The Woman In Red

Greetings readers!

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.