The Real Part XV
Tuareg encampment...
The dark starry sky, a black velvet canopy studded with a million diamonds, its vast beauty unmarred and pristine, starkly contrasted with the emotional turmoil occurring on the desert floor.
Jericho stirred, a low moan of pain slipping from him as his eyelids fluttered open. He frowned in confusion as he tried to comprehend why he was outside rather than resting in his home. Suddenly the memories came rushing back to him and he was plagued by the nameless fear that someone he cared about was dying.
Foolishly he tried to move. Waves of pain rolled from his shoulder down his arm and Jericho bit his lip in an effort to hold back his agonized groan. He was lying on his side, curled up into the fetal position, gulping in great draughts of air as he struggled to master the pain.
Eventually it withdrew and was replaced with the strong desire to check on his warriors...to check on Dharr.
Gritting his teeth, Jericho pushed up and rolled to his knees, willing himself to remain conscious. He hung his head and waited for the black dots to recede from his peripheral vision, his eyes sliding shut. Moments later he opened them and looked up, searching over what seemed to be an endless sea of wounded Medjai.
A tortured moan rose up in his throat; so many wounded...how many dead? What of Jameel and Madjy?
Slowly he started to crawl through the sand, searching for the one warrior that he had always considered to be more than his second in command. He was oblivious to how much he hurt, and to the thin trickle of blood that slowly oozed down one arm. He was a willing prisoner to his need and nothing would ease his heart until he knew Dharr's fate.
Allah was kind to Jericho this night. The elder warrior finally found his friend a few minutes later, lying motionless under a small pile of blankets.
"La..." Jericho murmured hoarsely and pulled his battered body next to his friend, his dark eyes glittering with unshed tears. He reached out with one trembling hand and gently wiped some of the dried blood from Dharr's pale face.
"Hulu ir-raHman Allah, la..." he whispered and gingerly peeled back the stiff edges of the robe to quickly check the extent of Dharr's injuries, his eyes widening with horror when he realized the fabric was soaked with blood.
Jericho was a seasoned warrior, a veteran commander that had witnessed many bloody campaigns during his years of service. He had seen countless fellow warriors fall; ashamedly he realized that he lacked the courage. He turned his face away as his throat constricted from the swell of grief, his heart aching over the thought of losing Dharr.
Jericho dropped the robe without finishing his examination and reached down, taking one of Dharr's limp hands into his own. He bowed his head and searched for the words to use in his prayer, embarrassed that his mind could think of none.
"Jericho?" a familiar voice whispered.
He looked up and blinked in amazement when he saw that Emir had somehow moved next to his side. He knew that the young captain had to be in pain from his own wounds, but realized that the pull of brotherhood appeared to be far stronger.
"Ya sahib," Jericho acknowledged him with a faint smile.
"We will...watch over him...together," Emir murmured. He grimaced as he shifted on the sand, and reached for Dharr's hand, watching Jericho. He knew about the close relationship between the two warriors, remembering that Jericho had often referred to Dharr as the son that he never had. His friendship with Jericho had prompted him to move, despite the weakness that ravaged his body, and offer what support he could.
"Aiwa...together." Jericho stared down at their hands now joined with Dharr's and he swallowed hard against his emotions, lest they embarrass him. Gratitude for Emir's assistance made him nod his thanks, appreciation for his presence inspired him to whisper a prayer that all of them would triumphantly return to the citadel.
Emir's voice joined Jericho's as they softly chanted the prayer, and both warriors were reminded about a section of their oath...
That I give my life in service to those of my people, holding the honor of the Medjai as my own; I shall protect and cherish my warrior brothers...
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Lewnis Moubaye paced within the confines of his tent and uttered a string of curses beneath his breath as he ranted about the stupidity of his son, Drevick. At fifty-five summers, Lewnis was considered to be quite handsome; his body still strong despite the mane of black and silver hair that draped across his broad shoulders.
"He is your son," he growled at the petite woman who sat across from him, watching him with her dark almond shaped eyes as she reclined against a small stack of pillows.
"Forgive me if the years have left my memory slightly faulty but you were there at the moment of conception, were you not?" Tella retorted with an arched eyebrow. She knew she was speaking disrespectfully to her husband but over the past thirty-five years of marriage, it was a trait that he had come to admire. He often claimed that her forthrightness was part of the balance needed in his role as a leader of their people.
