me..."

Her head felt like it would split. She wanted to place her hands on her temple to ease the pain, but they wouldn't move.

  "As you command...." she heard her voice fade into nothing.

Darkness surrounded her. Zahra's mind felt like it had been beaten relentlessly. She felt the cold feeling of the back alley on her knees. The ground was damp, and the water had seeped into her clothes. She heard herself grunting in pain.

She tried to open her eyes, but the pain in her head blurred her vision.

  "Those are but a few of your past memories", the unusually clothed man spoke.

  "Wh-what are you even talking about?" the pain subsided slightly. Feeling anger grow from the pain and confusion. Who was this man? What did he mean by 'past memories'?

  "He needs you again. Go, and find him."

  "Find who? Look pal, I'm going to need you to either: start making a lot more sense, or leave me the hell alone."

  "The answers will come to you, the closer you get."

With that, he was gone.

Zahra, stumbled to her feet, knocking over bins and boxes stacked up against the walls. She held onto the ledge of a shop's back window.

The man she knocked out laid still on the floor. Her knees stung with pain. She slowly regained her balance and composure. Her pounding head had subsided into a dull ache.

Zahra glanced quickly at the alley. Not a speck of sand in sight. She looked at her forearms, no golden gauntlets.

But those memories felt so real, she rubbed her aching jaw. Every punch felt genuine. As though she had truly experienced them.

What, the fuck, just happened?

She noticed the men begin to stir.

Without thinking, Zahra grabbed her backpack and bolted out of the alley, as fast as her unsteady legs could carry her.