NOOOOO!!! I promise i'll finish the story for you......but heres my big apology for making you guys have to read it.
By the way, what exactly IS a beta-reader??
Mommints: MOMMINTS!! *hugs* You're back! Don't worry, you're excused, its me that has to say sorry all the time. I hope you enjoy this chapter, its harder on Jawhar then it is on Ardeth, so our favourite kinda gets a bit of a break here!
Sirithiliel: No need to say sorry! As i told Mommints, its mainly my fault! Updated!
Nakhti: *curses* You've been COUNTING?? Oh ALLAH! *faints* No way mate! I LURVE your reviews! They're long! They make me feel SPECIAL! Yes, Ardeth is being a naughty little boy, out of all the girls he could chose, he choses a PREGNANT one?!? Yuck now that i think about it. Hahahaha! I'm sure you won't mind if i just don't give you the address of the village: 1/23 Stake and shackle in the ground, C/O Ruwaid, insane chief of Sami-Nhir, vanishing tribe, DESERT.
Captain: Full gallop ahead! ONWARDS! *roz saunters vaugely in the direction shown, gets distracted by a desert flower, trips over her own feet and rolls down a BIG sanddune* Roz: DAMN!
****A week passed with not a word about his son's disappearance. Abel was frantic, almost hysterical at times.
Then after a week and two days had passed, the group rode back into the camp. The group leader was grim and wordlessly passed a small scrap of bloodstained paper to an also grim Hashim.
Written upon it was a short, simple message, it's words intended to strike fear into any parents heart.
Hashim
We have your son Ardeth. If you want to see him again, alive, then you will meet me at the old Al-Zeqhre wadi in 3 weeks from whenever you receive this letter. Looking forward to seeing you soon.
Ruwaid, leader of the Sami-Nhir
Hashim felt anger take over and fill his senses, and without even realising it, his hands clenched, screwing up the paper, leaving bloody smears on his hands.
"What shall we do Hashim?" the leader of the warriors asked.
"We inform the camp of these happenings, and then we ride for Al-Zeqhre wadi. All of us."
"All of us?"
"Any warrior that is able to fight will accompany me."
"What about the camp? It will be unguarded."
Hashim smiled suddenly, his white teeth flashing like the jaws of a shark, "Oh, the Med-Jai women can hold their own. Trust me on that."
"As you wish." The warrior bowed slightly, then retreated while yelling orders to his men.
As soon as Hashim walked into the tent, Abel knew that there was something wrong. Darkness had entered his eyes and his shoulders shook with suppressed fury.
"Husband?" she questioned timidly.
"As soon as we are ready and supplies accounted for, we shall ride." Hashim's voice was clipped and cold.
"Where to? What has happened?" Abel stepped forward, a growing fear in her voice.
For the first time, Hashim looked his wife clearly in the eyes and saw a mother's anguish. He gently enveloped her in a hug and said quietly, "Ardeth has been kidnapped, captured by another tribe."
"What?" Abel tried to pull back but was held firmly in the embrace, "What do they want with him?"
"I do not know. I do not even know this tribe!"
"Oh Hashim…..Hashim……." Abel's hands suddenly clenched Hashim's robes on his back, "What if we don't get him back? What if I never see him again? I want him back. I want him in my arms!"
Hashim stroked his wife's hair, "I know. We taught him well. He's smarter then you….." He tried to make her smile, "He's tougher then me." Hashim's smile faded as he thought of what his son might be going through.
Abel's voice choked with uncried tears, "I love him so much! I just can't—"
Hashim cut in, trying to soothe his distressed wife by making soft, comforting noises, "I know. I know. We both do, and Ardeth knows that." If anything, Hashim's embrace grew stronger and he whispered fiercely into her ear, "We will get him back. I promise you that. I will bring our son home."
****For a week, Ardeth found what it was like to be a slave in the Sami-Nhir camp. He was not allowed to look anyone in the eye, he was not meant to talk unless spoken to, and he was meant to do all and any job given to him.
Everyday, insults were thrown at him. Sometimes they weren't the only things thrown at him. He had several bruises from rocks and had more then once had rotten food thrown at him.
The only good thing about being in the Sami-Nhir camp was Zen. But her behaviour towards him was strange. Very strange. Some days she seemed to hate him with all her heart, other days she ignored and at other times, her facial expressions seemed to convoy sympathy with the boy.
Ardeth knew, unfortunately, that he was falling in love with her. How ridiculous. He was falling in love with a blind, pregnant girl who's father of the baby was the son of the chief who wanted him dead. How utterly absurd. And yet, it couldn't be helped. Ardeth couldn't curb his emotions as much as he could stop the passage of time, the sand falling through the hourglass.
Ardeth didn't touch her, he tried not to speak to her, he only watched her from afar, watched her interaction with Jawhar, Jawhar the loving father caressing his unborn son.
Life was torment for the young Med-Jai. Did his father even know he was here? Was he father going to come get him? Or would be stuck, forevermore, in this camp? To forever be a slave?
