The wind kicked up the sand from the arid land and splayed it over the swollen belly
of my wife, Rahma. It mixed with the blood that poured from her body like water from a
well. She lay there dying and still willing the last of the strength left inside her to push
out our child. I wanted to look away. No one wants to see their soulmate take in their
last breath. But I had to help her. Even the fear of my own impending death wouldn't
stop me from attempting to soothe her pain.
"Push," I whispered. "You can do this. Everything will be okay." She looked at me
from under her matted curls for a second before the agony took over again. We both
knew this wasn't true. And yet neither of us had the strength to face reality. She
screamed again, and I winced. "Keep pushing," I said once more as a mop of pitch black
hair began to appear between her legs.
Yesterday was different. Our morning started much like any other. We ate our usual
laxoox while the sun bore down on us, unrelenting. The heat was unbearable for Rahma.
After eight months of pregnancy she was irritable and exhausted. And I hoped that a trip
to Berbera beach would make her feel better. I walked patiently as she waddled her way
through the sand. She floated on her back in the shallow blue green water, balancing
atop my hands, her skin shimmering under the radiant sunshine. The smile on her face
was infectious and we broke out into laughter when she flopped around in the sea. Our
dinner that night was blissful. We set up a picnic on the beach and ate under the sunset.
She looked utterly content when she gave me her brightest smile.
"Let's go on a trip," she said.
"Now?!" I choked through a sip of water.
"Yes, I want to visit my mother before the baby comes," replied Rahma.
Rahma's mother lived in her ancestral village. About a 10 mile trip west through the
desert.
"Are you sure you can make it, in your delicate state?" I asked hesitantly.
"We can take the camel," she replied.
"I don't know..."
"I don't know when I'll have the chance to see hooyo after the baby comes."
Rahma would probably be bombarding her mother with questions about childbirth
and parenting.
"Okay, it should be fine." I gave in, not willing to see her smile fade.
The next morning we set out into the desert. I secured our things to the front of the
camel saddle and made sure Rahma would be safe. The trek was silent, and step after
step I grew wary. Something was coming but I would never have imagined just how
bleak the next couple hours could become. One mile into the trip we stopped under an
acacia tree for a snack of milk and dates.
"I need to tell you something," said Rahma. She wasn't looking at me, instead she was
staring at the line of ants as they crawled near her foot.
"Hmm," I said absentmindedly as I chewed on another date.
"We're not going to make it to my mother's house," she said, still not managing to
look me in the eye.
"We should be fine. The camel just needs to rest a bit and we can carry on for
another..."
"No," she interrupted. "I had a dream last week."
I looked at her then. Rahma was a deep sleeper. Most nights she would fall asleep
quickly and her eyes would rest in dreamless slumber. But Rahma's grandmother, Muna,
was from a different tribe. Her eyes had been reminiscent of the clouds in the middle of
the rainy season. The mark of a truly powerful Seer. And Rahma, being the descendant of
such a gift, had inherited some of her grandmother's abilities. Her dreams, though rare,
carried visions of the future for as long as she could remember.
"What did you see?" I asked.
"I dreamed that we needed to be isolated for this birth," said Rahma.
"But, why?" I asked. I tried to keep my voice calm but I was starting to panic. How
could she give birth in the middle of the desert with no one but me to help.
"Yanile," she started. "I am going to die here."
I was speechless, but my mind buzzed with fear and questions. Deep down I knew she
was right. Rahma had never had a false premonition.
Rahma stared back at me with dread and sadness. Tears began to puddle in her eyes
but she kept going.
"Very soon I'll be going into labor. Our baby girl will not be an ordinary child. This is
why we had to leave the village. No one can know, or she will never be safe.'
Concern for our child temporarily distracted me from what was to come. "Why will
she never be safe?"
The fear truly showed in Rahma's eyes then. "She will be a Blinding."
I gasped in horror. A blinding, the most powerful of magicians, had not existed or
heard about in centuries. The shapeshifters greatest fear, children born high level magicians
were killed with the help of the seer tribe. There was nothing in this country more
intimidating to the shapeshifters than a blinding. If our child was born she would be
killed instantly. If the Seers had any knowledge that Rahma was pregnant with a blinding
child, she would have been killed long ago.
Shaking, I sat in the shade of the acacia tree, among the dusty roots. "What can we
do? She will be murdered!"
"Listen to me Yanile," said Rahma. "If you do what I tell you, she can survive. I will
die in childbirth, but you will live long enough to keep our baby safe."
"I don't...I can't..." My voice faltered as distress began to settle in. My wife would be
dead in a matter of hours, maybe even minutes. I would be dead not long after. And our
child, left an orphan, would always be in danger.
