Chapter
Three – Hamza
Hamza’s head pounded. Or was it his heart echoing in
his ears? Jolak’s wail sliced across his nerves. He wanted to yank his dabba
off that damn thing and demand he open his eyes. To get up. Hamza clenched
his fists and something popped. The urge to rip and tear, to snarl and hiss,
was overpowering. The anger rose higher. He struggled to breathe, and his
vision wavered. In the background, Jolak continued to mourn, and the sound
stabbed at Hamza.
Gods help him, he couldn’t do
this.
A memory flashed through his head—of
him and his dabba, climbing trees. Laughter drifted on the warm breeze.
Jolak stood on the ground, peering up at them and shaking his head. Leaves
tumbled in a graceful dance as his dabba showed him how to slink through
the branches, stalking prey from up high.
“Like this, dabba?” Hamza prowled
gingerly along a branch. No leaves moved.
“Yes. Well done, my young. Be silent
and move gently as you stalk. You have the advantage since prey rarely think to
look for attack from above.”
His dabba leap from the tree, landing
in a crouch. Standing, he prowled toward his mate, who grinned from ear to ear.
His dad chuckled, then turned and ran.
His dabba huffed, hands on hips.
Hamza snickered. No one could catch
his dad. The male was as fast as the wind. It was a trait of his people. “You
waited too long, dabba,” Hamza shouted from the tree.
“Indeed, my young. But that’s okay. I
know where to find your dad.”
Giggling, Hamza leaped, and his dabba
caught him. “Let’s track him!”
“Fine idea, although I don’t know if
that’s necessary. I bet he’s in the kitchens. And I bet Cook will have
something tasty for a young who did very well in his training today.”
“Will dad get a treat too?”
“I’ll make certain he does… later.”
“Hamza?”
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. The refrain beat in his head, an
endless cycle. He couldn’t lose his dabba. He… he depended on him, on
his wisdom, on his thoughtfulness. There was still so much for Hamza learn. He…
oh gods, he wasn’t ready to rule.
His chest tightened. The sound of
harsh panting echoed in his ears.
As king, his people would seek his guidance.
But who was he to be giving out any type of advice? Sweat beaded at his
hairline. Everyone would want something from him. Demand something. Or look to
him for reassurance. How was he expected to handle all that? The thought alone
sent his heart skittering.
What if he screwed up? Or accidently
made an ally mad? Or offended someone important? His dabba was the one
with the smooth tongue and the ability to handle other species. He needed his dabba
to get off that fucking medibed and… and not be… be…. Darkness crept into his
vision.
“Hamza!”
His chest hurt. His nose burned. If
only he could draw a breath, then maybe he could… what? Make all this go away?
Make it so his dabba was hale and hearty? Make it so his dabba
was king, as he should be?
“Love, please!”
Hamza knew that voice, knew it
as well as he knew his own. His mate was concerned, and he couldn’t stand the
thought of worrying Neo. That… that was not acceptable. The raging panic backed
off a bit. He gasped, air finally filling his lungs. His vision cleared as the
panic subsided. Neo stood in front of Hamza. In Neo’s face, Hamza saw pain.
Sadness. And… worry?
“Neo?” His hands trembled as he
reached Neo. An overwhelming sense of helplessness swamped Hamza, but the
madness eased back. “Oh gods, Neo.”
“Easy, love.” Neo glided into Hamza’s
arms and pulled Hamza’s head to his chest. “I’m… gods, Hamza. I’m so sorry.”
Neo’s voice quivered. “So damn sorry.”
Hamza whined quietly.
“What about Jolak?” Neo whispered,
tightening his grip on Hamza. “Should we, I don’t know, do something?”
By all that was sacred, how could he
have overlooked his dad? He’d lost his dabba, but Jolak lost a mate. He
pulled out of Neo’s arm, horrified by his self-centeredness, and flew around
the medibed.
Jolak’s cries continued as he rocked,
still holding Duran’s hand. Falling to his knees, Hamza stared at his dad. Only
then did he recognize Jolak’s raw wailing was more than just a painfilled
racket. It was how his people mourned—how they sang loved ones on to the next
plane of existence.
Jolak grasped Hamza’s other hand,
shoved his grief aside, and helped sing his dabba on to the afterlife.
