Chapter Three
Camel weary, Najya was thankful when the caravan halted and the workers set up the Khalifa's tents. She had not seen the Khalifa since the night he had purchased her from her uncle, and that was two days ago. The caravan had traversed the desert continually during that time. Those who were not on guard slept on their camels. Dusk was still hours away giving her plenty of time in which to worry what fate would befall her once she did see him again.
A loosely knit hooded white cloak hid the dancer costume she still wore; it had been at the Khalifa's insistence, she was told. The bells tinkled softly as she walked behind one of the men who had accompanied the Khalifa to her uncle's hotel. She was escorted to a tent and shown inside.
"Are there no other women in this caravan?" she asked quietly.
He turned quickly, eyes blazing. "You speak, woman, only when it is asked of you. Until then, you have no thoughts and no voice." He turned his back to her and abruptly left the tent.
Najya stood alone, her mouth agape. "By the goddess, I will not subjugate myself to this!"
She felt the surge of psychic energy again; without turning, she said, "Hello, Mother."
"Daughter, face me," she replied in a hushed whisper.
Najya turned to face her mother. "Is there more to tell me, Mother? Has Isis determined my fate?"
"Yes, Daughter. There was a need to get you to this place, for there is one you must seek." Zariah waved her hand and beside her appeared the image of a man with long wavy black hair whose dark robes flowed about him.
Najya moved closer to the image, her gaze fixed on his intense brown eyes. Just looking into those eyes made her knees quiver. She reached out to the image, entranced by his features. She had never seen such a man. His face. A handsome face adorned by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. The tattoos on his cheekbones and forehead were intriguing. She found herself longing to trace them with her fingertips.
"Najya!" Zariah whispered harshly. "There is no time for daydreaming."
She shook her head as the image disappeared and realized she felt decidedly empty. She did not know the handsome man who appeared in the vision, and that saddened her. There was something about him, something she could not put her finger on. Something that lead her to believe he was very important to her future. "I am sorry, Mother."
"Yes, Daughter, he is a handsome creature," Zariah admitted with a smile. However, she sobered instantly. "Yet, you must know he will not be easily persuaded. He is descended from those who guarded the Pharaoh, very noble, very honorable men. You will need to be determined."
"For what, Mother?"
"He must take you to the Isle of Philae and within the Temple of Isis you will find the Sphere."
"Mother, must he go with me? Does that really matter? What is this Sphere?"
"Daughter, you must trust the goddess. The man must go, that is all I can say. My time here has ended, remember the story I told you as a child. The Sphere of Ma'at, my little one." She faded softly and disappeared.
"Mother!" Najya cried softly. She had many questions and no answers. How did she find this man? Why was he so important and what of the Sphere? She had much to mull over.
The rustle of the tent flap interrupted her thoughts. The man who scolded her earlier had returned. "Come, woman. The Khalifa has asked for you."
Najya swallowed hard. It was time to come up with a plan. She was no man's slave.
She quietly followed the man who guided her to the Khalifa's tent. Along the way she kept the cloak pulled tight and the hood masked her face as she studied her surroundings and the location of the camels. She would need to steal one in order to make her getaway.
Once inside the Khalifa's tent she was pushed before him. "Remove your cloak," the Khalifa instructed.
Najya glanced up at him momentarily. He was a handsome man, although much too old for her taste. His hair and beard were white against his dark skin. The features of his face were sharply chiseled giving him a stern appearance. She remembered from meeting him that first time that he was not very tall, perhaps five foot five inches, but his body was trim and muscular.
"Eyes down, woman!" the rude man scolded her again. "Remove your cloak, unless you wish to receive punishment!"
Najya's anger rose and she could contain it no longer. "Enough!" she yelled, lowering the hood only. "I will not be treated like an animal; although you treat animals better than you treat women."
The Khalifa's eyes blazed. "Your uncle warned me of your insolence. You will obey."
"Never," she spat. "Did my uncle not warn you about other things as well?"
The man who led her to the Khalifa gripped her upper arms from behind. "You should be put to death."
The Khalifa, although angered, was intrigued. "Of what other things do you speak?"
Najya grinned. He would be sorry he asked that. "A demonstration, perhaps?" she asked coyly.
When the Khalifa nodded she shook off the hands of his guard and said, "Within the depths of the Goddess Mother's love, resides the pool of energy with which life was created." She closed her eyes and extended her arms.
The Khalifa and his guard watched in amazement as several vases, statues and other various small objects lifted into the air.
"And the Mother said, 'for only my true daughters shall possess my powers and forever they will safeguard humanity'." Najya recited the words her mother had spoken to her as a child.
The objects circled faster and faster within the tent until they became a blur. Najya could hear the gasps of disbelief from the two men. She opened her eyes and glared at the Khalifa. "And you, my dear Khalifa, are looking at her true daughter."
The Khalifa's eyes grew wide with fear. The Uncle had sold him a Sorceress. He watched as the woman lowered her arms abruptly and heard her resentful laugh.
She watched as the objects stopped in midair and, with a slight nod of her head, they hit their targets, sending the Khalifa and his guard into the dark void of unconsciousness.
She smiled as she crawled underneath the back of the tent and into the darkness of the night. She could have killed them, instead they would wake with a headache. She made her way quietly toward the camels and picked up a water sack along the way. It was as if the goddess had been watching over her, for she found one camel saddled and ready to ride.
