Chapter 8: Chapter 7: As the Pegasus Flies

Chapter 7: As the Pegasus Flies

While the banquet continued, Princess Tamu and Prince Arash had gone outside, accompanies by servants, handmaidens and guards as well as some of the pegasi stable hands.

“Did you truly leave them in the gardens?” Arash asked, feeling somewhat apprehensive to see such a beast as was described to him. He had only ever heard of pegasi in legends—stories about the Wind Steppe, but he had never actually believed them.

Ahead of them the hands strode forward with Princess Tamu’s handmaiden Bayarmaa. She glanced about the entire procession that had followed them into the open terraced gardens.

“Are you well, Princess?” asked Arash.

She smiled. “Yes—yes I am fine. I just thought we might have a little more privacy than all this.”

She said the words quiet enough so that only Arash heard her. He glanced about. “I am certain we can find a way to escape,” he said with a wry smile, and she laughed a little, putting the back of her delicate hand to her mouth. “Now show me this beast,” he said.

“Yes, my prince,” she said, her tone somewhat sardonic, though certainly playful. “Please.” She gestured for him to move ahead of her.

Behind them Sahar brought up the rear, but that was all. He had told the lesser viziers of the court to leave them along.

The garden was quite lush and the sound of fountains could be heard from within, as well as the gentle chirping of night birds. Despite the blue darkness, there were some torches and lanterns that lit the way and Arash moved forward entatively.

He heard the sounds of horse’s hooves on the paving stones. The path opened up into a courtyard with a fountain, but through the thick foliage, Arash could not see any of the pegasi—and indeed he half expected a farce involving a horse, as the animal whinnied from out of his view.

And despite that, he stopped, realizing that his heart was beating fast. He almost flinched when Tamu came up beside him close enough so he could feel the heat of her body. He wanted to move even closer to her, but they were nearly touching one another now.

And then the Bayaramaa turned with a smile as the hands lead the animal out into full view. Arash saw a horse, but blinked as the massive folded appendage graced the side of the animal.

He breathed, just shy of a gasp. “My gods,” he said.

“Is she not wonderful?”

She whinnied somewhat, pulling at her reigns as the hand calmed her with some words Arash did not understand.

The prince stepped forward and glanced to Tamu.

She nodded. “It is all right. Go on and touch her.”

He swallowed then, taking a step forward as the cool breeze brushed past his clammy skin. He was more nervous than he thought he would be. Reaching out, her gently touched the feathers on the pegasus’ wing, surprised at the firm yet soft and silky nature of the feathers as he gently caressed the beast.

“Her name is called Achujam and she is my pegasus,” Tamu said.

As he looked into Tamu’s eyes while she spoke, Arash heard the other pegasi snorting and stamping about. He turned back to the animal and reached out toward the altogether more horse portion and brushed the bristly fur—it was very much like a horse and what he expected.

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “A horse—and a bird. She is a pegasus.”

“It is… amazing.”

Sahar made a sound behind them, and Arash saw him, but his uncle kept a polite distance away from direct earshot. Still, Bayarmaa was there with them and so were the hands.

“Do they not fly away?”

“Never,” Tamu said. “When we are very young, each child of the Wind Steppe nobility is given a pegasus to ride for the remainder of its life. The bond between a rider and his pegasus is a strong one.” She looked at the beast, at Achujam and smiled. “She is my friend. I would fight to protect her, and she me.”

“I have never had a friend in an animal before,” he said, being careful not to scoff. Arash was practical—at least in this regard. But then, these pegasi were magnificent animals.

Tamu said nothing.

“My uncle may have mentioned them—that they were birthed of magic, but I did not listen, I must confess.”

“Yes,” said Tamu, “that is the legend, though we do not know it is true, we believe the gods fashioned them from the horses and the birds to ride upon. Their blood courses with strong magic.”

Arash touched the feathers across the wing again. “And you ride these animals.” He said the words as a statement, almost unbelieving of them.

