Реймонд Хаури - Empire of Lies

But not just watching.

Her lips were moving.

She was reciting something.

While Kamal had used the long ride to the camp to run various scenarios of what might happen once they were facing Rasheed, Nisreen had used the time differently.

She’d spent it sneaking furtive glances at her forearm, plugging in the right wording for ten days and committing it to memory as much as possible.

She knew she wouldn’t have more than a few seconds to act. On pure instinct and throwing caution to the wind, she decided to use it.

Ten days in the past.

Her lips mouthing the words as fast as they could.

The last things she saw were Rasheed, still riveted in place, stunned by Taymoor’s move—and Kamal’s eyes, wide with shock as he realized what she was doing.

Then the familiar rush, the same sensation of cataclysmic tearing apart and searing reassembly that she’d experienced before, and she was in the tent, in the same spot, naked, frozen with terror—and alone.

Rasheed wasn’t there.

Her mind raced to decide what to do and quickly settled on the only thing she could do.

Save Kamal.

Hoping he was still alive

Hoping the man he was fighting was too stupefied by her disappearance to react, hoping she might have bought Kamal a crucial few seconds that could make the difference between life and death.

She took a few quick steps across the tent, to where she’d last seen Rasheed standing, then positioned herself a couple of steps behind it and did the one thing she thought they wouldn’t expect.

She hadn’t just memorized the version for traveling into the past. She’d also memorized the variant she’d come up with, the one Rasheed had now confirmed she’d got right, the one that would allow travel into the future.

The same future she’d just come from, only a few seconds later.

Which was right now.

She raced through the words, the fierce jolt ripping her apart again, and she was back.

In the tent.

Still naked.

With a fusillade of images scoring direct hits in her frazzled brain.

Taymoor’s face crunching with pain as his opponent’s blade cut into his side.

Kolschitzky, locked in a ferocious tussle with his guard.

Kamal, on the ground, looking dazed, edging back from the janissary who held his blade up and clearly had the upper hand but seemed momentarily stunned and frozen in place by Nisreen’s disappearance.

And Rasheed.

Not where she last saw him, not where she expected him to be.

Instead, he had his saber out and was also circling Kamal, looming over him.

Going in for the kill.

“No,” she screamed.

All heads turned—and for the briefest of moments, the inside of the tent just froze in place, a still-life study in unbound ferocity.

It was just long enough to buy Kamal a reprieve.

Kamal heard the scream before he saw Nisreen.

She was blocked out by Rasheed, who spun around when he heard it, as did the soldier.

Besides grabbing their attention, her scream did something else. It sent a blast of adrenaline through Kamal, one that was potent enough to cut through the daze, obliterate the pain from the pounding he’d just suffered, and set his battered senses on fire.

But it was all happening too quickly.

He sprang up and launched himself at his stunned and distracted opponent, just as Rasheed began moving toward Nisreen.

His limbs jumped into overdrive, along with his fear.

He caught the guard by surprise with a savage blow to the ear and followed with a knee to the man’s groin that sent him crashing to the carpet. Kamal’s eyes were locked on the yataghan ’s blade, but they still registered Nisreen edging backward, deeper into the darker recesses of the tent, with Rasheed rushing toward her.

Everything became a rush of frenzied imagery, a nightmare unfolding at lightning speed.

Wrenching the dagger out of the fallen eunuch’s grip and slitting his throat in the same move.

The jarred image of Rasheed skulking deeper into the tent, his bulk blocking Nisreen from view.

Hurdling over the fallen guard and charging toward Rasheed.

Rasheed’s arm swinging back and lunging as his back rushed closer into view.

Hearing Nisreen’s high-pitched, pained grunt just as he reached Rasheed and tackled him.

Driving his big blade deep into Rasheed’s side.

Hearing him roar with agony as he twisted it upward ferociously before shoving him off Nisreen.

Nisreen staring at him, her face twisted with shock and pain, her hands clutching her belly.

The blood seeping through her fingers.

The look of terror in her eyes as her legs gave way and she tumbled to the ground.

Kamal dove to the carpet and scooped her up in his arms.

His hands trembling, he caressed her face; then he moved his gaze downward, at the mess of blood spreading across her midsection. Gently, he moved her fingers away to take a look at her wound.

He had enough experience to know that it was bad.

Very bad.

“Stay with me, hayatim, ” he told her, pressing down on the gushing blood, trying to clear a path through the onslaught of emotions crashing through him. “I’m going to take care of this, hayatim . We’re going to fix this.”

Nisreen didn’t reply. Her eyes were moist as she shook her head slowly, ruefully, her eyes alternating between staring into his and shutting tight to block out the waves of pain and dread.

Kamal held back tears as he shot a quick look behind him. Rasheed wasn’t moving. His eyes were locked in a dead upward stare, his midsection a mess of blood and guts. Farther back, he glimpsed a bloodied Taymoor draining every ounce of strength left in him to choke the life of the guard he’d been fighting before letting him drop, scooping up his crutch, and stumbling across the tent to help Kolschitzky, who was locked in a knife fight of his own.

Kamal spun his attention right back to Nisreen, his mind racing for a solution, something, anything that might save her.

He could only see one possibility.

“We have to jump, hayatim . Jump forward. Go back to our time.”

“No—”

“I’ll get you to a hospital,” he insisted. “Vienna will be bigger than now. We’ll be in the city. There are ambulances. People have phones. We’ll get you fixed but we have to do it now.”

Her fingers curled into his. “No,” she muttered. “There’s no time.”

“Of course there is,” he pleaded. “Come on. Say the words. I’ll be right behind you.”

Her fingers clasped his tighter, and her face tightened with resolve. “No, canim . You have to stay. You need to finish this. You have to warn Sobieski.”

“I’ll go with you. We’ll get you looked after; then I’ll come back.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re so close… and there are too many unknowns. And you know how this works. We could land in the middle of a highway. Or a wall.”

“I’ll wait with you,” he managed, fighting his own tears, trying hard to give off an appearance of confidence. “We’ll get you taken care of—we’ll take our time to plan it better. Then I’ll come back and get it done. I promise.”

She shook her head more forcefully. “I’d have to come back with you. Otherwise, I’ll be gone… after you change everything.”

“So we’ll come back together.”

Her expression softened, as if she was finding some kind of inner peace, some stoic acceptance. “ Canim, ” she said in between soft coughs, her voice soft, her eyes warm, her hand straining to rise enough to caress his cheek. “We came here for a purpose, and you can make it happen. I know you can. Go. Get it done. Get it done for me, for your brother, for our family… for everything we talked about. I have nothing left to live for.”