Desert Rose (A Tale of Nälu, 1)

by J. L. Mbewe

  “I’ll have one of my servant girl’s bring you your meals. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. In the base of the tower, there is a door to access the woods behind us, but don’t go too far. It’s the only thing separating us from the badlands to the east and the dwarves to the south. Dinner will be ready soon, and I’ve got protocol to keep.”

  Panic clawed at her mind, and dizziness overwhelmed her, but she braced herself, holding her head a little taller, forcing the dread away. The room only needed cleaning, and she could add her personal touch. She could make it home. She closed her eyes and gasped for more air.

  He rested his hand on her head. She started and nearly snarled at him, but took a deep breath and glanced up at him, her beloved.

  “I’ll check in on you later.” He smiled, but it held no warmth. He turned and strode down the corridor, disappearing from view.

  Johari collapsed on the cobblestone and buried her muzzle in her paws.

  Every night he came with the setting of the sun. At first, he stayed for hours, and Johari was back in the desert, reliving their passionate nights as if nothing changed. She settled into the comfortable routine and looked forward to their evenings together in earnest. The panic and fears disappeared; her love for him rekindled. But as her belly blossomed with the growing life inside her, his visits shortened.

  Instead of intimate conversation, he’d rant about running the kingdom. He’d complain about the Council of Nations, the various feasts, and petty disagreements amongst the nobles and commoners. The tension between the Nuja priests and the guardians consumed much of his time, especially the High Guardian Saeed, but in all his meandering talks, he never mentioned the queen. She’d listen, nod, and ask questions, but her heart yearned for his.

  And eventually, he stopped coming.

  Johari dug her hands in the cool dirt and jerked out the weed by its roots. In her beloved’s absence, she took to tending the courtyard. She kept the bushes trimmed, weeded, and watered. Their leathery leaves returned in full force, but no buds formed. She toiled tirelessly, relishing the thorn’s sting and the distraction it provided. She’d have her roses yet. The summer sun glared overhead, but she shivered.

  “Good afternoon.”

  Johari spun around and fell on her backside. An elderly man clothed in a simple brown robe stood near the tower. He had curved ears and bronze skin. His thinning white hair was drawn into a braid. A white moustache and beard hung to his chest and sported several more braids.

  “Where did you come from?” she asked.

  “What kind of greeting is that?” he asked as he drew closer. Black runes marred his cheekbones and forehead. A wide smile crinkled the corners of his amber eyes. He held her gaze, searching her soul and laying bare her secrets. “Would it not benefit you more to know who I am first?”

  She swallowed and blinked at him.

  He touched his fingertips together and bowed.

  “My name is Saeed. I am the High Guardian from Dagmar. And who are you?”

  “Is it not obvious?”

  “My eyes tell me you are Haruzo, and I wonder why you are so far from home, but all I ask is for your name.” He offered his hand.

  She had expected hate, but instead he had kind eyes. This was no human. She accepted his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

  She brushed off her skirts. “My name is Johari. I live here now.” She paused. “Are you an elf?”

  “A Saryhemor elf.”

  “Ah.” She smiled. “We share the same desert then. What are you doing this far east?”

  “That is a long story, but I will give you the short version of it.” He motioned toward the bench, and they sat down. “When I was five, I chose to become a guardian. If you are aware of your history, you will know that the first home of the Guardian Circle was in Bonzapur, thus I call Bonzapur my home just as much as N’dari. Then we—”

  “You can’t be that old,” she said.

  He grinned, creasing a thousand more lines into his face. “I am. But to finish my story, we eventually moved to Dagmar. As a guardian, I am an ambassador to the nations. Thus we come to the reason I am here.” He leaned back. “So why are you here?”

  She averted her eyes. “It’s complicated.”

  “Most of life is complicated.”

  What should she tell him? The king’s explanation or the truth? If he was truly a guardian, and an elf at that, he would know if she wasn’t telling the truth, but she couldn’t shame the king. She tucked her hands under her legs. “I was a gift to the king of Badara.”

