Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Interlude

Umaymah patted the neck of her stolen horse, 'Antara, and sucked in a breath of the fresh evening air through her nose. Beneath her the tail of her turban slung over her face, underneath the loose garments and mail coat of a warrior, she was indistinguishable from her father's men. She was hidden in plain sight.

Her father's cold demeanor toward her had nearly crushed her spirit all those days ago. She cried herself to sleep every night, and once or twice to her shame, contemplated driving her blade through her heart. The act would displease Allah, she knew, and so drove the notion out of her mind whenever the Devil attempted to weasel through by reciting Qur'anic verses.

It was true that she had dreamed of this encounter ever since she was a little girl; dreamed of the wind lapping against her face as she crashed into the flank or rear of an enemy, her father howling encouragement at her side as they slew a common foe alongside one another. She wished for nothing more than to fight with honor by her father's side.

Yet, she was never one to be knocked down and remain seated or huddle up in a corner and weep. It was what distinguished her from so many of the other boys in the tribe; her willpower.

"Just because you've fallen on your arse, doesn't mean you have stay there," old man Haydar used to say. He was a mentor to her and the man who guided her for years in honing her skills.

So now, she was flat on her arse. And all she could hear was Haydar's harsh voice hurling foul insults at her, accusing her of cowardice and weakness. But she would not remain in a state so indisposed. She was finding her way back to her feet. She was proving herself to the man who mattered most in the world.

That was why she robbed some merchant in Damascus of his horse and snuck into her father's camp, disguised as another one of his men. The task was invigorating, every moment an experience of heightened senses and a thousand heartbeats. Yet, it was much more difficult than she had anticipated. She avoided contact with the others as much as possible, lest she be discovered.

In the military camp, it was an environment of discipline, and everything was accounted for. Every man had two or three others that shared a tent with him, and they were as brothers. The nights were rough and cruel as she was forced into a half sleep in the biting night cold, harassed by scorpions and mosquitoes and a thousand other insects. It would only seem like a few seconds prior that she had gone to sleep before she was awakened rudely by a boot to her chest.

But it would be all worth it. She knew how high the stakes were, yet she grinned at her realization that this was her first adventure with her father. She resolved that she would distinguish herself in battle for her prowess and courage. There was a unit of Father's that was arrayed in a neat column in full view of the pass that led into the Ghassanid dwelling. Umaymah sat stiff-backed and unmoving on her saddle, hidden in the shadows; the very image of a disciplined warrior.

A gust of wind sent the tail of her turban flapping and the tail of her turban slapped against her chin and lips. She ignored the inconvenience, keeping her eyes peeled on the pass. The commander in charge of this unit had not moved them since her father had ridden through and she was not entirely certain of their purpose. She did not think herself a seasoned commander, but surely it would be prudent to block that pass?

But she did not balk at her commander's lack of action.

"A warrior is more than the steel of their blade," Haydar once said. "It is the warrior that must be as steel. Unwavering and unrelenting in the face of all odds and any challenge."

She kept those words close to heart as she suffered the odd weather. One moment, the wind had pierced her layers of clothing and thick skin; the other, it was unbearably humid and dry. Allah was testing her, she knew. She was determined not only to prove herself to Father, but to wage war against the infidel and expand the borders of the Caliphate and the domain of Islam, in the name of Allah.