4 Sita #2
When, later that evening, they came upon a gathering of rock formations, they decided it would be a good place to bed down for the night.
Sita surveyed several options before choosing as their campsite a natural arch that allowed them a view of the entire landscape and provided shelter from the elements.
After eating a small meal from their provisions, they both fell into a deep sleep, exhausted by the day’s travels.
They got an early start the next morning, taking small sips from their waterskins before wrapping dark scarves around their faces, donning their hoods, and setting off.
They talked about trivial things—the heat, the herd of twisty-horned addax they saw in the distance, the food they wished they were eating.
Barely a day had passed since they’d begun their journey, but already Sita had started to adapt to her new environment, shedding her old self like a snakeskin.
She was still hot and sore, but the strenuous activity also made her feel strong.
Perhaps Karim was rubbing off on her. Like the twisty-horned addax, the thief was at home in the desert.
The two of them were arguing about the best way to eat fava beans when Sita spotted a strange vision up ahead.
“Is that…a girl?” she asked.
Karim squinted at the distant figure, putting a hand to his forehead to block the sun. Dumbfounded, he said, “It appears so, sena. But where would a child have come from? None of the Red Lands tribes venture into the eastern desert. It’s too close to Khetaran trouble.”
“I don’t think any of our trade routes go this way either,” Sita added. She studied the small form walking toward them, dressed in brown, wide-sleeved robes, her dark hair blowing in the wind.
She doesn’t look more than eight or nine years old, Sita thought.
The girl carried a beautifully woven cloth bag slung across her chest, so full that it was nearly bursting at the seams. She was focused on the ground in front of her and didn’t seem to have noticed their approach.
“Greetings to you, young sena!” Karim called out, waving a friendly hand at the girl. “What are you doing out here, hey? It’s not a safe place for someone like you!”
The girl’s head jerked up, her concentration instantly replaced by wide-eyed terror.
Undeterred, Karim soldiered on. “Do you want to come over here and pet my dog?”
In response, the girl turned her back and ran in the opposite direction.
“Brilliant move, genius,” Sita said, tearing off her hood and scarf.
The tomb robber threw up his hands. “What? What did I say?”
Sita sighed and took off after the girl. Not only was the child in danger, she might also have vital information about the place they were looking for. “Wait!” she called out. “Please, we only want to help you!”
The girl glanced back at her—surprised, perhaps, by the female face and the strength of Sita’s command—and tripped over the uneven ground. Before she could recover, Sita caught up with her and grabbed her arm.
“Leave me alone!” the girl yelled. When Sita wouldn’t let go, the girl punched her in the stomach.
Sita doubled over, the wind knocked out of her, but she managed to hold on to the writhing child long enough for Karim to join them.
He clicked his tongue. “Now, now, young sena,” he said, suppressing a laugh, “that’s no way to treat a lady.”
Sita grumbled at the amusement in his voice. “You find this funny?” she said.
Karim tugged his own hood and scarf down and shrugged. “A little.”
The girl seemed to recognize that violence wasn’t going to get her out of her predicament. She stopped struggling and stood there, panting, eyeing them both with suspicion.
“I’m going to let go of you,” Sita said softly. “Don’t run, all right? We truly just want to talk.” Slowly, she released her grip.
The girl didn’t move.
Sita blew out her cheeks and bent slightly so that she was face-to-face with the child. She had gold-green eyes, like one of the palace cats. “Now then, my name is Sita, and this is Karim. What’s your name?”
The girl folded her arms and said nothing.
Sita narrowed her eyes, then reached into her belt and pulled out her waterskin. “Here,” she said, handing it to the girl. “Have some. You’re probably thirsty.”
This time, the girl didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the waterskin and guzzled half of it before Karim could leap forward, shouting, “Hey! Hey! Not so much, young sena! If we don’t find an oasis to refill those waterskins, we’ll all die out here!”
Sita swatted away his concerns and dropped to one knee in front of the girl. “Better?”
