The Spark.

Blood Moon.

01.

Sand as fine as particles of grain slithered through my fingers only

to be  caught on the freshening wind which scattered it away.

I was kneeling outside the circle of animal hide tents beyond the

main camp, straining to catch a glimpse of the moon but just then a cloud obscured it from view.

Yet it's strange, red glow pierced through the grayish, cloud cover to bathe the desert in a bloody light.

Legend has it that each Blood moon heralded disaster of some kind.

I didn't believe in such tales but then again perhaps there was some truth to the old sayings.

My name is Ashuka Sharif, and I am the youngest son of Ashuka Tarif, the captain of the Shah's

bodyguards and though I had been trained as a warrior like

many of the boys from my clan,  violence doesn't come naturally to me.

I am what is called in the ancient tongue, "Lakah" which simply means "earth lover" or "peaceful tiller."

When I came of age, I had been offered the choice of joining my father's regiment or pursuing a different path.

I chose to be sent to Ashram which is a school in the far East,

where I was trained as a scribe and to discern times and seasons as well as herb lore.

So now I have earned a new title,
Suka, which means "knowledgeable one."

These skills have brought me to the attention of the Shah, who often consults with me on such

matters although he has not given me a legal position as his "Vizier"  because of my youthfulness.

That position sits firmly with my enemy, Haran who guards it
jealously.

In the ancient tongue,  "Haran"  means "jackal" which is a beast long considered evil.

His love of power has overshadowed whatever love he might have had for our people.

Any man with such an imbalance in his soul needs to be closely watched. 

However, Haran is also clever at hiding his dark side from our Shah.

He is a magician in that respect, yet he can not fool me.

The hiss of sand shifting on sand alerted me to the approach of another person and rising in one

fluid motion, while keeping one hand on the bone handle of my dagger,

I turned back to watch the black, robed figure halt several feet away. 

She pushed back the veil of the head covering to reveal the beautiful face of Isha, one of the Shah's younger daughters.

The star shaped jewel in the center of her forehead sets Isha apart as one of the Shah's virgin

daughters although I have a feeling that she would not remain

untouched if she persisted in wandering away from the safety of the main camp alone.

There are many dangers for a young woman and not every man respects the power of the Shah.

But she has nothing to fear from me.

Yet it annoys me to see Isha  without the protection of her personal guards.

In fact, Isha should not be out here at all.