“Umí!”
          Asifa jerked awake, clutching the sand underneath her and gasping for breath.
          She’d had the wildest nightmare!
          Her hand reached for the waterskin she had kept beside her, but instead of the familiar leather, her fingers touched a wall of ragged stone. 
          A jolt went through her heart.
          Where was she?
          The place was very dark, darker than it should be in the desert. She couldn’t even see her own hands. And it was extremely stuffy.
          A faint thudding noise reverberated all around her. It worsened the pain in her temple. It felt like some invisible hand was hammering in the nail behind her eye, pushing it deeper.
          Did this mean her nightmare hadn’t been a nightmare at all?!
          As realization began to sink in, her frantic gaze swept around the blackness.
          There!
          A dim, flickering light spilled from a jagged crack nearby. 
          Asifa tried to stand but fell back on the sand almost immediately. She swallowed the cry of pain. Her limbs ached, as if she had climbed a rocky cliff.
          She took a deep breath and slowly crawled toward the crack.
          The rift was too narrow for her to make out the space outside. She could not tell where the light came from. Maybe it was from some fire nearby. It contrasted the dark shapes dangling from the ceiling.
          That was probably where the horrible smell was coming from.
          “Farah?!”
          There was no reply; only the eerie noise.
          Asifa turned and leaned against the door, trying to drown the tears threatening to spill.
          What if this was the lair of the sand goblins?
          She hugged her knees. She had been shown a flicker of hope, only for it to be snatched away again. It was her fault for thinking that her misfortune would end.
          It had started when she had been but a child of nine, the only daughter to the Sultan of Zaria. One day, when her father was away and she was playing in the sands by the lake, the Zarasids had come from the water and abducted her.
          Asifa had spent five years in their Iron Fortress in Zaras, confined to a small, heavily guarded chamber. Two years ago she had heard rumors of her father sending his army to rescue her, but it seemed most of them had lost their lives in the great desert—either from thirst, sand goblins, or the much more ancient predators that lurked in the golden sands.
          Only Farah had succeeded in getting to her.
          The soldier had broken off from her doomed unit and bid her time in the shadows for an entire year, studying the Zarasid capital and the Iron Fortress nestled within. After mapping its every weakness, she had snuck in unbeknown to the enemy and smuggled out Asifa from her prison.
          The Zarasids had never expected a lone soldier to infiltrate the fortress. They had never seen it coming. It had taken them hours to realize their hostage’s absence and organize a hunting party.
          Farah had fled with her into the vast expanse of the golden sands. They had made it halfway across the desert, reaching as far as the Djin’hikal, or the Demon’s Skeleton as it was called. They had set up camp, filled their stomach with the dried meat           Farah had taken from Zaras, and gone to sleep—unaware of the lurking danger.
          That was were Asifa had expected to wake up, not here—whatever this place was.
          It seemed all the events in her ‘nightmare’ had indeed befallen her. 
          The Zarasid Emperor’s desert hunters had caught up with them when they were asleep and captured them—a few spans before the sand goblins had ambushed them all.
          They had first picked out the armed desert hunters one by one, until the last one had dropped his sword and fled. He hadn’t reached far when the barbed spear had sunk into his back.
          Farah and put down her weapons and held Asifa in her arms, asking her to remain calm.
          That was the last thing her muddled mind remembered.
          Slam!
          Asifa stumbled back as a portion of the wall was yanked outward.
          A dark silhouette loomed in the doorway, outlined by the flickering light. A gray wart-covered hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pincering her flesh against bone with its talon-like nails.
          A sand goblin!
          “AAAAAAGH!”
          Asifa struggled, screaming and scratching, but the grip was was beyond her strength. She glimpsed a horribly disfigured face with bulbous eyes, pointy ears, and rotted teeth as the creature dragged her out of the cell. 
          Her feet furrowed through loose sand and bumped on jutting rocks. 
          The sand goblin dragged her past the hanging shapes—skinned, rotting human torsos on hooks. There were other openings along the wall, from where the thudding noises came from. Muffled whispers reached her ears from those yawning holes.
          The creature grunted.
