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piosenniel · 07-21-2003, 02:46 PM

Ealasaid's post

BRIELLAH and AHMAD

Briellah watched as Jamilah walked away, fighting against the feeling in her heart that she would never see her old friend again. As Jamilah disappeared into the bustle of the breaking camp, Briellah turned her attention back to matters at hand. The stove would have to be packed. Shushila and poor Chani were both veiled and ready to travel. All that was left were the final goodbyes. She had already spoken with her husband, Ishak. He had gone now to the tent, which would henceforth serve as both his lodging and his headquarters. Only her son was left.

Ahmad had worked hard through the majority of the afternoon to pack up Briellah’s belongings and those of his sisters. When Jamilah had arrived for their final talk, she had sent him away on a errand to his aunt in the Grass clan, but now she could see his tall figure returning. Watching him approach, she fingered the vial in her pocket. Jamilah had given it to her some days earlier, before her daughter had been maimed, before the little children of both tribes had been eviscerated and hung like slaughtered game from that tree. She would give it to him, she decided, as she walked forward to meet him. Perhaps she could not save him, but she would help him as much as she could.

Thinking back, she remembered how Ahmad had always been a joy, a good boy, even as a baby, the pride of her life. As a young boy, he had been a mischievous lad, bright and diffident. Now, watching him make his way through the camp, she saw the man he had become. He was strong-featured like his father, but taller, with the same air of leadership. All his life, he had been groomed to succeed his father as the head man of the Painted Sand tribe, but it had been at a cost. His father treated him more as a captain of the guard than as a son. And Ahmad responded in kind, taking orders and carrying out his duties emotionlessly, but the streak of rebellion remained. She saw that in his refusal to take a bride, his stubborn insistence on taking his turn watching after the tribal horses, and in riding side by side with his cousins into battle, rather than leading the women and children into flight.

Reaching him, Briellah embraced him and, drawing his face down to hers, kissed each of his bearded cheeks. “Come,” she said, gesturing to the two mats she had earlier laid out for herself and Jamilah. “Sit with me awhile. We should talk before I go.”

Ahmad smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I would love to, mother, but time grows short. You should be going. Are Chani and Shushu ready?”

She nodded. “Yes, I sent them on with Tamira. They wait for me with the others.”

He looked around at the stove and the mats still open on the ground. “These things should have been packed hours ago.” He walked over and began to roll up the mats. Briellah watched him with tears rising in her eyes.

“Leave the stove,” she said abruptly. When he looked over at her in surprise, she nodded. “Leave it. You or your father may need it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she shushed him with a gesture. “Besides,” she finished softly. “It’s still too hot to bother with. I have another stove. Now, if you can’t sit with me, at least walk with me a ways. I am still your mother.”

Tucking the two mats under his arm, Ahmad retrieved his mother’s horse from its tether a short distance away and helped her into the saddle. Once she was settled, he lashed the two mats to the back of the saddle. Briellah caught his hand and pushed the vial she had gotten from Jamilah into his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she said, “This was a gift from Jamilah. She told me to use it cautiously. I choose instead to pass it on to you. It is a poison from the tree toad of the south. Do not let it touch your skin, but dip your blades lightly in it. It will paralyze and stop the heart of your foe.”

Ahmad opened his hand and looked at the clay bottle with its cork stopper. When he looked back at his mother, she smiled. “I can no longer protect you as I did when you were a child. I cannot stop you from fighting at the side of your father if that is what you wish to do. But I can give you what aid I have at my disposal. Use it well.”

She laid her hand by the side of his face. “You are a good son. I will be waiting by the shore of the inland sea.” With that, she chucked to the horse and rode away, feeling as though her heart had been torn.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

07-21-2003, 02:46 PM	#109
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Ealasaid's post BRIELLAH and AHMAD Briellah watched as Jamilah walked away, fighting against the feeling in her heart that she would never see her old friend again. As Jamilah disappeared into the bustle of the breaking camp, Briellah turned her attention back to matters at hand. The stove would have to be packed. Shushila and poor Chani were both veiled and ready to travel. All that was left were the final goodbyes. She had already spoken with her husband, Ishak. He had gone now to the tent, which would henceforth serve as both his lodging and his headquarters. Only her son was left. Ahmad had worked hard through the majority of the afternoon to pack up Briellah’s belongings and those of his sisters. When Jamilah had arrived for their final talk, she had sent him away on a errand to his aunt in the Grass clan, but now she could see his tall figure returning. Watching him approach, she fingered the vial in her pocket. Jamilah had given it to her some days earlier, before her daughter had been maimed, before the little children of both tribes had been eviscerated and hung like slaughtered game from that tree. She would give it to him, she decided, as she walked forward to meet him. Perhaps she could not save him, but she would help him as much as she could. Thinking back, she remembered how Ahmad had always been a joy, a good boy, even as a baby, the pride of her life. As a young boy, he had been a mischievous lad, bright and diffident. Now, watching him make his way through the camp, she saw the man he had become. He was strong-featured like his father, but taller, with the same air of leadership. All his life, he had been groomed to succeed his father as the head man of the Painted Sand tribe, but it had been at a cost. His father treated him more as a captain of the guard than as a son. And Ahmad responded in kind, taking orders and carrying out his duties emotionlessly, but the streak of rebellion remained. She saw that in his refusal to take a bride, his stubborn insistence on taking his turn watching after the tribal horses, and in riding side by side with his cousins into battle, rather than leading the women and children into flight. Reaching him, Briellah embraced him and, drawing his face down to hers, kissed each of his bearded cheeks. “Come,” she said, gesturing to the two mats she had earlier laid out for herself and Jamilah. “Sit with me awhile. We should talk before I go.” Ahmad smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I would love to, mother, but time grows short. You should be going. Are Chani and Shushu ready?” She nodded. “Yes, I sent them on with Tamira. They wait for me with the others.” He looked around at the stove and the mats still open on the ground. “These things should have been packed hours ago.” He walked over and began to roll up the mats. Briellah watched him with tears rising in her eyes. “Leave the stove,” she said abruptly. When he looked over at her in surprise, she nodded. “Leave it. You or your father may need it.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she shushed him with a gesture. “Besides,” she finished softly. “It’s still too hot to bother with. I have another stove. Now, if you can’t sit with me, at least walk with me a ways. I am still your mother.” Tucking the two mats under his arm, Ahmad retrieved his mother’s horse from its tether a short distance away and helped her into the saddle. Once she was settled, he lashed the two mats to the back of the saddle. Briellah caught his hand and pushed the vial she had gotten from Jamilah into his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she said, “This was a gift from Jamilah. She told me to use it cautiously. I choose instead to pass it on to you. It is a poison from the tree toad of the south. Do not let it touch your skin, but dip your blades lightly in it. It will paralyze and stop the heart of your foe.” Ahmad opened his hand and looked at the clay bottle with its cork stopper. When he looked back at his mother, she smiled. “I can no longer protect you as I did when you were a child. I cannot stop you from fighting at the side of your father if that is what you wish to do. But I can give you what aid I have at my disposal. Use it well.” She laid her hand by the side of his face. “You are a good son. I will be waiting by the shore of the inland sea.” With that, she chucked to the horse and rode away, feeling as though her heart had been torn. [ July 23, 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.