Fall 11, 511 AV A day’s march west of the Tent of Hani, some ten days of walking north of Yahebah Khalid knelt on the outside edge of his tarp as Syna’s favor left the world and cast her dying glow across the desert. Already night tinged the sky far above Khalid, but the sign of Leth’s influence – the moon – did not grace the sky to the east. It would be nearly dawn before the moon showed itself. Zintila’s stars spotted the darkness, filling the heavens with beauty, but Khalid’s eyes and mind focused inward. His lips formed silent prayer to Yahal, begging the God of Purity for guidance. Two days past, Khalid rode into the Burning Lands in preparation for marriage. His betrothed, Jelila, readied herself for their union among Khalid’s family. Jelila would be pampered and introduced to his kin while others kept watch for his return. She was a good woman in Khalid’s eyes, beautiful and intelligent and wise, a kind heart and gentle soul. Khalid knew he could grow to love her, someday. But today was not someday, and another love held his heart – Mizahar. As thoughts of lands far and near flitted through Khalid’s mind, the breeze picked up carrying the scent of the sea with it. Syna dropped completely from the sky, then, and her love, Leth would soon dominate the heavens. The moon’s absence from the sky sparked something in Khalid. Was not Leth the God of change, self-reflection and deep thought? The phases of the moon illustrated this point. And did not Yahal demand truth and dedication from his followers; to be true to one’s self and to others? The truth: Jelila was a magnificent woman, but Khalid could not be happy with her – not yet. He felt too young to be so committed, and the horizon beckoned him. He could not dedicate a life, which he had yet to live to its fullest, to another. A plan dawned on Khalid, grown from the roots of treasonous thoughts. He would not be missed for several days, Khalid could make for the coast and then for Yahebah. He knew the shifting sands would hide his tracks until he neare the sea, where his footsteps would leave no trail in the stony ground. By the time the search began there would be little to find. The cool breeze gusted, snapping Khalid from his thoughts with shivers. Goosebumps covered his skin, and only then did Khalid recall he wore naught but his breechclout. Another wave of shivers wracked Khalid’s body – it was time to make a decision. ”I will follow you to the sea; then turn to Yahebah.” He told the wind, his voice quaking with the cold and excitement. ”And when the time comes, I will return home, though it be many years.” The journey would be hard, but Khalid was familiar with the path – Hani’s Tent had followed it just recently after their yearly visit to Yahebah. The oases along the way would be dry, or nearly so, after months spent watering a community of Benshira and their herds. Fortunately, the water only receded beneath the ground and with a little digging Khalid could find it. Once Khalid made Yahebah, he could make further plans. His mind made, Khalid stepped into action. First, he dressed, pulling on a long tunic and coat and tying a wide sash about his waist. He wrapped his turban about his head with practiced familiarity, and drew the extra cloth across his mouth and nose as a veil. His small tent and tarp rolled up quickly, and were lashed to the bottom of his pack. Finally, Khalid took up his spear, a gift from his betrothed’s family. For a moment, the young man hesitated, and considered leaving the weapon behind. He’d grown familiar with its heft over the previous months, and practicality dictated that he should take it – the Burning Lands were a dangerous place. But it was also a gift given in good faith to protect Jelila and his family. Khalid’s hesitation was short-lived, a distant howl pierced the night, and other golden wolves joined their voice to the first. When Khalid left for the coast, nothing remained behind. |