Standing back, Pasha Akbar's lieutenant, Khalil, watched what was going to happen this time. Sámi had not once conceded. Khalil had never witnessed another slave take the torment dished out for so long. After the second or third beating their resolve was usually crushed and they allowed Pasha Akbar to abuse them at his will.

Khalil looked Mlik up and down. The quarry had not weakened him, as Akbar had hoped. Instead, the man's body was stronger than ever. The pasha's tattoo of ownership stood out on his shoulder, arm and part of his chest. The brand of disobedience was scorched on his backside and his back was now a map of scars. Every muscle was defined on his lean taut body and his black hair, tied back, tipped his shoulder blades, loose strands hung long enough to cover his pectorals. How it was, that he was still alive, Khalil did not know? Any slave who continued to defy Akbar was usually killed on the fourth refusal, or sent to the ḥalqa to fight to the death.

A young girl was ushered into the room. She struggled to free herself. The guard struck her across the face.

"Strip her." Akbar stood and walked in a circle around Samuel and the girl, his hands behind his back watching the clothes being torn from her body. He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her towards Sam. "Do you like her, Mlik Sámi?"

Khalil watched Mlik's black eyes bore into Pasha Akbar's. He waited to hear Mlik speak but no words came. No words ever came.

"It does not matter if you do not like her. Either way you will fuck her." Akbar shoved the girl at Samuel's feet where she stayed on her hands and knees. "If you do not raise that cock of yours and do as I desire, you will watch her throat get cut, and your body will be washed with her blood."

Akbar forced Sam's head down so he could see his face fully. "Do you understand me? From now on, every time you refuse me, I will kill someone in front of you. You will watch them take their last breath. I will tear open their chest, so you can see the beat of their heart still. Today the girl. Next time a child." He lifted his dagger and pressed it to Samuel's throat. "I will never kill you. Better to make you suffer through the death of others." Akbar nicked the skin on Samuel's neck. A droplet of blood bubbled, and then trailed downward.

Samuel didn't flinch. His eyes held Akbar's as he said in concise, menacing, tones, "If. I am. To take her. I will. Need. My arms."

The deep raspy voice surprised Khalil. He had not heard Mlik Sámi speak since he had been renamed by Akbar, and now, to hear him speak in Arabic, the Pasha's language, was an even greater shock.

Pasha Akbar stumbled backwards, almost tripping on the girl. Colour drained from his face.

Khalil hid his grin. What had Akbar expected? Perhaps he thought Mlik would let the girl die. Certainly, he hadn't expected him to understand his threats, and then to speak his language.

"You may have your arms." Akbar nodded to the guards. "Release him!"

Samuel opened and closed his fists stretching his fingers and arm muscles. He shifted his eyes from Akbar, glanced at the blade in his hand, and then focused on the girl. She stared up at him in fear, and tried to scramble backwards. Sam took note of Khalil by the door, and glanced at the guards. The divan was against one wall. He looked back at Akbar and nudged his head toward the bed. "I'm, to take her, there?"

"Yes..." Pasha Akbar leered. "You may take her wherever you like." Akbar felt his body light up. Finally, he had won. The threat of killing another had worked. He wondered why he had not thought of it sooner.

Samuel crouched, stretched his arm to grab the girl, she kicked out with her  foot. He caught it. His vision blurred. Samuel closed his eyes, and then opened them slowly. The image of a tiny, bald, green-eyed imp flashed before him. His breath caught. A wave of light headedness unsteadied him. Sam let go of the girl's ankle, dropped a hand to the floor to balance, as he squeezed the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes once more. The flurry of confusion settled as he drew in air. He looked forward, saw Akbar and Khalil in his peripheral vision. All was, as it had been. Samuel wiped his hand down his face, and then reached out and grabbed the girl's ankle again.

Heat from her skin on his palms caused Samuel's heart to thunder in his chest. It had been a long time since he had felt tender flesh touch his own. He lifted the girl against him and wrapped her legs around his waist. As he stood, she whimpered, so he pressed her close, her heat, moist on his stomach. His body reacted like any man's would, with a beautiful young woman, naked, in his arms.

