☼ Fifth Sun ☼

When the sun neared the horizon, the five sheikhas let out trilling ululations that cut through the noise of the Souq. Everything ground to a halt before the previous energy returned anew as horses returned to their herd's section to begin packing up the sundries they'd traded for or failed to trade.

Dread weighed heavily on Aisha's shoulders as she stood near the base of the obelisk, her thoughts whirling in her mind like a sandstorm. Time was slipping away. After the mingling and courting of the Liqaa al'Khetbah, there would only be two trials between her and her herd's Trial of Chasing.

What did Al-Seglawi want for her? What did she want for herself? What was her life going to be like after the day was done?

"Aisha," Sahar called, trotting across the empty expanse of sand. "The Liqaa is starting. What are you doing?"

Aisha didn't look at her, her gaze instead focused on the symbol of Al-Seglawi that loomed above her. "Waiting for a sign."

Sahar gave a derisive snort. "The sheikhas have called for the commencement of the Liqaa. What more of a sign do you want?"

"Something I can trust," Aisha muttered under her breath, but diligently started walking to where the rest of her herd waited.

The smaller tents of each family had already been moved to crowd near the five large, open-air canopies spaced out around the focal point that was the obelisk. Aisha stood with the other eligible Al-Seglawi horses and tried to keep her head down.

Nazli gave a soft whinny of delight as she pranced in place. "Oh, I hope the Liqaa will be enlightening. I have five suitors. How am I going to choose?" She tossed her mane and offered a tight smile to Aisha. "It must be nice to not have to worry about that."

Though Aisha rolled her eyes, she bit back a reply and instead focused her attention on the empty expanse of sand that surrounded the obelisk. She listened to Nazli brag to the other mares about the attention woefully forced upon her, as well as Hassan's excitement over finding an interested Al-Hamdani mare.

Once the activity among the herds quieted down, the sheikhas whistled in unison to signal the next phase of the Khetbah. Like locusts upon an oasis, the eligible horses—nearly a hundred in all—poured into the open space and began to mingle in a massive swarm of curiosity and desire.

Mares and stallions used sight, sound, and scent to search for a potential mate. Touch and taste, of course, were strictly off-limit senses, but the cacophony of whinnies and whistles, pheromones and perfumes, dances and prances filling the cooling evening air was more than enough to turn Aisha's stomach sour.

Ghalib wove his way through the crowd toward her, his tail perked and head held high to show his well-bred physique. Another stallion circled her with a flash of his white teeth to flaunt his good health. And another went for a more direct route, passing by her so close that they nearly brushed together.

They vied for her attention the same way an Al-Kehilan trader would show different rugs. And to them, it was perfectly natural; she, on the other hoof, wanted nothing more than to run away. Ghalib had shown her glimpses of a personality in the short time they walked together, but now he was reduced to the same as all the other stallions.

He challenged the others that eyed her, flaring his nostrils and acting every bit the strong, protective stallion that she should desire to have—and she would be lying if she said she had no interest in him.

"You still intend to chase me?" Aisha asked as she circled Ghalib, her gaze flickering between him and the ever-moving mass of bodies around them.

Ghalib's lips twitched into a brief but confident grin. "I intend to catch you."

She flicked her tail and inclined her head to give the impression of looking down at him despite behind much shorter. "And why is that?"

There was a pause, and she saw a flicker of amusement cross his face before he took on a somber expression. He breathed in through his nose and huffed the exhale like a petulant foal caught in a lie.

"It was always my intention," he began in a low voice, "to wed a mare of Al-Seglawi. I have lived my life in the sand, sun, and wind. The stationary life of the other herds doesn't suit me."

Aisha narrowed her eyes and trotted forward to end the circling dance they had entered. "I see. So, I am a matter of convenience for you."

With a chuckle, Ghalib followed close behind her. She fancied that she could discern the sound of his hooves against the sand from others', but even as she thought it, she knew it was a silly notion. The heavy thud of each hoof sounded just like any other horse's, regardless of how she felt about them.

"Perhaps at first," he admitted, "but I find you endlessly interesting. I imagine our marriage would be one that would never grow boring."

He picked up the pace to walk alongside her and lowered his head to her level. "I will ensure that you are well cared for. If it is a matter of my endurance, then I intend to prove to you during the Trial of Chasing that I have it. Mining for your happiness will be my pleasure."

