Part I
Jameel ibn Hisein shared the night watch with another warrior named Madjy Othman and as his reputation often preceded him, Jameel took the opportunity to lift his gaze upwards and stare at his beloved stars.
It was exceptionally clear and brilliant this night, nary a cloud to mar the smooth velvet sky studded with thousands of twinkling lights. The moon hung low and well rounded, casting its silver light over the sleeping city and adding to the enchantment.
T'was a night for lovers…for young men to court the women of their dreams with soft poetic words and promises of undying adoration.
Jameel drew in a deep breath, and recognized the faint scents of honeysuckle and wild jasmine that grew in the gardens just beyond the south wall. A cool breeze playfully drifted in from the West, gently tousling the warrior's curls like a woman's affectionate caress. He smiled to himself, hoping that once his shift was over, that he too would be able to find a mara who would listen patiently as he described the qualities of the stars and constellations.
Talk was sparse on the shift but Jameel had found that with Madjy, their lengthy silences were anything but uncomfortable. One spoke, one would listen as they shared stories or rumors that had been heard from warriors visiting from distant tribes. And when the conversation lulled, there was no hurry to fill in the void – no words were needed to mar the perfection of the silence.
Jameel estimated that it must have been around midnight when he first felt the tiny pinpricks of unease decompose his sense of well-being. What was it that often captured his attention and drew his dark gaze to roam over the landscape?
What made his hand rest on the hilt of his scimitar, his eyes narrow as he sought what had caused this strange unease within him? Madjy must have felt Jameel's growing restlessness and although they talked about it, tried to understand it – nothing was resolved.
"Something is not right. I can feel it in the air." Jameel had no evidence to support his concerns and he glanced over at Madjy with a rueful smile on his face.
"You probably think I am being too cautious or taking my duty too seriously."
Madjy shook his head and faced the desert landscape, his dark eyes raking over the sand and endless rolling sea of dunes. "Trust your instincts. From the stories you tell, they have served you well in the past."
Jameel sighed and shook his head, a frown marring his features. "There is nothing out there, ya sahib and I am acting foolish."
Madjy didn't reply but instead, walked over to Jameel, his hand resting on his weapon. They stood shoulder to shoulder, and remained alert and poised for what was gathering in the darkness.
Suddenly a cold and fierce wind blew in from the north, swirling around the warriors and wildly whipping the ends of their robes. It battered their bodies, stole the air from their lungs and moaned and screamed as if it were a beast in great pain.
The formerly clear and pristine orb of the moon was shadowed and covered with thick, boiling black clouds. The beauty that was once the night evaporated as evil seemed to invade every sense, easily suffocating and blanketing the world.
Jameel struggled to breathe and pulled up his face covering as the wind continued to torment them. He stood against it, supporting Madjy just as the other warrior supported him. When they could no longer stand the noise or the force of the currents, the wind abruptly faded away and left both of the warriors gasping for air.
"What in the name of Allah was that?" Madjy asked hoarsely, as he pulled down his face covering and walked around checking the perimeters of the post.
Jameel shook his head as he uncovered his face, but an odd noise caught his attention and he turned towards the north. He uttered an oath of surprise a moment later and gestured for Madjy to come look.
The clouds had departed and once again the silver light of the moon bathed the world below in its revealing and ethereal glow.
Lined up on a distant ridge were fifty riders dressed in black, their long war spears spiking up into the night sky, the mark of the red hand displayed on their breastplate, proudly proclaiming their identity.
Jameel felt a shiver of dread race down his spine and he knew that each horse carried that same red mark on its hindquarters, that each rider wore battle armor that covered most of their body. Only a small portion of the face remained visible but no warrior had ever gotten close enough to gaze fully upon the face of the Rwalla-Hunud. To do so would mean certain death.
"We must inform Chieftain Bay of this as soon as possible," Madjy said as he stared at the sight before them, "we must tell him that the Rwalla-Hunud are on the war path this night."
"Aiwa and may Allah help us all," Jameel murmured.
~*~
"Chieftain Bay, the Tuareg delegation will not be deterred and insist that you speak with them." Counselor Abdul-Hafiz hurried after the warrior, looking very much like a crane flapping its wings as he waved his arms in the air in agitation.
"Ignoring them will not make them go away," he added on.
"Ah, nothing escapes the sharp eye of my most trusted Elder and Counselor," Ardeth replied dryly and glanced back at the man following him. "If the Tuareg have waited this long to speak with me, surely they can wait a few hours longer. I have more important matters to attend to."
