Nadiyya crossed her arms, enjoying the reaching rays of the sunset colour of Zaki’s ochre room. Her golden cloak was thin, and the early arrival of the night-time winter chill proved as much. She rubbed her arms and savoured their tightness. Training went well, slower than she would have liked. Though sweating away eighteen years of being a mother was an achievement in its own right. Aided by Lihle’s absence, she fought with Tamers closer to her own ability. War plans kept the monarchs unavailable for hours, and Zaki was too busy with his fellow generals to be elsewhere.
The approach of battle awoke something in her. She feared to call it excitement. She dared not say it aloud, yet it was there. The thought of her babies being away for the first time washed off.
Nadiyya eyed the silk-covered armour rack in the centre of the room. There was a freshness about his restored quarters, which irritated her nose. She saw the paleness of the new stonework and the brightness of the carved furniture. All signs of Zaki’s immolation removed, but not forgotten.
“Not all signs,” Pride said through their bond. He lounged outside the closed doors, frightening the passing servants.
She ignored him.
Her eyes fell upon the armour rack again. Where Master Roole’s latest work lay in wait. The last of her account with the master smith was now spent. Hopefully, Mazin would return to peace, then she could commission Master Roole for another. Without Gawahir’s hushed disapproval.
“Where is the boy?”
“There is no rush, and there is…” Nadiyya trailed off when Pride’s attention left her.
Soon after, she picked up the faint approach of boots.
“Speak and he will come.”
“Moan and he will come, in your case.”
Zaki entered and shut the doors, frowning at her smile before his attention fell upon the armour rack.
“Ma?”
“A parting gift, something worth your new title,” she said before whipping off the cloth to reveal the ornate ochre gold pieces.
Zaki’s eyes glittered with the awe he refused his face to show. He glanced at her, then at each piece, asking for permission to step closer. His fingers caressed the script strengthened helm, from the haloed jagged sun of Atum Ra, down to the face plates and nose guard.
“Thank you.” His stoic facade cracked, but his eyes glistened with his appreciation.
“May I?”
Zaki spun around and adjusted his thickened wools. Nadiyya began with the breastplate. The strengthened metal intertwined over itself like a silk vest of ochre gold. A Sinha decorated the centre of his chest, with yellow topazes for eyes, and a wingspan stretching from one shoulder to the other.
Next came the scale pauldrons, which wrapped around his shoulders and reached down to his elbows. She slid the bracers of the same intertwining silk design onto his forearms. Nadiyya knelt down to wrap his scale cuisses over each thigh. His greaves matched his bracers and completed the set.
Nadiyya rose and motioned for him to stand before the mirror. Zaki flexed his limbs and tested the pliancy of his newly forged armour. A peculiar expression took hold of his face, one that his hardness failed to hide. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s so light,” he said. “I didn't think armour could be freeing.”
“A Tamer’s luxury, I should say. What would be the point of sacrificing your elevated abilities for extra protection?”
“I… thank you.”
It wasn’t often Zaki was at a loss for words. She could count the times she experienced it herself on one hand. He completed his regal appearance with his khopesh on his back. The yellow topaz pommel glowed on his waist. His fingers fumbled and fiddled, and he lingered in his room despite the sunset nearing its end.
“I won’t fail you.” Zaki wrapped his arms around her, almost poking her with the sun halo on his helm.
“You could never fail me.” She caressed his neck, what little she could. He pulled away, and she pecked his cheek for good measure.
There was a smirk on him as he cleared his throat and adjusted himself. His chest protruded. Zaki hardened his face again.
“I should go. Look for me on the western horizon.”
“Our saviour.”
Pharaoh Nadiyya sat atop the hundredth step long after darkness arrived. Pride lounged beside her. She watched the four Tamers ride out of the cheetah district gate. Her eyes lingered on the district as dust floated in the air.
Lanterns sparked to fiery life alongside the clay stone streets, brightening the thatched rondavels with multicoloured shapes decorating the faces. Low painted walls squared off homesteads with grazing fields for livestock. Children were playing, wrestling and dancing in the light to match the drunkenness spilling out from taverns. Their singing was loud, but slurred, whispered nonsense for her ears.