Tamu nodded with a smile. “Would you like to ride with me?”

Arash’s eyes widened involuntarily. Just the thought frightened him. “I do not think—“

Tamu moved around Arash and put herself between Achujam’s wing and her body, then jumped up upon her back.

“My lady!” Bayarmaa said, and Arash heard the worry in her voice. “What are you doing? Your brother will be furious.”

She glanced down at Arash, then to her maidservant. “They he will be furious.” She put out her hand to Arash and he almost recoiled. “Do you not wish to ride with me, Prince?”

“Young prince!” called Sahar.

Arash glanced back at his uncle, and the old man made a worried face, though he did not shake his head or protest more. Had he done so, Arash was not certain how he would have reacted.

Glancing up at the princess, he swallowed, took her hand and jumped onto the pegasus’ back as she helped him up, her grip surprisingly strong. As he was atop the pegasus, he didn’t know what to do—what to grab onto for—

“Princess, you should not do this,” Bayaramaa protested. “You risk your brothers ire. Do you wish to end this treat with the Ashah so soon?

She smiled. “I think you misunderstand my brother, Baya.”

“Um—what do I hold—“

Princess Tamu reached behind her back and grabbed his wrists, forcing him to put his hands around her waist. “Hold my firmly, prince—we are going to fly!”

“Fly?!” he shrieked, and she booted the animal.

With his heart lurching into his throat, the pegasus clopped along the paving stones and Princess Tamu booted the animal into a run.

Then she called something in her language that he didn’t understand and the pegasus spread its wings and beat.

A gust of wind swirled about them as the animal’s hind quarters flinched and they lifted above the ground. A most alarming thrill shot through Arash’s stomach and he screamed while Tamu laughed delightedly.

They came off the ground, Arash screaming in terror while Princess Tamu laughed in an excess of joy, her pure energy and exhilaration as Arash, though in a panic, did not overreact by continuing to scream, filled Sahar with a sudden transport of happiness and exhilaration.

The maidservant cringed, covering her head as the wings beat and the pegasus lifted into the air with powerful wind gusts. Ah, to be young.

“Gods and goddesses!” Arash breathed as the ground below them fell away, the faces of his uncle and Bayarmaa becoming very small. The palace was like one of his uncle’s little demonstrations.

“Is it not wonderful, my prince?” called Tamu.

“It is… it is exhilarating,” he said, not knowing exactly what to say to her. His heart was hammering like a drum and he thought he might fall off. “I am—afraid.”

Tamu laughed. “Hold onto me, Prince, for I am about to tell Achujam to descend.”

“Descen—“ the word was strung out like candied sugar as he screamed, the thrill from being on high jumped inside his body and he took hold of the princess’ slender waste with more force—never having been so close to a woman before.

The had left the mountain and the palace and were descending toward the black waters of the sea that glinted like silver in the moonlight. The animal then spread her wings and they slowed considerable, Arash letting out a breath of relief, and as they neared the water a gentle spray kicked up and wet their skin ever so slightly.

“This is wonderful!” he cried.

And then he screamed again when the pegasus beat her wings and ascending back into the sky, that jumping thrill inside him like nothing he had ever experienced before except for in his dreams.

This was like a dream.

The beast turned, leaning on her wing in the air, and Arash felt that he might fall, but trusted in Tamu, holding his face against her shoulder, and as they glided through the air she turned to him, her face close to his.

The beast then came back down and they alighted upon an open veranda back at the palace in a gallop of hooves. The cool wind was no more, but Arash’s skin prickled with sheer fear and exhilaration.

As Achujam stopped and Tamu turned about, Arash was first off of the animal and he stumbled away, feeling somewhat feint.

Suddenly Tamu’s hands were around his shoulders and she asked him, with no small amount of concern in her voice, “Are you all right, Arash?”

