CHAPTER VII
THE CUTTHROAT LORD
The leader's eyes gleamed in the torchlight with an odd gleeful beam as though his declaration of his own name
made his soul seem to leap out from within his features. Mutajawal stood stupefied by the sudden salutation the
man before him made upon their meeting. With mixed emotions, the merchant felt both aghast and a hint of a
mysterious sensation like that of admiration with fear. The man's features resembled that of a savage pirate, yet
his gait and royal barring made him like that of a lord. Mutajawal did not know what to think, but he knew this: He
was in this man's custody.
Regaining some of his confidence, he felt that he could give a pleasantry in return to the leader before him.
Motioning his hand lightly over his bosom, the merchant gave a bow, more like a low nod, as he said humbly,
-"I am...honored by your presence, oh great...great?"
Mutajawal's face grew pale and his gut seemed to lurch like a slug up into his throat as he could not recall the
man's name to save his life. The abashed merchant looked up with a nervous grimace as he made an inquiring
motion with his hand toward the man, implying for his name to be reiterated. With a half-controlled impatience, the
leader gave him a strange look as he said,
-"Calif, Calif bin Hassan...Al-Abyad."
Giving a smart bow with a graceful sway, he leaned forward as his jewelry clanged like chimes. Up this motion, the
scene behind him came into the scope of the merchant. Mutajawal had almost forgotten about the other villainous
thugs who were enclosed around his position, for most of his focus was upon the threat at hand: Calif.
Before Calif rose from his curvature, Mutajawal had a glimpse of them, still giving him loathsome glares. To his
astonishment, he even saw a man buffeting a bulky, spiked club upon his palm as if waiting for an opportune
moment to pummel him upon his capitulum. Mutajawal's confidence failed him and fear gripped his soul. Calif rose
ever so slowly like a bear rising upon its hind legs. He remarked wryly,
-"I hope your journey to my lair was not too harsh. My men sometimes do get... carried away."
He gave the merchant a menacing sneer as he became more unpleasant to look at than before.
Eerie silence followed their not so pleasant pleasantries. No one ventured to say more.
Mutajawal became more and more uneasy as Calif looked unblinkingly into his eyes, as if to burn a hole with his
glare into his heart. The atmosphere oddly became heavy and suffocating. A driving desire to flee the premises
became the merchants prerogative, either that or go insane. Breaking the silence, Mutajawal began to comment in
a ranting tone,
-"Uh, ha-ah-ha, uh... well that was a nice visit. I had a swell, a swell time..."
Calif's face fell and his eyes squinted in confusion.
Now inching back a couple paces at a time, the merchant continued with a stutter,
-"...b-but I have this b-business to run, y-you see, and I really must be g-going!"
With an enormous amount of energy unnatural for a creature of his size, he turned on his heels with a screech and
dashed away from his company. His galloping echoed throughout the halls as he advanced toward the main gate.
He felt himself lift off the ground as the wind gushed under his legs due to his massive velocity.
...
"I thought that I was making pretty good headway, until..."
...
He thought his eyes were somehow deceiving him, but it appeared that the gate began to recede away from him.
Thinking this odd and out of the ordinary, he tried to pick up more momentum by running faster, but it did no good.
He kept on retreating from his destination in a swifter movement. Mutajawal puffed in exhaustion and a sharp pain
arose from underneath his arms. At that he realized that the pain turned into a pinching sensation like that which is
caused when being hauled away. Looking up, he whimpered pitifully as he beheld two monstrous guards with their
metacarpi under his arms. Letting his extremities fall limp under the force of gravity, he surrendered to the
pair as they lugged him back toward his demise.
Plopping their bundle down like a sack of turmeric, the guards spun Mutajawal around to face the indignant
leader, towering above him in an unamused displeasure. Calif's eyes widened as he closed in around the merchant
like a thunder cloud, leaning down to his level, saying solemnly,
-"You are not going anywhere... peddler. You can either be my guest, and be submissive, or you may be my
hostage, and perish."
