"Arabian Nights"
Part 3
by Emspike

 

Sean hated sand. And the sea, for that matter. It was all so harsh and biting. He cursed his lord and then instantly repented, swearing to the gods that he had not meant it. Why His Majesty would just disappear, leaving behind his guards, his friends, and all his belongings and just leave was a puzzlement, one Sean was afraid he'd never figure out. Viggo's father had been furious to learn that his heir was gone.

Out of all of his sons, the King had seemed to care the least about Viggo, yet the people had adored him. So, when Viggo left, Sean was ordered after him, to follow Viggo and bring him back. And Sean had gone, with a retinue of his own, though most were to tend to the open wounds from the flogging the king had ordered him to be given. As if Sean were a slave or a serf.

Sean was Lord of the Prince's Royal Guard and Captain of Security, not some nursemaid responsible for a wayward child. Yet he had been sent out as such, with strict orders to return Viggo to his home. Sean decided though, on his long voyage across the sea, that if Viggo would have him, Sean would stay with his lord, following him wherever he would go, and would not force him to return to Denmark.

The fact Sean was fairly certain he had fallen in love with the prince was a definite factor in his decision, yet he could not bring himself to care about that. The important thing was to not perish in this god-forsaken land until he had found his prince.

Now though, Sean was running low on supplies and had left his retinue in the last city, saying that as he was healed, there was no reason for them to go on a fool's mission with him. But as the winds picked up, sand stinging the parts of his skin that were left bare, uncovered from the loose clothing he'd bought at the marketplace, and the sounds of horses and men could be heard on the air, Sean began to regret his decision.

A pack of riders, six by his count, surrounded him and he drew his sword, watching warily. One rider, dressed in all red on a coal-black stallion, circled outside the ring of riders that surrounded him. He felt the red rider's gaze on him and when the rider spoke, it was in the voice of a woman, in a language he didn't know. She was apparently in control though, as two riders dismounted, coming towards him. He kept his eyes trained on them; certain one would attack soon, yet as he felt a sharp pain in his neck, he realized he'd been tricked.

Sean's vision swam and he swayed, black spots appearing on the edges of his sight and he stumbled, feeling arms catch him. A voice, in broken English, a language he'd been ordered to learn long ago, spoke in his ear. "You will be a perfect addition to some household. As a slave."

Sean attempted to pull free, to demand release, that he was no slave, but he found his legs and arms were too heavy, and unconsciousness loomed too close. With a sad sigh, he surrendered to the pull of induced-sleep, the riders settling him onto a horse and leading his unconscious form deep into the desert.

 

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