Nadiyya’s eyes shifted to the lion district next. The bazaars were closing, and nearby doused lanterns dimmed their striped colours. Obelisks sparkled under the clear star and moonlight. Rich silks swirled to the will of the brisk wind surging with a biting chill. Nadiyya tightened the warmth of her cloak as she observed the sobriety of the lion district. Work, work and more work, clashing hammers, carving wood and stone chipping.
The tiger district had always been the same. Quiet and dimly lit, with only the lanterns lining the major streets glowing. District guards strolled along the petalled, black pebbled roads. A district of paper walled homes with black tiled roofs. Ghost trees streamed with snowy white beauty in a few gardens, shrivelling their heavenly white leaves into pink flowers that browned the moment they fell.
It was icy grey in the lynx district, which made her shiver. Their guards let go of their furred armour during the worst of the summer’s humidity. Now they the fur returned.
She rushed her attention to the jaguar district next, where much of the trouble arose since they shared the news of the clan’s alliance to the emperor. The Lions administered their own justice there. The guard was up and heavy amongst the connecting bridges. Retaliations occurred, there was a need to keep tempers low. Their dungeons filled, and the anger remained. It eked from the bricks and tiles that dominated the district, from the vinewood supported homes, and cobblestone streets.
The panther district somehow remained unscathed. It wasn’t said that Chief Mandla would join the emperor’s side, but even children assumed it. Yet nothing, not even the Leopards bothered descending from their high and winding stone homes to deal their own justice.
She hoped they would. It would have made the anger of the Lions tolerable. There was rage there they ignored for too long. No more, not since Mazin and Zaki stirred up trouble with Gazsi. They forced her hand. This coming battle delayed whatever lay in the shadows, but she hoped it wasn’t too late.
The wind whistled, slicing at her exposed cheeks. At any flesh she dared to expose in this chilling night. Nadiyya shuddered and wrapped herself again, ignoring Pride’s sneering through their bond. It ended, and she cursed, but there was no chance to dwell, for Pride’s attention snapped back towards the great hall.
“What now?”
“Human strangeness.”
“We are always strange to you,” Nadiyya said and yawned aloud.
“More than usual.”
Pride was on all fours. A foul echo tainted the interior of the crystalline great hall.
“You cannot be serious!”
Nadiyya quickened her pace through the haunted hall. Those were the kumkani’s words, rare anger from Lihle.
“You would jeopardise all of this. For what?”
The kumkani held himself as she rounded the seven thrones. Pride lingered behind them as she continued onwards. The palace guards parted the doors, and she entered the stuffy tension of the war room.
“Nadiyya, please speak sense to your fool of a husband,” Lihle said the moment the doors shut behind her.
“Lihle, there’s no need for that,” Musa sighed.
“What have I missed?”
Gawahir looked up from the map table with a ghastly expression. It was a blink, but she saw it. She saw someone other than her husband there. He snarled when he returned, but his eyes were something else she wasn’t sure of.
“I was offering a solution to our current problem, a buffer should the reinforcements fail.”
“Beast Gawahir, they just left. Have you so little faith in their mission already to speak nonsense?”
“I’m being practical. We cannot hold the emperor on hope!”
Where is this going?
She filled a glass with wine, but paused her drinking. Lihle scoffed.
“We open the barracks to the masses, to those who wish to fight.”
Silence. That was all that followed Gawahir’s madness. Nadiyya shared in Lihle’s incredulity, though the kumkani snorted to himself, massaging his brow. She glared at Gawahir’s pate as he muttered over the map table. Her first sip was too bitter for her liking.
“Say that again.”
“We ask for volunteers.”
“We don’t ask, we offer,” Musa joined in, sensing the madness himself, but agreeing. “Hardly offensive,”
“Hardly offensive. Do you hear yourself right now? This is breaking our duty, their duty, all to cheat away the possibility of our demise.”
“I am trying to ensure we survive this!”
“By killing our way of life!”
Nadiyya watched their anger fly around while shock froze her. To suggest something so drastic so soon after their own plans?
“What matters how we live if we aren’t alive anymore?” Gawahir asked. He slammed his hand on the table, knocking over the miniatures.
Lihle turned towards her, expecting help, but she couldn’t find the words. Her lips and tongue went numb. The kumkani sighed. Silence befell them once more.
