Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology (18 page)

Their return was met with cheers from the men and women who greeted them, bowing to both friends and masters who worked alongside them to survive in the harsh desert. They dismounted and led their horses to a paddock down a tunnel where they could find fresh water and safety.

Their spoils, spartan and few pickings, were unloaded and shared. Food was quickly sorted and sealed away. Their leader checked on all of his men to be sure they were well in hand before turning to his own area, where his slave girl waited for his return with tea and fresh linens. He sat down on his rugs as she set herself about caring for his sword and saddle.

Ahmed watched her silently, appreciating her grace of movement and the care that she always showed him. If she knew his secret, who he truly was, she never revealed it. She treated him as a man. It made him love her even more, even if by law he was forbidden from telling her, one who was of common birth and belonged only in a harem.

But in the dark of night, when spirits were free to walk and dreams came alive, he could love her. Their fingers could touch, their lips could meet, and their hearts could be together, even if only in silence.

“Harana.”

She bowed to him and then raised her eyes to his. “Master.”

It meant death for a slave to look into her master's eyes. They both knew this. She tempted the fates and his wrath by raising her gaze, but he allowed her the transgression. He took her wrist and pulled her to him.

Their voices, quieted by blanket and rug, carried throughout the walls of the side cavern that served as his personal chambers. Here, hidden from the eyes of the stars and judging gods, they could be their true selves.

They held each other, and in these moments, Harana felt her greatest joy. She could never tell him, but she knew her heart betrayed her. He did her great honor by not reproaching her, and she loved him for his gentle leniencies.

Harana noticed something sparkling in the firelight and sat up. She took up the gold watch and stared at the hands, ticking slowly away in an attempt to decipher something as mysterious as time. The foolish thoughts of the westerners amused her. She handed it back to him, but he shook his head and pressed it back into her palm.

“For you.”

She stared at it. “This much gold is more than I could make in a lifetime. It would even be enough to—”

“Buy your freedom,” Ahmed finished. “You could use it and go far from here. Far from this war and the blood of our people drying within the sands.”

“Far from you?” Harana whispered, and shook her head, opening her palm and treating the watch like it was some kind of poisonous creature.

“I would have you safe.”

“Anything that would take me from you is not safe. It is death.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Will you ever obey me?”

She pressed her face against his chest. “I will never obey any command that takes me from your side, my master.”

“Such things you say . . . if my men heard, I would be forced to—”

She silenced him by kissing him passionately and pulling him back down onto the rugs. He went willingly, yearning for peace to find them both, if only for a little while.

Harana rose before him in the morning. She could still feel his kiss as she stoked the fire next to their sleeping rugs and made his breakfast for him. They only had dried meat and fruits with a bit of stale bread and tea. She felt shame within her breast that the man she loved, her prince, had been forced into such squalor.

Even more to her shame when she noticed out of the corner of her eye how he would scrape some of his food into her bowl to make certain she had enough. That was her duty and obligation, not his. Yet her heart swelled at his gesture, despite her wounded pride.

Seeing they needed more water, she took the waterskin and went out. The men who had risen nodded to her. The life of a slave was hard and unforgiving, but their masters were gentle. She wondered if any of them were fortunate enough to know love, but dismissed the idea. To tempt God and the fates by opening a heart was a dangerous proposition for any women, especially a slave.

She knelt at the hole in the cavern floor by another woman, Madea, who smiled at her. “Good morning, Harana.”

“Good morning, Madea. How fare you this morning?”

“Well enough, Harana. Although . . .”

“Yes, Madea?” Harana looked at the young girl, who seemed hesitant and flushed.

“I think I may be with child.”

Harana blinked in surprise. “Are you so certain?”

“No, but I have felt the sickness for almost a week now. I am hardly able to eat the dried foods. Those are the signs, yes?”

“Those are the signs,” Harana murmured. A child in this cave, far from the gardens and doctors of their home? Such an idea filled her with uncertainty and worry for the future.

Yet the woman within her felt a twinge of jealousy. “May I?” Harana held out her hand, and Madea nodded. Harana touched her hand to the other girl's stomach. She couldn't feel anything, but she shared in Madea's excitement.

“No one knows but you, Harana,” Madea whispered. “I don't know what our master would do.”

“Who is the father?”

Madea looked shyly toward the entrance to the cave, to where a man was looking out across the dunes. “He is even now protecting us.”

Harana recognized him. He was not attractive and she was surprised at his age, but he was a kind man who never raised his voice to horse or slave. After suffering a leg injury by a bullet, her master had set him to protect their home while he and the others loyal to him went riding.

“He is a good man, Madea. He will make a good father for your baby.”