"Yanile, focus! You must use your power and take whatever's left of mine once I'm
gone. You will need it. Bind the baby's power. The shapeshifters will arrive moments after
she is born. You must be quick and hide as soon as this is done. They won't kill her,
but they will take her to the palace to be a servant. Follow them."
She was scared, I could tell, but her bravery pushed through and the love for our
child kept her going. I wiped away my tears. When had they fallen? I wondered. I helped
Rahma prop herself on the acacia tree. Grabbing a pillow from the pack tied to the camel
saddle, I placed it at her back and wiped her brow with my sleeve.
"What do I do?" I asked.
I stood and listened while Rahma gave me the details. She'd had a dream a week ago.
Our daughter would be born within a few hours. I was to watch her die while I delivered
our child. From there I was to wrap the child up in her garbasar and bind her powers using
the little magic I had and what was left of Rahma's. Then, leaving the love of my life
to die alone, I was to hide in the tree while I watched the shapeshifters collect our
daughter, the only child we would ever have.
I looked on to the desert that surrounded us. The stillness of the horizon was so far
removed from the anguish of my current circumstances. Nothing would ever be the
same. I leaned against the tree and pulled Rahma between my legs carefully placing the
pillow between us. I kissed her forehead tenderly and held her close.
"But-" Rahma protested.
"Shhh," I said. "Just one more moment of peace."
I felt her relax against me. We sat like this for some time. Watching the sun fall and
the dust settle, trying as hard as we could to focus on our past together. I wiped away
Rahma's tears. "Don't think too much," I whispered, rocking back and forth. I tried to focus
on her, or anything really. Breaking down was not an option. The last thing I could
do for my Soulmate was soothe her way to her last breath. But in truth these last few
minutes of tranquility were doing more for me than they were for her. I was using her to
distract myself. I felt horrible, selfish even, for doing it. She didn't know it but she was
holding me together as she'd done for so long.
The contractions began then. Rahma shifted uncomfortably. The stillness of the past
few minutes was already transforming into chaos.
Gingerly I propped her up against the tree before running to our camel and grabbing
anything that could be useful. I hadn't packed the saddle for any birthing supplies. I
found some blankets and some of Rahma's baatis that could be used as towels, and
whatever water we'd brought for the journey.
"Aaah!" Rahma screamed. Her pain was getting worse and there was nothing I could
do for her.
I rested the pillow on the sand and helped her lay over it. I tore a piece of a baati and
drenched it before resting the cloth on her brow.
"Breathe," I whispered. "Just keep breathing."
She screamed and writhed through each contraction. Though unsettling, I did whatever
I could to alleviate the agony. As calmly as I could, I wiped her sweat with the
makeshift towels, held up her head while feeding her water sip by sip, and massaged her
shoulders.
"Push," I said, rubbing her stomach. Rahma screamed again and I winced. Her anguish
was torture for the both of us.
She pushed again while I moved between her legs. The baby was crowning.
"I see her," I yelled over her screams. "Keep pushing, breathe Rahma."
Rahma's face was covered in sweat, her face contorted as she struggled to push. I
could see only her suffering but she was resilient.
I cradled our baby's head as her shoulders emerged. Her arms came after. Grabbing
another baati, I caught the rest of her body as it slipped out. Her hair was fine and matted,
her skin bloody and her eyes swollen shut, but I could see she was lovely beneath it
all. Her skin was golden underneath the fluids. The obvious mark of a blinding. Carefully
I tied up the umbilical cord and found a knife to cut it. I turned back to Rahma and
placed our child into her arms.
Rahma's tears dripped off her face and fell onto our babies head. She gently pushed
the hair off her forehead and placed a kiss where her fingers once lay.
"Her name will be Tissa," Rahma said.
"Okay, whatever you want," I whispered to Rahma before giving her a final kiss. The
tears were uncontrollable now. Both hers and mine. I took Tissa from Rahma then and
huddled her in my arms. I looked down. Rahma's lower body was bleeding endlessly. Her
breaths came slower and my tears became her own. We pressed our foreheads together
and murmured our goodbyes.
"I love you both so much. Don't forget..." she breathed out. With one last huff, Rahma
was gone.
As if on cue, Tissa began to cry. I held her closer and rocked back and forth. I meant
to comfort her, but she eased my pain far more than I could ever ease hers. We stayed
like that for a little while, until Tissa's crying subsided and she fell into a deep slumber.
Quickly I jumped into action. Placing Tissa on the discarded mess of Rahma's baatis, I
grabbed a piece of parchment from the sack that hung on the saddle. Grabbing a quill
and some ink, I scribbled the name Tissa on it and pushed it into the cloth that she was
wrapped in. It was time for me to let go.
