[https://i.imgur.com/Ygd82FX.jpg]

We were nearing the spot where I’d seen visions of Balak. But the road lay clear now and I carefully watched the bushes. A bit odd imagining that man hiding in a bush, though. A part of me felt that I knew him enough to know he wouldn’t be hiding like that. I kept my eyes open regardless.

“We were all Roman once,” I heard Rabia say to Yaseen. I couldn’t make out what they were discussing. The soft lap of the canal stream interrupted their voices. It was my suggestion we follow the canal north through the olive fields, rather than take the road. The mule didn’t like it too much; I had to keep kicking him forward.

Either I was Balak, or he was someone close to me that I’d wronged. Someone with enough of a grudge to stalk me in empty roads in the corner of Shaam. But you see through his eyes, don’t you? Through his mask.

Maybe I should travel further into the desert in the east, reach Palmyra, and see if my past still followed me there.

“A Francolin cannot fly,” Rabia’s voice rose.

Yaseen was shaking his head, “You’re wrong, I’ve seen it.”

“It doesn’t matter if you have.”

They’d come to a stop and were peering through a clearing, into the stream beyond. As I approached them, the boy put a finger to his lips, “Shh!” They were watching waterfowl on the far bank of the river. The birds fluttered their wings, sending sprays of water that created small rainbows.

“Beautiful,” I said.

“God be praised,” Rabia said.

“Rabia says Francolin cannot fly.”

“I don’t think they can,” I said.

“I believe they can,” Yaseen replied.

A Francolin twitched it’s neck, eyes staring at us cautiously. It had a bright red neck and body like a partridge but longer and slender. It hopped into the bushes and Yaseen held his breath, hoping to be proven right. But none of them took flight, and were content with exploring the bank.

Yaseen jumped through the clearing and waved his hands, “Fly!”

The birds scattered, some jumped and hopped into the bushes. One fluttered it’s wings as if to fly but fell back down and ran after the others.

“I told you,” Rabia told a dejected Yaseen.

“I still think you’re wrong, they can fly if they want to,” the boy said as he trudged back. “Never mind, let’s go. We’re here.”

Rabia glanced at me curiously before picking up her skirts and catching up to Yaseen, “It’s not your fault,” she continued, “their appearance can be deceiving, but they can never fly. It’s simply not in their nature.”

Yaseen muttered something and Rabia laughed. The boy looked back smiling and gestured for me to hurry, “Come, we’re here. Walk faster.”

The donkey didn’t like me pulling at his reins too much but soon got the message I wanted to walk faster and increased his lazy pace. A dirt pathway formed in the field through the wet crane-brakes and soon we were surrounded by jujube trees. I could see the old barn now, and there were horsemen waiting for us. Bedouins.

The farm was surrounded by a group of Numayri Bedouins. Two of them on horseback, circling the barn. Three on foot, confronting Yaseen and Rabia as they hopped over the fence. The young woman held the boy back as he tried to wave my sword at them.

“Numayri aren’t welcome on my farm,” the boy cried. “Get out!”

“Yaseen, stop!” I dropped the reins and cleared the fence, my feet smacked down with a sharp pain up my leg.

“I think that’s him,” someone said.

“Who?”

“What do you want?” I asked the man in the middle. He had a big belly and was much shorter than the others. But his beard was grey and his agal and sleeve embroidery had markings of a Clan Elder. My heart pounded at the sight of their weapons. It was happening. I was looking forward to something. Thin garbs and sloppy feet. You should be able to deal with them.

“Yaseen,” I said, holding out my hand for the sword. For once, the boy didn’t argue. He handed me the scabbard. I noticed he’d somehow managed to untie the knot I’d made. I didn’t pull it out though. Not yet. Wait for the perfect moment.

The Bedouins had begun arguing among themselves.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

One of the horsemen who’d been circling the barn trotted over, “We can’t stay here for long. Who are these people?”

“I think that’s him,” the footman pointed to me again.

The horseman turned to me. His hawkish eyes judged me, lingering on my thigh. “How did you get that wound?”

“What do you want?”

“Answer me, or I will run you through.”

“Just release the beast and be done with this,” the Elder said bitterly.