“If that is all, I must leave. Look for my call, I will restrict it to my clan, to ease your consciouses,” Musa said, rising to his feet, then yawned.
Nadiyya shook her head at Lihle before he stopped the inkosi. She waited for the doors to shut before rounding on Gawahir.
“What are you saying, arming the masses?”
“It’s a solution,” he whimpered.
“Who told you to say such nonsense?”
“Told me, what… who?” Gawahir’s fumbling surprised her even more. There was no deceit in his scent, but she didn’t need it.
It was a fear that crept into her mind during his many hours spent in solitude. A recent habit he developed. She refused to see it as a coincidence. Convincing herself that it wasn’t only Gawahir’s choice was simple enough. Discovering the outside influence was the challenge.
“What makes you think I am under someone’s influence?”
“She didn’t say you were under someone’s influence,” Lihle muttered with some concern.
“She implied it!”
Gawahir took to leaning on his desk now, with his back towards them.
Nadiyya glanced at Lihle and he knew what she asked of him, for her lips returned to their frozen state. It wasn’t unlike an Unblessed to harbour such ideas. They were born from envy or disillusionment of their own duties. Whispered in huddled corners, and in run-down shacks when they thought no one could overhear. And usually, it never went beyond that. Nothing would get done if they fretted over every individual with such opinions.
“Gawahir, what you intend to do will rupture the very fabric of order here. It is our duty keeping the clans functional. When a bird is born, its duty is to fly once capable. Not swim, even when in water. The Great Beast wasn't rigid with us. We have some say in the matter. After we make a choice, it is done. To ask, to offer them a fruitless path into another duty, breaks that balance. To have a smith wield a sword, and poorly might I add, will not only lose a smith and imbalance society, but encourage other foolish turncoats. What happens if all healers trade medicine for swords? Who remains to heal the wounds in the aftermath?”
Nadiyya forgot Lihle’s momentary outbursts. The sage kumkani returned and was ready to stay. He pleaded often, and Gawahir sagged, but remained silent. She waited and hoped, begged in her heart for him to awaken from this madness, even if it was an assumption on her part.
“That’s it then. I’m speaking against your Tamer beliefs?” His voice cracked, and though those words were a renewed horror to her ears, he softened.
“What does it matter what your duty is when you’re staring down at your demise?”
“Their demise is because of our failure. If we cannot protect, if we neglect one duty in favour for another, then we have failed.”
Gawahir crossed his arms when he turned around. His head was low. She caught his slow disbelief and finally found her voice.
“Death is inevitable, my love, but you shouldn’t stop living just to avoid it. To resist duty is to be purposeless. Being purposeless is not living.”
He dragged himself from the front of the desk and collapsed back into his seat. Nadiyya found her wine more appetising on this occasion.
“Fine, I see. I will consider it.”
Deceit trickled into her nose from him.
“I have work to return to,” Lihle nodded towards Nadiyya, and departed after Gawahir’s grunt.
She glanced at her husband and thought better than to speak further.
Nadiyya savoured sweet wine in the comfort of her own quarters. She observed the night time industry below. All but Master Roole were hard at work, crafting steel and fletching arrows. Picks shattered boulders into stone. The noise was a world away for her Tamer ears. Which was not what she wanted.
The recent days didn't seem to happen. The progress she made vanished in a single moment. She cracked her wineglass, trying to stifle her tears. Pride offered his sympathies through their bond, but she shut him out. He lounged at the foot of her bed, and his golden eyes beamed into her back. Her Tamed felt her pain, but she feared what would happen if she looked at him.
Nadiyya drained her remaining wine in one gulp and departed the chill of the balcony for a refill. She paused with the decanter in mid-air. A foreign scent of sweat, mingled with a fading perfume of roses, crept into her nose. Slippers grew louder in the passage until the clinking sound of the palace guards standing attention informed her of her noble guest.
“Yasin Isis for you, Pharaoh.”
“Come,” Nadiyya prepared a second wine glass, but held on, filling it along with her own.
“Pharaoh Nadiyya,” the tall handsome man bowed when he entered. “Apologies for the late visit.”
“No need,” Nadiyya said, mesmerised by his incredible beauty.
