"Arabian Nights"
Part 4
by Mel
Pain
It exploded in his consciousness, making him unnecessarily aware all over
again. He longed for nothing more then to be lost in the dark. At least he
had felt safe there. Here, at the verge of awareness, he could feel the aches,
the pain, but thankfully no sand.
Viggo never wanted to see sand again in his life. But for now the pain over
run all thoughts, even pleasant ones of being free of sand. He must have made
some sound, some noise that punctuated the air as he felt hands roam his skin,
soothing the pain, offering comfort. He felt the pain recede, his consciousness
with it, he sighed into this gentle touch.
"Sleep now Princeling," a soft voice he had heard once before soothed
softly and Viggo found himself obeying the gentle command. "Answers can
come in the morning."
********
When Viggo woke again the pain was easier too bear, the sun
was up and he was alone. It took time but he managed to open his eyes and
take in his surroundings. The soft silk that covered his body came from sheets
that rubbed against his bare chest and sunburnt arms. Sweet smells from a
thousand spices reached his noes and his body ached with sudden hunger. He
remembered little of how he came to be in this beautiful place.
He hissed, pain rising as he attempted to lift his heavy body from the divan
that he lay upon. Taking in the aches and pains Viggo realized he had been
bathed, perhaps a number of times, and light silken pants were the only thing
that encumbered his frame. He was grateful, the sunburn was painful though
it only covered certain parts of his body.
As he was seated the beads hanging in the doorway of the room parted and a
young woman entered. She smiled, surprised by his wakefulness, carrying a
tray of fruit and water. Her dark hair, eyes and tanned skin gave the woman
away as one native to the desert. Her clothes were light and silken, flowing
around her body easily as she moved. There was a veil over the bottom half
of her face in white, but it hid little, her smile could still be seen beneath
it. She placed the tray on the table beside him, lifting the shallow cup from
it.
"Water?" He could tell her English was not very good, but she knew
enough to make basic commands understood.
Viggo attempted a smile at the pretty, young thing and put her at ease by
returning the question with an answer spoken in her own language. "Please?"
The smile beneath her veil grew and she handed the cup to him. "Eat,"
she told him softly, bowing slightly as she moved to leave, "I must go
and find Karl, he will be pleased to see you are awake."
"Who are you?" He asked before she passed back out the arch.
She glanced at him over, smile still playing on her lips. "Liv, sir,
head of the Caliph's of Aqabas household." And she was back out the archway
before Viggo was able to ask her anymore questions, leaving him alone with
his thoughts.
He had wandered further then he had first thought, not that it mattered. He
was lucky he had not died in the sand. He silently thanked whatever deities
were listening. Viggo was thankful that he had not been picked up by slave
traders, or worse, some Nomadic band. There had been tales he had heard that
made even his skin crawl. And he had heard tales of the Caliph of Aqaba on
his travels, but they had been nothing but nice. Even those of places that
had fallen to the Caliph's armies, spoke of how their lands prospered under
his rule. There was a rumor that the Caliph feared for his children's lives,
as they were said to be very young and many looked to rule Aqaba. He wondered
if this Karl was the Caliph they had spoken of. When the young man entered
he realised that he could not be the Caliph. Viggo had known warriors all
his life, he was one of the best in his land, and this man was a trained warrior.
His skin was bronze from the sun, his black hair in many tiny braids with
bright coloured beads at the ends. His eyes were not as dark as Viggo had
expected them to be, but a burning hazel that seem to light up at the sight
of his consciousness.
He slipped a white robe from his shoulders, leaving his chest bare, remaining
only in the hemp like pants he wore. The room itself was quite warm, but not
that hot, so Viggo could only wonder at the reason behind the desert warrior
shedding his clothing.
"So you are finally awake, Princeling."
Relief flooded Viggo at the sound of his voice. "I do believe it is my
savior, I owe you much my Lord."
The warrior before him chuckled, "you are the only Lord in this room
Princeling." The man told him, as two others entered the room, pouring
an urn of heated water into a tub across the room and leaving. "I am
Karl, Captain of the Caliph Hugo's guard. You had wandered far into our desert
and yet he did not bend you to his will. You have earned many of my people's
respect Princeling, including my own," the Warrior, Karl, poured sweet
oil into the water, running his fingers slowly through it, mixing, before
he stood and wiped his hand on a length of cloth. "I would like to the
name of one who has withstood the fury of the Au Nafud."
"Viggo," he told him, "and I am no longer anymore a prince
then you are Captain Karl."
Karl smiled at him, full lips parting, eyes sparking with delight. "We
shall see Princeling. Now, let's get you bathed, My Caliph wishes to meet
with you as soon as you have bathed and eaten."
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Mel
go to PART 5