Just as Aisha opened her mouth to respond, the sheikhas whistled once more, and she was compelled to return to her herd's tent. There were a few shouts of anger as the stallions and mares who had been unable to secure the interest of someone else returned to their families, already having failed the Khetbah before it had officially begun.

Basma greeted her with a knowing smile as her eyes shifted between Aisha and, across the way, Ghalib.

"He seems like a strong and capable suitor," Sahar commented, pushing a bowl of dried dates over when Aisha dropped down onto the blanket with the rest of her family. "What is his name?"

Basma excitedly cut in, "Ghalib bin Halimah." She flashed Aisha a bashful smile that bordered on apologetic. "I asked around when I saw he was interested. He is very well-respected within the herd of Al-Kehilan."

Though Aisha knew that Basma was only looking out for her, she couldn't help the look of irritation that crossed her face. "He is a stallion like any other."

Qadira snorted. "He can't be ordinary if he is so intent on chasing you."

Ordinary. While Sahar gave Qadira a sharp reprimand that Aisha would have enjoyed any other time, her attention was ripped over to where Ghalib sat under his herd's tent.

"I would still like to chase you, if you can be content with an 'ordinary' life as my wife."

She suddenly realized the meaning behind Ghalib's words. He wanted a truly ordinary life. He would want her to remain at camp with the other mares, to raise their foals, and to be content with his care as 'her stallion'.

Sheikha Raeda al-Kehilan came forth to stand at the base of the obelisk, which she then walked around in a slow circle as she spoke in a far-carrying voice.

"We are blessed by Al-Kehilan with the gift of life. Through her guidance, we seek and find our destination without delay, no matter the obstacle that may lay before us."

The eligible mares of Raeda's herd walked forward and fanned out into the open space around the obelisk.

"Those who intend to follow us through the desert, I ask that you come forth now to begin the Trial of Seeking."

Stallions from the other herds trotted out to line up before Raeda. Two Al-Kehilan elders came out from under their canopy to attend to the stallions by placing a blindfold over their eyes.

"What are they doing?" Nawar piped up.

Sahar smiled down at the twins who were snuggled up against her side. The activity of the Souq had all but completely worn them out. "To join the herd of Al-Kehilan, the stallion must find his intended mare without aid of his sight."

Zahra made a small 'o' with her lips. "That sounds like fun!"

The blindfolded stallions were, one by one, guided by the elders into a quick spin before sent in a random direction. There was laughter among the horses watching when two stallions bumped into one another, and gasps of surprise when one found a mare right away—then laughter again when it was clear she wasn't the right one.

Nawar shook out her sand-dusted mane and jumped to her hooves. "Can we play?"

"I want to play!" Zahra chimed.

"No, my little flowers." Sahar leveled a serious look at them. "The trials may look like a game, but they are very important. If a stallion fails, it brings shame upon him and his family."

Aisha felt her muscles tense when Sahar added in a low voice, "And it is just as shameful if a mare fails to attract a stallion."

Stallions trotted blindly and mares giggled to tease them in the right directions. Aisha chewed slowly on a date and allowed her attention to wander while the Trial of Seeking carried on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw ribbons of sheer cloth floating through the air.

Her own shroud remained still against her form from the lack of any wind moving across the desert, so she turned her head to look at the oddity. She expected to see Nazli or one of the other eligible Al-Seglawi mares prancing about and making a scene, but instead she found herself catching a glimpse of golden eyes—and then nothing but sand.

There was no one there, and yet her heart pounded and her mind raced. Something had been there.

The mirthful voice of Sheikha Zeinab tore through Aisha's panicked haze. "We are blessed by Al-Abeyan with the gift of sand. Within her oasis, we grow the vegetables, fruit, and grain that sustain us."

As before, the eligible mares took the pause in the sheikha's speech to prepare. They brought with them cloth sacks held between their teeth that they dropped and pushed open to expose the melons inside. Each sack held three of the light pink fruit, which were oddly shaped with five distinct ridges.

Nawar gasped and nudged her head against the underside of Sahar's muzzle. "Ummi, what are those?"