Lewnis snorted and continued pacing. He raked his hungry gaze over Tella, amazed that despite the passage of time she was still as beautiful to him as the day they had met. Tella's lush womanly body tempted him beyond reason, and he was secretly delighted that the birth of their only son had changed it, embellishing its pleasing curves. Her eyes captivated him, her mouth drove him to distraction but it was her intelligence that kept him ensnared; their union was a happy one.
"When his actions are conceived without thought or regard for the consequences, then he is your son," Lewnis clarified.
"The boy that rode into this camp earlier, bearing the message from Drevick, and died in the arms of your captain was someone's son. You and I know he was attacked by the Hunud; would you like to see Drevick die the same way? And in my arms?" Tella asked.
Lewnis stopped pacing and faced Tella as he rested his hands on his hips, his dark eyes reflecting the anguish and fear from that scenario. "I admire our son's courage, convictions and loyalty to his friend, Reyhan. But a Medjai," he sighed dejectedly.
Tella gracefully rose from the cushions and stepped off the raised platform, walking over to her husband's side. She slid one arm around his lean waist and laid her head against his shoulder, relishing the contact. "Drevick has never taken the simple approach to life; just like his father." She walked around Lewnis and stopped in front of him, framing his face with her hands. "In all our years of marriage, I have never asked you for anything but now, I have no choice. I will not lose my son. Send the additional warriors to him, my husband, so that he may return home unharmed. I beg of you."
Lewnis' heart ached from Tella's plea and he reached up and took one of her hands, pressing a kiss on the palm. She spoke the truth and he knew he could not deny her request. "A Medjai," he groaned, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "When that boy gets home, he and I are going to have a long talk about his choice in friends."
Tella's eyes filled with tears as she smiled at her husband. "That is a discussion I would love to hear," she whispered and stood up on her toes, kissing Lewnis' cheek.
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Two hours later Tella and Lewnis watched as three large groups of Tuareg rode out of the camp towards where they believed Drevick was stationed. They were unaware that a large group of Hunud was also headed in the same direction and that the resulting confrontation could cost them more than they ever realized.
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As the moon slowly climbed up and settled into its eternal berth in the dark sky, seven riders rode across the desert plains. Several small columns of dust spiraled upwards into the wind, fluttering like banners before completely disappearing.
The riders were grim and silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they contemplated their mortality while keeping their horses at a steady pace so they wouldn't be winded or exhausted once they reached their destination.
Burdened by his own thoughts, Nabil glanced up at the moonlit sky and realized with a sinking heart that midnight was but a few hours away.
They were running out of time...
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A/N – Sorry for the flub in the chapter numbers there, in my anxiousness to post this I miscounted. I blame that entirely on...erm, on a warrior passing by who was wearing nothing more than a pair of faded denim shorts. Yeah that's it. He was shirtless, barefoot; all that caramel colored skin...was it Ardeth? Nabil? Berin? Maybe I should go check. LOL As always thanks for reading and if you want, I could send a warrior by bearing a special note of appreciation. [eg]
S-s-shoutouts:
Dawn369 – Forgive me I know RL has gotten hectic lately but have you updated Salvation yet? [wink] Preparing to go into hell itself is a good description about the mission Ardeth et al are undertaking. Against all odds, one would think they may not make it out alive...one would think.
Karri – Thanks for reading, and the feedback. I'm glad you liked that chapter; I'm glad Ardeth and Nabil are back to being friends again.
TheDreamyOne – Biting your nails, eh? Well we're poised on the precipice – I'll pay for the manicure so you can read the next few chapters with no concerns. LOL Thanks for reading!
SerenaFehr – Many many thanks to you for taking some pretty garbled sentences/words and turning them into something sensible. Will the Rwalla- Hunud listen to Uthmann you ask? Considering the news he brings, I don't think he'll be the most popular boy at the party. But stranger things could happen...
The Kidd Mdd – there you are, hope you had a wonderful vacation. No need to apologize my friend. IMHO this chapter defined a lot of character relationships, and Kedar facing off with Nabil was just one of them. As for the message being sent to the citadel, that will be answered soon enough. Sorry but I had to laugh at the "Hunud hell", however according to Dante's Inferno there are nine circles of hell. To quote the immortal Patrick Swayze from "Next of Kin" – you ain't seen bad but its coming. Keep that seatbelt on for a while longer please.
Thanks for reading and leaving reviews; the end is approaching and within its chapters will come a surprise for a new story. But trust me, that won't appear until I tackle "Heroes" and the sequel to "Somewhere In Time." So many ideas, so little time. LOL