☼ Eighth Sun ☼

"Come away, come away to the Nahr al'Wan!"

Nawar and Zahra sang together in high-pitched discordance. As they swapped back and forth for each line, they danced in a circle around and between Sahar's legs.

Aisha rolled her eyes and continued helping load the family's belongings onto Adil's broad back. She flattened her ears against her mane to try to drown out the noise of their singing, but to no avail.

"The red burns brighter than the sun,

"The yellow stretches further than the sand,

"The green spreads faster than the wind,

"The blue runs deeper than the water,

"And together they will create a rainbow of life.

"So come and immerse yourself in the Nahr al'Wan!"

Sahar chuckled, shaking her head. "My little blossoms, do you remember why it is that we have the Nahr al'Wan?"

Nawar skidded to a halt and squeaked when Zahra crashed into her. They tumbled to the ground in a fit of cries and giggles, kicking sand in every direction as they struggled to figure out which limbs belonged to whom.

Finally, they jumped back upright, and Nawar cried, "Because it's fun!"

At the same time, Zahra exclaimed, "Because it's pretty!"

They gasped and looked at one another in shock, but Sahar cut in before they could argue over who was right. "Basma, would you please?"

"Oh!" Basma blinked, setting down the orange pillow she had been clutching—her favorite that she always wanted to ensure didn't get lost when they packed up. "Yes, Ummi."

Basma lowered her head to address the fillies in her usual soft voice, and both of them sat down on their haunches to give her their full attention.

"Everything is connected in the desert, but sand and wind most of all. Al-Seglawi and Al-Abeyan are closer than any of the Djinn, as if they are the dearest of sisters." Basma smiled, her gaze flickering briefly to meet Aisha's. "And so, at the turn of each season, Al-Seglawi guides us to the sacred oasis of Al-Abeyan, where all of our food is grown."

Basma smiled at the look of rapture on the fillies' faces as she continued, "There, Al-Seglawi rests. For one night, the desert is calm and not a single grain of sand is moved by her winds. We are cared for by Al-Abeyan's herd, and a feast is prepared to celebrate the Nahr al'Wan."

"And then we play in the water!" Nawar squealed.

Zahra practically vibrated as she tried to contain her excitement. "And it turns pretty colors!"

"But why?" Sahar asked with a hint of playfulness in her voice, pausing to tighten a strap with her teeth. She nodded at Adil to signal the work was done before she turned her attention back to the twins. "Why, little flowers, do we do this?"

Nawar and Zahra looked at each other, their ears flopping this way and that in silent conversation. Silence dragged on between them; meanwhile, Adil tested his mobility under the burden of their belongings and Basma gathered up her favorite pillow.

Aisha rolled her eyes. She understood this was only their second Nahr al'Wan and that it was silly to expect them to remember the lesson from when they were only a month old. That didn't stop her from feeling annoyed as time dragged on and they seemed no closer to the answer.

A whistle tore through the air and they all looked up to see Sheikha Wardee with her elders standing at the top of a dune. All of the tents had been packed and each family was ready for the journey to Al-Abeyan's oasis. When Wardee started forward in a light trot, the rest of the herd followed in her hoofsteps.

Though the air was still warmed by the rays of the slowly setting sun, the sand that rested in the shade of each dune was already starting to cool. It was the perfect time to travel, where the contrast in temperature was made tolerable by their robes.

The twins walked at Sahar's side in silence, both mirroring the same expression of deep thought until Zahra finally piped up, "Because Al-Abeyan likes the colors!"

Sahar gave a good-natured, patient shake of her head. Aisha wondered, bitterly, where such patience and understanding had gone whenever she was concerned.

"Although I am sure she does, that isn't why," Basma said softly. "The minerals that get stuck in our coats are what the plants need to grow big and strong."

Nawar's eyes widened and she started to bounce on the tips of her hooves with every long step she took to keep up. "Oh! So, if we eat the minerals, will we grow big and strong?"

Aisha snorted. "I don't think there's much hope for weeds like you."

"Aisha!" Sahar practically yelled, her ears flicking when nearby families glanced her way. She lowered her head and hissed, "Ignore your sister. Though you are my little flowers, you are not plants."

