In my last post I asked you a question. I showed you a picture of a red-robed figure in a sea of black-robed ones and asked you to consider what her story was. In this post I am presenting you with my version of her story. The part I am giving you is just a bit of what's to be a much longer story, so it lacks an ending. It is rather long though, this part, yet I do hope you enjoy it. This story is also being posted on my DeviantArt profile, located at: http://writingangel2010.deviantart.com/ . All future parts of this story will be posted there if you wish to continue reading this story. Now, on with the story!
The Woman in Red: Part One
Brilliant points of light hung in the vast darkness of the world’s top, their numbers as many as the sands below. A camel grunts into the stillness of the night, its tail swings behind it like a pendulum. A figure stands not far from the animal, its robes a brilliant shade of crimson. The fabric furled around the figure’s body, whipped by the harsh wind of the night. The figure’s face is covered so only their dark eyes can be seen. All other skin is hidden from view, and therefore protected from the stirring sand. The rough grains are picked up by the hands of the wind and are tossed about like a ball. Their tiny, yet sharp, surfaces leave temporary marks around the figure’s eyes as they sting its exposed flesh.
A bag
sits, limp and half-empty, at the figure’s feet. Its contents are light and the
dark brown fabric that cradles them is pushed aside by a particularly strong
gust of wind. The bleached beams of the moon catches on the surface of one of
the bag’s newly exposed objects, causing the figure to catch sight of a shiny
glint of gold. In the night, the light is distracting, and the figure bends to
correct the fabric encasing the objects. Once again hidden, they are no bother
and the figure straightens, its eyes returning to the seemingly never-ending
heavens.
The
figure’s eyes close as they hear the sound of hooves on sand. It’s a sloppy
sound, like clacking that has a slippery edge to it, or a fish flopping about
helplessly on the sandy shores of a river. There are at least a dozen horses by
the greatness of the sound, and they call out in the night. The figure’s camel
gives start; shaking its head in protest. It is a new pet of the figure and has
yet to grow use to its strong and sturdy counterparts. Its feet paw at the
rough earth, stumbling backwards before the figure reaches out to grab hold of
its reigns. Steadying the animal, the figure kneels to retrieve the bag and
places it in one of the sacks secured to the camel’s back. The sacks weren’t
nearly as heavy as the figure had hoped, for it had been a night of slim
pickings and shadow darting.
As the
horses race across the sand, the distance between them and the figure is
quickly diminished. Their hooves throw sand as they dig into the loose earth,
creating a haze around them as they travel. A dark robed figure is seated upon
each horse, their eyes and hands being the only flesh showing. The blades of
their swords reflect the land around them as the moon’s beams play upon them.
The hilts of the weapons secured to the robed figures by thick cords woven into
belts.
The
great beasts come to halt behind the first figure’s camel and the lead rider
demounts his stead. His beast is as dark as his robes, which bellow in the wind
as he outstretches his arms.
“Thank
goodness you’re safe,” he, the lead rider, declares as he embraces the first
figure. The frame of the first figure is much slimmer than his and his muscles
seem to fold around it as he embraces it in a hug. Pulling back, he holds the
figure away at arm’s length, his large hands resting lightly on the figure’s slim
shoulders. His deep brown eyes, scared around the edges from a past event, lock
with the strong soft-edged ones of the figure. “I thought for sure we had lost
you. I was prepared to scourer the city for you if you weren’t here.”
“Haydar,”
the figure spoke, its voice very much feminine and drawing out the last
syllable of her companion’s name. The tone she had taken was flat, devoid of emotion
but bursting with fact, as she removed the man’s hands form her shoulders. “You
knew I would be here.”
“I
assumed,” Haydar admitted, his voice low and gruff. “With you it is hard to
know anything.” There was a hint of a
smile in his eyes and the one in red scoffed. “After how tonight went, I
wouldn’t have been surprised if you had gone back into the city. Our loot tonight
is light.”
“And
the guards are heavy. I’ll be glad when the Prince’s birthday is over and the
normal patrols are returned. This doubling of the guards makes me nervous. With
all of their torches there’s not enough shadow to hide in.”
“Give
it a week and they’re sure to leave. A birthday can only be celebrated for so
long.”
“This
one is being celebrated longer than usual.”
“He is
a Prince.”
