Page 46 of Under the Arabian Sky

“Is that why you don’t like flying?”

“Can you think of a better reason?”

He didn’t answer. All he said was, “Just be careful.”

“Be careful of what?”

“Be careful you don’t confuse your fear of flying… with a fear of living. It’s a fine line.”

Tariq rolled over to get some sleep.

Me, on the other hand… I stared up at the billion and one stars in the sky for who knows how long.

A shooting star streaked across the night, its journey bright yet lasting less than a second. Had I blinked, I’d have missed it.

I gazed up at the great expanse of the heavens and wondered if that’s what we humans were to the gods above… nothing but stars shooting through the cosmos.

Is that what I was?

Is that what Tariq was… and Andrew and Cavendish and everyone else I’d ever known?

Is that all we were… a glimpse of light… a dazzling distraction… there one second, gone the next?

Perhaps we were, but if that was true, at least we had the chance to shine bright… no matter how briefly… in case any of the gods were looking.

CHAPTER16

The next morningthe Bedouins were up at dawn. With my hair a mess and my eyelids still heavy, I walked to the top of the nearest dune while Tariq packed our things and thanked our hosts.

From the crest of the dune, the desert was bathed in a hazy pink light that soon gave way to a spectrum of oranges and yellows until the sun appeared on the horizon, hot and rippling, announcing the birth of a new day.

“Possibly the only thing more beautiful than the stars adorning the night sky over the desert, is the sight of the sun rising over the dunes,” Tariq’s voice came from behind me.

I turned around and the early light made his eyes shimmer even more as he watched the sun begin its day’s journey. He looked so incredibly striking yet serene that I didn’t want to ruin the moment with words. Instead, we let the desert silence be the music of the moment.

We stood like that long enough to see the sun let go of the horizon.

Then, with a contented sigh, Tariq said, “Are you ready to go?”

* * *

We drove on through the desert, Tariq choosing particular gradients and angles through the dunes so as to avoid getting bogged once again, until soon he pointed to what looked like the rocky ridge of a canyon. We reached firmer ground and he kept driving until he braked at the edge of a gorge.

We stepped out of the Jeep and looked down into the canyon below.

A steep, rocky descent levelled out to reveal a gently flowing stream the colour of turquoise, its milky blue waters so surreal and smooth and out of place that it felt as though I was gazing down at a painting.

“Where does it come from? The water? Where does it go?”

“Nobody really knows,” Tariq answered. “It comes up from the earth, flows the length of this canyon, then disappears into the earth once more. Where it comes from and where it goes is one more mystery for the desert to keep and us to question. Hence the name… Wadi Sirun… the secret gorge.”

“Nobody wants to survey the land and find out? A geological expedition would solve the problem, that’s what science is for.”

“And ruin the perfect peace and tranquillity of this place? No-one wants that. The world is already overexposed. Let some places remain a mystery.” He began to step down to a ledge, heading into the ravine, but before he descended too far, he held out his hand. “Come. Let us cool off. Just watch your step on the way down.”

The climb to the bottom took fifteen minutes and a couple of small rockslides, but every precarious step was worth the effort.

We reached the edge of the lazily-flowing stream and Tariq immediately kicked off his boots. He took off his agal and ghutra and lifted his kandura over his head, once again revealing his muscular torso and the smooth sheen of his brown skin.

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