Then fear came to Zarah the Cruel, not the fear of death, but fear of an ignominious end in the eyes of her men.
“Kill me, Al-Asad! Kill me!”
She called desperately to the Nubian as she caught the bitch by the throat as she leapt upon her.
“Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!”
The terrible cry rang in the Nubian’s ears as, misjudging his strength, he hurled the spear even as the greyhound leapt.
He shouted with triumph as the greyhound fell back dead, then flung himself from the stallion as he swept past at full speed and threw himself upon the girl he loved as she lay still.
The point of the spear which had killed the greyhound had buried itself in Zarah’s heart.
He did not hear the shouting of the men as they swept down upon him from every side; he did not seem to see the sun in the heavens as he knelt and drew the weapon free; he did not hear the call of life as he lifted the girl and held her against his heart.
“Zarah,” he whispered softly, holding her gently on his arm. “I love thee! No kiss have I wrested from thee awake. Behold, is it for me to snatch one from thee in sleep?” He turned her face to his shoulder and touched her hair gently, winding one curl about his slender fingers. “I love thee, mate of mine. I hunger for thee, I thirst for thee. Yea, by the wind of dawn I cannot live without thee. Behold, is there a smile lurking in the corner of thy mouth, and thine eyes, like unto clear water winding across the sands, laugh at me between thy lashes. Thou art gone but a space before me across Life’s desert, and I hold the hem of thy garment in my hands so that thou canst not escape me. I hear thee calling me in the wind, I see thee beckoning me ’neath the sun.” He bent and kissed her hair, then looked up to the sun, to the heavens, to that which awaited him.
He raised his spear above his head and smiled.