"Starmelons!" Basma replied with a gleeful giggle before Sahar could. "They're my favorite. Well, if you get one that's ripe, that is. Harvested too soon or too late and they're very bitter. But—"

"Those who intend to live with us in the oasis," Sheikha Zeinab interrupted, "please come and choose your starmelon wisely for the Trial of Knowing."

Aisha watched as the stallions went to stand before their intended, then began testing the fruit. Most drummed on the hard rinds with a hoof; two tried rolling them around; and one in particular had a length of wheat that he balanced on the top of the melons.

When one finally took a bite, cheers broke out when he straightened up with a grin. The mare whinnied her delight and they trotted away together, which encouraged a nearby stallion to make his selection. He reared back as if he had been struck and spat it out, earning a disappointed look from his mare.

"It's about patience and perseverance," Sahar explained to the twins' questioning looks. "They should have spent the Liqaa learning from their mares how to discern the ripeness of a starmelon."

With every successful selection that was made, Aisha felt pain lance through her chest. She was going to outrun Ghalib. He was going to return to his family with the shame of failure through no fault of his own. In a way, she felt as though she was betraying the warmth he had shown her.

At the least, she consoled herself with the knowledge that he wouldn't waste his time on her at the next Khetbah. It would spare them both the trouble.

The sound of Sheikha Wardee's voice cut through her thoughts, sending her heart back into its frantic pace. "We are blessed by Al-Seglawi with the gift of wind," Wardee said with her usual voice of deep, rich silk. "Her sacred winds guide us to where gems lay hidden beneath the sand, so that we may color the world in her hues."

With a sigh, Aisha walked with the other Al-Seglawi mares to their spot on one side of the open space, her ears flicking at the sound of excited and eager giggling all around her.

"Those who intend to run alongside us under her guidance, I wish you luck in the Trial of Chasing."

Aisha watched, somewhat uncertainly, as the group of Al-Seglawi's intended gathered across the sand; there were nearly twice as many stallions, largely due to Nazli's coquettish behavior during the Liqaa. Aisha almost felt ashamed to see two of them looking at her with fire in their eyes.

Almost unbidden, her eyes met Ghalib's, and he flashed her a smile. She returned it by looking away.

There was a long silence until Sheikha Wardee whistled. The high-pitched sound rang out across the desert, and the trial began. The hooves of the Al-Seglawi mares moved without a sound, but a few of them whooped with delight as they soared halfway across the sandy expanse. Before they crossed paths with the stallions who sought their favor, they broke out in every different direction to scatter in the wind.

Aisha's job was to run like the wind, to ensure that the stallion who caught her was swift and strong. More than that, her goal—according to her mother—was to eventually be caught. However, if a stallion couldn't catch her of his own strength and will, then why should she allow him to be her mate? Were Ghalib to be truly worthy of her, then he would outrun her without her aid of slowing down.

Behind her, she heard the sound of two bodies colliding, and chanced a glance over her shoulder to see a stallion sprawled on the sand, Ghalib still chasing her with a look of determination. She tore her focus back to her sprint and urged her muscles to find more strength. Her hooves were precise in every movement so that they barely scuffed the sand as she galloped ahead with the cloth fluttering all around her.

Ghalib gave chase with raw power, but she was faster and more agile. She was the wind. Though he was the sun that warmed her in a strange, unfamiliar way, she moved too swiftly for him to catch.

She heard a chime of laughter as Nazli was caught, one of her suitors bounding ahead to grab one of the ribbons of cloth between his teeth. Aisha watched out of the corner of her eye as they slowed to a halt and, panting, the stallion prostrated himself before Nazli.

"I, Ziyad bin Ramla, relinquish my service to Al-Abeyan to follow your path," the stallion began.

Aisha's right hoof scuffed the sand and her rhythm stuttered. Though Ziyad's voice faded as her running put distance between them, she knew the rest of the words by heart.

"May Al-Seglawi accept me as yours, for I shall be both your shade and shield. All that I am, I give to you."

She couldn't do it. She couldn't give up the freedom she loved to become yet another married mare, to have foals and bicker for status like all the rest. She couldn't watch Ghalib’s burning warmth become a dull ember as he grew frustrated with her until infatuation turned to loathing.