Ardeth prayed every night to Allah that it was not meant to end that way. He prayed for his father to find him, for the real murderers to be found while all the while, in reality, the Sami-Nhir laughed at him and Shahin goaded and kicked him.
Ardeth didn't know how much more he could really take of this imprisonment. It was tarnishing his soul, bringing him close to his breaking point.
And then, one night, there was a huge celebration. Zen had just given birth to a healthy baby boy. A heir to carry on the Sami-Nhir tribe. They had been saved, spared. She had named him Thaqib, after the shooting star she had seen in the sky that night.
Everyone in the tribe got roaringly drunk that night. This was, traditionally, the worst time for Ardeth. Drunk warriors were dangerous warriors.
It was a night where the truth came out from behind slurred drunken words, where the mind normally clasping its hidden thoughts so tightly to itself, became loose and let go of those hidden thoughts, mostly unbidden.
Sometime during the night, Ardeth didn't know when or quite how it happened, some of the warriors had forced him to drink some kind of potent drink. One that burned when it went down his throat and churned uneasily in his stomach. Ardeth had never been drunk before, he had never really drunk alcohol before. His system was totally unaccustomed to it and therefore, Ardeth had succumbed to the alcohol's effects rather quickly.
There was dancing around him but Ardeth couldn't get his eyes to focus properly. To him it was just a whorl of colours, flashing past intermingling with the image of the fire burning. He could hardly walk, just putting gone foot in front of the other required immense effort. Walking in a straight line was impossible, and Ardeth had given up trying to speak properly. It was hard to think, his head felt like it was filled with cotton, the events unfolding around him appeared no more solid then a dream. All he could do was watch with slightly muddled eyes and try to make sense of it when tomorrow came.
Jawhar watched joyfully, laughter erupting from his mouth spontaneously. He was a father! He was A FATHER! He laughed his senses spinning out slightly. He watched as the Med-Jai stumbled as the warriors milled around sniggering. Zen had retired to her bed earlier that night, the rigours of labour had exhausted her and apart from her brief venture out of the tent to show the baby to the tribe she had stayed in her bed.
Ruwaid stepped in the firelight, his expression dark and stony – contrasting starkly to others around him. Jawhar watched easily, tonight was a night for celebration. The atmosphere of joy had even penetrated the hardest of warriors, and instead of physically harming the Med-Jai they just resorted to laughing at his drunk actions.
Therefore, the whole tribe was caught off guard when Ruwaid suddenly spun around and kicked the Med-Jai child in the face, causing Ardeth to give a yelp of pain and tumble backwards. Without even stopping for breath, he begun pummelling the defenceless child, his fists indiscriminate in their landing – face, back, legs, chest, side – it was all the same to Ruwaid in his drunken rage.
The warriors stared in shock as their chief struck the defenceless boy over and over again. The boy's cries cut through the crowd and it was all that could be heard, except for the crackling of the fire. The music had stopped and there was only drunk muttering, hesitantly forced laughter and the child's cries.
With the alcohol overriding his main protective circuits, Jawhar's thoughts tumbled through his mind, not even bothering to check in at Common Sense. That's not right! This is my night!
Jawhar stumbled forward, and grabbed his father's arm slurring, "Stop it!"
The camp went deathly silent. No one had ever gone up against Ruwaid. Not even his own children. Excepting his daughter, Jawhar silently corrected himself.
"What did you say?" Ruwaid's words were also slurred and slow with definite edge.
Jawhar's brain didn't stop to comprehend the words and consequences that could follow his words, "I said stop it. Tonight, the boy should not be harmed. He should not be touched! You should not touch him father!" To prove his point, Jawhar unsteadily placed himself between the boy and his father.
Ruwaid slowly smiled and the warriors instinctively leaned away from Jawhar. They could almost hear the slick sound of his canines gnashing together. "Are you sure boy?"
Jawhar's remaining functioning brain cells were jostling for attention, trying to warn him of the danger that went completely over the boy's head in his drunken state. "Yes. You will not hit him father."
From out of nowhere, Ruwaid's fist flew out of nowhere and connected solidly with his son's face. Jawhar went down like a stunned mullet. "So you reckon that I should pick on someone else then?" Ruwaid's voice grew louder and angrier as he hauled his son up by his robes and hit him down again. "You WILL NOT tell me what TO DO." Ruwaid's drunken mind had overridden his paternal instincts and the rage that had been directed to Ardeth was now directed to his son.
In response, Jawhar automatically curled up in an unconscious effort to protect his vital organs. It's happening just like before. I should've remembered, when father is drunk he gets angry, and when he's angry he takes it out on anything.
"You, BOY, have the NERVE to TELL ME what to DO?!?! Why, I'll give the BEATING that you'll remember FOREVER! How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!!" For a seemingly small man, Ruwaid was immensely strong when angered. It was like his pure anger propelled him like gases and cordite could propel a bullet. Ruwaid roughly grabbed his son by his forearm in a grip so tight that the boy's skin instantly turned white and Jawhar cried out, feeling his bone creak with the strain.