* * * *
Hamza had no idea how long they sang,
but his throat was so dry it clicked when he tried to swallow. He’d lost
feeling in his legs too. His dad slumped against him, finally silent, and Hamza
wrapped his arm around Jolak.
“Jolak? Can you stand? Can we…. Are
you ready to leave now?” Neo asked, hovering close by.
Jolak nodded, then closed his eyes.
Neo’s worried glance landed on Hamza
as he helped Jolak up, then swept Jolak into his arms. Turning, he left the
bleak room. Several royal guards fell in around Neo. Numb, Hamza watched as Neo
walk away. He had no idea where Neo was taking his dad, which was something he
needed to know, but his mind was heavy, and his thoughts moved like molasses.
Keyno caught Hamza by the elbow and
helped him stand. His legs cramped from being in one position for so long, but
he ignored the discomfort. At least he felt something besides
mind-numbing grief. Once he was on his feet, Keyno released him.
A few unit seconds later, a cup of
water was thrust in front of Hamza’s face. “Here. Drink.”
After the first sip, Hamza chugged
the rest. The refreshingly sweet, clean taste on his tongue was delightful.
When he was satisfied, Keyno took it and returned with another full cup. Hamza
downed it too and placed it on a nearby stand. “Thank you.”
Keyno laid a hand on Hamza’s
shoulder. “Go with them. Take a few unit hours to rest, to grieve alone, and to
get your head back on straight. Go be with your family, Hamza. They both need
you, and you need them.”
“But, but… I should—” He glanced at
his dabba’s body. Wasn’t there protocol for this? He shuddered at the
mere thought.
“This is not something you need to
do. Let me handle preparing his body.”
“I… I can’t ask you to do that.” But
oh, he wanted to.
“You don’t have to ask. I’m
offering.” Keyno patted Hamza on the back. “He’ll have family with him during
this time. He might’ve been my uncle, Hamza, but Duran was your dabba.
Such memories will do you no good. I’ll contact you when Duran is… prepared.
Please, let me do this for you.”
Hamza rubbed his eyes. The warmth of
Keyno’s hand seeped through his shirt. “I don’t know where Neo took my dad.”
He couldn’t even keep up with his
mate, how was he supposed to handle being king? Wildly he glanced around and
noticed Gibor standing off to the side. How had Hamza missed him? Malk stood
next to Gibor too. What kind of Tah’Narian was he to be so oblivious? And where
was the rest of his friends and family? “I don’t even know if everyone is okay.
Gods, I don’t know what happened to my own dabba!”
“The guards will show you where to
go. Also, Szin and Dayo are fine, as is everyone else. I’ll explain what
happened after you’ve had a chance to rest. Go. I’ll handle things until the
time you can take back over.”
“You…. That is permissible?”
“I am of the royal family, so I can
stand in your stead for a few unit hours. I have no desire to rule, you know
that. You are the one who’ll take our king’s place, but for now? Go be a
young morning his beloved dabba. If anything should arise, if those
females should dare to return, I’ll notify you immediately.”
Hamza nodded. Right then it was all
he could manage. “Thank you.” Fuck it. Maybe it wasn’t the Tah’Narian thing to
do, but he flung his arms around Keyno.
“Small steps, Hamza,” Keyno
whispered, hugging Hamza. “For now, small steps. We’ll….” Keyno cleared his
throat. “We’ll get through this.”
Hamza gulped at the hitch in Keyno’s
voice. So lost in his own grief, he’d forgotten Keyno suffered also. His dabba
was Keyno’s uncle. And gods above, he had no idea what Keyno had seen or had to
do during the attack. “Are… are you okay?”
“I am unharmed too. I promise. Now
go.”
“Okay.” Hamza couldn’t resist giving
Keyno one more squeeze, then he moved away.
Gibor joined them. “Your Highness, if
you’re—”
His stomach dropped, and Hamza
grabbed Gibor’s elbow. “Oh gods, no. Not yet. Just… just Hamza. Just like
always. I’m not ready for…. I can’t yet—”
Gibor flinched. “Of course. I… I
wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Hamza. Come, I’ll take you to where Neo and Jolak
are.”