“Not before I cut this coward down,” the young horseman said. His mare seemed to notice his focus and stomped her feet towards me.

And so it began to unfold. The moment I’d been waiting for with bated breath, as the Elder quickened his pace out towards the dirt road, and Rabia pulled Yaseen back behind her. Everyone else was still; the footmen nervous, the horseman waiting for his Elder to leave.

Not yet, I thought. I can’t make a move yet. And they seemed experienced enough to not make a move either.

“I asked you a question, where did you get that wound?“ As the horseman spoke, he nudged his mare so that his right side, his sword-arm, lined up where I stood. It was meant to seem like a harmless movement, led by a skittish horse. But the flick of the man’s ankle was enough for me. He’d made the first move, and so, I would not be responsible for my actions. Now!

I jumped on the man closest to me. By pure reflex, he held his hands to protect himself and my blade chopped into his palm. The man folded over in a pitiful cry, holding his bloody hand and rolling away desperately, thinking I’d continue.

But I pounced on his companion, who’d had enough time to pull out a thin, straight blade the Bedouins often used. The horseman bounced around excitedly, looking for a clean path but I pressured the footman to move between us.

“Don’t kill him, he’s mine,” the horseman said.

But this only confused the man in front of me. Unsure of what to do, he retreated as I gained on him, repelling my first hits as I chopped at him from above. His only answer were feeble thrusts as he tried to offer his commander a clear path forward.

“Just get out of the way!” the horseman yelled.

Under pressure, the Bedouin gave his back to me and I managed to stab him in the spine. A clean thrust, slipping in four inches into a spot in the smaller back that I was disturbingly familiar with.

Hooves beat viciously behind me as the horseman charged. I didn’t waste time looking back. Knowing exactly which way he was facing, I swerved out of the way of his sword arm.

He managed to kick me as he passed—a sharp jab to the ribs— and I fell hard on my back, gasping for air. You’re fine. No pain. Breath deep.

“Stay back,” the horseman yelled. And I thought he was speaking to his footman, so I rolled over to see if he’d come after me again. But it was Yaseen and he was trying to get to me.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Don’t!” I called to him.

“Keep the child back,” the horseman commanded Rabia and she listened, yanking Yaseen back into the bushes.

This gave me time to get to my feet, as weak as they were with the stinging in my thigh. With watery eyes, I searched for the farm’s well and saw a pile of gray in front of the barn. The hooves thundered again.

I turned in time and our swords clashed, threatening to break my wrist. The horseman cursed, frustrated at my defense. But his momentum would break my hands eventually. I had to get to the well.

Wiping my eyes, I limped to the old stone as the Bedouin rider circled his mare around. She was just as agitated as her master, flaring her nostrils as they faced me again.

As he charged, the man’s sword missed me by inches as I hopped around the well to dodge him. If he’d had a lance or spear, I would have taken a hit either way. And he seemed to realize that as he turned and yelled to the second horseman by the barn; who’d come to a stop and was watching our messy skirmish.

“I don’t have a spear,” the other Bedouin shrugged. “We need to go. Leave him for the Tuqtuq. The cavaliers might come soon.”

“To hell with Murtaza, we had a deal with Zengi.”

Yaruq Zengi?

The second horseman was visibly agitated at this, “Kill him, then,” he snarled, tossing over what looked like a short javelin. I didn’t wait for my attacker to catch the weapon and launched myself over the well. The mare hopped back in response and the javelin dropped away from the man’s outstretched hand.

He yanked at the reins but couldn’t move away from my harried attacks. I chopped on his leg, drawing blood after several cuts.

The man twirled the horse around and the mare smashed her neck against me.

I lost my breath again, hitting the ground hard, this time landing on my hips. Paralyzed in a fit of pain, I rubbed at my tears and the light dancing on the edge of my vision. Keep him in sight, fool!

“Clear away,” the second horseman yelled, “clear away!”

“That’s enough.” The elder Bedouin was back. “Umar, that’s enough,” he commanded the bloodied horseman, who’d managed to finally snatch the javelin off the ground. The command of the older man was enough for him to put the weapon away. He spat angrily at my feet.

“Release the blight on these cursed people, then,” he said.

“Pick him up,” the Elder pointed to the wounded footman.