The pounding of hooves against sand filled the air and forced her attention back to what was happening around her. All of the other Al-Seglawi mares had been caught; Aisha was all that remained of her herd. Though she didn't look, she knew her mother's disapproving gaze was bearing down on her.

'It is time to be caught,' she could hear her mother say, and in response, she galloped past the perimeter of tents. A chorus of surprised gasps followed her as she ran up a dune, jumped, and soared through the air before landing right back into stride.

To Ghalib's credit, he had put up a good effort until then, but she could hear exhaustion slowing the beat of his hooves behind her. He was wearing down. He didn't have what it took to catch her.

And, shortly, victory was hers—as she doubled back to sprint toward the circle of tents, Sheikha Wardee's whistle signaled that the trial was over. She had outrun him.

Aisha tossed her mane as she looked back to see Ghalib breathing heavily, his expression one of hurt and confusion. A sudden pain gripped her chest; a part of her was uncertain if she had made the right choice, but to be caught meant sacrifice. Her freedom was her life's blood; did he not feel the same?

As she moved past him to walk back to camp, Ghalib sucked in a breath and said in a low voice, "I wanted to catch you." He shook his head and followed after her.

"I know." She continued forward, the ache of running starting to set into her muscles with a searing pain.

"I would have taken care of you." He shot a sidelong glance at her. His confusion hardened into a distant bitterness, and she found herself longing for the way he had looked at her before.

"I know," she repeated, her voice growing quiet as regret shifted within her like dunes in the wind.

His muscles tensed and he spat, "Then why did you run?"

Aisha ducked her gaze with dwindling resolve, but she replied with feigned conviction, "Because I have known my freedom longer than I have known you."

"You're a foolish mare." With a snort of irritation, Ghalib quickened his pace and lengthened his stride to put distance between them. "Freedom will not shelter you from hardship."

There was nothing more to say. Ghalib went to his herd, Aisha went to hers, and she knew that their paths would not cross again. She watched his rigid posture as the horses she assumed were his parents looked upon him with disappointment. Whatever connection had sprung between them, her actions had severed.

Sahar waited for her with eyes that, all at once, were burning with fire and wet with tears. Aisha stopped a pace's length away and forced a neutral look onto her face, despite her aching muscles, lungs, and heart.

They stood in silence as, right next to them, Nazli introduced her new husband to the horses that were now his family. The joy in their voices felt like a physical blow as Sahar continued to stare long and hard at Aisha.

And then, Sahar simply turned and walked away.

"We are blessed by Al-Hadban with the gift of sun," Sheikha Hajirah called as the world moved on without a care. "It is through her blistering heat that we craft the jewelry that adorns us and the fire that warms us."

Basma looked up at Aisha with an unreadable expression, then shifted her gaze to watch as Al-Hadban mares scattered hot coals across the sand. Their father loomed over the twins with a silent, oppressive force radiating from his rigid stance that kept them from making a sound. His eyes were focused away from Aisha, but she felt his disappointment more intensely than her mother's.

"Those who intend to endure the heat with us, be wary of the danger in the Trial of Dancing."

Aisha remained still as stallions were challenged to impress their mares by performing a dance upon the bed of coals. Though she stared at the careful but swift movement of their hooves, she hardly processed what she saw. Everything felt so distant as she tried to figure out what her mother's departure meant.

Was she being abandoned? Or, worse—would she be exiled from the herd? Was that an actual possibility? Had something like that ever happened before?

A chill ran through her at the thought, and she gave a small cry of surprise when her mother seemed to suddenly appear at her side.

"Well, then," Sahar said in a voice that hid none of her anger. "Congratulations are in order."

The words formed a knot in the pit of Aisha's stomach. "What do you mean?"

Sahar smiled; it was a hollow thing, tight and sharp. "You get what you've always wished for. I have arranged it with the elders." Her neck stretched out and she grabbed Aisha's veil between her teeth. With a hard yank, the string pulled taut against the back of her neck before giving way with a biting snap.

Dropping the sheer cloth into a light breeze that stirred with eerie timing, Sahar continued, "You shall join the stallions in mining as soon as we set up camp tomorrow."

The empty smile fell away and Sahar's expression shifted to a scowl. "I don't understand why you want to be like this, Aisha, but I won't fight you anymore. Have your way. See where it takes you, but do not cry to me when the reality of your choices does not match your imagination."