His pearly umber skin glistened with perspiration; his face hand crafted by the Great Beast itself. Yasin put his father to shame, if that were possible. The dark, short coils atop his head matched the elegant stubble along his jaw. He wore ochre silks in a Leopard fashion, exposing much of his capable torso and legs. He wore bronze on each limb, and a golden tyet around his neck.
Yasin’s smile was serene, to match the calmness he exuded altogether. Yet his soil green eyes betrayed it all. A flash of impatient disquiet danced amongst the green and white. An inkling of his sudden visit entered her mind, and she forced herself to remain welcoming.
“It must be the first time you've seen me beyond the great hall. Have you finally come to declare your love for me?”
“And make an enemy of your husband? A fruitless ambition,” Yasin’s empty chuckle disturbed the bile in her stomach. “No, I come on behalf of my sister.”
“Can I interest you in some wine? It’s a fine vintage?”
“No, I won’t be long,” What little courtesy he kept withered. “I’d like to know why my sister rides with the prince?”
“She is a scribe, a Tamer also, capable of keeping up with their pace.”
“She has a child who now wonders where she is.”
“The child has many people looking after her. Tell me, did… what’s her name?” Nadiyya found time for this nonsense, a release of sorts, but she would savour it.
“Was it her request?”
“An order. Such orders are my duty as pharaoh to give. What concern is it of yours what Jazmin does?”
“She is an Isis,”
“And a Lion beholden to Atum Ra, if there is an issue you wish to raise, I would have you speak it.”
“Calm girl, do not push too far,” Pride said.
Nadiyya simmered the rising warmth in her chest.
Yasin faltered swifter than she expected, quicker than her anger could vanish.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I am sure Jazmin will appreciate your concern. Give my love to Ayla.”
Pride grumbled through their bond, but she didn’t need his words on this occasion.
Too far.
She awoke on a straw mattress to shouts beyond her rickety door. Her nose suffered under the unyielding oppression of an ever-present mould. From her lumpy mattress, but the rotting wood wasn’t helping.
“If she’s displaying all these signs, then we should leave now.”
“We can’t just… she’s mine and it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Come tomorrow. She may be a monster or a daughter.”
Nadiyya recognised those voices, and the longer they argued, the faster her heart raced. She stumbled out of bed and their arguing faded. Panic exploded in her chest when their voices petered out into whispers.
“Ma, wait!”
She wailed as she burst through the splintered door, stepping into deep darkness with only the distant weeping of an abandoned child for company.
Nadiyya blinked, then gasped when knocked to her bottom on the stony road.
“Watch it!”
The bustling bazaar came into view as she lifted herself up. She dusted her rags and snarled at the man she bumped. Confusion exploded her mind as she searched her surroundings. Nadiyya emerged from an alleyway, dark and reeking of urine. Her nose drowned in fresh bread, beer, and an assortment of cakes. Sweat and perfume forced their way into the chaos.
Merchants screamed their wares over the buzzing chatter of their potential buyers, milling about in the square. Crafters kept to their stalls, openly shaping their clay, steel, and carving wood. She couldn't stand the noise or smell. People towered over her tiny, starving body. Dirt patched her rags. Her mouth was dry. A fruit stand beckoned her with glistening grapes and pears.
She forced her way through the ocean of people, trying her best to ignore her own stink. It was hardly a challenge for her, despite being nearly half of everyone’s height. Her growing Tamer strength was still more than enough. Most glared or cursed. She was gone before a few tried to spit.
A pair of brutes stood beside the stall, eyeing the crowd and approaching customers with distrust. Clubs hung from their waists, but their wide arms appeared large enough. One of them spotted her weaving towards the stall, where the seller was far too busy with her customers to notice. His eyes narrowed and Nadiyya cursed, but pressed on.
“Hey!”
She snatched a bunch of crisp green grapes, sneaking her petite arm between two customers. Her stomach rumbled, and she allowed her greed to take over. Nadiyya stuck another arm through the gap and fumbled around until her fingers wrapped around something bulbous and fuzzy.
“Let go, you dirty brat!”
Chilled fingers wrapped around her wrist and she squashed a grape by mistake, squirting its juice all over her fingers. The pair of customers stepped aside and glanced down at her with snobbery etched on their faces, revealing her to the merchant.
“Guards!”