Careful not to wake her, I held my newborn child one more time. Her golden skin
sparkled in the sun. I had never seen anything so beautiful, and I felt her power like I felt
her weight in my arms. But I knew what I had to do, the voice of Rahma whispering
"Don't forget," replayed in my head. I reached over to where Rahma's body lay. Grabbing
her hand, I used her remaining power and some of my own, "Wareejinta awoodda," I whispered
I focused on the words in my head and felt the energy move from Rahma's body to
mine, and on to my daughter. Her skin shone even brighter and she cried out when the
power awakened her. The sun became almost overwhelming reflecting off of her metallic
skin.
My heart began to beat faster for fear of her life and mine. Again I focused, breathing
deeply and tuning out Tissa's cries. I whispered "xidh sahar," this time more fiercely. This
would be the only thing I would ever do to protect her and it had to be done right. The
staggering light that shone under her skin began to dim, until her complexion was just as
brown as my own. Regretfully the deed was done, but I was still in awe of her simple
beauty. I reminded myself that her magic would not be gone forever.
Cradling her head, I lay Tissa, wrapped in her mother's green baati, to the ground. I
studied her face, her eyes, the tuft of messy black curls on her head so much like her
mother's. I prayed that her life would not end like mine, but I knew that her destiny
would be dangerous. My eyes lowered to Tissa. This was it.
"I love you Tissa, I wish...," my words were carried off by the wind. My wishes were
meaningless. This was our fate.
The laughter of hyenas broke me out of my trance. Shapeshifters, it had to be. Quickly
I climbed onto the camel and used it to scramble into the limbs of the tree above.
Climbing as high as I could. I stopped until I reached the highest branch, praying that the
sparse leaves would shield me from the view of the shapeshifters. It felt like hours until
they reached us. I held still. Not a single breath escaped my lips; no matter what, I could
not be discovered.
Though I'd done my fair share of travels, I'd never seen a shapeshifter transition.
Their muscles twitched, their limbs stretched. I blinked once, fixated on their movements.
Before my eyes they turned into men.
In their human forms now, they approached my Tissa. I felt my heart skip a beat. It
thumped so loud, I could almost swear the shapeshifters heard it too. I tried in vain to
stay calm.
"Pick it up," one shapeshifter said to his accomplices. The other stepped forward. He
was short, with close cropped dark hair that was beginning to recede.
The third shifter, much taller and lankier than the other two, looked down at Tissa
and tore the baati away from her skin, stepping over Rahma's limp body as he reached
for her.
"Seems like the mother's already dead," he grunted. He picked Tissa up roughly without
any care for her well being. She began to cry loudly. It took everything in me to stop
myself from jumping down and grabbing her away from him. Painfully, I sat still.
"It doesn't appear to have any significant magic ability," he spoke again, looking back
and forth between the baby in his arms and the other shifters.
"Have a good look at it under the sun, it might be a Bronze" the first shifter ordered
the other two. Unlike them, this shifter looked menacing. He stood up straight, muscles
tensed as if he was waiting for someone to attack. Broad shouldered and overly toned,
he was a trained fighter to be sure. Although he may not have been born a warrior, there
was definitely warrior blood running through his veins. It was clear that the others
feared him immensely, and at that moment so did I.
The short shifter moved away from the shade of the tree and into the light of the setting
sun.
"It doesn't appear magic at all sir, no copper, bronze or gold skin" he said. The others
stepped forward to get an even closer look.
"That can't be right. The Seers told us that it would be a most powerful magician," the
tall one said, his voice growing in agitation.
"Maybe, they were wrong, Ali," shrugged the middle of the two.
"They are never wrong!" said Ali, the leader. The other two cowered under his glare
as he began to pace.
After a couple of minutes the shorter one asked quietly, "What should we do?"
Ali thought for a moment. "We'll take it back to the capital, maybe we can sell it as a
slave. Someone would pay good money for it."
I winced at the thought, but alas I had no choice but to stay hidden, for my sake and
hers. We weren't too far from the capital, about a day's ride. I would have to follow Tissa
and the shifters to ensure her safety.
The leader shifter, Ali, ordered the others to strap Tissa on his back before he morphed
back into a rather vicious looking hyena. The others obeyed, using the cloth I'd
wrapped her in to strap her onto his back before morphing into hyenas themselves. I
watched them stalk away, kicking up small swirling clouds of sand as they went. Slowly I
made my way down from tree branch to tree branch, before landing with a thud on the
dusty ground.
As hastily as I could I readied the camel for our trek to the capital. She was agitated
after a long day in the sun, and I fed her some water. It was time to go now. If I didn't
leave immediately, I would not be able to catch up with Tissa and the shifters. I looked
down at Rahma's lifeless bloody body. I wished more than anything to be able to give her
the burial she deserved. Instead she would lie there, exposed to the elements and the animals
of the desert. Assuring myself that she would have wanted me to go after Tissa, I
rode off. The wind whipping the tears of what I had lost behind me.