Ardeth purposely strode through the long, narrow hallways of the citadel, well aware that he was already late for a mid-morning meeting with two of his commanders and sub-commanders. The topic of discussion was the very people that Abdul-Hafiz was referring to since the threat of war loomed dangerously on the horizon.
"Normally I would agree, ya ra'is but perhaps the wisest course of action would be to talk to the Tuareg. Their leader is a chieftain's son and he is quite persistent, claiming he brings news of great importance."
Ardeth abruptly stopped walking and turned around. Abdul-Hafiz bumped into him and profusely apologized.
"What news could he possibly bring?" Ardeth hissed and leaned close to the counselor's face, his dark eyes glittering with anger. "Does he wish to talk about the recent raids on the neighboring villages near the Medjai or how many women and children have been killed? Or does he wish to chat over tea and discuss the burning of crops and slaughter of animals – these are all acts of war, Counselor. These people were under the protection of the Medjai and by the Tuareg attacking them, in essence they have attacked us."
Abdul-Hafiz threw up his hands in surrender, almost backing away from Ardeth's cold fury. "I am not disputing the stories that you have heard in the past few days but what I am suggesting is that you listen to this young man, for the love of Allah. We must try to find a peaceful solution to all of this before there is any more bloodshed."
"On that, we are agreed on," Ardeth replied grimly and turned on his heel, spinning away from the older man. "Tell the Tuareg that I shall meet with them shortly, after I have talked to my commanders. And tell them to pray to whatever gods they worship that I have managed to talk my warriors out of any acts of retribution. For now…"
Abdul-Hafiz sighed and bowed his head. "As you wish," he murmured. He turned and ran back down the hallway towards the room where the Tuareg impatiently waited, wondering how they would take this new delay.
~*~
It was a cruel trick and one he was helpless to do anything about.
His role in this farce had to be played out no matter the consequences.
He held onto the pommel of the saddle with both hands, and ignored the blood that ran freely down his wrists from the ropes that were cutting viciously into his skin. His weakened and beaten body swayed in the saddle while his vision blurred and faded only to clear up once again.
His will to remain conscious was rapidly fading away, like his strength, yet he continued to fight against the restraints. He tugged on the ropes, desperate to be able to reach up and remove the gag from his mouth, to tear off the offending robes they had dressed him in. It was a trick meant to confuse the Medjai guards posted around the citadel, with the irony of it all not lost on him in the least.
They had released him with no food, water or weapons and knew that the guards would kill him on sight. For how else could he answer their call or give them his true identity if he was bound and gagged?
The wound in his shoulder suddenly flared up with a breath-stealing intensity and darkness nipped at the edges of his consciousness. He finally surrendered and his body slumped forward across the horse's mane as it continued plodding forward.
In his dreams, he saw the friends of his youth and for a brief moment his joy knew no bounds. But the dream quickly became a nightmare when Drevick and Tabari-Yervant were killed.
And he was unable to help them…
~*~
In a spacious chamber located at the end of one hallway, the chieftain of the Medjai and his warriors sat around a small oval table, and discussed the recent and alarming events that had taken place over the past few days.
Ardeth had quietly listened to the commander of the Tribe of the Third relay the incredible news that another village had been attacked, the claim made even more valid by eye-witness accounts.
"Are you certain of this, Jericho?" Ardeth asked the commander. In his hands he held a signed statement from a witness claiming who had been responsible for the attack on the village of Sohag, north of the el-Kharga oasis.
Sohag had been a quiet little town, mostly a small farming community with less than one thousand people in its population. The inhabitants had been peaceful and hard working and according to the statement they were easily cut down like ripe wheat by the enemy.
"The mark of the Rwalla-Hunud will not be readily forgotten by this woman. Like a brand, it will forever be burned into her memory. They killed her family, destroyed her home and all that she had held dear." Jericho stated firmly and looked around at the warriors who had assembled for the meeting. His gaze momentarily rested briefly on his sub-commander and friend, Dharr al Rushdi, then went back to Ardeth.
"The Rwalla-Hunud…" Ardeth murmured disbelievingly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I thought they no longer existed."
"We all know the stories, ya ra'is," Nabil al Fa'ud spoke up, his gray eyes clouded with concern. "Ancient myths and legends that tell of a warrior race of people so savage and blood-thirsty, they had almost destroyed the Tuareg nation in an epic war thousands of years ago. It has been written in the tribal chronicles that the Tuareg survived only from the intervention of our warriors and in a battle that lasted seven days, their combined forces were finally able to drive the Hunud from the Sahara. We all know of the tentative truce that blossomed from that action between our nation and the Tuareg…"
"They were grateful for our involvement," Berin al Usama casually interjected and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Apparently they are no longer."