He nodded, taking a moment to recover. “That was… Oh gods—that was amazing!” he screamed, and she laughed, jumping beside him. “When you turned, I thought I was done for—the feeling inside me—it’s like a dream—you are a dream, Tamu.”

She laughed.

“I could never have imagined that I would fly today—never, not in a thousand lifetimes,” and it was then that a part of him fell in love with her, for her patience about his ignorance of the world and his haughty attitude, but most of all, for allowing him to join her for such an amazing delight.

And touching her… having his face so near hers…

He felt acutely aware of her pink limps and her soft skin—but most of all her incredible energy and beauty.

“My heart.”

“Are you quite all right?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding vigorously as he made his way to a bench and sat down. She sat beside him and he gasped for air. “Yes, I am quite all right.”

Then after a moment, he glanced about the balcony, at the yellow lights from the glowing crystals in the wall sconce. They were high—higher even than the Mountain Throne.

“Where are we?” he asked.

Tamu laughed. “You mean to tell me that you do not know, Prince?”

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“I…” he got up and glanced about. “So this is what the Mohtaram Tower is like.”

Achujam clopped beside them and snorted. “Easy, girl,” said Tamu, and she patted Achujam across the neck.

“Have you never been to your most estimable temple of the gods?”

“Well—yes of course. Just never up this high.”

“It is beautiful.”

“It is,” he admitted. “And quiet.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Yes… yes it is. I like it.”

“So do I.”

He was leaning across the bulwark of entablature that presented a bannister to around the massive balcony and portico. She put her hands atop it, her little finger overlapping with his own.

Glancing down, he looked at her hand atop his, then glanced up and found her eyes looking into his. She was somewhat taller than him, but he did not want to dwell on that now.

Swallowing, he looked at her and she at him, and he wondered if she wanted him to kiss her? He could smell her perfumed hair and feel the warmth of her body so close to his. Her moist lips would give him dreams for a month.

He leaned toward her and as his lips touched hers, she blinked, pulling away, somewhat.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“No,” she said, glancing down at their hands. She lifted hers. “Do not be sorry, my prince.”

“I like you,” he said.

She looked at him and glanced about nervously. “I like you too.”

But there was something there—about the way she said the words. Surely she had enjoyed herself? She had laughed and screamed with delight in showing him her pegasus in flight—had even allowed her to take hold of her… like that.

I don’t understand.

She looked upon Prince Arash, and she liked him—she liked him as much as he liked her, she thought. And he was the prince of the Al Hamiroon dynasty—a powerful heir to a powerful empire.

And he’s so young.

Thinking that word “young,” she knew to understand it in more than one way, as the prince was not very experienced. Surely they were too young to wed—even now. But would he mature in time, or would he be one of those rulers who took a thousand concubines and ate and drank in excess while the woes of his people were ignored.

“What is wrong, Princess?”

She swallowed.

Shaking her head, she said, “Nothing is wrong, Prince. I… I have a mind to choose you for my husband.”

“Truly?” he asked, his heart soaring in sudden excess.

She nodded, but then her subtly moved toward a shaking of her head and his happiness wilted into dust. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek, and it was then that he realized how calluses on her hands.

Lifting his own hands, he covered hers with his own, and she enveloped them tenderly, despite her roughness, which now did not surprise him, even though at first he had blinked. She pulled his hands down and held the one with her hand and caressing across the smooth skin with the fingers of her other.

“I am soft,” he said, saying what she was so clearly thinking.

She looked into his eyes. “I don’t mind.”

“Then…?”

 “I will marry a strong prince, Arash.”

“I am strong,” he said. “My father’s kingdom is the most powerful of all.” He heard the whining tone in his voice and almost shrunk back and away from her for it.

“That is not what I mean, Prince Arash.”

“Then explain it!”

“You are so young—“

“And you are not? I am sixteen—barely a year younger than yourself.”

How was she to explain this? Should she even explain to him?

I do not know what to do.

“If you do not want me, Princess—perhaps you should not continue to waste your time here.”

