[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's post:

The rock had been growing steadily larger out of the flat and open grasslands all day. Now, as Ahmad bin Ishak rode into its shadow, it towered over him, a stark and craggy spike of granite in a sea of waving prairie grass. The rock, or the Tooth as his tribe called it, represented the last solid landmark before one entered the region of the shifting sands. With the tiny spring bubbling at its base, it also represented the last source of fresh water for miles.

Sensing the nearness of water, Ahmad's mount, a golden bay stallion called Sham, knickered softly and pulled at the reins. A trill of excitement ran down the string of horses he led as well. Ahmad smiled.

"Yes," he said in his own dialect. "All of you will be seeing water and rest before you know it." He reached down and patted Sham's neck.

The horse responded by shaking his small, graceful head and dancing a few steps sideways. Ahmad's smile broadened. Absently, he gave the horse's glistening neck an extra caress and dismounted.

"We've made good time," he added softly, but all the while, his dark, amber-flecked eyes scanned the horizons. A scorching wind blew in from the north, but there was nothing other than sand and swaying grasses as far as the eye could see. At least that is what he thought at first, but his attention was caught by what seemed to be movement, a cloud of dust, growing against the southern horizon. That should be his kinsman, Yusef al Rahman, riding up to join him. They were to take on the region of the sand together. Leaving the shadow of the rock, Ahmad moved a few steps toward the distant dust cloud. Whoever it was, he was riding hard and fast.

Ahmad had initially planned to camp at the rock that night and wait until dusk of the following day before entering the open sand. From there, he and Yusef would travel due north until they reached the Fatwa Oasis. A large and busy oasis, it was the ideal place for them to resupply from the traders who seemed to have semi-permanent encampments there. Also, it would give the horses a chance to rest, not to mention himself an opportunity to catch up with the news from the rest of the world. He planned to make the journey from the rock to the oasis at night when there were stars to guide them, and there was some respite from the oppressive heat. After all, they couldn't very well deliver a string of starving and heat-ravaged animals to the King of Harad. Some gift that would make... an insult more likely.

Keeping one eye on the rapidly approaching dust cloud in the south, Ahmad saw to the horses. Once they had been watered and tethered out to graze, he pitched his own tent and built a small fire. In addition to Sham and his packhorse, Ahmad had in his charge five saddlehorses that were intended as a gift to the King of Harad from Ahmad's father, the headman of the Painted Sand Tribe. Actually, the horses were not so much a gift as a bribe. For years, Ahmad's tribe had sent a tribute of horses to Umbar. Small and fast, they were better suited to the desert than the great horses of Rohan far to the north. As a result, the Painted Sand horses were much sought after in the region and considered immensely valuable. In return for the annual gift of horses, the tribe received a relative lack of interference from the Haradrim in general and were pretty much left to themselves to do as they would. But lately...

Ahmad glanced up at the now darkening sky. Lately, a shadow had fallen across the land and was spreading rapidly across the desert. Rumors told of a Red Eye and of how in the cities, fearful acolytes preached a new religion, one of bloodshed and stygian doom. New converts flocked to its banner every day. Even among the members of his own relatively isolated tribe, he had noticed a stark factionalism growing between the traditionalists and the followers of the new faith. The young men especially, many of them Ahmad's own peers, had taken to wearing their weapons openly. They refused to tend to the horses as they had always done in the past, preferring instead to hang together in packs on the fringes of the encampment, fingering their daggers and watching. Waiting. They reminded Ahmad of jackals.

Ahmad's father, Ishak bin Ishak, had noticed this, too, and been concerned enough to send Ahmad north with an additional string of horses. Ahamd found himself wondering if they were not already too late. After all, the moral decay had already infected the blood of his kinsmen. Soon it would eat away at the bone.

At first, Ahmad had been relieved to take on the task of delivering the horses, but now, two days out from his tribe's encampment, he worried for the safety of his aging parents and of his two sisters, Chani and Shushila. He should have stayed at their sides and let another play the part of messenger boy to the king.

Having laid out his camp, Ahmad again walked toward the rising dust cloud in the south. The rider would be upon him shortly. Ahmad could now hear clearly the hoofbeats of the galloping horse. He waited. Moments later, the rider reined his black mount to an abrupt halt before Ahmad. Caked in dust and sweat, his face fully covered but the eyes by his headshawl, the rider leapt from his horse. Quickly, he approached Ahmad. Crossed swords clanked softly under his robe.

"Hail, kinsman!" he said breathlessly. It was Yusef.

"Hail, cousin," replied Ahmad. His eyes flicked to the lathered flanks of the black horse. "You have been riding hard. What are the tidings? What prompts such urgency?"

Yusef lowered the tail of his headshawl to reveal his dark, dusty face. "Things go ill with our tribe. The night you left there was a knifing. Your father has the guilty man bound and under guard, but there are rumblngs of anger, especially among our peers. We must return at once."

Immediately, Ahmad pictured the hungry, watchful eyes of the Jackals, as he had come to think of them. He had known there would be trouble. He should never have left. "And my father? How is he?"

"Angry. He never walks the camp unguarded. Guards watch your family's compound at all times."

"And my mother? My sisters?"

"They are well and safe for the moment."

For the moment, echoed Ahmad mentally. "We return at once," he said brusquely. "There are dates and dried meats by the fire. Feed yourself while I break camp. We will move your saddle to another horse and start back immediately." Without giving Yusef a chance to respond, he turned and vanished into his tent. The first items he reached for were his swords. With the camp broken and fresh horses saddled, they were riding southward again within the hour, the great rock sinking into the grassland behind them like a fading memory.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]