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Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jul 6, 2009 13:26:53 GMT -7
Maarouf slowly backed down from his post atop the crest of the dune. He broke into a sliding shuffle, white robes fluttering behind him. His was the first watch after a long ride through the night and he had been a bit sleepy but he was wide awake now. He pondered Fate as he ran toward his sleeping companions in their tents. Maarouf's indomitable sense of humor, even in this potentially disastrous situation- for who knows the heart of the nomad- brought a smile to his bearded face.
"Ah Fate," he laughed. "You decide it is I who shall wake the warriors, always a dangerous thing to do for they are quick to separate a man from his head. And you decide we shall camp in the path of a clan of nomads. Not near the path," his grin widened, "but in the path. What are the odds of that? One in one hundred?"
A nomad clan is approaching, well over 100 individuals, complete with livestock.
Zhalum knew little about Nomad clans, sleepily looking over at Amir, Lum asked as he readied himself, "Amir, should we hide ourselves or greet them? Perhaps hey have something to trade or news of what lies ahead of us?" Lum gathered his garb together, shook awake his newly tattooed man-at-arms Amin, telling the man to ready himself.
Amir al-Ahmar springs to his feet and peers intently at the approaching mob of nomads.
"House of Dhi'b," he says, his keen desert eyes picking out the colors of their banners. "Sons of the Wolf." He studies the group closely. "They do not appear to be raiders, however, only families." he offers by way of a small consolation. "Nonetheless the Sons of the Wolf follow the law of the desert. Ownership is a right of those who have the greater strength. They may chose to exercise that right."
"Fortunately we still have some time before we are seen." he says, indicating the dunes sheltering their camp. "Their numbers are too great for us to remain hidden where we are. If we wish to avoid them, we must put as much distance between us as we can before we are seen."
"But, know this," he says giving a warning, dangerous look to the companions. "The al-Badia of the High Desert respect strength and honor above all else. If we flee and are ridden down, they will see us as week and unworthy of their mercy. Yet if we stay and meet them, we may save ourselves if we convince them that we are strong and honorable and their mood is good. Do we trust, then, to the speed of our camels, or the quickness of our tongues and the whims of Fate?"
"Let us ride away from here, there is too much that can go bad if we stay. Use the valley of the dunes to shield us from their eyes and make haste I say." Lum leapt to his gear and was already making ready for the fast ride before he received an answer from the rest.
"Fool!" Amir yells, grabbing the reins of Zhalum's camel. "What of the rest of us? If they give chase you stand no chance alone. Flee now and you condemn us all. And where will you ride? They may drive you towards a raiding party for all you know. We must act quickly, yes, but we shall all decide our fate together, not you."
Lum looked over to where Amir was holding his camel and dropped his gear. "Three times you have insulted me Amir. If we were not in a grave situation I would kill you where you stand without hesitation. Now let go of my camel. I may be a slave, but I am not your slave and you do not make my decisions for me." Looking to the rest, "We have been warned of this clan, was it for good reason? I believe so. What makes any of you think that the nine of us can stand against one hundred if things go bad? Discretion is the better part of valor, not one's desire to prove his manhood against unwinnable odds." This last comment directed solely at Amir the would-be tyrant.
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Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jul 6, 2009 13:29:01 GMT -7
Ya’qub looked nervously between Amir and Lum as Khafaz and Turin scrambled up the dune to assess the situation.
Rajab, Maarouf, and Sahra got the camels to their feet.
Amin hastily started packing equipment.
Khafaz and Turin returned, conversing in low tones.
"We will not flee," Khafaz said. "Perhaps if the camels were laden with trade goods they would attack us, but Ya’qub sold the goods to House Fajirik."
Ya’qub glanced at the chests heavy with coin and bit his lip nervously.
Turin sratched his large nose and gestured in the direction of the approaching nomads. "They have several horses."
Ya’qub made up his mind. "Rajab, Maarouf! Bury the dinars! Sahra, lay in my tent and feign illness. Too much sun." Ya’qub turned to Lum. "I'm staying. May Fate guide and protect you." Then to Khafaz: "There is no reason we cannot tell them the truth... we journey to Vahtov on a quest for your master; they will be suspicious of us being here with no trade goods."
Khafaz nodded, stroking his curly beard. "Some of us should mount up and meet them before they arrive..." he turned to ready his camel.
"Very well Ya'qub, you have made the decision for all of us. I will not leave my friends to their fate, however dire I may presume it to be." Lum turned back to his gear and then pulled out the Jellaba of concealment. "Here Ya'qub, just in case you need to hide and throw fireballs from your necklace, but let us hope it doesn't come to that." Lum handed the Jellaba to Ya'qub and then turned back to his gear, "Amin, saddle up your camel, we will ride out to meet the Nomads."
