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Ealasaid · 06-24-2003, 06:35 PM

FOUAD

Fouad lay alone in the dust, bound hand and foot, waiting to die. He had committed the ultimate sin of the Painted Sand people in killing one of his own in cold blood. It was only right that he should die for it. He was actually surprised that he had not been executed on the spot by his own uncles, but Ishak bin Ishak had forbidden it, saying that the camp had been tainted enough already by bloodshed. Such a thing was an evil omen. The execution would have to take place later, at a location outside the camp, where Fouad's blood would only serve to nourish the prairie grasses. And, now, that time had come. The four elders had taken him at noon to the chosen location, where they now stood around him, their faces cowled and their eyes grim.

Fouad smiled to himself. Ishak bin Ishak was a foolish old man. He had no idea what evil was. Fouad thought longingly of the red stone. He did not know where it had come from, but it had come to him, and through it, he had felt the power of the Eye. Through the red stone, the Voice of the Eye had spoken to him, told him things about power and the great change that would soon be sweeping across the desert on the swords of emissaries from the north. Fouad remembered standing alone among the swaying grasses, holding the beautiful stone up to the light, letting its red shadow bleed across his face, thinking, yes! Change must come. The Elder Way must perish before the beauty and power of the Eye. He had made plans. He had spoken with many of the other young people of the tribe, brought them to the Eye.

But then that idiot Mahir had taken the stone from him. A notorious prankster, Mahir had thought it funny the way Fouad had treasured the stone. He had stolen it as a joke and, in doing so, dishonored the stone and, through it, the Eye. For that, Mahir had to die and Fouad had killed him.

Fouad looked up into the eyes of his elders as, one by one, they unsheathed their curved swords. Yes, kill me! he thought. My blood may spill today, but yours will flow tomorrow. And he smiled as the first sword descended toward his throat.

************************************************

BRIELLAH

Briellah Ishak bin Ishak greeted her old friend Jamilah of the Baobab Tribe with a feeling of apprehension. Jamilah's trading party had arrived under the guard of five warriors. While that might not have been unusual for her own warrior tribe, it was disturbing to see weapons worn so openly by the Baobab men. They had always been such peaceful people. As Briellah took the carry basket from Jamilah and led her away to her own tent for some sweetened qawah, her mind raced ahead. There was so much she wanted to discuss with Jamilah, not the least of which was the troubling execution of the young man from the Rain clan. She could tell Jamilah was eager to talk as well.

Once they had reached the privacy of Briellah's tent and the qawah had been served, Briellah swirled the rich liquid around in the bottom of her cup without drinking. Finally, deciding she must speak frankly, she smiled sadly and raised her eyes.

"It is so good to see you, my old friend," she said quietly. "I wish we could speak of nothing but trading and other happy matters like the impending wedding of my daughter, but I fear that the time for that has past. There is much unrest amongst the young people of my tribe. I can only say that I have been blessed in that my own children remain true to the old ways. The others frighten me. There is only contempt in their eyes when there is not blankness. They are like vipers, coiled and waiting to strike. I have seen the same look in the eyes of the young of the other tribes we have traded with as well, the Khalish, and the Fazad. Tell me your tribe has not been infected, as well."

She looked imploringly at Jamilah, hoping against hope that Jamilah would be able to deny it, but the look in Jamilah's eyes told her everything. The Baobab had not been spared. Briellah's heart sank. She did not understand what was happening to the young people, but it seemed to be happening everywhere, to every tribe.

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

06-24-2003, 06:35 PM	#52
Ealasaid Wight Join Date: May 2003 Location: under a large pile of dirt & gravel Posts: 193	FOUAD Fouad lay alone in the dust, bound hand and foot, waiting to die. He had committed the ultimate sin of the Painted Sand people in killing one of his own in cold blood. It was only right that he should die for it. He was actually surprised that he had not been executed on the spot by his own uncles, but Ishak bin Ishak had forbidden it, saying that the camp had been tainted enough already by bloodshed. Such a thing was an evil omen. The execution would have to take place later, at a location outside the camp, where Fouad's blood would only serve to nourish the prairie grasses. And, now, that time had come. The four elders had taken him at noon to the chosen location, where they now stood around him, their faces cowled and their eyes grim. Fouad smiled to himself. Ishak bin Ishak was a foolish old man. He had no idea what evil was. Fouad thought longingly of the red stone. He did not know where it had come from, but it had come to him, and through it, he had felt the power of the Eye. Through the red stone, the Voice of the Eye had spoken to him, told him things about power and the great change that would soon be sweeping across the desert on the swords of emissaries from the north. Fouad remembered standing alone among the swaying grasses, holding the beautiful stone up to the light, letting its red shadow bleed across his face, thinking, yes! Change must come. The Elder Way must perish before the beauty and power of the Eye. He had made plans. He had spoken with many of the other young people of the tribe, brought them to the Eye. But then that idiot Mahir had taken the stone from him. A notorious prankster, Mahir had thought it funny the way Fouad had treasured the stone. He had stolen it as a joke and, in doing so, dishonored the stone and, through it, the Eye. For that, Mahir had to die and Fouad had killed him. Fouad looked up into the eyes of his elders as, one by one, they unsheathed their curved swords. Yes, kill me! he thought. My blood may spill today, but yours will flow tomorrow. And he smiled as the first sword descended toward his throat. ************************************************ BRIELLAH Briellah Ishak bin Ishak greeted her old friend Jamilah of the Baobab Tribe with a feeling of apprehension. Jamilah's trading party had arrived under the guard of five warriors. While that might not have been unusual for her own warrior tribe, it was disturbing to see weapons worn so openly by the Baobab men. They had always been such peaceful people. As Briellah took the carry basket from Jamilah and led her away to her own tent for some sweetened qawah, her mind raced ahead. There was so much she wanted to discuss with Jamilah, not the least of which was the troubling execution of the young man from the Rain clan. She could tell Jamilah was eager to talk as well. Once they had reached the privacy of Briellah's tent and the qawah had been served, Briellah swirled the rich liquid around in the bottom of her cup without drinking. Finally, deciding she must speak frankly, she smiled sadly and raised her eyes. "It is so good to see you, my old friend," she said quietly. "I wish we could speak of nothing but trading and other happy matters like the impending wedding of my daughter, but I fear that the time for that has past. There is much unrest amongst the young people of my tribe. I can only say that I have been blessed in that my own children remain true to the old ways. The others frighten me. There is only contempt in their eyes when there is not blankness. They are like vipers, coiled and waiting to strike. I have seen the same look in the eyes of the young of the other tribes we have traded with as well, the Khalish, and the Fazad. Tell me your tribe has not been infected, as well." She looked imploringly at Jamilah, hoping against hope that Jamilah would be able to deny it, but the look in Jamilah's eyes told her everything. The Baobab had not been spared. Briellah's heart sank. She did not understand what was happening to the young people, but it seemed to be happening everywhere, to every tribe. [ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]