Nadiyya yanked her arm away and bruised the stolen peach. The merchant wailed as Nadiyya dragged her, knocking over the table and spilling all the fruit baskets. She was off before the brutes could snatch her. With fruit rolling onto the road, she grabbed at the closest before striding feet squashed them.
District guards were moving in her periphery after she left the stall behind. They shouted for a child. Crying out for a thief in a packed bazaar, the people swarming around didn’t have her Tamer ears. Some frowned at her. Others yelled when she knocked them over, but she was gone before a district guard arrived.
She stuffed her mouth as she slowed, savouring the sour juice of every grape. Her fingers were sticky, but the dryness in her throat faded. Nadiyya slowed to a stroll, weaving her way out of the busy road.
“The chosen comes.”
Guards in plain leather with Sinhas carved into their chests swarmed the end of the bazaar. Their eyes scanned the crowd. There was no chance of breaching without worsening the attention on her. Nadiyya knelt behind a barrel while she devoured the peach, chomping before tossing in a few more grapes with it.
“The Great Beast has summoned her.”
She spied a dark alleyway across the road. The ocean of people thinned between herself and salvation. Nadiyya finished the last of her ill-gotten gains and licked her sticky fingers. Her eyes jumped from the guards to the dark alleyway a few times before her courage arrived.
Nadiyya charged for it, sidestepping the few who crossed her path, nudging the odd wretch with impatience.
“There!”
A guard shouted, but she vanished into the alleyway's darkness.
Pharaoh Nadiyya gasped when she passed through a curtain of cascading icy water, engulfing her entire body in the drying freeze. She dropped to her knees on the lush grass, fatigue from the ambush washed over her again. Her bloodied armour weighed ten times more than normal. Her khopesh pinged to the ground from her limp fingers, and she struggled to fill her chest with air.
“The chosen comes.”
Nadiyya’s head snapped up towards the endless darkness before her. The calm breathing of something surrounded her, as if within an enormous beast.
“The Great Beast has summoned her.”
A pair of golden eyes appeared to her right, followed by a pair of bloody red eyes on her left. Both towered over her as she rose to her feet. Her struggles and weakness were a distant memory.
“The Mother of Destruction is here…”
Wake up!
“The age of destruction is upon us.”
Enough, no more!
Nadiyya squirmed, but her body refused to obey.
“Awakened, her barren womb shall now be.”
Their combined words exploded in her mind. An avalanche of battering fists all over her skull.
“The Eternal Conflict comes to San’Sara.”
“A path paved by the child of Creation, robbed of love, gluttonous for revenge, thus turned to the Light.”
No!
She awoke drenched in sweat, with her sheet clinging to her back. Nadiyya snatched at her side, finding more of the silky sheet. Her heart sank deeper than the pit it already lay within. It was dark within her quarters, with a few flickering candles at the other end. Early morning songs floated in the darkness outside, but the sun was late to arrive.
“Pharaoh,” a voice wheezed at her door.
Nadiyya sat up while her heart thumped. A whiff of sweet clay crept through the gaps of her door.
“Pharaoh please, I must speak with you.”
“Just a moment,” Nadiyya rushed out of bed, tearing off her woollen night dress.
She snatched the first silk dress she found and wrapped herself in an awfully colourful cloak before opening the doors. Cha’Ath Nawal rushed in with a finger to her lips before Nadiyya reacted. The pharaoh shut the door and her heartbeat rose again. Cha’Ath wore plain but pristine silks, with a sleek wig bearing golden baubles hanging off the ends.
“I bring secret word from a Tamer in the night,” Cha’Ath Nawal offered a yellow folded parchment to the pharaoh.
Nadiyya clasped it with a frown before revealing the scribbled ink within.
Threats of siege
Unsure if Tigers or not.
Brother missing, cannot stay any longer, must find him.
Thank you for everything.
She crushed the parchment and ground her teeth to keep the curses in.
Damn that girl.
Nadiyya wasn’t sure what bothered her, the threat of An’Shar’s fall or her eye in the town disappearing. Gawahir needed to be warned, though in his current state she wasn’t sure how to without angering him for operating behind his back.
Her attention fell back upon Cha’Ath Nawal, whose head was bowed, and gloved hands folded obediently. When her head did rise, she was gaunt. Nawal regained much of her umber colour, but her eyes were shallow crevices. Possessing an air of fanaticism about, which was far from ideal at the moment.