  “Really?” Saeed said. “I wasn’t aware that King Runako gave such gifts.”

  “Maybe he does.” She cringed. How could she disgrace him when it was her own choosing? She chanced a glance at the elf.

  Saeed tugged at his beard, eyeing her.

  She shifted in her seat. “I might have had a hand in that.”

  “You look familiar.” His eyes widened. “Why didn’t I see it before? Your sister is—”

  “No.” She clenched her teeth. “I am no longer that Haruzo.”

  His gaze settled on her burgeoning belly. “You bear the king’s child, but not his pledge.”

  She hung her head. A mash of anger, regret, doubt, and fear mounted inside of her. She took a deep breath and shoved it back. She had made a choice, and she would do what was right. But what was right anymore? Tears stung her eyes.

  “Yaeru, Johari.” He held her hand. “Parzanah bojur a li.”

  The familiar words on Saeed’s tongue broke the barricades around her heart, even if she doubted Parzanah’s love for her. The isolation, the rejection, the pain. She couldn’t hold it back any longer. She poured out her soul, half wondering if she was even making any sense, or if Saeed followed her in her native language.

  But Saeed listened and held her, allowing her to bury her face in his shoulder and soak his robe with tears.

  After her tears were spent, Johari straightened and wiped her face with her scarf. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked. “You’ve done nothing to me.”

  She sighed, and a comfortable silence settled between them.

  “Sorry to say, I must go. I have an appointment with the king.” He glanced at her. “He is a good man, but his heart has grown cold since his father built the Nuja temples. He has turned away from Vituko and has neglected the Sacred Pearl.”

  “Vituko?”

  “It is the name the guardians use for the ruler of Zohar, who you call Parzanah. He has many names, but perhaps when I return and have more time, I can tell you why we call him the Shadow God.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Well, I must see the king, even if the king would rather not see me. But he needs to know the truth. I will speak with him on your behalf.”

  “No, please don’t.” She stood. “I don’t want him to think I’ve been ungrateful. He’s a busy man, and I’ve only complicated things.”

  His gaze rested on her, his eyes reflecting compassion. “If you wish to return to Bonzapur, I can help you.”

  “I can’t.” She looked away. “I have a responsibility to my baby and to Val.”

  He stood and shook out his robes. “You owe nothing to Val. Do you think clinging to him will absolve you from your moment of passion?”

  Heat flooded her face. Was he always so forthright? No wonder the king didn’t like him.

  “You are right,” he continued. “You have a responsibility to this baby. But what kind of life can you promise the child here?”

  His words burned deeper until she was afraid her heart would burst into flames. She stared at the blades of grass poking through the cobblestones. Val loved her. He had to. The memories of their time in desert were hazy, but the love had been there, hadn’t it? “Even if Val doesn’t love me, he loves this baby.”

  “When was the last time he visited you?”

  “Maybe two months.”

  He sighed. “Then you haven’t heard, hav
e you? The queen is with child.”

  Her knees buckled. Saeed grabbed her elbow, but she shoved his hand away and stumbled toward the bench to sit down. Why did the news hit her so hard? It was expected, but why so soon? Couldn’t she have just a few months where she remained precious in his eyes? Why now? Why couldn’t the queen have waited? She wrapped her arms around her belly. Was there nothing precious about her anymore that he refused to visit her?

  “Seek Parzanah, young one. He is ever near.” He touched her shoulder, and then he was gone, his footsteps fading.

  From that day on, Johari escaped daily into the wooded sanctuary behind the king’s city. A forest of tall, spindly trees and squat, leafy ones stretched over the sloping hills. Rabbit, grouse, and deer were plentiful and made fine meals to nourish the little life growing inside of her. She relished the fresh breeze and the soft ground under her padded feet. Here, Johari roamed in feline form away from prying eyes and upturned noses. Here, she was free, but she could not outrun the shadows growing in her heart or the piercing realization of what was to come. But here, she was the closest to Parzanah than she’d ever been.

