Free Daughter of Nomads by Rosanne Hawke

about the Lake Saiful Maluk, which we shall soon see,’ she said. ‘My father used to tell me this story when I was a child. And then I told Jahani.’ She glanced at Jahani before continuing. ‘Once there was a handsome prince of Persia called Saiful Maluk who visited the lake.’
    Anjuli smiled faintly.
    â€˜He saw a pari, a fairy, who lived there with her people. She was so beautiful and sang so sweetly that he fell in love with her. One day he saw her bathing and, without thinking of the consequences, he snatched away her silken clothes. “Marry me,” he cried. The demure pari agreed to become his wife for when she saw him she loved him.’
    Jahani noticed Anjuli’s rapt expression. Jahani had also loved this story as a child.
    â€˜But the pari had a demon lover who wouldn’t let her go so easily. He was so angry to see them wed that he flooded the entire valley.’
    â€˜What happened to the other paries?’ Anjuli asked.
    Hafeezah put an arm around her. ‘Some say they left the lake. Others say paries can still be seen dancing on the grass and bathing in the water, especially on a night when the moon shines its brightest. It is a charmed place.’
    â€˜Magic?’ Anjuli asked.
    Hafeezah nodded. ‘The closer you get to the Qurraqoram Mountains, the more magic there is.’
    â€˜I want to see the paries,’ Anjuli cried. ‘Did Prince Saiful Maluk become one, too?’
    Before Hafeezah could answer, Azhar motioned to them to be quiet. He stood under the hole in the roof of the cave, listening. Then he directed them to follow him into the cavern they’d slept in.
    â€˜Stay here,’ he said.
    â€˜What are you going to do?’ Jahani whispered.
    Azhar put his finger to his lips. Then he walked toward a tunnel.
    â€˜I’m coming,’ Jahani whispered.
    Azhar shook his head and kept walking.
    She caught up to him. He looked at her with exasperation, yet he pulled out a dagger from his belt and handed it to her.
    It was like a miniature scimitar. She hadn’t held one before.
    â€˜To protect yourself,’ he said in a low tone. ‘Do not do anything heroic. And stay back – it will be hard enough to fight without having to protect you as well.’
    Jahani didn’t like his tone. There must be something she could do to help?
    As they crept along, she could hear what had alerted Azhar: horses snorting outside. Then she heard a man’s voice. Azhar held out a hand, urging Jahani to stay still while he edged closer to the mouth of the cave. But Jahani crept closer, too. Azhar drew his sword quietly and parted the bushes hiding the entrance. In a moment, he was gone.
    At first there was silence as Jahani peered through the leaves at the bright daylight. Then she heard an oath and the sudden clash of swords. Azhar must have drawn the fight away from the cave.
    Jahani slipped through the cave entrance. She followed the sounds of battle and found Azhar fighting three men dressed in brown shalwar qameezes and red turbans. Azhar sliced with his sword and Jahani gasped as one man fell to the ground. The concentration of a second man was broken, but the third quickly grabbed Azhar around the neck.
    Without thinking, Jahani leaped forward and hit the man on the head with the butt of the dagger. He fell to the ground in a daze, enabling Azhar to block the other man’s attack. Within seconds Azhar’s sword found its mark. His attacker fell at the same time the man Jahani had hit fled.
    Of the two men Azhar had struck, only one was alive. He lay groaning on the ground. Azhar knelt beside him. Jahani crept closer.
    â€˜Who is your master?’ Azhar asked.
    The man choked; his voice gurgled.
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Dagar …’
    Jahani couldn’t hear the rest.
    Azhar stood and saw her there. ‘Thank you for your help.’ He paused. ‘Jaldi, we must go.’
    â€˜Are you leaving him here?’