บท 40: Awake
Time Stamp: Vikram Era: 15 Chaitra 1637 (March 1570)
Siddharth stirred, his head heavy and throbbing as consciousness gradually seeped back into his senses. The first thing he felt was a soft, warm presence beneath him, his head resting gently on what seemed like a lap. The fabric of her clothing was coarse but comforting against his cheek. Blinking slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself lying in Aicha's lap.
The rift's ominous glow was now a faint memory, its presence having dimmed significantly. Harsh winds howled outside, sending a shiver down his spine. As he tried to sit up, his muscles protested, and his heart raced in his chest. His body was still recovering from the ordeal.
Aicha, her usually fierce demeanor softened by sleep, had her head tilted back against the metal wall of the chamber. Her breathing was steady but shallow, each rise and fall of her chest a gentle reminder of her vigilance. Her face, illuminated by the dim light filtering in, was serene but marred by fresh cuts and older scars that traced stories across her skin.
Siddharth's heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight. Her lips were slightly parted, a small cut on the corner still fresh, and a lock of hair had fallen across her forehead. He reached out instinctively but stopped short, not wanting to disturb her.
His eyes trailed down to her hands, which were calloused and strong. They had obviously seen their share of battle, and he couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she had led. The scars on her arms, though faint, told tales of survival and resilience. He noticed the distinctive shapes of the scars, some from bladed weapons, others from burns or shrapnel. These marks of a warrior were at odds with her claim of being a maid.
Aicha stirred slightly, and Siddharth's pulse quickened. He gently shifted, trying to ease himself out of her lap without waking her. But as he moved, she woke with a start, her eyes snapping open and her body tensing. For a moment, there was a flash of fear and readiness to fight, but it quickly softened into recognition and then concern.
"You're awake," she said, her voice rough from sleep and perhaps a bit of relief. "How do you feel?"
Siddharth sat up fully, his body still aching but more alert. "I'm... okay, I think. What happened after I blacked out?"
Aicha shifted her position, wincing slightly. "The rift... it closed, but not without a struggle. There were... creatures, things I can't describe. They came through, and I had to fight them off." She looked down at her injuries, brushing a hand over the dried blood on her arm. "They weren't easy to deal with."
Siddharth's mind raced, trying to process what she had said. The rift closing, the creatures—it all seemed surreal. "You fought them off alone?"
She nodded, her gaze steady but tired. "I had to. You were out cold, and someone had to protect us."
He felt a surge of gratitude mixed with guilt. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I owe you my life."
Aicha shrugged it off, but there was a hint of warmth in her eyes. "Just doing what had to be done. Besides," she added with a faint smile, "you're not bad company."
Siddharth studied her face, the scars, the signs of her battles. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?" he asked gently.
She looked away, a shadow crossing her features. "We all have our stories," she replied.
As the wind outside began to die down, Siddharth and Aicha both knew they needed to move on. But for a brief moment, in the quiet aftermath of the storm, they shared an unspoken understanding—a bond forged in the fires of their ordeal and tempered by their shared determination to survive.
As the light from the carbon lamp flickered and cast dancing shadows on the walls, Siddharth's mind whirled with questions. He needed answers, and the woman in front of him, this fierce and enigmatic figure, was the key to many of them.
He notices a nearby ornamental dagger , the kind used by nobility for self-defense, with a weird black-purple goo dripping
Siddharth's eyes narrowed. "Who are you really? You can't just be a maid. Your skills... they don't add up."
She hesitated, then met his gaze steadily. "I'm the newly appointed leader of the royal guards' cavalry regiment. I served under Khaitun. That's the truth. I was tasked with protecting her and leading our forces."
"Why was I in your lap?" he asked, softening his tone.
Aicha's lips curved into a faint smile. "You hit your head pretty hard. There was nothing around to keep your neck upright. I didn't want to risk making it worse."
Siddharth nodded slowly. "And how do you know my real name...?"
"Khatun described you to us. A young 11 or so year old boy, olive complexion, might have a female companion with him, his sister., he is crown prince of a powerful empire "south" from here. She instructed us to treat you and your sister with utmost respect if we encountered you. She didn't want to antagonize your empire. You're too strong for us to challenge directly."
Siddharth sighed. "Your Khaitun must have been smart. It's a shame she met such a bad end. Just bad luck."
Aicha's eyes flickered with something unreadable—perhaps grief, perhaps regret. "Yes, she was smart. And her death... it was a tragic loss for us all."
"So, what now?" Siddharth asked, genuinely curious. "The battle's over, and you're being taken as a prisoner. What will you do?"
Aicha looked thoughtful, her gaze distant. "I'll probably join a mercenary band or become a cavalry trainer. This life of constant war and political intrigue has been hard. I want to leave it behind, find some peace. Maybe the king will grant me temporary asylum. As retainers of the banished Khaitun, we have no kingdom to return to. We're stateless, without a leader."
Siddharth nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "It's not an easy path, but it's a chance at a new beginning. I sincerely hope you find what you're looking for."
Aicha smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Thank you. I hope so too."
As they sat in the dimly lit chamber, an uneasy alliance formed between them. The truth was still shrouded in layers of deception, but for now, they had a shared purpose—to survive and find a way out of this strange, forsaken place.
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