Zeinab had no idea the world was so big. It only seemed to be getting bigger.

She glanced back at the two figures trailing behind her, struggling against the weight of the heavy traveling packs on their backs. Abel, the dark skinned Afraci, met her gaze and offered her a tired smile. She returned it, understanding his fatigue.

They'd been travelling through the mountain for almost two weeks, matching the cruel pace of the soldiers that accompanied them since they began the journey from the king's palace; a fast, almost desperate fear-fueled pace that drained the body of life and vigor.

Hakim alone looked happy, elated even, and he whistled contentedly as he pulled himself up the rocky mountain ridge. He'd joined them from their last stop, the Southern Garrison, three days before, which put him in a relatively fresh state of mind.

He wasn't exactly perturbed that in the eyes of the army, by traveling through Parisia with them, he was a traitor to the crown and deserving of death without trial. Zeinab didn't know whether he was too dumb or too confident to be afraid. Maybe both.

"I know what you're thinking, my dear." Hakim said as he reached Zeinab.

"So you read minds now?" She asked wearily, devoting most of her attention to climbing rather than on the immature soldier that was probably about to make a lewd comment.

"The eyes betray the hearts deepest secrets." He grinned smugly. "And right now yours tells me you are admiring my wonderfully sculpted figure and wondering about my prowess."

Zeinab thought she heard Abel choke.

"You might look good, but I have a few recommendations to make you look better." She answered, shooting him a glare. "Like falling off this mountain and making sure to bash your that big mouth of yours on the way down."

"Ah, but you wouldn't want to miss my blissful mouth and all its wonderful acts, now would you?" Hakim waggled his eyebrows. "Traveling with this silent statue would be very boring." He said, angling his head towards Abel. "No intelligent sparring with words, no trading stories over the campfire, and..." his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "No huddling under the cold night."

Also no feeling the need to commit murder, Zeinab added silently. She would have thrown a rock at him if she didn't need both hands to climb up the mountain. Abel, it seemed, was content to burn a hole in Hakim's backside with a ferocious glare.

They finally pulled to the top of the ridge, heaving synchronous breaths of relief as they stood up on the vertical surface.

Zeinab looked up, and her already taxed breath caught in her throat. All thoughts of snapping a comeback at Hakim fled from her mind.

A carpet of brown and red earth lay before them, stretching towards the horizon. Several spots glinted like glass, sharp sand reflecting the sun's light. Light and dark bands stretched to the left and right, dunes of sand formed by the wind.

She stumbled in an attempt to receive what she saw.

It was the deathly beauty she'd heard described countless times in stories, but never seen for herself. Alluring, and ready to strip you dry of life.

The desert.

It was unchanging for miles, no deviations from pattern to mark as landmarks. She shivered at the thought of getting lost in the center, with no compass and map.

"Its..." She struggled to find the right word to use for it. This wasn't material beauty. This was the beauty of the stars, of the endless oceans. Parts of the world that none could really comprehend.

Hakim's unimpressed snort broke her through thoughts. "It's not even a real desert."

"What?" She blinked, startled, managing to tear her eyes off the landscape and turn them on Hakim.

"It's only semi-arid." Hakim said, nodding sagely. "Ask your Afraci friend here. Their desert, the Dead Sea, perfectly exemplifies the word."

Abel pursed his lips, not bothering to mention that in all of his life as a slave, he hadn't even visited his home continent.

Zeinab wasn't going to bring it up either, and embarrass her silent companion, who she knew very little about. Especially when she'd lived all her life in Parisia as well, and had never visited her birthplace in the southern lands.

"So, highly esteemed guide, what now?" She said, lilting her words with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Zeinab did not like his grim pause before he responded. The gloomy twist to his face did not help either.

"If we want to get to Ka Has safely, we'd take the route along the mountains for a few days longer before turning east. If we want to get there quickly... we'll have to pass in a straight line southeast. Which means time in the dessert." He paused, glancing at Abel and Zeinab. "We're also going to have to cut through the battlefront."

Zeinab's heart stuttered and she pulled in a sharp breath.

Parisia had a war on its hands. Their neighbors, the kingdom of Kar, had been viciously cutting a path into their border over the last few months, pushing armies army into the country slowly but surely. It's borders with Parisia had turned into a war-ground, and it's army destroyed any cities unfortunate enough to be in its path. The fugitives fleeing brought terrifying tales with them.

And now she was about to walk into that very battlefield. Fear did something nasty to her digestion and her stomach roiled.