“If it is news the pharaoh wishes kept silent, might I dispose of it?”
Nadiyya hesitated, then returned the squashed parchment to the Cha’Ath. She slipped off one of her silk gloves and revealed her tender, subtly pink hand, wrist and forearm. It wasn’t long before warmth emanated from Nawal. It sparked immediately, crackling and melting to the will of the sharp orange embers.
Cha’Ath blew away the ashes from her hand, then dropped to her knees. Nadiyya sank down with her, hoping to catch the woman before she completed her needless prostration.
“I give myself to the Mother of Destruction, long,”
“No please,” Nadiyya whispered, failing to beat the Cha’Ath’s strength. “Please, none of that.”
“I am yours, beyond duty, for the grandest of duties.”
“Cha’Ath please, this isn’t necessary.”
“Ask and it shall be done.”
Nadiyya paused, adjusting her slipping cloak and trying to suppress her rising panic. She listened for ears beyond her doors, for footsteps in the passageway, before lathering her lips for speech.
“This cannot leave us. No one can know, I beg you. Not even my husband, or my sons, please.”
“I have kept my silence and will continue to do so, Pharaoh.”
“Thank you,” Nadiyya sighed, her voice never dared to go beyond a whisper. They rose together, and she realised how fragile Nawal’s hands felt, despite the silk gloves.
Cha’Ath’s eyes were expectant, and she lingered for orders.
“I need time,” Nadiyya shuddered. “Keep to your duty for now.”
“This is my,”
“No, your true duty, Cha’Ath, please. The war is still going on.”
Nawal nodded, then shuffled out. Nadiyya’s heart raced while she watched the woman depart. She couldn’t leave it at that.
“How?” She blurted before the Cha’Ath clasped the door handle.
“I was an archivist before my ascension into the ranks of the Tamer’s Council. The knowledge I found in my time; it would surprise you.”
“Can you share it with me when I'm ready?”
Cha’Ath Nawal faltered for the first time since she arrived. It was subtle, a clear sign of the potential challenge of her request. The fanaticism in her eyes burned through, and she wasn't sure if she'd regret it.
“I will try.”
Nadiyya collapsed into the closest chair and buried her face in her palms. Pride’s golden gaze glowed at the foot of her bed, piercing through the gaps of her fingers. The sun began its slow rise, eking its later warmth upon Bil’Faridh. There was no light in any of this, and for once she yearned for Pride’s words. Though the Sinha was as stunned as she was.
The hustle of the early morning was frantic. Early risers rushed in the streets to their duties. Guards streamed from district barracks for shift changes, smelling of soap, mint, and pepper. Industry was ever toiling, hardly taking a break, even during the darkest hours. The clattering carving and hammering was ceaseless. Fresh bread filled the winter air, amongst the rising gutter stink.
Pharaoh Nadiyya sped through the lynx district atop Pride, with the weak sun tickling her. The wind against her speed slashed her face through the silk mask. Weaving its way through the gaps in her warmth and threatening to snatch the sheathed khopesh on her waist.
Pride dashed along the main road of the district. Blurring the volcanic rock buildings rising around, with icicle shaped crystals decorating the walls of the wealthiest homes. Doused street lamps and yawning patrols. While her eyes focused on the towering sandy walls growing before her. The gate courtyard was quiet, save for the district guards. Her Tamed Sinha darted for the first stairwell. He took the steps two at a time, thankfully they were wide enough for others to step aside.
Nadiyya dismounted atop the walls and savoured the sharp fresh air filling her chest. The wind drowned the noise of the waking city. It was cold this high up, but beautiful. She glanced down the other side and enjoyed the clear blue waters of the Beast’s Tear ringing around the walls. Fed by the streams splitting the districts within Bil’Faridh, and flowing back around into the base of Sanctuary.
Her eyes rose beyond the natural moat towards the rolling brown plains of the Sank’Ta. The lynx road stretched north, and she followed it into the beautiful rise of the landscape. Sun rays glittered its fiery light over the cobbled lynx road. Dead trees dotted the landscape, spindly monsters with crooked limbs, creaking against the bustling wind.