  Summer turned to fall, and the wind blew through the garden, bringing with it the earthy scents of harvesting season. Johari waddled through the private courtyard, her hand resting on her large belly. Only one more month left, and then she’d hold her precious baby. The anticipation mounted as did her concerns. Saeed’s offer to take her home tugged at her, but she buried it beneath her devotion to her garden.

  Her heavy gown, thick with layers of satin, swished against her legs. She would never grow accustomed to wearing so much fabric. She hoped her family would never see her like this, but then, they never would. She sighed and raised her gaze from the cobblestones to the hedges. Delicate roses adorned the dark green shrubbery. Her roses. She smiled. Their burden of thorns barred anyone from picking a stem. Just like a cactus. The hedges stretched a foot taller than her and created a maze to the center where a marble fountain sat. A little bird dipped into the pool, ruffling its feathers. Ripples expanded to its green tinged edges. So much water lying about for decoration and pleasure, it seemed wasteful.

  Footsteps on the cobblestone pathways resounded in the courtyard. He had come! She quickly shuffled through the maze. She draped the silk scarf over her hair and wrapped it around her neck. He would be pleased with her and the garden she had brought back to life.

  “King, if I may,” a voice said.

  She halted. The man’s voice was familiar, but it wasn’t the guardian, Saeed.

  “Captain, you’ll speak your mind whether I give you permission or not.”

  “Yes, well, this is more of a personal matter.”

  “Go on.” The king’s voice deepened.

  “I am concerned of your wellbeing. Ever since you’ve returned from the desert, you haven’t quite been yourself.”

  “Doesn’t a king have his good days and bad days?” the king asked. “As long as the kingdom’s at peace and there’s no knife in my back, you needn’t worry about me.”

  “Please, Your Majesty. Your people are talking,” the other man continued. “They dislike the concubine.”

  “Do not call her that.”

  “Your Majesty, they are fearful. They’ve seen her prowling at night, and they don’t feel safe. They fear she will feed on them as she does the rabbits in the woods. Your servants are talking, and I’m certain the queen has heard that the concub—this kept woman bears your child. This could turn your people against you.” He paused. “If you ask me, it would be best to dispose of her, or at the least, send her back to where she came from.”

  “Captain, you are bringing to me unfounded fears.”

  “Unfounded or not, they don’t want a half-breed bastard child running loose.”

  “Do not call my child that.” The king’s voice was fierce. “They should be celebrating the queen’s pregnancy, not gossiping about the Haruzo.”

  “I’m only reporting what I hear and see.”

  “Is there something you have seen or heard that I haven’t?”

  “No sir.”

  “Then just focus on what you’re good at, keeping your king safe.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. Then be off with you,” the king said. “I’ve got private matters to attend to before that meddlesome guardian arrives.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Footsteps crunched on the path and faded.

  “Johari?”

  She picked her way through the maze toward the king. Couldn’t she have lived in ignorance? How was she going to raise a child among them, knowing their hatred? But it was only thoughts. It wasn’t like they could do anything to her and her child, could they? No. She lifted her chin. She would bear the people’s hatred. After all, she had her beloved’s heart, and he had hers, right? If only she could keep the doubts at bay. She emerged from the maze.

  He turned at her approach and smiled.

  How could she have doubted him? He was a busy man after all. She paused and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

  He strode forward and gathered her in a hug. “How is our little one doing?”

  “Ready to come out, I think.”

  He held her at arm’s length as his blue eyes searched hers and washed away her fears. But a still, small voice deep within protested. The king of Bonzapur had several wives and none of them were ever neglected. No, she wasn’t neglected, she was protected.

  “And you?” he asked.

  “I’m ready to hold our baby.”

  “Let’s sit.” He motioned to a bench nearby, and together they sat down. “We have some things to discuss. The nobility keep a wet nurse, will you? I can find someone.”

  She tilted her head. “What’s a wet nurse?”