“Arash—“

“I am ready. You may take me down back to the gardens now.” He turned, feeling hurt and rejected. Every part of his inner world wanted to scream and lash out, but he knew in his heart that his lack of strength—as she had inferred, was nothing less than this, quite exactly.

The pegasus clopped up to her and she took the reins in her hand. “Arash, I believe that you could by the kind of prince that I must have.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “If I am not him now, I will ever cease to be—and on second thought, Princess, please fly back yourself. I will walk the distance back to my chambers.” He strode for the doors, then realizing how rude and petulant he was being, he forced himself to turn around. “I thank you for this wonderful evening, Princess Tamu.”

He bowed, then, turning, he strode for the doors, and behind him the pegasus galloped into a canter and alighted into the sky in a gust of wind.

Arash stopped at the doors under the portico and watched the pegasus fly above with its outstretched wings.

“What an incredible beauty,” he breathed, and he meant the words of the princess—not just her pegasus mount.

Trying to swallow, he sniffed loudly as his nose began to bother him. Alone, he walked down the marble stairs, his footfalls echoing within the high tower loudly. Most of the palace guests were at the banquet, so the halls were empty, save for the guards.

They saluted him.

“My prince,” the one said, and simply hearing the guard address him was annoying.

Arash wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

 

Finally he reached his chambers and called to his servants. One of them arrived quite promptly. “I want everyone out of my chambers.”

“My lord?”

“Everyone. Go—now. Do not bother me. I am going to sleep.”

“Shall we bring you breakfast in the morning?”

“Yes, yes!” he snapped. “Now go.”

“Yes, my prince.”

The head servant clapped his hands and they scurried out of his excessively large chambers, but before he shut the door, he turned. “And inform my mother and the sultan that I will be retiring for the night. I do not feel well.”

“Yes my prince,” said the head servant with a bow, and Arash shut the door upon his face.

His chambers were mostly dark, save for a few glowing crystals. They were the small ones that didn’t produce very much light. That was fine.

The curtains billowed into the chambers softly. The night was hot, but the air was cool and inviting. For a time, Arash simply stood out on his balcony an glanced about the silvery moonlit sea.

It was quite beautiful—and yet all the beauty it contained was as ash in his throat. The Wind Steppe princess had come, she had seen—and she had rejected Arash. He grabbed a pillow from the chair and tossed it off the balcony.

Throughout the palace the lively guests could be heard various gardens that had been prepared for their use to carouse in—and the pools across the towers, though not visible from his apartments, were alight.

He sighed heavily.

Perhaps Arash should have given that scroll Sahar gave him earlier more thought, but then the prince shook his head. There could have been nothing to do about that. He simple had no answer, and that was part of the reason why he had lain it aside and scoffed.

His arrogance lost him Princess Tamu—and his ignorance. Now he wished that he had paid more attention to his tutors and instructors instead of running off to play games about the palace.

Was this why his father the sultan needed a powerful ally? Was Arash a weak prince that needed the support of a strong queen to govern the empire?

A part of him wanted to throw something as he viciously lashed out at the very thought of being a weak prince. Arash was a strong prince! He would govern well—bring the empire into a new golden age—to the underworld with that—the empire is in a golden age!

Sighing heavily, he left the balcony and poured himself a goblet of wine. Normally he did not drink in excess like a party goer, but he lifted the bottom of the chalice until he drained it all—assuring himself of a deep and long sleep, hoping Princess Tamu would be quit of the palace on the morrow.

Arash took off his shoes and tunic and wearing not but his silken pantaloons, went to his bedchambers where he lay down. For a time, he simply closed his eyes, going over everything that had happened that day with the princess.

And while the prince closed his eyes, unbeknownst to anyone—as well as that of the guards, men stole into the palace through various ungraded entrances, their steps silent and their faces covered, and on their backs scimitars scabbarded in black hung, like coiled snakes.

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