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piosenniel · 08-12-2003, 12:27 PM

Ealasaid's post

Ahmad and Adhem, both with their faces concealed behind their head shawls but for the eyes, rode among the mounted escort for the Painted Sand elders as they went to meet the priestess and her soldiers. Faruq of the Baobab tribe, it had been decided, was to do the talking for the combined tribes, but the Painted Sand elders, Ishak bin Ishak at their front, stood beside him, their faces fully revealed. They wished the Priestess to see who it was that rejected her and the deceit and death offered to them by service to her and the Eye. The warriors’ faces did not need to be seen. That they were warriors was enough.

Ahmad watched his father. He stood at Faruq’s right hand, his sword drawn, its point buried in the sand at his feet. It looked like a resting stance, but Ahmad knew that if a single move was made by the any of the priestess’ men toward Faruq, the blade would flash out like lightning. Ishak’s face remained imperturbable as Faruq and the priestess exchanged words. Ahmad held his own sword drawn and resting, idly it seemed, across the front of his saddle, yet the muscles of his forearm clinched every time the priestess spoke. Her voice was the sound of a corpse‘s breath, and her promises, the promises of death. He had to fight the temptation to spur his horse forward into the lot of them, to smite her down as she spoke, but he knew by the look of the large, black-haired warrior to her right, that he would never have made it so far. He would have been sliced in two. Just as his father was braced to protect Faruq, this man was there to guard the priestess.

His time would come. Ahmad cut quick glance at Adhem, but Adhem’s eyes were fixed on the priestess’ face with a look of black hatred. He wondered if Adhem had been having the same thought about charging the priestess as he had had. He also wondered if that might not have been the work of the Eye, goading them all into foolish action. Adhem’s horse danced a step forward. Ahmad pulled up on the reins of his own mount. He would not charge unless his father gave the signal. Ishak remained still as a stone monolith, his sword gleaming in the bright sunlight.

“Return to your slave-master!” ordered Faruq. “Let him listen to your words. We will listen no more.”

The warrior at the side of the priestess raised his hand to silence the rattling of swords that rose behind him at the sound of Faruq’s words. Ahmad and the other mounted warriors moved slowly forward, their swords at the ready, waiting only for the sign from Ishak, who remained motionless and silent. There was a tense moment in which the two sides opposed each other, each silently daring the other to strike the first blow. Then, the moment passed.

The priestess and her soldiers turned to depart. A party of Baobab hunters that included Husam trailed the group out of the valley, followed at a distance by Ahmad and a host of five horsemen. Ahmad felt a chill race down his spine as he saw the young Baobab tracker leap from his place of concealment and charge the departing group only to be brought down by a single blow from the black-haired warrior. It might have been himself or Adhem or any of them. He had a feeling they had all felt the same horrible impulse. Only this young man had not had the strength to resist it. Ahmad felt a darkness close around his heart as the soulless laughter of the priestess echoed across the valley to them as she watched her men desecrate the tribesman’s body with their spears. Frowning, Ahmad nudged his horse forward with his heels. The time for vengeance was coming.

They followed the departing group only as far as the mouth of the valley, then turned back toward the camp of the combined tribes. The ride back was swift and silent but for the pounding of the horses‘ hooves in the dust.

[ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

08-12-2003, 12:27 PM	#147
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Ealasaid's post Ahmad and Adhem, both with their faces concealed behind their head shawls but for the eyes, rode among the mounted escort for the Painted Sand elders as they went to meet the priestess and her soldiers. Faruq of the Baobab tribe, it had been decided, was to do the talking for the combined tribes, but the Painted Sand elders, Ishak bin Ishak at their front, stood beside him, their faces fully revealed. They wished the Priestess to see who it was that rejected her and the deceit and death offered to them by service to her and the Eye. The warriors’ faces did not need to be seen. That they were warriors was enough. Ahmad watched his father. He stood at Faruq’s right hand, his sword drawn, its point buried in the sand at his feet. It looked like a resting stance, but Ahmad knew that if a single move was made by the any of the priestess’ men toward Faruq, the blade would flash out like lightning. Ishak’s face remained imperturbable as Faruq and the priestess exchanged words. Ahmad held his own sword drawn and resting, idly it seemed, across the front of his saddle, yet the muscles of his forearm clinched every time the priestess spoke. Her voice was the sound of a corpse‘s breath, and her promises, the promises of death. He had to fight the temptation to spur his horse forward into the lot of them, to smite her down as she spoke, but he knew by the look of the large, black-haired warrior to her right, that he would never have made it so far. He would have been sliced in two. Just as his father was braced to protect Faruq, this man was there to guard the priestess. His time would come. Ahmad cut quick glance at Adhem, but Adhem’s eyes were fixed on the priestess’ face with a look of black hatred. He wondered if Adhem had been having the same thought about charging the priestess as he had had. He also wondered if that might not have been the work of the Eye, goading them all into foolish action. Adhem’s horse danced a step forward. Ahmad pulled up on the reins of his own mount. He would not charge unless his father gave the signal. Ishak remained still as a stone monolith, his sword gleaming in the bright sunlight. “Return to your slave-master!” ordered Faruq. “Let him listen to your words. We will listen no more.” The warrior at the side of the priestess raised his hand to silence the rattling of swords that rose behind him at the sound of Faruq’s words. Ahmad and the other mounted warriors moved slowly forward, their swords at the ready, waiting only for the sign from Ishak, who remained motionless and silent. There was a tense moment in which the two sides opposed each other, each silently daring the other to strike the first blow. Then, the moment passed. The priestess and her soldiers turned to depart. A party of Baobab hunters that included Husam trailed the group out of the valley, followed at a distance by Ahmad and a host of five horsemen. Ahmad felt a chill race down his spine as he saw the young Baobab tracker leap from his place of concealment and charge the departing group only to be brought down by a single blow from the black-haired warrior. It might have been himself or Adhem or any of them. He had a feeling they had all felt the same horrible impulse. Only this young man had not had the strength to resist it. Ahmad felt a darkness close around his heart as the soulless laughter of the priestess echoed across the valley to them as she watched her men desecrate the tribesman’s body with their spears. Frowning, Ahmad nudged his horse forward with his heels. The time for vengeance was coming. They followed the departing group only as far as the mouth of the valley, then turned back toward the camp of the combined tribes. The ride back was swift and silent but for the pounding of the horses‘ hooves in the dust. [ August 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.