The
Crimson figure’s eyes trailed to the riders behind Haydar. Their eyes were
trained on their surroundings, watching the sand and city walls for any sign of
trouble. Their backs were straight, one of each of their hands gripped the
reigns of their horses tightly while their other hands rested on the hilt of
their curved swords. They were on edge,
that much was obvious, and the Crimson figure nodded to herself. Silently
agreeing with her own thought that they should remove themselves from the open land.
Haydar
was still speaking, but his words fell on deft ears. The crimson figure turned
towards her camel and took hold of its reigns. As she spotted the light of a
torch near the city’s entrance, she said, “We need to leave.”
Haydar
couldn’t protest as his eyes too slid over the moving light. The guard holding
it was pacing the arched entrance. If he stared hard enough into the desert
he’d be sure to spot them, for they hadn’t traveled far from the wall. Haydar
helped the first figure secure her camel’s reigns to his horse before mounting
his stead. Holding out a hand, he helped the red robed figure onto his horse.
Her body slid behind his as she threw a leg over the beast’s broad back.
“Hey!
You there!” the guard called.
“We’ve
been spotted,” one of the riders spoke.
“Thieves!”
the guard poked his head inside the entrance and yelled. The thumping of
stampeding guards could be heard and Haydar cursed under his breath.
“Leave
the camel,” the crimson figure declared.
“But it
has half our…”
“It’ll
slow us down!” she interrupted another rider and reached for the knife secured
to her waist.
“That
loot’s the only thing that made tonight worth…”
“You
dare interrupt our queen?” Haydar challenged the disobedient rider.
The
woman cut the camel free just as a team of horses raced out of the city
entrance. “Go!”
Haydar
and the riders didn’t offer protest as they commanded their horses to make
haste. Across the sand they raced, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake, until
they reached the caves of Judar. Haydar allowed his thief queen down from the
horse at the entrance to a cave before he and the riders took off into the
cave’s depths.
The cave in which they dwelled was
really a series of caves connected together by stone halls. The maze like
structure naturally sectioned off areas into rooms. Each Rider was granted
their own room, plus there was one for the horses, another for their treasure,
and another for gatherings. The actual entrance of the cave was left bare,
forcing one to venture further into its depths to find any sign of those who
dwelled there.
The red robed woman swiftly made
her way to her designated quarters, pulling at her headpiece as she went. The
fabric constricting her hair was proving troublesome as it caught on the pin
holding her hair in place. Muttered words about the fabric’s future murder
tumbled from her lips as she pulled at the fabric. Finally, the fabric gave way
and she was able to unwrap it from her head.
Black waves tumbled over her
shoulders and back, the pin meant to hold them in place dangling from strands
of hair that had wrapped themselves around it. The pin –gold with tiny rubies
embedded down it -swung in front of her brown eyes and she let out a huff at
the small object. Folding the red fabric over her arm, she reached up to
untangle the pin from her hair as she entered her quarters.
She tossed the fabric onto the
wooden chair by the jagged entrance to her room and tugged the pin free from
its entrapment. She crossed the room silently and placed the pin in a wooden
box that rested on two crates that served as her vanity. A mirror, made by one
of the riders and gifted to her, rest atop the crates as well. Its wooden frame
was stained a dark color and runes were engraved in it, their color much
lighter than the stain used on the wood, for they cut into the very core of the
frame’s wood.
As she passed behind her dressing
screen, Her fingers worked at the belt securing her outer robes to her body.
Once the belt was removed, the crimson robes fell off her frame as easily as
water gliding through fingers. She gathered up the robes and tossed them over
the screen before exiting, wearing a pair of black trousers, a red tunic, and a
weaved belt. She didn’t bother to remove the dusty red slippers from her feet
as she placed her knife upon the crate vanity.
“Adilah,” Haydar’s heavy steps
echoed through her room as he entered. They were strong, precise steps; the
steps of one who has seen much battle. He too had removed his outer robes and
head dress, leaving him in a pair of black trousers and a tunic to match. His
shoes were a pair of black boots and raven locks framed his face. There was the
shadow of a beard upon his face, starting at his ears and crossing beneath his
nose and chin.
“Haydar,” she greeted with a
returning of his name. “I trust you have spoken to Esam about his mistake
tonight.”
“It has been dealt with. He will not speak
against you again.”
“The trouble with new recruits is
that they don’t understand my role as their leader. They always think they can
speak against me, override my commands.”