"I could care less about your fate!" Amir growls, barely restraining his rage. "But I will stop you from deciding ours! Perhaps in the city every man will sacrifice another, but in the desert, men must come together or die. If you risk our lives again with your idiocy, I will decorate your back with feathers and part your dung-filled head from your body!"
Without a word to his companions or a look to the Mamluk, Amir vaults atop his horse. "Khafaz, ride with us." he says. "You know the temperament of these people. Your wisdom may help to save us all."
"I would expect no less from you to attack when a man's back is turned, coward. The next time you assume anything for me and insult me, I will kill you, and you will see it coming. So if you wish it now, son of a dog, open your mouth and utter one more word and seal your fate, otherwise shut your ugly mouth and learn some restraint."
The laborers cast uneasy glances at the warriors as they hastily buried chests of dinars in the sands.
Ya’qub spurred his camel forward, leading the way to meet the approaching nomads. They'd be here in minutes. He put on his best smile and waved excitedly.
To his companions he said: "May Fate guide and protect us."
"Piss-soaked son of a wh*re!" Amir shouts. He springs off his horse and rips both of his scimitars from his scabbards. "Draw and die you filthy bred pig!"
Suddenly the verbal sparring between Lum and Amir turned deadly as weapons were drawn in fury. The laborers hastily turned and fled toward the departing Ya’qub, their cries of panic drowned beneath the furious war cries of the combatants.
Hearing the cries, Ya’qub looked back questioningly over his shoulder. He groaned audibly as a look of despair settled on his homely face. "Of all the times for those two..." For a moment he hesitated, looking back and forth between the approaching nomads and his companions.
Amir's words hadn't even died away when Lum's arm swung in a blinding arc. Lum's jambiya was a silvery flash, glinting with desert sunlight.
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Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jul 6, 2009 13:30:57 GMT -7
Amir tried to dodge but it was too sudden. The blade tore into his shoulder, buried to the hilt. The pain followed a breath behind, but so did Lum, his ancient scimitar raised as he charged.
His left arm hanging limp at his side, Amir parried Lum's powerful swing, then spun aside in a wave of red robes, avoiding Lum's charge. Lum felt a sharp sting as Amir's scimitar drew a thin bloody line across his thigh. Lum turned, scimitar raised. As Amir dropped a scimitar and wrenched the jambiya from his shoulder, Lum stepped forward in concert with a powerful swing. Just in time, Amir grasped Lum's wrist, staying the blow.
With his other hand, Amir savagely tried to hammer his pommel on Lum's head but Lum too grasped his opponent’s wrist. There they stood, momentarily locked together.
Lum stared into the veiled face of his traveling companion. There he saw the same hatred he felt, mirrored in Amir's angry black eyes. Lum's blood boiled in an anger that radiated out like a fever and he butted his head forward viciously.
Amir was ready for the attack and avoided it, at the same time driving a heavy boot down Lum's shin. Suddenly the fighters were free and circling each other warily, thrusting and parrying, looking for an opening.
Lum studied Amir's movements, giving no sign that he was aware they were moving ever closer to the desert rider's dropped second scimitar. Lum pounced the instant Amir dove for it. Lum's thrust passed through nothing but a tangle of robes as Amir rolled away, this time thrusting blindly backwards his blade biting deep into Lum's leg.
Lum gave a short grunt of pain, lurching forward and spinning around with his scimitar raised defensively. Amir rushed forward both swords whirling.
Lum parried each attack, the sound of steel on steel ringing loudly across the golden desert as blood from both fighters stained the sands. Sweat poured from Lum and ran in rivulets that joined with the blood of his wounds. The desert sun played tricks on his eyes for as he wiped sweat from his eyes he thought he saw heat shimmering in waves from Amir's relentlessly attacking scimitars.
Then in a masterful stroke Amir disarmed Lum. He followed though with a slash that propelled him past the mamluk.
Lum fell gasping. His scimitar just out of reach. Amir spun and faced the fallen mamluk, scimitars raised in preparation of another attack.
Amir was ready for Lum's next move. The mamluk made as if he was lunging to retrieve his scimitar but instead threw a fistful of sand toward Amir. Amir lept back, avoiding the blinding sand.
But the momentary delay was all Lum required. From his neck he ripped the necklace out, violently tearing open the lid.
Suddenly there... "came forth from the jar a smoke which spired heavenward into ether (whereat he again marveled with mighty marvel), and which trailed along earth's surface till presently, having reached its full height, the thick vapor condensed, and became an Ifrit huge of bulk, whose crest touched the clouds while his feet were on the ground. His head was as a dome, his hands like pitchforks, his legs long as masts, and his mough big as a cave. His teeth were like large stones, his nostrils ewers, his eyes two lamps, and his look was fierce and lowering."