"Shh...alsaghir, little one," he whispered in her ear. "I will not hurt you." Tears filled his eyes, lapped his lashes, escaped, and then flowed down his cheeks, burning his skin. She was that imp, elfin and fragile. Whispered words from long ago, drummed in his ears. Are you an angel?

Sensing change in him, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, she put her hand at the back of his head, and pushed his face into her shoulder.

The intense feeling of warmth and comfort tore through Samuel. He clung to her.

She was as he, a vessel of pain and sorrow.

She was Maree pounding against him.

She was Erin caressing him slowly.

She was that green-eyed child, small and delicate, asking him if he were an angel.

She was...

"Shay..."

The name came on his exhaled breath. The child's name was Shay. She had reached out to him from years past. Her hand smeared in grime. Big green eyes stared at him from a face too emaciated to house them. Her little lips formed the shape of a smile. Are you an angel, sir?  Sam ear's hummed with the sound of her voice calling to him. I can clean it. I promise.  

From deep within the dark netherworld that was his life, she had found him, and steered him toward the light. Sam lifted his face and dragged in a huge lungful of air. He felt the girl in his arms tense. His muscles tightened, adrenaline surged through his body as he roared, "Shay...!" The name reverberated from the depths of his soul.

Samuel dropped the girl onto the bed and turned to face Pasha Akbar. He clenched his fists and bellowed at the world. The veins in his neck stood out. Every artery filled with blood and swelled along the length of his arms and legs. His body stood rock hard and rigid. Samuel Denyer, Earl of Irvine, knocked the knife from the pasha's hand, and then grabbed Akbar by the throat, lifting him off his feet. As the guards came towards him, Sam, holding Akbar by the neck, spun at speed, using the Pasha's splayed legs as a weapon, hitting the first guard.  He stumbled, fell and took the other down with him. They crumbled in a heap of arms and legs. With the momentum, Sam let go of Pasha Akbar. The short fat man flew across the room, hit the wall and slid to the ground. Mlik Sámi, slave of Algiers, moved to strike again. He dove forward, teeth barred, and gripped Akbar's neck with all his strength. The Pasha's face turned red, he clawed at Sam's large hands as he fought to breathe. 

Khalil watched as if in a dream, the tall muscle hardened man, lift the girl and hold her to him. He had watched as tears rolled down the slave's face and flames of light fill his black eyes.

Shay.

What did that mean? A word he had never heard before. Khalil watched Pasha Akbar's face lose all colour, as the lion buried deep in the soul of his slave, rose, took him by the throat, and then threw him across the room.

Khalil soared into action. He lifted his cudgel and slammed it across the back of the demon. Mlik Sámi fell forward, all air forced from his body. He landed and rolled onto his back as he strained to breathe.

Scrabbling for his dagger, Akbar took hold of Samuel's now limp length and spat, "You filthy heathen. I will not kill you, but I will have your meat." He lifted the knife, and as he brought it down, Khalil grabbed his wrist.

"No, master!" He pulled Akbar to his feet. "You take away his manhood and you take away his will."

Akbar turned on his lieutenant. "I have no need of his will. For it is his will, I want to crush."

"Mark him in another way, master," Khalil pleaded. "I have watched him since the beginning." He pointed at Samuel. "Give him to me, and I promise I will turn him into a soldier like no other. He has an inner strength I have not seen for many, many years. Surly the devil must rule him. Let me take him, so he may serve you in the arena." Khalil's face lit up, he raised his hands and looked down at the pasha. "The alsaaha will fill with crowds to see him fight for his master. Pasha Akbar's name will be engraved on every mind in all of Algeria."

Akbar's knuckles were white with tension and rage. Khalil hoped the dagger would not be buried in his chest. The pasha turned and stared at Mlik Sámi. He brought the blade down and slashed it across Samuel's face leaving a bloody gash under his left eye.

"Take him! Do what you will. If you fail, I will have both your cocks!"  

Ah... Shay... An angel to calm Samuel's soul. ♥♥♥

Alsaaha - arena

Halqa - ring

If there are any Arabic speakers reading please feel free to correct my use of words.  I have used Google translator to help me.

Photo belongs to Rokii