Mutajawal whimpered as he gazed into the eyes of the menacing man.
-"I... will be... your guest,"
the merchant muttered under his breath.
-"Good,"
he responded in a heavy whisper,
-"wise decision."
Rising up to his full hight, he grinned sappily. Dignified, almost pompously, he asked with a roaring voice,
-"I never did get your name."
-"Pardon?"
-"Your name! What is your name?"
Calif bellowed out.
The merchant shifted his weight nervously.
-"Mutajawal, that is my name."
Calif wryly looked upon him as one would a child,
-"So, Mutagawal..."
-"Um, it is Mu-taj-awal."
-"So be it,"
he responded ignorantly,
-"I see you are already acquainted with Wahid and Ithnan, my loyal guards."
The monstrous duo simultaneously gave the merchant a rumbling gurr, like a pair of tame tigers.
Mutajawal looked up hesitantly at the two bald men, whose remaining hairs were streaming
down in single trim locks. Calif gave an amused snicker under his breath as he looked down upon
his guest.
-"Do not worry, peddle. They do not bite... real bad."
Mutajawal gave an uneasy chuckle as he looked at Calif, before he made a face
of distress to the side.
-"Now come,"
Calif proclaimed as he put an arm around the merchant,
-"you shall meet the rest of my men."
Mutajawal groaned in his throat as he thought of the horrible ordeal he would have to witness.
Coming to the first group of men, Calif introduced them pleasurably,
-"Mutagawal, these two men are Ahmed and Muhammed, brothers of malice. They were your... escorts
earlier this night."
Mutajawal gazed at the two cutthroats. Even in broad daylight their features were hidden from view
within their mysterious masks of black. They stood still, eerily still. Mutajawal was relieved when he
left their sight. Like one singular organism, their heads turned at the same time as they watched the
merchant move on.
-"This man... is Sikayn."
Mutajawal looked at the ruffled man. A goatee jutted out like another limb from his chin, and then flailed out
in disarray. He wore a turban upon head that hung from its mass like a spring down around toward his long
neck. He had unusually long eyelashes, but what made the merchant's heart to skip a beat for most of all were the
man's yellow eyes.
-"He is my second in command here, and some of his own men have joined my league."
Sikayn made an ugly sneer at Calif, a taunting one that had hatred written all over it. Calif returned a concealed
glare of vexation, causing Sikayn to back down. Mutajawal did not like him at all. Startling Mutajawal as he
practically yanked him aside, Calif lured him over toward the other side of his minions.
-"These two are Gazeem and Kasul, the inseparable set of..."
Calif turned his face away toward the merchant, whispering aloud exasperatedly,
-"...set of buffoons!"
Mutajawal gave the leader a look of disgust before he turned back to his men and continued,
-"...set of thieving sleuths of my cohorts."
Looking at the two men before him ,who were no taller than himself, Mutajawal thought them to be an
unimpressive pair. The one named Kasul could barely keep his eyes open. He was quite untidy and his turban slowly
sank below his bushy uni-brow. But the one named Gazeem made the merchant feel uneasy. Plastered upon the
stout man's face was a sadistic grin, a grin one would make in the presence of gold. A rag fastened around his head
hung down to his chins. Hair stuck out from the cloth in a greasy wave. Mutajawal staggered in surprise when the
troll murmured aloud in a villainous high croaky voice,
-"Pleasure to meet you... friend."
Gazeem clasped his hands together as his grin enveloped his entire face, causing his eyes to narrow connivingly.
