Part XXI
"Who aids the Medjai?" Markunda-Tagwizult asked in a deceptively calm voice. She stood at the edge of the platform and surveyed the almost empty arena with disdain and disappointment. Riders were coming in bearing disturbing reports that the warriors had broken through the formations of the Hunud, reaching the open desert with relative ease.
One of the captains stepped forward and nervously cleared her throat. "It would appear that the Tuareg are in league with them, a development we had not anticipated in our preparations for battle. Their involvement caught us unaware."
"We need to withdraw, Majesty, before the casualties are too great," another captain boldly suggested.
Markunda-Tagwizult's lip curled back in a defiant sneer; she hated that the fact that the captain's suggestion may be the wisest course of action at the moment. "Where was Suleyman-Tansu's patrol last seen?"
"South by southwest," the captain replied, and then looked uneasily at her fellow officers before adding, "But that was several hours ago. She had planned on engaging a group of wounded Medjai in the hopes of capturing a commander. We have not heard from her since."
Markunda-Tagwizult turned around and faced her subordinates, fury contorting her features as she realized that the Hunud's ascension to power had been thwarted...for now. "Sound the call for a retreat. We will journey back to our camp in the Western Desert to regroup and plan."
"What of the escaping Medjai?" someone asked.
"Let them go," Markunda-Tagwizult waved her hand. "Where are Muhjah-Aji and Uthmann-Dunoud?"
"Missing. We think they both have been killed and their bodies spirited away by the mob."
"My queen," a young lieutenant asked as she stepped forward. "Are we surrendering? The Medjai will win while we go back into hiding like cowards because of the Tuareg involvement? Our rightful place is as rulers of the desert; your dream is what encourages and guides us. Have the Rwalla-Hunud given up?"
"No," Markunda-Tagwizult hissed and spun around, shaking her fist in fury at the heavens above. "We will merely bide our time, as we take this lesson learned and analyze it. We will pray to the gods of old to strengthen us once again, and we will emerge reborn and renewed to our cause."
The officers and companions eagerly followed their queen as they exited the platform and hurried over to the nearby horses, gleaning hope as her passionate speech continued.
Markunda-Tagwizult leaped into the saddle and gestured for her war spear; once in her hand she raised it to the night sky. "We will dedicate ourselves to the destruction of the Medjai...we will renew our quest to be the undisputed rulers of the Sahara, and we will be unstoppable. We will never rest until all of our enemies have been vanquished. Whether by brute force or black magic, the Rwalla-Hunud will return and the earth will tremble from our fury!"
The Hunud mounted as their excited battle cries filled the air. They circled their queen, believing in her evil vision and exalting in the power that was theirs and theirs alone. As one entity, they kicked their horses forward and rode away from the arena, never glancing backwards to see how those left behind fared against the Tuareg.
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Haytham slashed at the tip of a spear that came dangerously close and wheeled his horse around, its flanks slamming into another Hunud mount. The rider toppled and was trampled beneath his horse's razor sharp hooves. He had little liking for how he executed his parries and blows; all honor in this battle had left long ago. Survival for him and his fellow Medjai had helped shred the persona of the civilized man as Haytham fought for his life, and he used any means at his disposal.
Grimly he blocked another Hunud's jab, and urged his horse forward, letting the animal's momentum carry his blade deep into the enemy's armor, piercing the heart. He yanked it free in a crimson shower as he rode forward a few feet before he was once again surrounded by the relentless black riders.
He whirled his horse around again, succeeding in keeping them at bay for a few moments as he searched for Solman. The younger warrior was faring no better than he. He had been trapped by four Hunud and was valiantly fighting his way out.
Haytham watched as Solman's horse lunged ahead and raced for a few yards, giving him the first glimmer of hope that one of them would survive this night. Suddenly the horse stumbled, and went down on its knees. Solman flew over its neck and landed on the ground, slamming the back of his head against the hard unyielding earth.
"La!" Haytham shouted in disbelief, and felt a wave of rage wash over him. Not Solman. Not the gentle, simple thinking giant of a warrior he had befriended in the past few days. He couldn't let the Hunud take away a young man who held so much promise. He swung his scimitar around him in a deadly arc. He kicked his horse into a gallop, and brutally pushed his way through his attackers even as he felt several sharp stings on his arms and side. He leaned forward in the saddle as he rode to Solman's aid, determined to save the young warrior at the cost of his own life.
