Sandstorms (On Hold)

Chapter 1: Nightfall

Nights in the sub-Saharan land were cold. The moon didn't reflect the desert sun's warmth, only its light.

In the shadows, a man and woman dance to the tune of death. They were close, a macabre mockery of a lover's embrace. Each one circled the other, stepping with caution. The man finally lunged towards her, and rather than dodging the woman aimed her knife at his heart. He swerved his body as they fell on the floor, grappling.

"She told me to kill you but thought I'd have my fun first, never bed a princess before." He leered at her beneath him pinning her hands to the floor, her blood ran cold. She stopped resisting and he relaxed staring at the woman below. He eagerly reached for his belt buckle, content to no longer face resistance.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, her blade slid across his neck spraying her in blood. He fell limp on top of her, his lifeforce dripping out of him as sacredly as the last drops of water in the empty flask the desert goer drinks, not enough to cure their parchedness. Just enough to keep them alive. The man's blood stained her hands crimson as she slowly pushed his corpse off her. The assassination attempts have increased, but this was by far the most audacious.

Her bedroom door creaked open, and a maid girl hurriedly entered with wide eyes. "Sayidati, what happened?"

"I told you not to call me that." The older girl sighed.

"What happened, why is there a strange man in your room and why is he dead?" The girl rushed out, panicked.

"Layla, I'll answer everything in time right now I need you calm."

"Amani I-"

"Do you trust me?" She asked placing her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"With my life."

"Then pack your belongings and get two horses ready. Meet me outside as soon as you're done."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safer, now go and make haste. I need you." The girl rushed out of the room, her questions unanswered for the moment.

Amani breathed out in exertion, each shovel swing more desperate than the last. Layla stood a slight distance further near their tied horses, eyes anxiously searching the distance. She paced like a caged animal, feet digging into the sand. Clueless as to what she was looking for, she sighed in frustration.

"Do you know who is behind all this?"

"I have an idea." Amira, it has to be.

Amani's sister-in-law always saw her as a threat, although she couldn't remember doing anything awful enough to warrant her wrath. Her appearance in their family was very sudden. Othman, her younger of two older brothers, called upon their parents and her for a private audience before sharing with them that he would be married in fourteen days. Their father, a former mercenary, was stunned into silence. Their mother was mute. Despite many reservations about the abruptness as well as the actual motives behind the union, they obliged his request and gave him their blessings. Three years later, she enlisted a tribesman to murder the only daughter of the sultan.

The Funj sultanate of Sudan lay on the northern end of the Blue Nile River, bordering Chad and the Red Sea. Their ancestors were pharaohs of Nubia, and there was a time when their reign included Egypt. All changed with the arrival of the Assyrians, who took over. They retreated, but their land was never the same. Centuries later, the people speak Arabic, but retain their African culture, honouring both ancestors. They accepted the language and the religion without any losses through the marriage of the Arab tribesmen and Nubian royalty. But time was running out. The Mamluk Caliph in Cairo planned to rule her people, but they refused to be subjugated in their own homes. They've successfully avoided war for decades, but how long until blood must be shed?