Both horsemen trotted off to pull the others up. “God be with you,” the second rider murmured as he passed me by.

The group scurried off past the fence as I watched but I had a sinking feeling about the cage on their wagon. Where was Yaseen? I turned too quickly and fell. It was getting harder and harder to get back up with my injury.

“Munqidh!”

Yaseen’s head poked out of the barn, waving his hand furiously. “It’s a Tuqtuq, they brought a Tuqtuq!”

He held the barn door open as I rushed in and slammed it shut behind me, working the locks and pulling a log in front of the tall doors. Rabia stepped in and helped the boy drag the largest of the logs.

“You should’ve run back to the Han,” I said, stretching myself to catch my breath. My chest felt tight so I raised my arms up behind my head.

“You’re a murderer,” Rabia said simply.

I turned to find Rabia pulling Yaseen away from me and standing between us. “You were always a murderer.” She didn’t seem scared, however, and drew a small knife from inside her robes. “You will remain a murderer.”

“I don’t know why they attacked me.”

“You attacked them.”

“They thought I was someone else.”

“You have no idea what’s going on with you, do you?” Rabia said, acting as if she knew something I didn’t.

I stepped forward and the woman raised her knife. An unusually strong impulse to drive my sword through her chest pulled at my hand. Do it. She will—

Before I could act, Yaseen shoved his way in front of Rabia.

“Stay back, boy.”

“Stop fighting, my cows are in trouble!”

“The Tuquq,” I said, “Did you see it?”

Yaseen nodded, “The fat man was pulling it’s cage here while you were fighting those men.”

“We shouldn’t have come here,” Rabia said.

“It’s too late,” I replied and moved to the shutters beside the barricaded doors. They pulled aside easy enough, giving me a clear view of the center of the farm, where the wagon now stood beside the old well. The cage door was open. Something moved inside.

“Can I see it?” Yaseen tried to squeeze in front me, sounding more eager than anything.

“It’s not pretty.”

As we watched the Blighted animal, Rabia watched me from the side. She sees you for who you are. Someone finally sees you.

The Tuqtuq slowly slithered out of its cage. Yaseen made a disgusted sound as the blighted beast raised its scaly face and tasted the air with a serpentine tongue. Beneath the scales and the disfigured face, were dark eyes that had once belonged to a cheetah.

“Are those wings?” Yaseen asked as bony wings unfurled from the beast’s body.

“They’re useless,” I replied.

“So it can’t fly?”

“It can jump high enough to be a problem either way. We need to stay in here until a cavalier arrives.”

“We can run,” Rabia said.

“It’s going to eat Chubu!”

“No one is doing anything,” I said firmly, “I’m sorry, Yaseen, but that beast will kill any cattle around here.”

“I have the spear.”

“We need a crossbow or a javelin,” I explained, “It’s better to wait for support. You said the cavaliers come for patrol around here?”

“They already came yesterday,” Yaseen said and then was quiet, staring out at the blighted cheetah.

“I’ll make a run for it, while it’s distracted,” Rabia said, “Maybe I can get to the Han at least to warn the others.”

“No one is going anywhere,” I said, this time stepping in front of the barricaded door. “You cannot outrun that thing.” Maybe you should let her try, after all.

“My cows—“

“Your cows are dead, Yaseen,” Rabia said, “We can use them as distraction.”

“I’m not abandoning them!”

“This farm is useless, boy. It always was,” Rabia snapped, “But go ahead, go risk your life for dung.”

Yaseen deflated.

“Where is your father? Wasn’t he supposed to come back for you by now?” I asked. This quieted them both; Rabia opened her mouth but decided not to say anything as she watched the boy shuffle off to the back of the barn and disappear behind a pile of rotting hay.

“His father won’t be back for a few days, if at all,” Rabia whispered to me.

“And he’s living out here alone?” I asked. Why would the boy have lied to me? To protect himself?

“His father was an addict after he survived the war. Yaseen was taking care of the cattle even when he was alive and well.” Rabia explained.

“The Emir doesn’t just confiscate?”

Rabia shrugged, “I don’t even think he knows or cares much. His Atabeg occasionally comes out here to make sure the boy’s alright from time to time. From the blight and from people like you.”