“But he might be angry. What of our master?” Madea looked frightened and placed her hand over Harana's.

Harana thought for a moment and shook her dark haired head. “Our master has lost much. More than any man should bear. A child would give him pause and remind him that even in this barren existence there is life to be found. I envy you, Madea.”

“Envy me? Surely one day you could have your own?”

Harana looked away. Her master could never accept her as more than a slave. Any child she would bear would be only a bastard. She could not do that to him. Before she could answer, she heard a shout from the entrance. “To arms! Soldiers!”

Both women turned in unison toward the entrance and gasped as shots rang out. The guard fell back into the cave, his rifle echoing as he pulled the trigger. Cold fear lanced through her abdomen, straight into her heart. “Madea, no!” But the young woman paid her no heed and ran toward the entrance, where the father of her child now lay dying.

She never made it. More shots rang out and the young woman crumpled to the cave floor. “No!” Harana cried. But there was no time; she turned and ran deeper into the cave, calling out for her master's warriors to rise and protect themselves.

“Warriors! To arms! Protect our master!”

Men shouted and grabbed their rifles, running toward the entrance. Swords were drawn as they called to God to protect them in battle and bring them victory over the enemies who invaded their last bastion of hope. She did not stop running, even as more began to fall around her.

The calls of a British officer issuing commands came from behind her.

“Now lads! Let's give them another volley for Her Majesty the Queen!”

Her foot sliding on a stray stone was all that saved her. She slipped and fell onto her backside as a leaded shot flew right by where she had been standing only a moment before. Heart racing, she scrambled to her knees.

“Harana!”

She turned just as her master appeared, his scimitar in hand and his long hair, unbound and disheveled, flowed as he grabbed her and pulled her to safety just as another volley rang out.

“My master! We are undone. The British—”

“Hush, Harana.” Ahmed glanced around the outcropping that sheltered them. British soldiers with their rifles were marching into the caves, stepping over the fallen bodies of his men. He tightened the grip on his sword and looked into her eyes.

“Stay behind me.” His eyes narrowed. “This will be a fight that the children of their children will remember.”

She tightened her fists against his chest. She knew asking him to lay down his weapons would be pointless. Even if the British didn't hang him, the shame of imprisonment would kill him. All she could do was pray for the end to be swift.

“In the name of the Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, I demand for you to drop your weapons and surrender.”

He held out of the blade of his sword and looked into the reflection of the metal, noting how many men he could see. There was no way out. For either of them.

“I wish you had left last night when I told you, woman.” he said. She knew he did not want the lifeblood of another innocent on his hands. Especially her own.

“I told you I will never leave your side as long as I live.” She took his face into her hands. “Ever.”

He smiled sadly. “To death, then. Together.”

Two soldiers came running around the corner and he drove his sword through one as the other raised his musket. Harana cried out and grabbed a bowl filled with spices before throwing it into the soldier's face. He screamed in pain. Her master grabbed his musket from the soldier and hit him with the butt of the weapon.

“Stay back!” Two more soldiers rushed in. Her master shot one and threw the musket down before parrying the bayonet of the other.

“No!” he shouted and jumped between her and the musket. Time seemed to slow as she saw the cloud of musket smoke and her master flying back. She cried out as he fell and drove the bayonet point into the attacker's neck. She rushed to her master's side.

“Master! Please do not leave me, my prince,” she pleaded with him, kneeling down next to him as he looked up at her.

“You knew?” he coughed, a thin trickle of blood on his lip.

She cradled his head and touched her lips to his. She could taste his life blood. He didn't have long, and she would see to it that she would join him in the afterlife.

“I've always known, my love.”

“Why did you nev—”

“Because I love you,” she said. “I've loved you since I saw you on your father's charger. Do you not remember? He told you not to ride his horse and you disobeyed. You hurt your knee when you fell and I bandaged it for you. I asked my father to sell me to the harem so that I would be close to you. I've stayed by your side for all this time and I will stay by you until as our bones join the desert sands along with our people.”

He smiled weakly at her. “Harana . . .” His eyes dulled and he breathed his last. She fought back a sob and kissed his lips farewell.

She glanced back with tear-filled eyes and saw that more soldiers had entered along with a man she believed must be the commanding officer. She took up her master's sword, standing shakily to her feet as the English soldiers moved toward them. “Now, now, girl,” the man, a major with a wide mustache said. “Don't be foolish. We won't hurt you. Just put that sword down and—no!”

He took a step back in surprise and gasped as she raised the sword, turned it, and drove it deep into her own heart. Several soldiers rushed forward and grabbed the sword away from her, but it was too late. The major noticed a faint smile of peace reach her lips before her body went limp.