With a wheezing inhale, he let out a snort and then a demonic guffaw. Flabbergastedly discombobulated, Mutajawal
withdrew back into a cower. Tripping over his cursed sandals, the merchant fell backwards upon the sooty ground,
causing a cloud of dust to rise from his plunge. His turban bounced upon the rocks like a rubber ball as his head hit
the floor. Mutajawal looked like a beached fish as he lay limp in a bundle. Before he could pick up his weary body,
his ears perked up when he heard a hair raising screech. The thought of rodents and vermin filled his mind at the
shrill. Scurrying like a crab with the palms of his hands, Mutajawal rose to his rump in terror. To his surprise, the
screech sounded again, but from the lungs of a tiny, not taken seriously, midget. He was the smallest man
Mutajawal had ever seen. Leting go of his tense posture, the merchant lumped down again in relief. But before he
could say a word, the midget let loose another shriek as he unsheathed a dagger and lunged at Mutajawal. The
merchant yipped in surprise as the blade fell an *assba away from his nose, before it pricked him like a cushion. In a
squeaky voice, the rodent barked out,
-"Get up you clumsy vaggie-bond! Or I is will harvest that potatie of yours!"
Grabbing his injured nose for protection from the scythe-like weaponry, Mutajawal scrambled to his feet to escape
the little assassin.
-"Stand down, Qalil! Is that how you treat your guest,"
Calif bellowed.
-"Keep your toys to yourself,"
the leader said annoyed.
-"Forgive him for his misbehavior. He is easily aroused. He could have skinned you like a rat if I let him."
Mutajawal looked at the little man in horror for his hideous intentions.
-"Now for the last members of my crew."
As Calif led Mutajawal away from his last encounters, Qalil showed his fang-like teeth and hissed like a feline.
Mutajawal hurried his pace at the unnerving sight and moved along toward the other side of the chamber.
-"This... is Tarbush, the silent-death archer..."
Mutajawal faced a tall lean man with long pitch-black hair and a tall fez that sat upon his cob-shaped head. Laying
his eyes upon the merchant, he pluck his bow with a loud snap, causing it to echo like how an iron-tipped whip
would produce.
Mutajawal flinched at the noise and took a causious step back.
-"...Ali, the whip master..."
The homely cutthroat growled viciously as he smartly wrapped his torture utility around his bare, hairy arm. He
gripped it tautly along his wrist until his veins began to protrude. He then stripped it off with brute strength causing
it to crack painfully across his flesh. He did not flinch a hair from such agony.
...
"Pain was something that I would gladly miss
out on."
...
Mutajawal stared at the man, filled with horror, praying in his heart that his tender body would be spared from such
a weapon.
-"...and lastly, Al-Dub, the Swordsman of Damashq."
When the merchant beheld the man, right away he knew why he was dubbed such a name, for one: his face was
entirely consumed by sparse facial hair, like a bear. And two: his stature towered far higher than most of Calif's
men, making him undeniably appear... grizzly. Before Mutajawal could gasp upon eye-contact of his ghastly
appearance, Al-Dub skillfully unsheathed a pair of toothed scimitars from out of his back, spun them upon his wrists
a *qabda away from each of the merchant's ears, tossed them loftily into the air, and caught them both with a clang
an assba away from his nose. The cutthroat's sudden movements created a torrent to blast upon Mutajawal's face,
causing him to squint as he gulped with a snivel.
Calif laughed to see such sport as he patted the merchant upon his shoulders, saying spitefully,
-"Never cross swords with that brute, little man. You would never survive."
Mutajawal felt abashed at the man's remark, for he knew that he was right. He looked away from Calif ashamedly,
landing his eyes upon the stone floor.
The cutthroat lord smirked as he huffed in amusement. Turning to his men, he bellowed out a stately command,
-"That will be all men. RETURN TO YOUR POSTS! Wahid, Ithnan! Escort our guest to my chamber.
See to it that he is made... comfortable."
Turning smartly on his heels, he marched away as he lifted his hood over his grayed head and glided into the
darkness. Mutajawal watched intently at the man as he receded into the black passages.
Lowering his eyes toward the ground, he saw the umbras of two pillar-like objects ominously engulf his own
shadow. Sighing miserably, Mutajawal allowed the two guards to lay their massive hands upon his side as they led
the merchant to the chamber room of the Cutthroat Lord.