“Tell me what you have against me, then. Go on.”

“Don’t threaten me,” she hissed.

“I’m not—“ I began but quickly realized my hand rested on my hilt. “I’m sorry.“ It’s too late to apologize, though. She already knows what kind of a person you are.

“It’s not your fault,” Rabia said slowly. “Or maybe it is, who knows.”

“What’s not my fault?”

“Catching the Blight.”

“I—”

“Who are you?”

“Munqidh,” I lied, my throat drying and the pain across my body threatening to crumple me to the floor. You’re Blighted. That would explain so much.

“Can you properly remember your past—“

“I can.”

“Your name? Your identity?”

My wounds spread coldness and chill up my body and I had to sit down, clawing for my tattered cloak to wrap tighter around my shoulders. She knows!

“You don’t know what you speak of,” I stammered.

Rabia stepped closer and, carefully, stretched her hand out. She held fingers close to my face, “what do you smell?”

She reeked of ash and smoke. I slapped her hand away, “Stay away from me.”

“I’m Blighted too,” she said simply.

“Enough, Rabia.”

“We’re no different from what’s out there. It’s over for us. Don’t you see?” Rabia fell to her knees in front of me, her eyes barely visible behind her frizzy hair. She looked like a madwoman. That’s why Samir Ali was with her; she had to be a patient of his. “We’re going to die here,” she continued.

“I think you need to calm yourself,” I said, slowly grabbing her hands. The stench of burnt flesh and ash filled my nose but I tried not to cough. “We will get out of this.”

Rabia teetered on her toes, looking at me but her eyes were glazed over, as if she was seeing something else beyond me.

“It’s all fated,” she continued. “There is no future for God. He already showed us what we deserve. What we have always deserved.”

There was a crash outside and both of us froze. Silence followed, until a moan rose from out in the fields. A cow was being eaten.

“Listen to me,” Rabia continued, but this time in a whisper. “Maybe I can distract it. You can take the boy back to the Han and inside the town.”

“Nobody is getting hurt.” She was wrong. I thought of Samir Ali’s kind eyes and gentle hands. He would want us to have hope.

“It’s better that we die so the boy has a chance to live.”

She truly was completely insane. “Please Rabia, you need to control yourself.”

“God has fated this, Munqidh.”

“There’s hope for the future,” I said, but it sounded silly. I wished Samir Ali was here. I barely knew the young physician but I knew he would know what words to use in this situation.

Rabia pulled herself up slowly and wiped her face.

“There is always hope,” I repeated.

“What did you do on the road?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you kill a Numayri?” Rabia asked. “They wouldn’t be doing this unless they were retaliating.”

“It takes a while to capture a Tuqtuq. They were planning this for a while, you know it.”

“They said they wanted you.”

“They lie,” I snapped. My throat was dry. I needed water. I plundered the shelves on the wall for anything to drink. They were mostly filled with rusted tools and I had to be careful not to make too much noise.

“Did you eat him?” Rabia asked. For a moment, the question didn’t make sense at all. Then I realized she was suggesting I’d cannibalized one of the Numayri Bedouins like some blighted beast.

I spun around to face her. “Just listen to yourself, Rabia. You are losing your mind.”

As I glared at her, my mind raced through my memories of the men I’d killed. The faces… there were too many to remember. “You accuse me of cannibalism,” I said quietly.

“If not so far, then eventually,” she said.

“Enough of this nonsense, I need to think of a way to—“

“You are not just guilty of what you did to some Numayri on the way here,” Rabia said. “You are already guilty of the crimes you’re going to commit tomorrow.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Just stay away from the boy.”

“Same for you then,” I snapped back.

“I’ve known the boy since he was a baby.”

I left her to her fuming and dragged myself away, towards a feeding bench with old water, which I used it to clean my wounds and fix the bandage on my thigh. With my clothes soiled with blood and sweat, I couldn’t leave them around in the open lest the beast catch my scent. So I buried the tunic deep in a pile of moldy hay.

Rabia settled down on the other side of the barricaded door, leaning back with eyes closed and reciting the Holy Verses under her breath. As long as she didn’t make any more noise, we could stay in here for a while and wait for any support from the town. I prayed myself, for Samir Ali to keep his word and return for me.

***