Suddenly Haytham found himself surrounded by an odd mixture of Medjai and Tuareg riders; he blinked in surprise when he saw none other than Sharif riding beside him. They dispersed the enemy and acted as a protective shield, guiding him away from Solman and the battle.
"I cannot leave Solman!" Haytham shouted to his escort and tried to turn back.
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As Nabil's exhausted horse raced across the desert, his Hunud pursuers gradually fell back, leaving the commander to continue his ride alone and unfettered.
Nabil felt light-headed from blood loss and fought to remain conscious and in the saddle, his hand resting on Reyhan's bloody back. His eyes slid closed for a moment as he feverishly prayed that he hadn't failed...that he hadn't been too late...and that by the grace of Allah, Reyhan still lived.
Please be alive...please be alive...cannot be dead...I will not lose him...not now...please be alive...
Concentrating on finding the temple, Nabil remained blissfully unaware that he was being trailed by two of his warrior brothers.
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Like a mirage shimmering in the desert heat, the Rwalla-Hunud had disappeared from the desert leaving no trace of their existence behind. A cloud had passed over the moon and the wind had blown in, whisking away the last trace of the dark riders and committing them to the memory of those who had fought them.
Haytham sat on the ground and cradled Solman's body in his arms, his dark eyes bright with unshed tears. He gently rocked the warrior back and forth, crooning soft words of comfort as he struggled to come to terms with Solman's passing.
Zaki and the rest of the warriors stood around him in a protective circle, granting him the privacy he needed to expel his grief. And then Talib turned and bent down, gently pushing the dark hair away from Solman's face, his sapphire colored eyes filled with a depthless sorrow.
"Solman, ya ukh," Talib's voice broke from his grief. "You have fought bravely and well this night." He stood up and backed away a few steps to allow the others to come forth.
Zaki bent down and touched the top of Solman's head. "We will honor your memory and tell the generations to come of your courage, ya saHib."
One by one they came and paid their respects to a fallen brother, until Haytham was the left alone. Struggling with his turbulent thoughts, he clenched his jaw against the sorrow that engulfed his heart. "Rest and be at peace, ya ukh," he whispered hoarsely. "You have done well this night."
Haytham gestured to Zaki that it was time, and the warriors helped carry Solman to a horse, gently laying him over the saddle. They would cover the body with a spare robe and place Solman's scimitar on top as a sign of the warrior's passing. As Haytham pulled the weapon free from its sheath, he lifted his face to the heavens, closed his eyes and began to pray. "Laa ilaaha il-lal-laah..."
"Why...has the world...turned upside down?" a familiar voice weakly asked.
Haytham sputtered in surprise. He bent down and peered up at Solman's face, calling for aid a few moments later, unable to hide his smile. The warriors gently removed Solman from the horse, and carefully laid him on the ground so that his head rested in Haytham's lap. They joyously crowded around Haytham, touching Solman's head or shoulder as he ripped a small section of cloth from his robe. Tenderly he treated the wound on the back of Solman's head, blotting the blood from his neck.
"The world...is back," Solman smiled faintly up at Haytham.
Haytham chuckled and nodded his head. "So it is, ya zRir bero, so it is."
"The...others? Did Nabil...rescue Reyhan?"
Haytham remained silent, and glanced over at Zaki, grimly realizing that he was unable to provide an answer.
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Berin's arrival in the Tuareg settlement was an unprecedented occurrence and despite the late hour, people rushed forward to see the massive warrior ride through their streets. Their shock and elation in seeing their own warriors return abruptly changed to horror and disbelief when they saw the limp body of the leader's son resting in the strong arms of the Medjai.
They followed the procession as it made its way towards the main tent, their anger lending them false strength; they hissed and booed, jeering at the lone Medjai while some of them threw stones. Some of the missiles accurately found their mark but seemed to easily bounce off the broad back of the warrior, fueling the crowd's anger.
Berin remained oblivious to the mob's hatred of him, and he stayed focused on his only concern- delivering Drevick to a healer. He braced himself against the pain that radiated from his shoulder, and the small nicks and cuts on his back. He stoically endured all of the torture that the crowd put him through, and kept his blurred vision trained on the leader's tent as it grew closer.