  His eyes widened. “I had thought for sure the ruling families of Bonzapur would have had someone as simple as a wet nurse.” The king rested his arm on the back of the bench and fingered one of her braids. “She nurses the baby, so the women may preserve their dignity.”

  “Never have I heard such…” Johari shook her head. “No, I will care for my own baby.”

  He frowned. “You will be consecrated as is our custom before you birth. The midwives and a priestess will assist you. Do you have such a thing in the desert?”

  “No, the Haruzo women birth alone.”

  “Alone?” He shifted his feet and avoided her eyes. “Do they birth in their animal…other form?”

  Her heart sank, and the doubts resurfaced stronger than ever. She folded her hands in her lap. “Most do.”

  “And you?”

  She shrugged. “I have yet to find out, although, I have been told the pain is better endured as a true Haruzo.”

  “You can’t birth alone; it’s not our way.” He spoke as if he could stop the stars and moon in their rotation. “The midwives and the priestess won’t understand your other form.” He leveled his gaze. “Can you resist the change?”

  She glanced away. “Of course.”

  “Good.” He patted her hands. “Once you begin your rituals, I’ll not see you again until after the baby is born. Then perhaps we can resume where we left off.”

  A page dressed in green appeared at the entrance. “Your Majesty, the High Guardian is here to see you.”

  He sighed. “Of course.” He squeezed her hand and followed the page through the gate.

  She exhaled, hoping she’d be strong enough to resist her nature and the heavy shadow growing in her heart.

  Johari clutched her wool cloak tighter, but it did nothing to diffuse the chill in the birthing chamber. The room was barren except for a wooden chair with a hole in it. The dank air reminded her of a dungeon. The hearth’s blackened, cavernous mouth ate up the back wall, and a large cauldron sat next to it. She shivered. So this was where she was to welcome her baby. Would the queen give birth in such conditions? Or was this where the outcast gave birth? She gathered her skirts and fled back up the stairs.

 
In the woods behind the castle, Johari knelt beneath a large oak, nestled in the tangle of exposed tree roots. Her satin dress splayed about her, stained with dirt. She hugged her large belly. What if she ran now? She was Haruzo. She could do it. Probably.

  The afternoon sun slid through the sky. Darkness invaded the land, smothering the trees. The evening’s breeze breathed down her neck. She shuddered and wrapped her cloak tighter around her, but warmth escaped her. The shadow in her heart grew deeper, darker. Fragments of her dreams scraped her soul like broken pottery shards. She could’ve had a wedding rivaling her sister’s, instead her beloved paid a slave’s price instead of a bride’s price. For a moment of passion, she had traded it all, and like chattel, she became his. She could have left. He had told her to, but why didn’t she? Why did she cling to a przanth? To redeem herself? She rocked back and forth. How long would she be tormented? How long would she keep lying to herself? She never had the king’s heart in the first place.

  Shades of night slipped between the trees. Her knees ached, and her feet began to tingle, so she repositioned herself and sat cross-legged. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she shivered. She wrapped her arms around her belly. She should return to the keep, yet she lingered.

  Johari’s abdomen tightened. She exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t leave now. It was too late. She opened her eyes, but her vision darkened. The trees beyond her disappeared into a black abyss. Branches like grey spider webs stretched above her, crisscrossing against the starlit sky. Had it grown so dark so quickly? She blinked her eyes. Why couldn’t she see?

  A shadow broke from the abyss and slid toward her.

  Johari focused on the gliding form, but it wavered like a mirage. An icy chill encompassed her; her breath slipped through her lips in a fog. Johari shivered.

  “No moon tonight, but the stars are bright,” the woman said.

  Johari sniffed the air, but the woman had no scent. “Who are you?”

  “I am nothing to you, but everything. I am a priestess of the Nuja.” She came closer, cloaked in tattered shadows, weaving on her feet.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Nay.” She pointed to the heavens. Ribbons of blood dribbled down her pale arm. “The stars are bright tonight.”