"Not every point of the enemy lines is a battlefield." Hakim hurried to say, at her unnerved expression. "We're sure to find a gap in their lines and slip through."

Some of the fear bled away at his words. She had followed the king's orders and begun this journey fully expecting extreme danger. Crossing the battlefield was just the first of such things to come. Maybe the easiest.

She closed her eyes and chastised her racing heart. It laughed mockingly at her and continued racing.

"The sun will set in a few hours." Abel said, squinting at the blinding ball of light that hovered above the dessert. "I don't like the idea of being in such an open place without the protection of light."
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"That is the longest sentence you have spoken today." Hakim noted dryly. "The longest sentence I've heard you speak." He corrected.

Abel turned a dangerously flat gaze on Hakim. It had the same effect he would have gotten, had he hugged him; Hakim smiled.

"Your fears are not unfounded," Hakim said, returning back to the topic on hand, "but we do not have much of a choice if we are to escape the soldiers after us. They can't be more than half a day behind, and we know that they march faster than us. We stay here tonight, and we will be within their sight and reach tomorrow."

"What about Nari?" Zeinab asked, raising an eyebrow. "No lesser animal will dare approach while she's around. We'll be safe to cross the desert with her at our side."

Hakim nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed in thought. "But it's not exactly like she spends much of her time with us is it? I've travelled with you for days and I've only seen her once, and from a distance."

Zeinab couldn't argue with that point.

Nari was a dragon, one of the few from the King's pens. Bonding herself to the dragon was one of the terms Zeinab demanded from the King to make the journey, toreleasing the dragon from living underground in a giant cage, with no chance to fly or breathe flame.

Nari still wasn't free, and the gemstone embedded in her forehead ensured that she could never use magic, but at least now she could fly whichever way she chose without being held down by the King's metal chains. She could pretend to be a free creature like Zeinab did, now that she was far away from the palace.

"If she graces us mere mortals with her presence, there should be no problem. But we cannot stop here under any circumstance." Hakim stated firmly.

Just then, the faint thunder of beating wings reached Zeinab's ears. She turned around, her eyes scanning the sky. She smiled when she spotted the source of the sound, a glittering snow white blur with two huge sails pumping at the side, hurtling towards them at speeds no land animal could hope to achieve.

Hakim followed Zeinab's gaze and shivered. "Speak of the devil..." He muttered, his voice dark.

Nari landed in the valley below them, hovering above the ground for a moment before her powerful legs touched the earth, claws scraping against stone. She climbed up towards them, twisting her body with as she easily navigated the rough surface that had taken them nearly half an hour to climb.

Zeinab never truly appreciated her size, until she stood beside them, twice as tall as them at the shoulder, her lithe neck lifting her head even higher. A single one of her pale wings could cover the three of them like a spacious tent.

She lowered her head to Zeinab, nudging her fondly and exhaling softly through slitted nostrils. Zeinab gladly rubbed her snout with both hands, smiling as the little cold in her limbs fled.

"Good to see you too." She murmured.

"Miss me?" Hakim asked and Zeinab felt her lips curl in amusement. Nari looked up and her eyes narrowed in derision as she stared at Hakim. Since he joined them, the dragon had never come over to liking him, barely tolerating his presence.

"She still looks at me hungrily." Hakim said, his voice flat.

"She's a good judge of character." Zeinab answered smugly, turning back to the dessert. Her hand found its way to Nari's side, rubbing it softly and a low rumbling grew in Nari's throat, a strange purr of content.

"If we're walking anyways, we should leave before we lose the last of the sun." Abel spoke up, watching the fiery ball as it approached the horizon. He checked the straps on his pack and tightened the straps of the sword strapped to his back, before beginning the descent down the side of the mountain.

Zeinab sighed wearily. She knew she should move, but she found herself wishing she could lay down and sleep; and forget the world around her. Forget the King and his charge to find the missing Prince. Forget the war, or the soldiers hunting them.

"We are still alive." Hakim murmured to her, his gaze strangely intense and knowing. "At least we have that."

For a buffoon, he could be unnervingly perceptive at times. She nodded to him, trying to reassure herself with his words. At least they were alive, not dead empty husks in the hard earth. With life, no matter how bleak and empty, she still had hope.

She had given her word, and while she was alive, she would keep it. If it would provide her freedom from her inherited debts, then she would keep it.

So, with a dragon by her side, and a promise on her lips, she began the descent to the lonely dessert.