With a heavy sigh, Aisha allowed her gaze to wander the uneven terrain of rolling sand, scattered stones, dry grass, and sparse trees. Off to the west were the distant silhouettes of Jibal al'Khali—the Mountains of Emptiness where a great civilization once thrived, but had long since passed. Only ruins and rumors remained, both of which were of little interest to Aisha. She was neither a historian nor interested in wasting her time on nonsense.

She then turned her head to the east, which seemed to stretch forever onward until it melded into the sunset-dyed horizon of orange-and-blue sky. It would be so easy to get lost, and that thought spurred her to trot a little closer to her family and look ahead.

The glimmering of Wardee's ornate jewelry against dark cloth demanded Aisha's attention, and she couldn't avoid also noticing the six black-robed figures flanking the sheikha. All at once, her thoughts cycled back to the encounter with Elder In'am. She'd managed to suppress the memory for so long, but now, it was all she could think about without work to occupy her mind.

Why would Al-Seglawi suddenly break the order of things after over a thousand years of consistency? Their water had never appeared in barrels out of thin air before. For so many centuries, the herd of Al-Kehilan had brought them water from Al-Hamdani's caves after each cycle of the moon. That was how it had always been—how it was supposed to be.

A small part of her feared that, somehow, it was her fault. She had broken tradition by mining with the stallions. Would that have deeper consequences than she had imagined? Would Al-Seglawi disrupt the balance between the herds with more than just a few barrels of water?

Aisha gave a quick shake of her head when the sound of Nawar and Zahra singing the Nahr al'Wan song broke through her thoughts. Basma hummed along with the tune, a much less grating sound compared to the twins' screeching. In reply, a falcon overhead cried out—kak, kak, kak, kak!

They went quiet at the high-pitched warning and all eyes lifted to the sky. After a couple of gliding circles, the falcon tucked in its wings and dove at the sand in a blur of feathers and talons. When it pulled back up, a lizard thrashed in its claws, and the herd gave a collective sigh of relief.

Shaheen falcons feasted on many of the desert's reptiles, but most notably of all were cobras. The cry of the falcon always came with the possibility of a venomous snake lurking nearby. It was better to be safe than sorry and let the falcon take care of the danger.

"Thank Al-Seglawi for the shaheen," Sahar muttered under her breath, nudging the twins closer to her as they continued forward on their journey across ar-Rub Wafir.

Just as the sun touched the horizon and all of the sky's blue was swallowed up by orange, the oasis came into view over the top of a tall dune. A gentle breeze carried the smell of fruits with just a note of salty water, which shimmered through the spaces between the flora that bordered it. Tall date palms sheltered smaller trees of apricots, figs, and olives; stalks of wheat, corn, and cotton jutted through the sand in neat rows.

Excited trills broke through the otherwise still air when their approach was noticed by the herd of Al-Abeyan. Three mares and a stallion broke away from the oasis to meet them halfway, their wide smiles visible from the lack of headdresses.

The robes that Aisha and her herd wore nearly covered the entirety of their forms to shield them from the wind that guided them. The garb of Al-Abeyan horses, however, was largely decorative; cloth over their backs protected them from the sun, but they otherwise wore beaded halters and colorful tassels.

"May Al-Abeyan give you strength!" one of the mares exclaimed, the first to greet them. She lowered herself to touch her nose to the sheikha's hooves, then backed away so her companions could follow suit.

Aisha smiled when she saw a familiar warm smile in the welcoming party. Jabir caught her gaze and flashed a quick wink before returning his attention to the sheikha.

"Strength have I become." Wardee inclined her head to look at each member of the small greeting party. "I shall speak with Sheikha Zeinab, and then the feast may begin."

Though Aisha's stomach clenched at the prospect of food—fresh food straight from the oasis, no less—she looked at the water with an eager twitch of the muscles along her sides. Its surface was like blue-green silk stretched taut and smooth from the stillness of the wind. She wanted nothing more than to dive in, but she forced herself to follow everyone else through the spaces between the tents and toward where a feast waited.

Unlike their own, the tents of Al-Abeyan's horses were permanent structures of cloth stretched over wood and metal frames. All of them were works of art, adorned with elaborate patterns of multiple colors and beadwork that must have taken years to complete.

At the very center of them all was Sheikha Zeinab's pavilion, an inspiring structure of yellow and white cloth, open in the front to expose the golden poles that propped it up. Above them, the names of past sheikhas were embroidered in the fine cloth—more than tens of generations were proudly woven into the sky of gilded cloth.