          The world turned upside down as the sand goblin hauled her over its shoulder and dragged her through one of the openings. 
          The sand goblin tossed her upon a bloodied stone table. A frightening assortment of old and rusted tools and weapons hung from the walls—everything from saws and hammers to chisels and knives.
          Asifa prayed silently to the almighty Al’Alīm to save her from the terrible fate awaiting her. She didn’t want to be eaten by the sand goblins. She had heard rumors. They kept their prey alive for as long as they could, chopping one limb each day, until there was only a torso left.
          “Frrrrnnn krrrraai!”
          A female sand goblin appeared behind her, accompanied by the clang of chains. It grabbed her hand and secured it with manacles. A strange guttural noise came from her throat as she bound all her limbs to the table.
          Asifa took a deep breath and screamed for her Umí and called for her savior Farah—all to no avail.
          “Khrzhaha!”
          The male sand goblin picked a rusted knife and scraped the skin along her neck, cackling and grunting. Its burning spit prickled her face.
          Asifa whimpered and closed her eyes tight, shaking with terror.
          Clink!
          The rusted knife froze on her skin.
          From the corner of her eyes, Asifa saw the male sand goblin advance cautiously toward the shadowy entrance from where the sound had come. A threatening hiss parted its lips.
          Zzzt!
          Something buzzed past the creature, too fast for her eyes to comprehend. 
          Asifa heard a muffled thud behind her as the female sand goblin collapsed onto the floor. 
          An expression of alarm and rage contorted her mate’s features, but before it could do anything, a pike of splintered wood shot out of the darkness and impaled its chest.
          The creature clutched the shaft and crumpled on the sand.
          Asifa stared into the darkness, waiting…
          “Farah!” Her heart leapt as the familiar figure emerged from the cavern’s entrance.
          The soldier was camouflaged in dark, sandy jute rags. A great sword hung on her back, its hilt poking over her shoulder.           “I’m getting you out of here, Princess.” 
          She drew her great sword and made short work of the manacles binding her.
          Asifa shook off the broken chains. “Your face.” Blood oozed from the cut across Farah’s bronzed cheek. “You’re hurt.”
          “It’s nothing.” The soldier dismissed her concern. “Come with me, Princess. I have found a way out of this accursed place.”
          Asifa nodded.
          She followed her savior out into the main cavern, where the rotting torsos dangled from the ceiling.
          “This way.” Farah led her through the biggest passageway beyond the dead bodies into an even bigger cavern. Their feet splashed cold water. She could hear the trickle of a spring nearby, which was probably feeding the underground pond.
          Farah called her over to a cluster of rocks jutting from the wall. There was a jagged split in between them. It was barely wide enough for a grown human to pass through.
          “Go on, Your Highness. It will take you out of the mountain. I shall join you outside as soon as I take care of things here.”
          “No!” Asifa clutched her hand. “Please, Farah. I need you.”
          “I don’t want them coming after us again,” she whispered, gently parting her fingers. “It won’t take much time. I promise.”
          She nodded dejectedly.
          “Go now, Princess.”
          Asifa got down her knees and crawled into the small space. She looked back at Farah to wish her luck, but the soldier was already gone. She turned around and continued up the narrow tunnel. 
          The rugged walls pierced the skin on her knees and palms, tugging and tearing her already ruined clothes.
          It felt like hours, crawling through the darkness, until she finally emerged out into the surface world. The sunlight blinded her almost, too bright and golden. It took a span for her to take in her surroundings. 
          The jutting outcrop on which she stood overlooked the southern expanse of the great desert. The familiar bleached skeleton slumbered in the golden sands. Compared to what she had experienced, even the Djin’hikal seemed a welcoming sight.
          She hugged her flapping clothes and slumped down beside the tunnel’s entrance, waiting for her savior to emerge victorious from the accursed tunnels of the sand goblins.
          “Al’Alīm, protect us from evil and keep us from harm’s reach,” Asifa prayed for herself and for Farah as the dusty wind tugged her tattered cloak. “Keep her sword sharp and her life’s flame bright.”
          Whether Farah would make it our or not, only the almighty knew.