Against the Wind

4.2 || Raya

As the hour slipped later and the sun reddened, hung like a boiled, simmering pendulum in the western sky, Tehazihbith was overtaken by a fresh rush of activity. Like steaming fluid poured from a bottle, people drifted in dense streams along the path. An air of haziness wrapped them now, as if the heat of the day had sapped away the flurry of excitement and spear-like focus upon tasks that had possessed the morning crowds, leaving steps slow and meandering, woven by laughter like strings of tepid bubbles. A steadier cheer, but lighthearted nonetheless, livened by the buzz of what Raya assumed was a victory won during the breach she'd avoided.

She was grateful for the slowness. It gave her space to catch her thoughts, and made it easier to act as Hariq's guide—though the latter was only slightly true. She took hold of his arm initially, though after her third gentle nudge to warn him of an incoming collision, he complied with heedy reluctance before pulling himself free of her grip.

"Thank you," he murmured, bending his head to angle the quiet words, "but I'm capable of walking on my own."

As if to force evidence to strengthen his statement, the set of his shoulders grew stiff, his stride confident enough to outdo hers as his cane thumped the sand ahead in rhythm. Little legs scurried inches from the arc of its swing; a child was just barely dragged out of the way by his wide-eyed father. Wincing, Raya flashed him an apologetic glance, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

The words soured the moment they left her lips. They fell too heavy, and she saw where they dented in the twitch of Hariq's jaw, tension rippling through him as if suffering a wound. The breeze that carried his response was too light. "No harm will come to me that I cannot protect myself from, Raya. You of course know of the dust's whisper, don't you?"

"Yes," she tried not to sigh, keeping her voice small. "Of course."

"Then believe that it supplies a guiding hand on my shoulder. Trust it, and trust me."

She felt silly supplying a nod he couldn't see, but the words wouldn't come. It wasn't the first time she'd listened to a similar lecture. Her brother was a proud man with reason to be; his fighting prowess continued to outmatch many of his peers, and she still looked up to the strength of his mind as she always had as a child. It hurt him to think that he might lack in any way and need to be provided for. She understood that, and so she kept her arms by her sides, but still her heart twisted a little with every slight stumble she could've prevented. He was forever insistent that she could lean on him when she needed it, so why couldn't he accept her help?

She remained quiet, however, side by side with him the rest of the way until they turned a corner and the temple came into view. Its steepled sides rose above the buildings around it, coming to a sharp point that shimmered with bouncing sunbeams as if it pierced the sky. A well opened in the pit of Raya's stomach. With her neck craned to watch the light curve, she didn't see Hariq's cane move to block her path until her knees knocked into it.

With a squeak that hovered somewhere between surprise and indignance, she stumbled, struggling to regain her balance. His face turned towards her, impassive. "There's something else I suspect may be troubling you."

Suddenly, the unsteadiness in her calves had nothing to do with the impact. She stared.

"I heard the sound of a breach this morning."

"Oh." The quiet breath of exclamation rushed from her too fast, though she still felt taut as a trembling string. She inhaled through her nose, collecting herself. "Yes. I was... otherwise occupied today and could not assist." The words were tacky, sticking to one another in muddied fashion.

Perhaps she'd grown so used to the smooth coating of lies that honesty sounded unnatural. Doubt radiated from her brother, but he paused before commenting, his frown twisted with wariness. "Does it still bother you?" The cloth in place of his eyes was accented by crinkled slashes of navy, blending with the shadow of his hair. "The violence?"

Her gaze found her feet. "It does."

His cane scraped the sand as it drew upright, tapping his downward-tilted chin. "Sooner or later, you will need to move past that. It is our divine duty to the desert we have claimed. Our god granted us the gift of magic and prosperity long ago, breathed life into what was once barren, and those beasts—"

"They're a disgrace upon those gifts, I know." Perhaps she should've snapped at him. Perhaps she meant to, aware of the squirming, stewing irritation threading her gut and desperate to escape hearing the same lecture she'd endured dozens of times, but her voice emerged far too weak. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and averted her gaze. "I know what's right. I'm just... a little broken, I suppose." Again, her intentions failed her; what was supposed to be a laugh collapsed hollowly in on itself.

Hariq engulfed her in an embrace. Something in her chest twisted uncomfortably, and she found it hard to sink into his gentle warmth. Her arms felt stiff as planks of wood.

"You are not broken." The whisper in her ear, though breathy and quiet, was firm. "I understand your struggle, Raya, but it will end. I promise that."

Pressed against his chest, she forced a nod. "I'll keep trying." Even to herself, she sounded feeble, hopelessly unconvincing, but she shoved down the lump in her throat. She'd recited that lie enough times that it was plain as day to anyone that knew her, and Hariq knew her better than anyone.

Despite that, he didn't sigh, and didn't scold her again. He only traced his hand up her neck to hold her head, fingers lacing her hair. "You will keep trying. One day, the fear will fade, and you'll discover the justice I know already burns from within your heart." He released her slowly, allowing his words to resonate, before curling his lips into a soft smile. "Though faith will be a grand place to start."

Compelled by his words, Raya's gaze snared the sharp-edged temple once more. At his prompting nudge, she drifted a few steps forward, bringing her near enough to watch a small breath of wind toy with the folds of the curtained entryway. Every conceivable colour seemed to flash within the smooth, decorated fabric, blinking in and out of sight with every minute rustle of movement. They swirled and danced in a scenic mosaic, capturing the image of a dust-driven storm, clouds of all things strange and wonderful—rods of silver lightning, white flurries spattered by frosted violet glints, dewy sunsets and gold-gilded flames—blooming from within. Her chest ached as if caught in a metal-clad fist.

"And, try as I might, I'm not the best voice to aid in that." In her peripheral vision, Hariq gave a meaningful nod. "Speak with them in private. I'll stand guard outside."

She swallowed hard. A shaky, "Thank you," was all she could manage before the rest of her energy was drained in summoning the effort to move her rigid legs. The curtain softly caressed her face as she slipped through the place where it parted. Boundless colours swept the sunlight away, and shadow overcame her.

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