It was a time of sand and blood. It was a time of caravans and veiled dances around the night fires. Blood thirsty warriors became lust thirsty men in the cold desert nights.
The women of the sand were the most beautiful and mysterious dancers they had captured. Night after night they would create a cadence with their drums and chains around their waists. The smell of spices was ripe in the air, it mixed in with the heavy incense used to keep insects away. The women would come and dance all the horror of battle away from the minds of the young warriors. Their veils carefully covered and revealed their soft golden skin in rhythm to the music and their intoxicating swaying hips. Even the chains of their captivity were instruments of beauty and spirit as they wove their dance around the tent. Thirteen goddesses captured and given to the warlord for his pleasure. Sacred wars fought in name of one or another bloodthirsty god.
Before their downfall, the sand ghosts -as they called themselves- were a vision of power and beauty in the desert sands. Sitting atop their white and gray horses, they rode the sand as though they were flying in it. A mysterious cloud of sand always preceded the women of the sand. Their veils flailed in the air weaving a song with the hooves and their battle cries. They were fierce, and strong, their name preceded them, and no town dare deny them lest they be sand cursed.
The warlord, having heard the stories, wanted them as a battle trophy.
To be continued…