\\//\\//\\//\\//

Felix the fourth, heir to the Parisian throne, supposed he was losing his mind. Piece by painful piece. And it was all thanks to a damn nursery rhyme.

He'd been staring at the blank stone walls for ages now, his mind generally pondering the difficult problem he was in.

Boredom.

Yes, a possibly insane character had abducted him. Yes, he was locked in a dungeon somewhere. Yes, he hadn't seen the light of day in, well... days; but all of that paled in comparison to the maddening boredom.

Alone, except for the black rats that came to chat with him occasionally, when his abductor saw fit to give him food, his only reprieve from the silence was to sing. While Felix had extensive schooling in the art of music, he unfortunately had neither the musical instruments, nor the full stomach needed to sing a soprano. Nursery rhymes were the only musical elements to come to him that wouldn't make him feel any hungrier.

Now, the lines of songs long forgotten were haunting him, running in circles around his head.

He was distracted from his circular thoughts by the sound of leather soles scraping a stone floor. He looked up from the floor, glaring at the metal gate before him, the scuffing boots all the signs he needed that his abductor was coming.

Which side of the abductor would show itself this time?

The answer became clear when his abductor approached the metal gates, an almost hopeful expression illuminated by the flaming torch in his hand. He still wore the black cloak he wore the evening he took him prisoner.

"You're lucid." Felix noted, his voice weak and rasping with hunger and disuse. "Does that mean I get to eat dinner now? Or is it breakfast? I can never tell with the dark here."

His abductor studied him for a few moments, his face pulling into a faintly hurt expression. "You're angry." He finally said.

"No, I'm hungry." Felix corrected. "Okay, maybe I'm a little angry, but only because I'm very hungry right now." He added with a frown. "If this is the way you keep your prisoners, I'm surprised you don't have skeletons in the rooms next door."

"I don't keep prisoners." The scowl turned fierce, almost angry.

"I forgot." Felix gave an entirely unapologetic smile. "You wait until you have a chance to nab the Prince before you go for your first abduction. Congratulations! who's next on the list, the King himself?"

"I told you who I am." His abductor said. "You know I would not keep prisoners for pleasure."

"Forgive me if I have a hard time believing your tales." Felix rolled his eyes. The action was more insincere than he preferred, because a small part of him, a growing part, believed his abductor's story.

But if it was true, his abductor had been abandoned by his parents as a baby because he was blood-born, a baby that arrived in the world with chaotic elemental powers, tearing his way out of his mother. If it was true, his father had been King Arsalan of Parisia.

If it was true, he and his abductor were twin brothers.

The face behind the gate was Felix's, as identical as looking into the mirror, except for a small nick across his forehead, a white scar the length of a fingernail. They had the same blue eyes and blonde hair, and the bright smile that made beautiful women unsteady on their feet, although the smile looked slightly unhinged on his captor.

He could see that they looked exactly the same, were of the same age, but his mind refused to accept it because of what it implied; that his parents had knowingly abandoned their own flesh and blood, Felix's twin, and had hidden the secret for over a decade. That they had left a helpless babe for dead, with no care or love.

He gritted his teeth and shut down the line of reasoning. "You're smart, jailer. This kind of torture is more efficient than red-hot chains. Deprive a pampered prince his seven-course meal."

"You know you can call me by my name." The abductor's voice became a low pleading whine.

"Get me some roasted lamb and I'll think about it." Felix answered, his back hunched wearily. The conversation was leaching energy he didn't have, making him feel every ache and wound in his body. He waited several long minutes for his abductor to respond before raising his head.

He was gone. The corridor was empty, even though shadows leaped as the light his abductor held drew into the distance, a marker of its master's exit.

Felix felt a strange sadness in him, and he reasoned it must be because his sole source of excitement for several hours to come might have just left, not because he missed the presence of his captor. And the next time he saw him, he might not be... the same. He let his head drop in defeat.

Several minutes later, he noted the sound of metal scraping stone, and he looked up as a plate and a water flask slid across the floor towards him. The bread in it was dry and crusty and the fish slightly under-cooked, but he would have devoured it happily had the bread been moldy and the fish uncooked.

By the time he looked back up at the gate again, his abductor was gone again, and this time, Felix sensed he would not return for a long time. He had taken care of his abductee for a while after all. Thanking whatever gods still listened to prayers out there, he dug into the meal with both hands, stuffing his insides full.

At least with this meal, the nursery rhyme should fade from memory.