White horses, a white carriage, and white-clothed people with too-polished pale skin and hair like straw or rubies. They ride through the desert at night, their phantom procession. They're all damp from the journey, the hot-and-cold kisses of the desert during witching hours. A pale young woman, just turning eighteen today, rides within the largest carriage, shaped like a hollowed-out gourd. The wheels, rimmed with diamond, show off these snow-peoples' fanciful extravagance.
A wealthy kingdom is never a bad kingdom to have for allies.
They are, however, insufferable to deal with.
On the horizon, a man, dressed in a black cloak with his armor emblazoned, the crest of the sun. He comes speeding towards them, kicking up clouds of spirited dust. He rides a dark horse, his own skin gleaming like clay, his eyes a piercing brown, like the texture of a golem's hide. He smiles behind a gray-black beard, a wicked scimitar cinched at his waist.
"Loftan sabr," the man says, "please wait!"
Recognizing the language of Rahasia, the snow-people slow their white-horsed procession. The man grins to see that their wheels have gotten rutted with all the sand.
Extravagant, yes. Practical? Gods, no.
The young girl of eighteen, the Matriarch of the kingdom, steps out. Her blonde-white hair is plaited back from her face. Her eyes burn blue. The Rahasian shivers to see her. She looks like a ghost standing there. "Ubi est maritus?" She tilts her head to the side, one slender hand on a cocked hip. She translates in slower Rahasian that grates against General Ibrahim's ear. A tongue of frost speaking a language of the sun, "where is my husband?"
General Ibrahim pauses, trying to think up an excuse.
He finds one. Almost stupidly brilliant.
He pulls the ugliest face imaginable, eyes sunken, mouth pulled into a tight line. He translates back into the clumsy, icier language. "Ego ille. Ego imperator."
I am he. I am the Emperor.
The young girl's face goes even paler, if possible.
"Et factus est mihi promissionem. Volui filii, senex stulti. Sperabam esses iunior." She blushes, skin turning pink. "I wanted children. You made me a promise, old fool. I had hoped you would be younger."
General Ibrahim gives the ugliest grin possible. "متاسفم. Bebakhshid..." And then he looks up with the most serious face possible. "We could still try for children. Maybe if we pray to both my Empire's gods, and yours for fertility and virility..."
The matriarch shakes her head.
"Insanitis, senex. Iam ambo liberi sumus. You are mad, old man. Now, we are both free." And, with one last huff, she reenters her diamond-studded carriage, long blonde plait swinging, her slippers reinforced with swan feathers.
General Ibrahim laughs as soon as their white-horsed, ridiculous procession disappears over the next sand dune.
He glances down at the slavering ghūl standing expectantly beside his dark horse. "Sorry, friend, I've kept the end of my bargain to your Mistress." he pats the ghūl like it's a hunting dog. The creature yawns disappointedly. "You won't be eating the flesh off my bones just yet."
The ghūl sees the General's laughter and attempts to mimic the smile with its own, gum-bone teeth. This causes the General to laugh even harder at the creature's hideous attempt.
"Maybe I'll call you Imperator. I'll name you Emperor. A tribute to our Pale Queen friend. Would you like that?" The ghūl continues smiling. Still laughing, the black-cloaked man on the dark horse disappears back towards the lioness gate. The witching hour is nearly over.
Hopefully Lady Ode is in a better mood, wherever she is.
Otherwise, Imperator might be eating the General's flesh-and-bones after all.
***
Champions,
If anybody knows Latin and can correct it, or any foreign language spoken in this chapter, help would be appreciated!
Best (Arno scene coming up next),
AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! <3 I LOVE YOU ALL.
Sophia
YOU ARE READING
A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)
Fantasy"The Blind God walks around me, and I feel my mind prodded again like it was in the cavern, a spider weaving a tangled web. "Would you do anything to be remembered, Ode, even play a villain, the one who rises against the Chosen One?" In answer, I dr...
