Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures own the character of Ardeth Bay. I do not profit from this work.
A WIP is a work-in-progress, meaning the author is putting it online as they are writing it.
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"Your heart is fluttering like a bird's," he said gently. "You must rest." He was leaning next to me. "I am sorry for Abr's behavior. Doubtless he thought you my capture, brought back for revenge." My eyes were adjusting to the dark, and I could make out a grimace on his fine features. "None will treat you so again. You have my word."
"You cannot mean to promise a thing like that," I said faintly. "It is only in the hands of Allah."
"Inshallah, whomsoever harms you in any way will answer to me dearly," he said in a voice that would brook no argument, the voice of a chieftain's son. "I owe you my life. You are under my protection."
The tent slowly stopped spinning, and my breathing relaxed. "But if I leave, you will not be able to---protect me."
Even in the gloom of the tent I could see that he was upset at my words. "I would follow, Beloved. It is Allah's will---we are united together by the blood-debt." He reached out a long-fingered hand and traced the edge of my cheek. "But if I can convince you to stay, I will," he added softly, his eyes boring into m own.
Beloved---he had called me Beloved---
"I must see my father," he said, letting his hand fall to his side. Standing, his gaze lingered. "Rest now, and think of the life you could make here, with me by your side." He left the tent, and I covered my face with my hands, exhilaration and fright filling me in equal measure. To think of him, by my side, loving me---it was too much, it was so much more than I could believe. I did not deserve any of him.
Allah had shown me the pendant, and led me to the son of a Druze chieftain, given me a bed to rest upon, and the finest man I had ever known to call me Beloved. Never had I seen his equal. The best warrior in my father's camp was like the stone under Ardeth's foot.
I was torn in two. I desired to be next to him, to be safe from my father, and yet I desired to turn, to flee into the desert and forget him, forget his dark eyes and strong hands. Could he really feel love for me, for the ignorant daughter of a murdering fiend? Did he truly feel love---could it be merely gratitude, misinterpreted? My thoughts roiled about, and I closed my eyes, trying to shut them out. My heart shook as I thought of how he would react to the knowledge that I had been dishonored at the hands of my uncle's son. No, he would not want me, he could not possibly be with a woman who was so defiled. I was exhausted, past my limits, out of strength. I succumbed to sleep, letting the last of my worries fall away.
The dream began innocently enough. I walked across the desert with bare feet. I had no kuffiyah, only a trader's robe, no camel, wineskin, or provisions, yet this did not bother me. The air stirred, brushing against my unbound hair.
This desert was sterile, devoid of life. No plants graced the sands; no birds wheeled above; everything was quiet, still, mute. Only the wind possessed vitality; it seemed to whisper in my ear as I walked, heedless of direction.
The sun grew hotter and hotter, and I looked at it without flinching. It was silent in the sky, brilliant, powerful, mesmerizing. I gazed at it without pain or discomfort as it blazed.
From nowhere formed huge, pounding words. The words of Allah. The words of my Lord. They were simple, precise. There was a strange noise, like bees humming, and suddenly a vision swam before me, showing the Druze settlement in its entirety.
I awoke, confused. What would be waiting for me there? What did Allah have in store for me? I had seen this boulder when we rode into the encampment. It had not seemed remarkable to me in any way, except size.
Even more frightening was the idea that Allah was turning me away from the Druze, or, even worse, Ardeth. Suddenly I did not want to leave, I did not want to leave this man and this bed, I did not want to leave this beautiful fantasy that I was experiencing, no matter how short it might linger.
But I sat up, feeling the change in the air as the day gave way to dusk. The tent was empty save for myself and I knew that there would be no better time than now to find this stone. My heart grew heavy at the possibility of leaving Ardeth behind, but I consigned myself to Allah's will, for He was much wiser in the ways of us than we were ourselves.
Ducking out of the tent, I was relieved to find that very few people were near. Doubtless the camel-mothers were returning for the night, and their care was paramount. The rest were presumably busy with the evening meal. I stole away into the rapidly dimming dusk and traversed the hill.
The stone stood, illuminated by the fiery orange full moon that had risen, impassively shedding its light over the rocky landscape. I leaned upon the boulder, feeling the leftover warmth from the sun, a silent and powerful force. The vast stillness was reassuring. I no longer feared my father's wrath; it felt as if I was finally beyond his reach. My life was my own. My course was open.
The night air had grown cold, and I shivered, wishing I had brought a blanket with me. I could not return now, though; I must wait for whatever sign Allah sought fit to bless me with. I would wait for my omen. My life was in His hands.