"The harvest was most bountiful this season, thank Al-Abeyan," one of the two mares explained as the three led the way inside the pavilion. "The foals are looking forward to what colors will be produced this time."

A lot of blue, Aisha guessed, judging by the state of her own hooves; they had found a great deal of lapis lazuli. She was far too preoccupied to listen to the rest of the conversation, however, instead trying not to drool over the plates of food that were spread out on the rugs that led up to the grand pavilion.

Each space had an ornate dallah of coffee already prepared; the air was thick with the rich scent of the special brew. Around the brass pots were bowls of fresh dates, steaming rice, thick bread, and a medley of fruits and vegetables that Aisha couldn't remember all the names of because she so rarely enjoyed them.

With perfect timing, the horses cheered as both of the sheikhas walked into view and stood together in front of the hundreds of horses that made up their herds.

"It is, as always, our pleasure to receive the herd of Al-Seglawi," Zeinab said with an earnest smile. "We hope for a glorious display of colors for this season's Nahr al'Wan."

The horses trilled their delight—especially the foals, who pranced at the hooves of their parents. Aisha had always loved watching the colors that ran from the Nahr al'Wan, but now she understood why her father would look forward to it so much. She was desperate to bathe in the water of the oasis and wash away the shards and grit that were buried in her coat.

"And we are, as always, grateful for the hospitality," Wardee replied in a low tone. "It is the wind which moves the sand and shapes the desert."

Zeinab's voice, instead, was filled with a light mirth. "But without the sand, there would be no desert."

The two sheikhas were a stark contrast to one another; while Wardee was precision and elegance, Zeinab was all smiles and sincerity. Both, however, stared at their herds with their Djinn-blessed silver eyes that glinted in the fading sunlight.

"So, it is together that we are strongest. Al-Seglawi rests here alongside us within this calm oasis."

Aisha felt a momentary chill and she looked up from her plate to survey their surroundings, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The date palm trees lined the edges of the oasis, all of which sat still and motionless. Every face around her was that of a normal horse, nothing ethereal or unfamiliar.

"And Al-Abeyan welcomes all within her sacred garden. Eat, and then we will rejoice."

To no one's surprise, Jabir was the Al-Abeyan horse who served Aisha and her family. He sat with them, pouring their coffee with a professional courtesy that melted when the twins started to giggle.

"Akhi!" Nawar wiggled her ears. "You're family, aren't you?"

"You should eat with us!" Zahra nudged her plate toward him.

Jabir chuckled and shook his head, one foreleg stretching out to return the plate in front of Zahra. "You are here as my guests, family or otherwise. It is my pleasure to serve."

"Oh, please," Aisha muttered between laps of the rich brew. She hummed in delight at the rare delicacy of the dark and bitter brew, flavored with only a hint of cardamom. With a loud smack of her lips, she continued, "Don't hold yourself back. We're family. Just eat with us, Akhi."

Sahar gave a sharp clearing of her throat. "The Al-Abeyan horses are our hosts. It would be rude for Jabir to eat before we did."

After a pause as Aisha weighed her options—to argue or not to argue—she relented with a soft huff and turned her attention to devouring the plate of food in front of her. Every bite exploded with flavor, as fresh as it could be short of eating directly from the trees and ground.

While the rest of her family was equally distracted by their own food, Jabir gave her a sidelong glance, and she braced herself as his lips parted. There was a pause before he finally said, "The Khetbah didn't go well this year."

Though she tried to fight it, a grin wiggled its way onto her face, and she quickly turned away. "I suppose you could look at it like that."

Jabir gave a small sigh and shifted to move closer to her, dropping his voice to a soft level as if to placate her. "If you want my advice, I think you're thinking too much."

"Thinking too much?" With her expression under control, she spared a glance at him, brow arched.

"Yes. You've always been a thinker." He smiled fondly and shook his head. "But this isn't something to think about. I certainly didn't."

Aisha saw and leapt at the topic diversion. "What do you mean, you didn't?"

A laugh caught in his throat and ended up as a strangled sound that he smothered with a cough. "Well…" He glanced over at where his wife sat next to Qadira, the two engaged in deep conversation. In a hushed whisper, he explained, "You remember that I wasn't particularly happy with participating in the Khetbah. Daniyah was quiet and shy, so I pursued her.