A bellow of rage suddenly pierced the night, and the crowd stopped tormenting Berin, changing their attention to the impressive sight of their leader storming out of his tent. Berin brought his horse to a halt, and awkwardly slipped from the saddle with Drevick still in his arms. Asking for no assistance and expecting none to be given, Berin weaved his way over to the chieftain, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of pain, anger and exhaustion.
Lewnis took several deep breaths, his nostrils flaring from his exertions as he struggled to contain his rage and grief. He didn't dare glance down at the pale face of his son; he kept his obsidian gaze pinned to the Medjai who had dared to breach his encampment. He clenched his fists as the warrior slowly and methodically bent down, placing Drevick's body on the ground. The golden light from the torches bathed the Medjai in an eerie glow, accentuating the dark stain one shoulder.
Lewnis' gaze skimmed over the warrior's ripped and dirty robes, his disheveled appearance and the fatigue that showed in the long, muscular lines of the warriors' body. Vaguely Lewnis acknowledged the raw, almost predatory power that emanated from the man, and grudgingly respected the fact that he stood several inches taller than himself. When the warrior straightened up and boldly met Lewnis' gaze without flinching, he reacted without regard for the consequences.
"Explain your presence here, Medjai," he tersely commanded.
"Explanations can wait, Drevick needs a healer," Berin replied.
"I know what my son needs," Lewnis snarled and called for a group of men to take Drevick away. He turned back to the warrior, and stared at his bloody shoulder. "You came to his aid, despite your own injuries and the danger of riding into an enemy's camp?"
"Aiwa," came the simple reply.
Lewnis' eyes narrowed in speculation and he walked towards Berin, until they stood only a few inches apart. A silent challenge rose up between them, and Lewnis vaguely heard the crowd's gasp of surprise. "Not one for giving lengthy speeches, are you? I should kill you now and just be done with it. Your body will be cut and quartered, the pieces scattered over the desert from Dorginarti to Cairo so that no one will ever know your fate."
"Do what you wish," Berin murmured, fighting against a sudden wave of dizziness. "It is my fault for believing that Drevick's sire would act as honorably as his son."
Lewnis' lips curled into a sneer as he peered into Berin's face. "Do you want to die?" he asked incredulously, unnerved by the emptiness he found in the warrior's eyes.
"I wish to leave, having fulfilled my obligation to your son and the truce between our nations..."
"One that was not sanctified by Tuareg leaders," Lewnis snapped.
A grim smiled danced across Berin's face. "Debating issues from the past only serves to prolong my stay here," he said and turned away from Lewnis. He concentrated on reaching his horse as he heard the leader's enraged shout, and the rallying cry from the crowd. He focused on placing one foot in front of the other, and reached out to touch his horse's bridle, expecting to feel a sword plunge into his back at any moment.
Instead he felt the touch of a hand, light and yet somehow comforting, gently prompting him to turn around. He blinked in surprise and stared down into the beautiful face of a woman, marveling at the steely determination blazing in her almond shaped eyes.
"My husband's temper has all but blinded him to the fact that you have returned our son to us; an act that will never be forgotten," she said and placed her hand on Berin's forearm in a silent appeal. "Please, let me have someone care for your shoulder. We can feed and water your horse, as well as replenish your supplies, before you return to your citadel."
Berin placed a large hand over Tella's smaller one, gently rebuffing her generosity as he struggled to hear over the roaring in his ears. "Shukran...for your kindness but I must...return to my people," he said with a faint smile.
Gallantly Berin took Tella's hand and placed a light kiss on the knuckles, giving her a slightly stiff bow of respect. He was well aware that Lewnis had reached her side and that both of them watched as he climbed into the saddle; did his body sway too much, causing Tella to call out to him in concern?
He gathered the reins in one hand, letting his other arm hang limply down by his side; all sensation in the appendage had vanished long ago. With a formal nod to the formidable Tuareg leader, Berin kicked his horse into a gallop and rode away from the encampment.
As the dark spots dancing in his peripheral vision grew larger, Berin mistakenly guided the animal away from the Medjai city, and towards the open desert...towards Cairo.
Sadly, his disappearance wouldn't be noted for many days to come...