“You must forgive them,” Haydar
reasoned. “They aren’t use to obeying women.”
“You’re saying that if I was born a
man they would heed my every order?”
“They would obey, yes, but they
would still question you within their own minds.”
“Do you question me?”
“Don’t ask me silly questions.”
A tinkling laugh bubbled from
Adilah’s throat and a smile graced her lips. Dancing across the room, she fell
upon the piles of silk pillows that served as her bed. She fell silent, her
mind wandering as Haydar launching into a lecture about how loyal he was to her
and how she would be in the wrong if she ever questioned his loyalty. After
letting the man ramble for a few minutes, she suddenly voiced her thoughts.
“Imagine, celebrating a birthday
for a whole week,” she wondered aloud.
“Are you still thinking about
that?” Haydar questioned exasperatedly.
“I couldn’t stand it! All those
parties, the feasts, the long boring hours spent changing clothes for every
meal, and having all those people throwing themselves at my feet. It’d be
horrible.”
“Is there a point in lying to
yourself?”
“I think I’d kill myself before the
end of the week. Probably jump off a balcony…or maybe the chef would murder
me.”
“You know you’d love the
attention.”
“ You think he’s ever thought of
poisoning the Prince? The chef, I mean. Do you think he’s ever been tempted to
slip a bit of poison or a bad herb into the Prince’s dish?”
“I’d wager that he has.”
“He should.”
“That’s your grudge against the
sultan talking. Isa, himself, has never done you wrong.”
“Only because we’ve never met. I’m
sure he’s just like his father.”
“I’ve met Isa, Adilah, and he’s
nothing like his father.”
“Forgive me for not believing you.”
Silence fall upon the duo and Adilah reached up to braid a piece of her hair.
As she worked at the braid, she could feel the weight of Haydar’s eyes on her.
His gaze made her nervous and she quickly attempted to rid herself of the
feeling. “Like his father or not, he’s still a royal pain.”
“You only say that because he has
what you want.”
“Someday, Haydar. Someday we’ll be
rich beyond belief and everyone in the kingdom will know our names. People will
travel the world to bask in our presences.”
“People already know our names; The
Woman in Red and her Dark Riders. We’re sure to be the subjects of tomorrow’s
stories. We always are after a looting.”
“Tomorrow’s stories aren’t
something I’ll be proud of,” she sighed, dropping the braid so it fell
alongside the rest of her hair, which was spread out across the pillows behind
her. “Tonight wasn’t a good night for us. I’m sure they’ll be of how The Woman
in Red is losing her touch. They’ll see tonight for what it was, a desperate
attempt to make some sort of profit this month.”
“You should give us more credit.
It’s not easy to steal when there are guards posted on every corner.”
“True…”she mused. “But, still!
Tonight was a pathetic example of what we do! All those newcomers that are here
for the Prince’s birthday will have little fear of us.”
“What does it matter if they fear
us? We’re not going to be targeting them.” After a pause and a glance of
mischief from Adilah, he added, “Are we?”
“Oh, we most certainly are,” a sly
smile crossed her lips. Her slender form twisted so her stomach was pressed
against the pillows beneath her and she looked up at Haydar, who was standing
in the center of her room, with a glint of trouble dancing in her eyes. “Are
you going to challenge my plan?”
“We’ve been over this. I’m your
loyal friend. What you say I will do.”
Her mocha hued hands played with
the gold tassels on one of the pillows. “I’ll never doubt you.”
“If I may ask, when do you plan on
looting the foreigners?”
“Tomorrow night. It’s the night of
Prince Isa’s birthday and the grandest party will be held. It’ll be easy for us
to slip in undetected, find the rooms of those visiting, and take what we
please.”
“How do you plan on us getting in?”
“That’s the easiest part of all,”
she all but purred.
“I’m not going to like this. Am I?”
he sighed.
“Not at all,” she assured before
slipping off her pillows and standing. Grabbing a fist full of Haydar’s tunic,
she twirled around him once before pulling him towards the entryway. “Come, my friend, we must speak of the plan
in the presence of the others.”
“They won’t like it either.”
“On the contrary, I’m sure some of
them will enjoy it.”
“Now I’m really worried.”
Her chime-like laugh was the only
response he got as she continued to lead him through the caves and towards his
fellow riders.