"When I was faced with the three starmelons, I hadn't a clue which one was ripe. I didn't ask her how to tell during the Liqaa, because I didn't care. I just reached down and took a bite of one. It was sweet, and my fate was sealed."

"You guessed," Aisha repeated in a flat tone as she tried not to laugh.

"I did, and look what it got me." His chest swelled with pride, and he held his head high. "Perhaps, next year, you should think less. Trust more. Let Al-Seglawi guide you to where you belong."

Aisha knew where she belonged, but Jabir wouldn't understand. She preferred his comforting presence over the alternative of his confusion or—worse—his rejection. It was easier to just play along, especially considering how infrequently she saw him.

Mercifully, Nawar saved her from having to think of an answer, asking around a mouthful of bread, "When do we get to play in the water?"

"My coat's itchy!" Zahra added with a whine.

Sahar looked down at the fillies sitting on either side of her with a gentle smile. "Soon, my little flowers. We must let the herd finish their meal."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Qadira leaned against her husband and looked down at her folded legs. "I couldn't eat another bite, honestly. I just want to remember what it's like to have clean hooves again."

Aisha snorted at that and ignored the look her older sister sent her way. "Spend a day mining and then I'll care about your complaints. You have no idea how the stallions and I feel."

"Watch your tongue, Aisha," her mother quickly scolded, ears pinned back. "Qadira is diligent in her proper work. It is your choice to work with the stallions. I don't wish to hear another complaint from you on the matter."

Though she rolled her eyes, Aisha didn't say anything further. She simply nudged her cup to signal it was empty to Jabir, who happily refilled it with more coffee. It was something she only got to enjoy during the Nahr al'Wan, and she was going to drink as much as she could get away with.

Finally, just as the sun was halfway below the horizon, Sheikha Wardee was the first to rise, and Zeinab had the honor of helping her undress. Her coat was a soft bay color, like toasted bread that shone in the sun's waning light.

The silky red mane that fell down her long neck brought attention to the golden jewelry that she wore. A browband of coins dangled across her forehead and between her eyes, ending in several long chains that covered her muzzle in an overlapping design. Her breast was adorned with a necklace of gold and opals that shifted through every color of the rainbow as she moved.

She was beautiful. Aisha was in awe as she watched the sheikha walked toward the lake to be the first to enter it, at which point the herd rose and began to disrobe. Basma helped her, and she returned the favor; Sahar barely had time to strip the twins before they bolted.

As each horse ran and splashed about, the water eagerly absorbed the colors that stained their coats. Waves of blue and red shot into the air before crashing down and seeping into the murky depths that were naturally somewhere between green and brown. The rays of the setting sun caught in each little drop of water, reflecting colored light onto their coats as well as the shore.

The first few steps forced Aisha to bite the inside of her cheek as the salty water lapped at her raw legs with a sharp sting. However, the longer she endured it, the more the pain began to turn into a distant, numb ache until it subsided entirely.

She watched her hooves as she cantered toward the deeper parts of the lake, streams of color trailing after her like ribbons. She smiled in spite of herself and, just as she had when she was a filly, she started to kick her legs to send dyed water in all directions.

The herd of Al-Abeyan stood just at the waters' edge, watching with delight as more and more color began to fill the lake and the air.

The Nahr al'Wan had truly begun.

Once Aisha was deep enough for the water to reach the underside of her barrel, she stopped to look around and saw a wide array of colors spreading out from each horse. Though she and the stallions were primarily coated in blue dust, the mares had been grinding gems from prior mining sites. There were streaks of purple and red off to her right, and she spied a wave of green kicked into the air.

A cry of dismay drew her attention over to where Nawar and Zahra were, as always, making a scene.

"It's gross!" Nawar exclaimed, her tongue stuck out as far as it could go to exaggerate her point.

Zahra seemed too busy gagging to chime in, and Sahar regarded them with an expression of barely concealed amusement.

"Yes, sweet flowers," she gently chided. "This water isn't for drinking."

Aisha couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes, but her attention was pulled away by Basma's bashful approach.

"How is it?" Basma asked, lowering her head to tuck it under Aisha's. "Your legs don't hurt too much, do they?"