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Thias stood in the center of the room with his hands on his hips and stared in amazement as the wounded continued to flow into the healer's building. His gaze slashed over to Abdul-Hafiz who was talking to several of the Elders, undoubtedly reassuring the old men that the city was not under attack despite the Tuareg presence outside its walls.
"Hafiz is smoothing over any concerns the Elders may have regarding the suspicious disappearance of al Fa'ud," Itosh confirmed as he glanced at a nearby pallet and cringed from the sight of the bloody body of the warrior that lay on it.
"Typically they ignore the danger that his actions have put our people in, and bask under Hafiz's glowing confidence that all is calm and peaceful." Thias shook his head, disgusted at what he considered preferential treatment continually exhibited by Ardeth towards a select group of warriors.
Itosh snorted. "All is calm and peaceful – I thought you were aware that the Rwalla-Hunud have left our borders."
"A fact, along with so many others, that apparently my fellow counselors neglected to inform me of," Thias snapped. He turned to his cohort and grabbed his arm, dragging Itosh farther away from anyone who could possibly hear their ponderings. "Go and search for Ardeth, do not report back to me unless you have found him, or can give me further proof of the commander's treachery. I want Nabil al Fa'ud ousted as commander, or I will find more unsavory methods of removing him from that position."
"A position that you have promised to me, correct?" Itosh said as he watched Thias walk away. "Remember our pact!"
Thias ignored him as he approached the Elders and Abul-Hafiz, pasting a cheery and reassuring smile on his face.
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A/N – As Nakhti had pointed out, there is a flub regarding Nabil's religious beliefs in the previous chapter, and for that I apologize. I hope to alleviate any further confusion in the future ones regarding the Medjai's religious preference, while at the same time convey how desperate Nabil wants to save Reyhan's life. He's so desperate that he'll plead for any divine intervention, from any means...including petitioning a goddess of old to help Reyhan. After all, Reyhan is Nabil's only brother, and he would do anything to save his sibling...anything. Hope that made sense since I'm riding high on cold medicine right now. Lol On to the shout-outs:
Karri – 'Not out of the woods yet' is quite an apt phrase to describe the coming chapters. Thanks for reading! ;-)
Nakhti – As I mentioned earlier, there is a small flub in regards to Nabil's religious beliefs, and yes I do base my Medjai on a loose mixture of Islam and Egyptian. Hopefully I can clear up this flub, or at least write a paragraph or two that will make sense out of Nabil's actions. As for Ardeth...nothing will happen to him as of yet. Heh heh
JeanB – Welcome back! Glad to see you dropped by for a while...LOL Igmi was introduced in chapter 13, with a quick view into his background, and why he works for the Hunud. And as you may have just read, the fate of Berin now hangs in the balance. Ask and ye shall receive, Drevick will appear again...thanks for the cookie. ;-) hands back brownie and box of tissues just in case heh heh
Dawn369 – Hopefully I didn't make you fall off your computer chair, although you almost had me doing that with the last few chapters of "Salvation." ;-) And you might want to take another deep breath and hold it, there's more to come. Thanks for reading!
SerenaFehr - gasp Are you a Rwalla-Hunud?!? My sister...erm, never mind. LOL Yes let's hope for a miracle and that the goddess Ma'at will listen to a man whose all but lost his faith. Thanks for all your hard work as my beta. ;-)
The Kid Mdd - note to self: buy bottle of hair color and send to kid Mdd I like your comments about Muhjah-Aji, and while you may not be inclined to trust her, in the end she did what no Hunud has ever done when it came to the fate of an enemy. She fell in love and saved his life. She had to, if not Reyhan's death would become her own, and she would always wonder what might have been. Now promise me you don't hate me for Berin's fate that is questionable at the moment. It all happens for a reason...and Berin's heart finally needs to heal. Glad to hear about the new seatbelt...lol Thanks for reading! ;-)
Ladybug1 – Soooo do I put the warning before or after the chapter? Lol And it seems most of you liked Nabil giving Muhjah-Aji her just dues, imagine that. Thias is Nabil's arch enemy and he will do whatever it takes to discredit our gray eyed warrior; he's a snake and that should be watched very carefully. And thanks again for loaning Kedar, Zaki, Talib and Haytham; I enjoy writing them very much and my crew loves hanging around with them. Shukran ya sahib!!!