Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures own the character of Ardeth Bay. I do not profit from this work.
His eyes pierced mine, and my soul felt the breath ofmercy stirring within it. W sawed at the coarse rope, freeing his raw wrists. His knees buckled, and I grabbed his arm, alarmed. If he could not walk---if I was found freeing him---
He stood, using the tent pole for support. His hands were shaking. I shouldered another heavy camel saddle-bag and motioned to him to follow me. Lifting the back of the tent, we stepped through, and I retied the laces to the stakes. I used a long camel hair brush to obscure our tracks, and the brisk night wind helped to further obliterate them. I chose two camels out of my father's herd and slung the saddlebags and two well worn saddles across them. I did not dare take the racing-camels or the ornamental saddles; it would be even more cause for pursuit. I helped the stranger mount the pack-camel, giving him an old blanket and my spare kuffiyah. Once his camel had risen to its feet I gave it a switch to set it walking along with my own. I thought again of my father. He might not have even bothered looking for me, had I not taken the slave. I walked behind the two camels, erasing our tracks until we had crossed the far dune. There I mounted, hoping to make the best of our head start. I was about to urge the camels into a faster pace when he reached out, catching my arm.
"Thank you," he said ferverently in his rich baritone. His hand seemed to burn through the cloth of my tunic.
I nodded, unable to meet his beautiful eyes. "We must be away," I said softly. "Someone might notice soon."
"I must know your name."
"Tuema."
"I am Ardeth Bay." His face was lit by the faint stirrings of dawn. With a start I recognized the name; it came from the legendary chieftains of the Druze. "Why did you free me?" His grip on my arm tightened.
I was nervous, eager to be away, but I could see that he had to know. "Allah sent me a dream," I said, deciding to tell him the truth. "I was waiting for the sign to leave. When I saw your pendant, I knew that it was time." I allowed myself to look directly at him, the high, sculpted cheekbones, the sable eyelashes, the full, sensual lips. "We---we must be going. If they catch us---"
He nodded, releasing my arm and wincing suddenly in pain. I wondered if he would make it to the next oasis. "You are brave, to follow your vision," he murmured.
"There is no will but Allah's," I replied quietly. Then we were galloping into the desert, away from my father.
***
I knew that we needed to stop and rest. Ardeth was clinging to the saddle, wearied beyond belief. He had almost fallen more than once; he needed to rest. The sun was low in the sky, and I stopped in the shade of a dune. I dismounted first and helped him down from his camel, giving him a waterskin and a provisions bag as I tended to the camels. He ate slowly, his movements stiff, and I felt shame for my father's mistreatment of him. My camel nuzzled my arm affectionately, and I stroked her nose and murmured kindly to her before sitting in the sand next to Ardeth. Reaching out, I drew the waterskin to myself and took a spare mouthful to clean the taste of dust out of my mouth. I ate a little of the bread and cheese, staring off in the direction that we had ridden from. Now that I was away and the rush of bravery had left me I realized how tenuous my position really was. If my father or his warriors found me it would be terrible. I was alone with a man. A Bedouin girl learns early to value her honor more than her life, and mine was now in question; my father had the legal right and the moral imperative to kill me immediately if he found me. My head felt oppressed by these thoughts. I fingered the khanjar at my side and tried to make myself feel brave again. Allah had led me away a He had promised. I must trust in Him.
Eventually I realized that his eyes were upon me, and I hoped that he could not see the color rise in my cheeks. "You are unafraid to be here, alone with an enemy of your tribe," he said.
My hand tightened upon my khanjar, but then I felt foolish. He could not possibly wish me harm. "I, too, am their enemy."
He looked surprised. "Were you---his slave?"
"His daughter," I said bitterly.
His eyes widened. "You are the daughter of that---that vile man?"
"Yes." I let me eyes stray from his exquisite face, turning them back to the burning sands. "He would not give me my dowry; he was to sell me to the al-Rashid clan."
He made a derisive noise. "And so his own wickedness leads to his undoing. Allah's will is just, indeed."
We sat in silence for a moment or two. I could still feel him watching me, his gaze hotter than the shimmer on the dunes. As of yet I could see no signs of pursuit, but I was afraid still. I turned back to the waterskin, taking another spare sip, and he raked a hand through the unruly mass of black hair that curled about his shoulders, catching my attention. "Your hair---it is so short," I marveled. In truth, I had never seen anyone, save the very young, with their hair unbound and cropped like his.
"No, we do not braid ours," he said distractedly, still staring at me.
"You have come here from a long distance."
He nodded. "We live to the North, at the feet of the mountains. We were searching the Red Desert."
I knew the endless, trackless waste that was the Red Desert; it was close to our camp, though we rarely entered it. "My warriors---we were searching for a plant. The samh---"
"The samh? Indeed, it does grow in the Bsatya---but there has been no rain there in many years. You would not have found it."
"It does not matter now," he said, his mouth twisting into a wry, bitter grin. "My blood brother Faris was ill, dying, and the plant might have cured him. But your father's ghazu found us, and killed all but myself."
I lowered my eyes, again ashamed. "He is an evil man. May Allah see fit to awaken him to his sins and seek forgiveness for the wrongs he has committed." I straightened my kuffiyah, grimacing at the thought of my father and how close the riders could be to us. "Where will you go?"
"Where will you?" he returned.
"Mnahi," I replied. "After that, only Allah can tell."
"He did not show you the way in your dream?"
"He only showed me the pendant. He told me that it would lead me away from my father."
"It seems my capture was destined." His expression was unreadable.
"I---" I was suddenly filled with horror, that men would die so that I would be free. "No one can know the will of Allah," I said quietly.
He remained silent, and I stood up, crossing the hot sand to check the saddles and resecure the provisions and waterskins. I pulled a camel hair blanket out of each saddlebag, the better to protect us against the biting night wind that was already rising. He was not any steadier on the camel than he had been before, and I knew that I he must rest as soon as possible.
He guided his camel close. "Why do you travel to Mnahi?"
"It is out of the way. The others are too well-travelled."
"Your father may guess that you will travel this way."
My hand tightened on the reins. "That I do not know. I had hoped that he would assume that I was riding to my mother's people." The sun glowed orange on the horizon. "Do you know of another way?"
Only his shining dark eyes were visible in the indigo of the kuffiyah. "There is another oasis towards the North."
"That would take us into the Red Desert."
"Certainly he would not expect this."
The sunset turned everything a fiery red, shimmering and rippling about us. Allah had given me the pendant, freed me from my father. I must trust in His will, and trust that Ardeth was honorable. "I will follow," I said finally.
I knew that he smiled under the kuffiyah because his eyes reflected it, though briefly. Turning his camel northward we plunged into the bleak night landscape.
***