I caught up with Tissa and the shapeshifters after a little while. My thoughts were
filled with worry for Tissa, grief after Rahma's death and terror of my own, but I rode on.
I prayed to God that Tissa would make it through the journey with not even a drop of
milk. The night fell and my apprehension weighed heavier on my heart, my body growing
weaker by the minute.
Stars were twinkling in the evening sky as I watched the shifters reach the outskirts of
the city. It wasn't late yet and the city folk were still out walking through the markets,
laughing with friends and family and filling their bellies with aromatic samosas in the
bustling streets of the capital.
I shivered again as the shapeshifters returned to human form, grateful for the concealment
of the darkness. One by one the bones underneath their brown spotted fur
stretched and poked until they reached the height of humans and their fur was replaced
with skin. Taking Tissa with them they walked up the sandy dirt road, no doubt already
having a slaver in mind to buy my daughter. I dismounted the saddle and tied the camel
to a nearby sign. Ignoring the feeling of anger fizzing inside of me, I followed as stealthily
as I could, using buildings, people and stands as cover.
They walked for a while until they reached a winding flight of stairs that seemed endless.
I followed the stretch of steps up with my eyes. The castle. I gasped. They were taking
Tissa to the prime minister's palace. Once they reached the top, I ran up the stairs as
quickly as I could, struggling to control my loud breathing.
The shifters knocked, once, twice and a third time before the door opened. An angry
looking woman in shabby clothes opened the large gold painted door of the palace. A
slave woman I guessed. She looked the shifters up and down, recognition dawning on
her while her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Can I help you?" she asked exhaustedly.
They told her a false tale of finding a child with a dead mother in the desert. Seeming
careful to leave out why they were there in the first place, no doubt in fear of telling her
Tissa was meant to be a magic child.
The slave women nodded carefully before wrestling Tissa out of one of the shifter's
arms. She looked at Tissa then and ran a thumb along her forehead tenderly. I prayed
this woman would be able to protect her.
"Do you live in the city?" she asked the shifter named Ali.
"Yes," he replied brusquely.
"Return at nightfall tomorrow and you will get your money."
All three of them began to argue, then she listened until they quieted. "You will not
find a higher price for the girl. Take it or leave it."
Ali attempted to glare her into submission to no avail. Finally, he nodded. I sighed in
relief before racing back down the steep stairs. I waited in a corner along the high walls
of the palace to make sure they didn't still have Tissa with them. Once they appeared
empty handed my body sagged. I sat there for minutes, possibly hours with my head in
my hands. How did this happen? I looked up at the black sky searching for an answer
that would never come.
Picking myself up, I made my way to the slums of the city where people of the magician
tribe lived. The ones with little to no magic that somehow seemed to escape slavery.
Still persecuted by the rest of the tribes, they lived in poverty here in the city. I walked
up to a woman sitting in front of a hand built shack, attempting to put her young son to
sleep. "Elmi Salah," I wheezed out, "do you know where I can find Elmi Salah?" she
stared back at me with a look of pity before answering me.
"Follow the huts down this road and take a left. He lives in the fourth shack down.
The one with a rusty metal roof. "
I tried to bob my head in thanks, but I was getting weaker. I could feel death overtaking me. I forced myself to take step after step before I reached the hut. I slapped my hand on the makeshift door as hard as I could.
"Who is it?" I heard someone yell. I
nearly smiled at the sound of my old friend's
voice. In any other circumstance I would have been elated to see him after such a long
absence. Wanting to save my breath, I stayed silent.
Carefully, Elmi pulled open the door, he peered out at me suspiciously before breaking
into a wide smile. "Yanile, how long has it been?" he asked, his voice boisterous with excitement.
His smile faltered when the light from his hut hit me.
"Come in my friend, lay down. Tell me what has happened." A deep frown was painted
on his face now. I wondered just how weak and helpless I appeared.
The hut was practically empty except for a chair piled high with clothes and a cot
where Elmi slept. He helped me inside and grabbed a jug of water before sitting on the
floor next to my now frail body.
"Rahma is dead, the baby was taken by shifters and sold to the palace," my voice was
raspy now. Any second I thought.
Elmi's frown grew impossibly deeper, but I was grateful for his composure. He knew
Rahma's death meant that I would meet the same fate.
"She is in danger," my eyes pleaded with Elmi to listen carefully.
"Her name is Tissa, please keep her safe," I coughed. "Please.."
"Shhh," Elmi shushed my begging. "I will keep her safe. Rest now."
I closed my eyes then, there was no more I could do. I felt myself fade into nothingness.