Page 95 - Microsoft Word - FANG EMPIRE - NOVEL.docx

Two nights before, Ophi, a Rhune Mystic, had ridden his camel in the Sahara, his cobalt

blue robe snapping and ruffling in the shamal, the strong northwest wind. He covered his nose and

mouth with his keffiyeh scarf and looked up at the night sky from under his black head wrap. He

was missing his right eye and was always checking the stars for navigation. He looked down from

the stellar map. Ahead he saw a figure standing under the moonlight.

“Who goes there?” he said in the Rhune tribal language.

Ophi strained to see through his one eye. It often tricked him but tonight he was certain.

There was someone there in the sand. He rode closer.

“What are you doing in the Sahara alone?” he asked the beautiful, pale female standing

listless only yards away. Now he could see. She was naked, her long black hair whisking in the

wind. “This is an illusion, a mirage of the moon,” Ophi thought.

He halted his camel. “Koosh,” he said and it knelt so that he could dismount.

He climbed down and walked over to the ghostly beauty.

“Who are you?”

“I am Tagurmat, thy ancestress,” she said in his native tongue.

“Tagurmat?” he said. “My eye is a deceiver.”

“Tagurmat the Legend,” she said.

“Thy twin girls were cut from thy stomach,” said Ophi.

“Yes. My husband was a jealous man. He killed me.”

“And thy daughters founded my tribe!” said Ophi. “But how can this be? That was

centuries ago.”

Sygnosis dug her fingernail into her belly and lacerated herself—inducing a long wound.

Ophi looked on with disbelief—but then he wanted to believe, for among his tribe, a Rhune who

had a vision of Tagurmat was blessed.