The Blade - Part Two

Burying a father is never easy. Burying a Sultan who had been the single hope to thousands, was none better. Nerane sighed and studied her reflection in the mirror. She would miss this room, this mirror, the view she had when she woke up in the mornings. She bit her red and swollen lip to keep from crying. 

Over her white clothes, she was as colorfully decorated as the blade, Al-Muhaymin, on her belt. Her maid met her eyes in the mirror, she whispered, “Ta'aziyyī laki” My condolences to you, as she left the room. Nerane would hear a lot of that today. 

Her eldest brother, Jabbar, entered her private quarters, his face as hard as the ground of a wadi that had dried beyond all recognition. 

Nerane respectfully lowered her gaze, “Ta'aziy-” 

The new Sultan scratched his damp hair below his turban. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. Father is waiting to be buried and I want to be back inside before stone turns to coal.” 

With a heavy heart, Nerane followed her brother to the elaborate doors of the palace. Shrouded in white cloth, her father lay at the palace doors, waiting for his last journey. Shyraz, her childhood friend who had begun to grow a beard, stood behind his father as they said, “Al-Baqā’ Lillāh.” May God grant endurance.

Shyraz didn’t know she was going to leave soon. It wasn’t a matter that a guard would be privy to. Although she wished he could come with her. It would be nice to have a friendly face around.

She followed in silence through the prayers, as she followed the procession to the cemetery and when they left to share a meal with all who attended. Looking while Jabbar thrived in his role as the new Sultan and her younger brother Ghalib watching him with a gaze hotter than the desert’s glare. Their mother was pale as if part of her had joined her husband and only her shell remained. Nerane didn’t trust her mouth to speak, she feared her heart might shatter and she would never be able to heal.

As the meal was eaten and Nerane nibbled on her flatbread and humus, Jabbar told her, “Your entourage will be ready when you return to the palace.” 

The thought of leaving her home and her mother made Nerane’s stomach hurt. The thought of being wed to a stranger who lived across the desert made her want to pull her hair out. But she sat in silence chewing on her flatbread, nodding to the people who shared their condolences.

Her rushed wedding wasn’t a surprise to Nerane. The comment only confirmed what she feared the moment her father had expelled his last breath. Her bleeding had started only six moons ago and it was thanks to her maid that she had been able to keep it hidden for so long. 

Last moon rumor had started and her father had been alerted. Her future husband had allowed her to wait until the end of her father’s sickbed. 

Her eyes searched for the guard’s son. She found him standing behind Ghalib his face solemn. When their eyes met, a shadow of a smile appeared on his face.

She motioned her chin toward the balcony and his expression became blanc. It was unseemly for a guard to leave his prince alone. There was a nod, so tiny that Nerane wasn’t sure if she imagined it. 

In silence, she rose from the table and made her way outside. Despite that the moon had risen high, the heat made her skin prick with sweat. Below her, arrangements were being made for her travel. Camels complained and people grunted at each other in the oppressive heat of the night.

Just when the heat was becoming unbearable, Shyraz stepped onto the balcony. “Are you alright?” 

His voice made her shiver, with a tight throat she said, “I’m-”

“The prince has told of it, my princess.” 

Surprised, she turned to look at him. He was not the gangly teenager he once was. His muscles were hard and his smooth skin almost shone in the moonlight. His tone was even. “I will not miss you.”

Shyraz’s words hit like a blade slipping between her ribs. She opened her mouth, but no sound came. A dozen things she wanted to say clawed for space, but none made it past her lips. Finally, she straightened and said, “I will miss you very much.” 

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he looked out into the distance. 

Her body was washed, and scented, and food was packed for the journey. What nobody knew, was that she had no intention to marry the prince across the desert. In secret, her maid had made plans to cross the sea by boat. Nerane had sometimes wondered if her slave was more excited about the chance at freedom than she was. The people there were backward and even barbaric according to some stories, but so were her brothers.

Her maid carried her bag as they fled from her room to the royal stables. All the while Nerane kept looking over her shoulder. There was an uncomfortable burning at the back of her head as if someone was staring at her from the shadows. 

I will not miss you.

Her hand closed on the hilt of Al-Muhaymin, her blade. Even though she wouldn’t dare to use it.

Akhal Teke stood in the dust under the night sky. She had gotten the horse some years ago for her birthday. Its coat was a cream white, but it shone like liquid gold in the moonlight. She was already saddled and pawed the ground nervously with her hoof, her head raised as she heard her master nearing.

“Sayyidati al-Muqqaramah,” my honored lady, “let me help you on the Ahkal Teke.” With help from her maid, she got on the magnificent beast who neighed at the weight. The sudden noise made them freeze, holding their breaths, but nothing stirred in the shadows. Nerane exhaled, her gaze shifting north, where the road wove between the dried brush. It was the route they would be taking to the sea. Her maid disappeared to get her ride, a sturdy donkey named Himar. 

A door creaked open, followed by a surprised shout. Nerane grabbed the reins in panic. She didn’t wait to see who it was, but spurred her horse and galloped into the dark. Himar and the maid followed them, his short legs a blur as they fled. The donkey fought to keep up, the maid hanging on for dear life.

Once she was certain they weren’t being followed, Nerane slowed. Himar caught up moments later.

“Are you alright?” She asked the maid, who nodded while trying to catch her breath. Her face flushed by fear.

With one last woeful look at the palace, the place she had lived, laughed, and played, she said her goodbyes. The few lights burning in the city beckoned her to come back. 

I will not miss you.

They rode into the balmy night. 

Nerane laughed at her own nerve, as she watched the stars and Akhal Teke brought her up the hills. Her mane flowed by the speed she galloped. The wind was pleasant on Nerane’s face. 

Himar’s short legs struggled to keep pace, his hooves clicking dully against the parched earth. The maid bounced grumpily along. The road to freedom not what she had expected.

It had been difficult to persuade her maid to make plans, but when they were in place, it only made sense for them to go together. She would be executed if anyone found out she had helped Nerane escape.

Only when the animals could no longer run did they slow to a walk. Hiram snorted his protest at this strenuous labor, but Akhal Teke shook her head in delight. A few times Nerane peered past her maid into the darkness, swearing she heard something. The vast emptiness didn’t give away any secrets.

Ahead lay two days of desert, a prince who might already suspect her absence, a fate she hadn’t yet grasped, and Nerane was already cursing the hard leather of the saddle. 

The sun rose over the hard, red earth, painting it first purple, then red, and finally pale. Soon, it would be too hot and too dangerous to keep moving. There wasn’t shade in sight, no trees, huts, or even large rocks to stay out of the blistering sun. She hadn’t thought about bringing a tent. 

Then—movement. A lone rider, hooded and cloaked, approached on a dark horse. Nerane narrowed her eyes. Did she know them?

There will be a part 3! This story is just too much fun to write!