************ To be continued...
Camel weary, Najya was thankful when the caravan halted and the workers set up the Khalifa's tents. She had not seen the Khalifa since the night he had purchased her from her uncle, and that was two days ago. The caravan had traversed the desert continually during that time. Those who were not on guard slept on their camels. Dusk was still hours away giving her plenty of time in which to worry what fate would befall her once she did see him again.
A loosely knit hooded white cloak hid the dancer costume she still wore; it had been at the Khalifa's insistence, she was told. The bells tinkled softly as she walked behind one of the men who had accompanied the Khalifa to her uncle's hotel. She was escorted to a tent and shown inside.
"Are there no other women in this caravan?" she asked quietly.
He turned quickly, eyes blazing. "You speak, woman, only when it is asked of you. Until then, you have no thoughts and no voice." He turned his back to her and abruptly left the tent.
Najya stood alone, her mouth agape. "By the goddess, I will not subjugate myself to this!"
She felt the surge of psychic energy again; without turning, she said, "Hello, Mother."
"Daughter, face me," she replied in a hushed whisper.
Najya turned to face her mother. "Is there more to tell me, Mother? Has Isis determined my fate?"
"Yes, Daughter. There was a need to get you to this place, for there is one you must seek." Zariah waved her hand and beside her appeared the image of a man with long wavy black hair whose dark robes flowed about him.
Najya moved closer to the image, her gaze fixed on his intense brown eyes. Just looking into those eyes made her knees quiver. She reached out to the image, entranced by his features. She had never seen such a man. His face. A handsome face adorned by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. The tattoos on his cheekbones and forehead were intriguing. She found herself longing to trace them with her fingertips.
"Najya!" Zariah whispered harshly. "There is no time for daydreaming."
She shook her head as the image disappeared and realized she felt decidedly empty. She did not know the handsome man who appeared in the vision, and that saddened her. There was something about him, something she could not put her finger on. Something that lead her to believe he was very important to her future. "I am sorry, Mother."
"Yes, Daughter, he is a handsome creature," Zariah admitted with a smile. However, she sobered instantly. "Yet, you must know he will not be easily persuaded. He is descended from those who guarded the Pharaoh, very noble, very honorable men. You will need to be determined."
"For what, Mother?"
"He must take you to the Isle of Philae and within the Temple of Isis you will find the Sphere."
"Mother, must he go with me? Does that really matter? What is this Sphere?"
"Daughter, you must trust the goddess. The man must go, that is all I can say. My time here has ended, remember the story I told you as a child. The Sphere of Ma'at, my little one." She faded softly and disappeared.
"Mother!" Najya cried softly. She had many questions and no answers. How did she find this man? Why was he so important and what of the Sphere? She had much to mull over.
The rustle of the tent flap interrupted her thoughts. The man who scolded her earlier had returned. "Come, woman. The Khalifa has asked for you."
Najya swallowed hard. It was time to come up with a plan. She was no man's slave.
She quietly followed the man who guided her to the Khalifa's tent. Along the way she kept the cloak pulled tight and the hood masked her face as she studied her surroundings and the location of the camels. She would need to steal one in order to make her getaway.
Once inside the Khalifa's tent she was pushed before him. "Remove your cloak," the Khalifa instructed.
Najya glanced up at him momentarily. He was a handsome man, although much too old for her taste. His hair and beard were white against his dark skin. The features of his face were sharply chiseled giving him a stern appearance. She remembered from meeting him that first time that he was not very tall, perhaps five foot five inches, but his body was trim and muscular.
"Eyes down, woman!" the rude man scolded her again. "Remove your cloak, unless you wish to receive punishment!"
Najya's anger rose and she could contain it no longer. "Enough!" she yelled, lowering the hood only. "I will not be treated like an animal; although you treat animals better than you treat women."
The Khalifa's eyes blazed. "Your uncle warned me of your insolence. You will obey."
"Never," she spat. "Did my uncle not warn you about other things as well?"
The man who led her to the Khalifa gripped her upper arms from behind. "You should be put to death."
The Khalifa, although angered, was intrigued. "Of what other things do you speak?"
Najya grinned. He would be sorry he asked that. "A demonstration, perhaps?" she asked coyly.
When the Khalifa nodded she shook off the hands of his guard and said, "Within the depths of the Goddess Mother's love, resides the pool of energy with which life was created." She closed her eyes and extended her arms.
The Khalifa and his guard watched in amazement as several vases, statues and other various small objects lifted into the air.
"And the Mother said, 'for only my true daughters shall possess my powers and forever they will safeguard humanity'." Najya recited the words her mother had spoken to her as a child.
The objects circled faster and faster within the tent until they became a blur. Najya could hear the gasps of disbelief from the two men. She opened her eyes and glared at the Khalifa. "And you, my dear Khalifa, are looking at her true daughter."
The Khalifa's eyes grew wide with fear. The Uncle had sold him a Sorceress. He watched as the woman lowered her arms abruptly and heard her resentful laugh.
She watched as the objects stopped in midair and, with a slight nod of her head, they hit their targets, sending the Khalifa and his guard into the dark void of unconsciousness.
She smiled as she crawled underneath the back of the tent and into the darkness of the night. She could have killed them, instead they would wake with a headache. She made her way quietly toward the camels and picked up a water sack along the way. It was as if the goddess had been watching over her, for she found one camel saddled and ready to ride.
************ To be continued...