The Ifrit looked down at Lum. "Be of good cheer! For this hour you shall journey to paradise. Ask of me only what mode of death thou wilt die, and by what manner of slaughter shall I slay thee."
Lum arose and bowed low, a small grin on his face. "Mighty and powerful Ifrit, I humbly beseech you to let me die of old age years from now in my bed, embraced in a beautiful woman's arms, slain by her love." Lum bowed once more and stood stoically awaiting what fate had in store for him.
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Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jul 6, 2009 13:34:54 GMT -7
"The Evil Spirit on the instant shook and became a vapor, which condensed..." and enveloped the stoic Lum. With a yell, Lum's faithful novice grabbed his master's scimitar and leapt forward into the vapor, perhaps trying to pull Lum free. The vapor whirled and faded, a translucent whirlwind spinning across the desert sands- Lum, the Ifrit, and Amin disappearing into the High Desert and into history. Lum awoke. He'd been dreaming, of that he was sure. He couldn't recall of what, but shadows danced along the edges of his cloudy thoughts. A caravan. An oasis. Strange faces loomed momentarily into view then faded into nothingness.
Someone stirred beside him. He knew it was the beautiful Amira al-Doushour. The dark skin of her flawless arms, wrapped around him, took his breath away. Her breath fell in steady rhythm on his neck, the warmth exciting him. She drew him closer, a look of the truest love graced her heavenly face, even as she slept.
Beside his bed was his trusted scimitar, a prize he'd won by three tests of... the memory was there, just out of reach. He knew that his novice Amin stood guard outside his bedroom door. Lum knew that Amin was faithful and would be to the end.
The sun had not yet risen and Lum felt the ache of years in his bones. He was old now, but he still preferred to rise early. Yet Amira's arms held him tight. Oh well, he could afford a few extra hours sleep.
He slept again and immediately resumed dreaming.
"Thereupon quoth the Jinni: "Know that I am one among the heretical Jann, and I sinned against Solomon, David-son (on the twain be peace!), I together with the famous Sakhr al-Jinni, whereupon the Prophet sent his Minister, Asaf son of Barkhiya, to seize me.
And this Wazir brought me against my will and led me in bonds to him (I being downcast despite my nose), and he placed me standing before him like a suppliant. When Solomon saw me, he took refuge with Allah and bade me embrace the True Faith and obey his behests. But I refused, so, sending for this cucurbit, he shut me up therein and stopped it over with lead, whereon he impressed the Most High Name, and gave his orders to the Jann, who carried me off and cast me into the midmost of the ocean.
There I abode a hundred years, during which I said in my heart, 'Whoso shall release me, him will I enrich forever and ever.'
"But the full century went by and, when no one set me free, I entered upon the second fivescore saying, 'Whoso shall release me, for him I will open the hoards of the earth.'
Still no one set me free, and thus four hundred years passed away. Then quoth I, 'Whoso shall release me, for him will I fulfill three wishes.' Yet no one set me free.
Thereupon I waxed wroth with exceeding wrath and said to myself, 'Whoso shall release me from this time forth, him will I slay, and I will give him choice of what death he will die.'
And now, as thou hast released me, I give thee full choice of deaths."
In his dreams, Lum struggled to free himself from his lovers arms. A shadow was approaching. Lum felt a shadowy hand on his heart, firmly squeezing, holding it still.
Hearing something amiss, a much older Amin looked in on his aged commander. Lum lay in his young lover's arms; moaning and thrashing in the panic of a nightmare.
Amin rushed in and tried to shake Lum awake, but suddenly Lum's eyes opened... unseeing.
Amin lowered his head and silently wept the passing of his beloved friend and commander.
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Post by Zaim al-Daleel on Jul 6, 2009 13:36:46 GMT -7
Amir lay sprawled and panting on the sand, his scimitars lying by his side. The battle seemed to have taken a great toll on him for he seemed pale and shaken. He may have lost more blood than showed, or perhaps Zhlaum's dagger had been poisoned.
Whatever the case, Amir sat with his gaze wide and fixed upon the diminishing whirlwind of the efreet, Zhalum and Amin until the sound of the approaching nomads brought him to his senses.
"Well, that is done with." he said, his voice trembling. "And the peril of Zhalum's treasure is gone with him, though it will make our presence here all the more difficult to explain."
Sheathing his scimitars, Amir heaved himself to his feet and hobbled over to his horse. "Ya'qub. Khafaz. Will you ride with me?"
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