Nadiyya thought of Mazin when her eyes moved beyond the veil of sunny beauty on the horizon. Her heart wobbled anew, dreading the boy’s solo journey north. In winter, no less, undoubtedly the snow would do its best to slow him. A horrible introduction to the Great Beast’s strange choice of weather. She hoped Galel and Kamaria found him, regretting her need to spare his pride, ordering them to observe from afar. At least he was safe from this coming battle. Perhaps she would send word to keep him there, should the emperor succeed.
“So grim,” Pride yawned, baring his enormous fangs beside her, after his mocking bond words.
An approaching soldier from the gatehouse made ignoring him easier. She turned towards the tanned man in his polished armour, with fine furs protruding from the gaps, and forced a smile. Master Roole was the only one she knew of who somehow kept his paleness. Nearly all the Jaguars and Lynxes who called Bil’Faridh home burned under the stifling heat, and this captain was no different.
He bowed before her, after his pale eyes widened at the sight of Pride, and she lowered her mask.
“Pharaoh,” he slipped off his helm, revealing a sleek head of dark hair. “What a pleasant surprise. How may I serve?”
Nadiyya’s eyes scanned the walls, from the gatehouse ahead to the endless curve behind, until the jaguar gatehouse. The sandy walls looked sturdy; the odd hairline crack darkened the surface. A few chips ruined a few of the merlons, but nothing too drastic.
“I just wished to inspect our defences for myself,” she widened her smile when her eyes fell back on him. “Have you placed orders for arrows?”
“Aye, the fletchers are hard at work, so we’ve been told. They will arrive within the week.”
“Your numbers on this wall?”
“Fifty in the gatehouse alone, along the walls a little over two hundred at my last count. But should the need arise, we can pull from the district guards below.”
“Why are you so few?”
“Aye well, Pharaoh, since that black, since that dark beast… the stories that sprouted have dissuaded many of the new recruits from finishing their training.”
“I see,” that was concerning. “Should we bolster your numbers with Lions, would that put a strain upon your ranks?”
“No, not at all. Extra hands are welcome.”
“I am glad to hear it. Please, don’t let me keep you from your duty.”
“Aye Pharaoh,” he bowed and spun around, with his helm remaining under his arm. She watched him scurry back into the gatehouse and sighed.
“Deserters?” Pride asked.
“Could it be so drastic?”
“Where else would these disheartened recruits go? Into a different duty? Would not be enough time.”
“Why not?”
“I can taste your doubt, girl,” Pride yawned again. “A question for your husband.”
Nadiyya groaned and slapped a merlon. She yawned and leant against it, emptying her mind on the pristine horizon ahead. Winter caressed her exposed face with gentler fingers gliding over her cheeks.
Pride’s attention drew her away from the calming winter breeze, back towards Bil’Faridh. Her eyes followed Pride’s, at a rider moving at full tilt along the main road. She made her way down the wall and reached the bottom by the time the Tamer arrived. He dismounted and removed his helm, bowing before her, and drawing eyes from nearby guards.
“The pharaoh asks for your presence in the palace barracks.”
Nadiyya strode into the crowded, dust swirling fighting rings. Scowling after replying to every greeting with an empty nod. She ringed her gloved hands while her eyes seared into Gawahir’s back. The fool stood beside an armour stand, with sparring leathers hanging off of it. A few Tamers stood beside him, as well as a nervous looking grey ghost.
The Tamers were the first to acknowledge her and were quick to show their respect. Gawahir spun around when he finally noticed the others. There was a wide smile on his healthy face, without a hint of guilt for his words the night before. It wasn’t the time or place to continue her animosity. Nadiyya smirked.
“My love,” his smiled stretched further. “I’m glad you accepted my invite.”
“Oh, it was an invitation?”
“Indeed, an invitation to encourage a thought you have been neglecting.”
It was a subtle performance, but the Tamers prickled her. Gawahir revealed a bronze knife from his elaborate silks with faintly etched strengthening script on its surface. Nadiyya raised her eyebrow at him.
“Ah, more like forcing my hand, I would say.”
She enjoyed his sneaking scent of unease. It washed away once she snatched the knife from him. The grey ghost rushed towards her and awaited permission to aid with her hair. Nadiyya offered the knife to the servant and aided in unravelling her long braid. The servant measured her hair while Nadiyya prepared the knife.