"Over time, we all know the truce collapsed, and we have been rivals with the Tuareg ever since," Jericho said.
"Could it be that the Medjai have remained unawares that the Rwalla-Hunud have remained hidden in the desert all this time, recovering from their losses as they slowly grew stronger?" Dharr wondered.
"They have been behind the raids," Ardeth concluded and suddenly stood up to pace around the table as he continued thinking about his theory.
"What better way to incite a war between two old rivals than for one to blame the other for crimes that neither committed?"
"Did you not say that a small party of Tuareg was waiting to speak to you?" Nabil asked Ardeth.
"Go and talk to them," Ardeth commanded Nabil and Berin. "Find out what they want, stall for time, do anything you have to, but wait until I get there. There is something I must do first."
"As you wish," Nabil and Berin stood, bowed to Ardeth and then hurried from the room.
"Jericho, I want to go and talk to Jameel and Madjy. We need to review their report from the other night once more," Ardeth commanded. Dharr, I want you to alert all of the captains on duty this night and tell them of what you know so far…and then report back to me at once."
"Aiwa, ya ra'is," Dharr bowed and left the room.
Jericho lingered for a moment, his concern evident by the expression on his face. "Why would the Rwalla-Hunud do this?" he asked softly. "Why kill innocent people and place the blame on the Tuareg? Why and to what purpose?"
Ardeth walked over to Jericho and placed a comforting hand on his trusted commander's shoulder. "That is what we need to find out, ya ukh… and quickly before any more lives are lost."
~*~
The horse was trotting…
… and it was the jarring motion of its gait that rudely brought him out of the calm sea of unconsciousness that he had been floating in, relatively free of pain.
But with a muffled grunt of pain he pulled his body upright. He shook his head to clear his vision and concluded that the animal must have smelled a source of water nearby and quickened its pace.
Water meant that there may be a well…a well meant civilization and he lifted his gaze up, horrified to see the walls of the city were far closer that he realized. He weakly struggled against the ropes, and fresh blood dripped down his arms and onto the saddle. He strained against them when he realized he could see quite clearly the guards walking around their posts and he prayed that somehow, they would be able to see him for what he truly was and not the threat he appeared to be.
~*~
"You lie," one guard scoffed at his companion. "No one has ever been able to defeat Amid in a game of Jackals and Hounds. He wins every time."
The second guard quickly shook his head. "I do not lie – I have watched Safwan Dabir defeat every challenger with ease. I tell you, he is better than Amid and we should schedule a game to prove it."
The first guard laughed and started pacing around their post. "If we ever get re-assigned from our duty. No one told me how boring this was to remain on watch for an entire day, with nothing to do…and no one to talk too."
"I am no one?" the other guard asked, irritated with his friend. "If you are yearning for something to occupy your time, practice your marksmanship and shoot anything that moves out in the desert. I am sure none of the captains will mind a little target practice."
The first guard shrugged his shoulders at the suggestion but nevertheless held up his rifle and peered through the site. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a lone rider approaching, the horse clearing the crest of one dune.
"A rider draws near from the north and is headed straight for us," he exclaimed and slowly pulled back the trigger.
"Hold your fire until he gets closer," the second guard snapped. "I want to make sure that he is not an ally."
"All one has to do is look at his robes, and at the markings on the saddle and bridle ornaments – he is an outlaw."
The second guard smiled maliciously and glanced down the walkway, making certain no one else would witness the horrible deed that they were about to perform.
"Then shoot him."
~*~
He moaned despite the gag in his mouth and frantically yanked on his hands, his gaze riveted to the warrior that he could see standing at his post. Fractions of light bounced off of the shiny barrel of the weapon as it was leveled and aimed directly at him. He tried to guide the horse away from the line of fire but the animal was exhausted and intent on reaching its goal and he was too weak to further command it.
With one last mighty effort, he threw all of his weight backwards and pulled on the ropes and felt them give slightly. He leaned forward again and a second later he heard the loud crack of the rifle. He looked up and saw a plume of white smoke drift into the air and a second later, he felt the bullet slam into his body.
The momentum propelled him backwards, effectively severing the weakened ropes and he tumbled over the back of the horse. He hit the ground hard and had the air almost knocked out of him when he landed on his bruised ribs although he tried to roll with the fall.
He came to a dusty stop a few moments later, lying on his stomach with his hands painfully wedged beneath his battered body. Agony unlike any he had ever known coursed through him and he welcomed the black void that enveloped him, covering him like a death shroud.