Aisha blinked, her mouth hanging open. It was difficult to find a word to describe her feelings with how strongly they crashed together in her chest: surprise, confusion, excitement, and a little bit of dread.

"Thank you," she managed to finally say in a hoarse voice.

Sahar sneered and jerked her head away. "Don't."

Sheikha Awqaa began to speak, allowing Aisha a reprieve from her racing thoughts to watch the final trial. "We are blessed by Al-Hamdani with the gift of water. It is our privilege as well as our duty to ensure its purity so that we may survive."

Only two mares came forward from the herd of Al-Hamdani, hushed whispers following them. Although the other trials were more ceremony than challenge, the allure of water came at a cost.

"Those who intend to protect that which keeps us alive, it is time to prove your worth in the Trial of Sparring."

Each mare dropped a vase onto the sand which they stood protectively over, their expressions hardened against the two stallions who sought their favor. Aisha watched as the one from her own herd, Hassan, gave a flirtatious toss of his head that earned nothing more than a slow blink from the mare he moved toward.

The challenge was, in theory, simple: all the stallions had to do was knock over the vase that the mare guarded. In practice, however, it was a dangerous task.

Hassan treated it like a game, laughing as the mare met his every move with ease. Everyone among the watching herds remained silent and still as his carelessness was apparent to them all.

"Oh, no," Basma whispered under her breath, her eyes going wide. Aisha glanced at her, then looked up to see what she predicted as a pained cry tore through the air.

The mare of Al-Hamdani held up one leg and, even at the distance, Aisha could see blood against her light gray coat. Horrified, Hassan backed away from her; he knew—just as they all did—that to injure a mare was to receive retaliation thrice over, and he had drawn blood.

Aisha watched as a large stallion charged from the sidelines, perhaps the mare's brother or father. Hassan had no choice but to accept the consequences of his mistake, his head bowed as he braced for the impact. The stallion bowled him over, sending him sprawling into the hot sand. All watched as he reared back, aimed, and dropped both forehooves down onto Hassan's foreleg with all of his might in the name of retribution.

It was unlikely that Hassan would be able to walk unaided for days.

The punishment was accepted with little more than a somber silence from the crowd, but Aisha heard a muffled whimper from the mare she recognized as Tahira, Hassan's mother. She looked over to see Tahira burying her face against her husband's neck, eyes clenched shut.

It all seemed forgotten when a roaring cheer overtook the crowd as the other stallion found success in his task. Finally, the Khetbah was well and truly over. While Hassan's family hurried to tend to his injury and others retired to spend the night ruminating on the shame the day brought them, Aisha watched everyone else dive straight into celebrations.

The air was full of life once again as stallions bade their families a final farewell to join the herds of their new wives for the feast that always followed the Khetbah. Almost everyone around her seemed to be in a state of unbridled joy, but all Aisha felt was a numbness in her chest.

She finally had what she wanted, yet it didn't feel real. All she could do was shake her head to clear her thoughts and move toward her family as they started into their tent, but Sahar's stern look kept her at bay.

Basma glanced over her shoulder with a look of uncertainty before she ducked her head to avoid their mother's gaze and walked over. "Aisha," she prompted under her breath, almost sounding tired.

"Yes?" Aisha's brow arched. "Are you going to say that you're abandoning me, too?"

Basma gave a quick shake of her head. "No! No, I'm not. We're not—You're not being abandoned. Ummi's just—I just—" She hesitated, her ears folding back. The question finally came out in a soft, almost broken voice: "Why?"

With a guarded tone, Aisha asked in reply, "Why what, exactly?"

"Why were you not caught? Ghalib had a clear interest in you." Basma averted her gaze. "He was handsome, wasn't he? And determined in his chase. Why did you outrun him?"

The sand felt hot against her hooves as she shifted uncomfortably, an overwhelming sensation of bitterness pressing down on her shoulders. "He wasn't right. None of them are or will be. You wouldn't understand, Basma."

Basma released a soft sigh and said in such a tiny voice that Aisha may have misheard, "I often don't anymore."

Aisha said nothing, and Basma didn't press any further. Although they stood side by side, the distance between them felt suddenly vast and unfamiliar.

Author's Note

This story is a part of the Quill & Blade universe.