The men watched in silence, not willing to break it up and risk the wrath of their drunken chief. When Ruwaid was in his drunk rages, he could easily take down some of the toughest warriors in the tribe. Besides, he was their leader. They followed what he did and where he'd go unquestioningly.
The men watched as the father hit his son over and over again. They watched in silence and flinched when their young leader cried out in pain.
"You tell ME what to DO?!? You IMPUDENT BRAT! After EVERYTHING I've done FOR YOU! I fed you, I clothed you, I taught YOU EVERYTHING! And you dare tell me what I CAN and CAN'T DO?!?" Ruwaid yelled as he kicked Jawhar.
Jawhar winced and bit his lip but remained silent. If I say anything, then he'll just fly into an ever bigger rage. Jawhar could smell the alcohol clinging to his father's clothes, he could smell the alcohol vapours on his father's breath. Jawhar was not the kind that was easily scared, but when his father got into these rages, he was terrified.
In an effort to block out the pain Jawhar tried to think of when his father's behaviour had degenerated into this. For a while, it was blank – Jawhar couldn't think straight but then it came to him in a rush and he groaned. Not just because of the pain, but because he couldn't believe that he'd forgotten.
Of course, his father had turned into this drunken monster after the massacre. Whenever he was drunk he would think back to the massacre and go insane with grief. Grief which then very quickly turned to physical anger directed to anyone that came close. And having a Med-Jai, any Med-Jai, in the camp wouldn't have helped.
"You reckon that we should be kind to the Med-Jai CUR? You think we should ALLOW him to CELEBRATE with US?!? Don't you remember WHAT HE did?? What he DID to YOUR SISTER?? To your own MOTHER?? And you believe that we should be MERCIFUL?!?! You BRAT. I wish that you'd have died instead of your sister." The last sentence was bitter and full of malice.
Jawhar drew in a breath and clenched his eyes shut. That bit hurt the most………he could handle the beatings, he could handle the slaps, but what he couldn't handle were words and sentences like that. There was nothing he could say in the face of that. There was nothing that anyone could say. Words like that weren't made to be said, they weren't made to be that hurtful. A father should never say anything like that to his last remaining offspring.
And suddenly the world is a cold, unforgiving place because words are said and can't be unsaid.
"STOP IT!" A trembling yet strong voice cut through the shocked silence. "Stop!"
Everybody watched in shocked astonishment as Ardeth stumbled between father and son, just like Jawhar had done for him.
"You shouldn't hurt him! He's your son!" Ardeth's words were slurred yet strong.
"SILENCE CUR!" Ruwaid lunged forward menacingly but because of the alcohol haze obscuring his vision and senses, Ardeth did not flinch.
"You shouldn't say things like that! You shouldn't!" A hysterical note had entered the teenager's voice as the alcohol overpowered his common sense.
With a snarl Ruwaid kicked the teenager out of the way and yelled, "I'LL DO WHAT I WISH! I AM their LEADER!"
With suicidal non-thought Ardeth muttered, "But not mine."
The warriors drew back even more but instead of Ruwaid exploding even further, he just glowered at the Med-Jai and growled. Then in a quick movement, he roughly grabbed the Med-Jai and ignoring the boy's cries, dragged him back to his stake and shackled him once again. Ardeth pulled ineffectively at the chain and Ruwaid slapped him in annoyance.
Then the chief stalked back to the campfire where his son was shakily getting up. He grabbed his son by his hair and twisted viciously, feeling the writhe in pain under his hand and faintly hearing his son's cries. "You believe you know what's BEST? You think that you know what to do? You have sympathy FOR THE MED-JAI? Then tonight, you shall sleep with the dogs my son. You shall sleep next to the Med-Jai, for tonight I DO NOT RECOGNISE YOU AS MY SON."
Ruwaid dispassionately dragged his son over to where Ardeth lay, watching the scene with horror-filled, brown eyes. Then with a quick movement, he threw Jawhar to the ground and watched with a neutral expression as Jawhar's head impacted heavily with a stone and the boy slid to a stop, unmoving, unconscious.
Then turning to the soldiers he spoke, his voice cold and void of all emotion, "Give the slave bandages, water and cleaning ointments. We do not need his wounds to become infected. I have further use for him yet. No one touches my son. Allah will do his will on my son's wounds. Jawhar must realise his punishment. DO you understand?" The last sentence was strong, the sentence telling how the future would be, as if his commandments had been written in stone itself. If the warriors had been in the right frame of mind to listen, they might've heard the undertones of the sentence promising serious consequences to anyone that didn't obey the orders.
As one, the warriors nodded. After all, Ruwaid was their leader. What was the point of a leader, if he did not lead? They would, they must follow their leader.
Despite how strange and cruel some of his orders seemed to be.