The girl nodded. She bit her lip, then whispered, “Aya.”
“Your name is Aya?”
Another nod.
“Well, Aya, like my hairy friend said, this isn’t a safe place for a young girl to be walking alone. Where is home?”
Aya set her mouth and shook her head.
“Are you lost?”
Aya shook her head again.
No, not lost. She just doesn’t want to tell me where she came from. Is she afraid of going back? Or is there another reason?
Sita frowned. “Did you run away?” she asked.
Aya didn’t reply, but her eyes were suddenly suffused with tears.
Sita reached out to push a lock of hair from the girl’s face. She was glad Aya didn’t recoil. Something about her reminded Sita of Maet. If she had lived, she might have grown to be like this girl. Headstrong, feisty… The thought brought a fresh wave of sorrow upon her.
“Let us help you, Aya,” Sita said, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I understand, wanting to run away. I’m running from something too. But it doesn’t solve our problems, you know. We can’t run forever. Eventually, we have to go back home.”
“Sita…” Karim said.
“One minute,” she replied, not looking at him. Her gaze was locked on Aya’s young, frightened face.
It hurts, See-see.
I’m scared, See-see.
Sita’s heart lurched with the memory.
“Sita…” Karim said again.
“Give me some time, will you?” Sita snapped. “I know we need to find the city, but we can’t leave her here. I won’t leave her here. Do you understand?”
Karim’s voice became frantic. “For god’s sake, woman, turn around and look!”
Confused, Sita did as she was told. At first, she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.
Above and beyond their position, the sky was bright, blue, cloudless.
Behind them, however, a wall of thick, yellow clouds reached from the horizon to the zenith.
Clouds that churned, flowing over themselves like a charging, living creature.
Sita had seen similar phenomena before, but never so immense.
“Is that—?”
“A sandstorm,” Karim finished. “Big one. We have to find cover. Now!”
Grabbing Aya’s hand, Sita scanned the area for any landforms. There were some boulders in the distance. The three of them and Behkai began to run.
Sita pulled Aya along with her, though with her short legs the child had a difficult time keeping up.
“Faster, Aya!” she yelled.
The wind was picking up, throwing sand into their faces. Sita glanced back. The storm was gaining, blocking out the sun, barreling toward them with terrifying speed.
“The map!” Karim yelled.
Alarmed, Sita watched the ancient papyrus sail by, the thief chasing after it.
“Leave it!” Sita shouted over the roaring wind. “It’s not worth your life!”
“I can’t! We’ll never find Perset without it!” Karim shouted back. The map dropped to the ground and rolled wildly over the dunes, the thief in hot pursuit.
Sita shook her head and focused on running. The boulders were still so far away, and the storm was nearly upon them.
Sita’s lungs burned with exhaustion. Aya was crying, slowing down, barely able to continue. Behkai galloped at her side but kept looking back, probably torn between staying with her and going to help his master.
We’re not going to make it.
Sita stopped. She squinted into the yellow maelstrom and watched helplessly as it swallowed Karim whole. “No!” Sita screamed in horror, but the storm had grown so loud that it stole her voice and filled her mouth with sand.
He can’t be gone! I just got him back!
There was no time to mourn. They had mere seconds before the storm overtook them. Dropping to her knees, Sita pulled on her hood and shielded Aya’s face with her headscarf. Then she gathered the young girl and the dog into her arms and prayed.
“Hear me, O Isis,” she murmured as the world around them shrieked and turned black, stinging them with a hundred thousand thorns. “Great Mother, goddess of magic, queen of the throne. Hear me and strengthen me with your blood and your spells and your words of power.”
Aya wailed in her arms.
Sita thought of Maet, the girl she couldn’t save, and a thunderous determination overtook her.
Not again! she vowed, her teeth gritted against the howling wind. It will not happen again!
“She will be protected!” Sita screamed.
The storm crashed over them.