Her curled strands floated down in clumps, darkening the hard clay stone ground below. A weight fell off her shoulders, her neck found a forgotten litheness. The ghost brushed her shoulders and Gawahir caressed her cheek.
“It’s as if I’m meeting you for the first time again. You haven’t aged a day.” The man was wistful, and her heart danced.
The Tamers swarmed around her as she unbuttoned her cloak, lifting her khopesh and strapping the sparring leather. Nadiyya leapt over the low walls of the grand fighting ring. She twirled her khopesh to warm her wrists and eyed the Tamers with a wide grin. Her hair tickled her jaw as the chilly breeze shifted her shortened curls.
“Right then, who is first?”
Nadiyya limped beside Gawahir, stinking of hard work, soil, and speckles of blood. Some that weren’t her own. Every inch of her body ached with bruises and louts, torn flesh in the gaps between her ruined leather. Every movement churned her fingers. Tremors ran up and down her thighs with each step taken. Grime coated her with a second layer of flesh.
“That was magnificent to watch,” Gawahir said. “You have found your form.”
She struggled to find a reason not to agree. For all her aches and pains, the last of her maternal weight melted away. Nadiyya glanced back at Pride. He tilted his head with a twinkle of amusement in those golden eyes.
Gawahir dragged her through the grey stone palace, passing Sanctuary gardens and servants. With palace guards bowing as they passed. He turned her left instead of right, and Nadiyya squirmed.
“Where are you taking me, Gawahir? I reek.”
“A surprise, my love, a minor surprise.”
The minor surprise was a garden, with hints of perspiring fruit. Hints of an aged vintage as well, all swarmed around the pristine perfection of a Sanctuary garden.
“It cannot wait?”
“Definitely not.”
A stone table sat in the centre of a quaint green garden. With lavenders adding colour amongst the vibrant green. Nadiyya raised an eyebrow at him as he rushed in and dragged out her chair. She tossed off her sparring leathers and leant her khopesh against a nearby column.
Gawahir filled both crystals with the sweet-smelling wine while she snatched a few grapes.
“A moment of peace before the storm, something to think back on, should the battle go ill.”
Pride grunted aloud, lounging outside the garden. They clinked their glasses under such a morbid toast, but Nadiyya focused on the surprise.
Servants scurried in to clear her armour and khopesh, carrying a tray of pork and venison. Spicy stews and steaming vegetables. Fresh loaves floated in and Nadiyya’s eyes followed one youthful grey ghost. With a messy bun of brunette hair, tanned skin and plump lips.
“Cyrea child,” Nadiyya began.
“Pharaoh,” the girl curtsied. Gawahir’s eyes fixed on the girl, and his face turned grim.
The other servants took offence at the girl’s distraction, but said nothing as they departed, leaving only the girl.
“How are you faring, child?”
“It is tough work, but I am grateful for the duty, Pharaoh.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the girl blushed. Gawahir’s eyes refused to leave the girl. He forgot about the wine in his hand.
“Pharaoh, may I inquire about Prince Mazin? Is he all right?”
“As far as I know, child,” Nadiyya beamed, and the girl curtsied. Silence lingered when she departed, with Gawahir’s eyes fixed on where she stood.
Nadiyya watched her husband’s statuesque staring, sipping her wine and snatching grapes. The feast awaiting them nourished her nose with its spicy perfume.
“Bored with me already?”
Gawahir jumped, spilling his wine when he turned back towards her.
“Who is that girl? She’s young for a servant?”
“Cyrea, a girl from the jaguar district brought in by her aunt.”
Gawahir grunted. His mind churned. But she couldn’t read more. His lips shifted, mourning the words he left unspoken.
“She has an interest in Mazin?”
“Mm, a shame for you,” Nadiyya smirked.
“Oh no, of course. She’s far too young for me.”
“A shame for her, then?”
“How could she compare to a Tamer?”
“She doesn’t know what you like, she hasn’t my experience with you,” Nadiyya pouted at Gawahir’s chuckling.
“Here’s to another night of eating out the palm of your hand.”
“Mighty presumptuous of you, my love. It is barely midday.”
“When have you ever been able to say no to me?”
Nadiyya’s cheeks warmed after they roared with laughter together.