A soft laugh escaped Aisha before she could stop it. "Not right now. It's hard for anything this pretty to hurt, right?"

Basma shifted to look with her at the water that swirled with every color the gems of ar-Rub Wafir had to offer. The sun caught in each little shard and fragment, turning the whole lake into a glittering, shimmering rainbow.

Aisha felt Basma smile against her neck as she whispered, "It always takes my breath away."

"And I contributed to all this," Aisha remarked as her chest warmed with a sense of pride. "It's really different to be a part of it. A real part of it. Not just sitting at camp and crushing gems, but mining them. Providing them."

Basma said nothing, but Aisha didn't mind. Just as the tension left her muscles from the cool water soaking into her legs, the sudden blast of a mizmar within her skull sent a chill down her spine.

"!اتبعيني"

Her heart pounding in her ears, Aisha jumped away from Basma and jerked her head to the side, gaze darting to seek the sound's ethereal owner.

There, on the top of the nearest dune, stood the figure that had been haunting Aisha. She swirled from a wind that wasn't there, half horse and half flowing cloth. The glowing eyes of gold stood out with a bright intensity despite the distance between them.

And, then, she turned away and galloped down the other side of the dune, disappearing from sight.

"Wait!" Aisha cried out, charging forward through the water. "Don't go!"

Basma sputtered in surprise, "Ai—Aisha! What's wrong?"

The echoing music in her head made it impossible to reply. Aisha could only keep moving, faster now that she was out of the water, pushing through the crowd of confused Al-Abeyan horses. Just as she crested one dune, she caught sight of fluttering cloth going down or around another.

Sand clung to her wet legs—the sensation uncomfortable, cold, and grating—but she continued the chase until she caught sight of something somehow stranger than an ethereal horse: two black-robed figures and three wholly unfamiliar stallions.

And between them were two red vases attached to opposite ends of a yoke.

Aisha didn't know why, but she dropped down to flatten herself against the sand. She crept forward so she could see them again, the sound of her pounding heart drowned out by the questions that swirled in her head.

What was going on? What were the elders doing? Who were the stallions? And why did they have those vases?

Dread filled her chest when she discovered that at least one of the black-robed figures was most definitely an elder of Al-Seglawi. She knew that grating voice of sand on stone the instant she heard it.

"It's all here," Elder In'am said, one hoof raising to gesture at the vases. "Pure khatar. As agreed."

Aisha's gaze flickered to the three horses standing in front of In'am and her brow furrowed. They weren't Badawi; their coats were far too clean and their bodies were far from lean. The weight that sat on their stomachs could only be found on Hadar Arabians, the horses who had settled within the gilded cage of Al-Jawhar.

What were Hadar doing this far in the desert? And why was In'am giving them vases of khatar?

One of the Hadar stallions leaned down to peer inside the vase and frowned. "Seems rather light this time," he said with a sneer as he straightened back up.

In'am scoffed so loud that even Aisha could hear it. "It's what we have. We cannot make the powder appear out of thin air; if we don't mine it, we don't have it."

"Considering our partners were so generous to give payment upfront," another Hadar said, "I would hope you'd find a way to repay them in kind."

The second elder said in the low tone Aisha recognized as Tawfiq's, "When we have more, we will bring more."

The Hadar laughed and lowered his head to slip it underneath the yoke, which rested across his shoulders. "Then we look forward to more of it. Where will your herd be next?"

Tawfiq gave a rolling, lazy shrug. "Wherever the winds guide us."

With a derisive snort, the Hadar stallion turned away with his companions, and Aisha realized she needed to get away before she was spotted. As she started to run in the opposite direction, she felt as dizzy as a newborn foal learning to walk. Her legs refused to cooperate and she stumbled face-first into the sand.

Aisha forced herself back upright and continued forward despite the tremors that threatened to drag her down again. She needed to get back to the herd. The doubt that had been hiding in the back of her mind was now a full-blown panic; she needed to tell someone about this.

Author's Note

As a reminder from the first chapter:

For the record, there will be several lines in languages throughout the story that Aisha doesn't speak. They appear for flavor but only sparsely. Anything said in them is not necessary for your understanding of the story, plot, or events.

Don't panic, hold onto your towel, and enjoy the ride through Aisha's eyes!

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