Pharaoh of Egypt

Chapter 7 - I Am Yours Until I am Not

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He sang under his breath, voice so soft that I could barely pick up the words he spoke. I closed my eyes, arms swaying with each step he took. Suddenly his humming stopped. He lifted his voice calling out to me,

"Malika? We have arrived."

I raised my head, instantly meeting the glaring sun before me. It burned a glorious red as it sunk into the rippling seas of orange. Squinting I looked closer at the oncoming mountain of sand to see a bulky shadow in the distance. With each drawing step did the mass of night grow larger, spreading further apart to reveal the peaks of the many tents that stood there. Closing my eyes I remembered what Zahur once told me about them.

The nomads of the Deshret, the-

"-Bedouin Rana. They are the Deshret Dwellers."

I stacked up the stones before me, concentrating on keeping them balanced,

"The Bedouin are the good ones, it's the Habiru that you mustn't come across. If you're ever in trouble search for the Deshret nomads Rana. With them you shall survive."

My fingers slipped and the stack collapsed. I sighed hanging my head. Zahur reached out beginning to stack the stones again. I watched as he shifted their weights until they balanced perfectly in a tower.

"Why do you always get it right?"

He looked down at me amused,

"Because I listened to Cairo when he taught me."

The memory lapped against my mind, washing me softly in the warm glow of my past and I inhaled deeply, remembering. Fragments of Zahur's voice echoed through my mind before the waves receded, taking the memories back into the tumultuous ocean.

Drawing my brows I watched the sun slip further under, spreading shadows far and wide as the man walked up the hill of sand, finally entering the camp.

The worn faces of the men lying out in the open turned to us and a whisper of the oncoming chill brushed my exposed skin. Goosebumps erupted across my flesh. Earthen eyes followed our every step and I felt my skin crawl from the unknown. Our very presence had silenced the Bedouin.

But that wasn't what I noticed. That wasn't what made me catch my breath, what made my heart beat erratically against my chest. That wasn't it.

It was the children of the Bedouin that made still. They stopped moving, stopped talking. Their little hands dropped to their sides, releasing the things they held and in a daze did they begin to walk towards us- towards me.

I watched from the corner of my eyes as they pooled in from all sides of the camp, until all the Bedouin children walked behind me spreading out like water. The women and men stilled, watching their children confused.

Each beat of my heart drummed loudly in my ears and that's when their faint whispers reached my ears. I stared at them brows drawn as their small hands reached up to me,

"Malikat alearsh, malikat alearsh, malikat alearsh."

The man carrying me heard their whispers, he slowed for instance but carried on walking. I steadied my breath, turning to look forward only to see the largest Buryuut Hajar standing before me. He pulled to a stop before the tattered carpets that covered the sandy floor. Within sat a group of women circling the hearth, their talks ceased as they noticed our arrival.

The one seated in the centre stood up.

She walked forward her madraga fluttered slightly as her usaba jingled with each step she took. Red and blue embroidery swirled across her chest and sleeves in a strange pattern, talking of a long forgotten story.