Chapter Text
BOOK 2
Scorpion Sands
“And the Third Prophet was thrown from the temple and condemned to ten years of exile in the desert, where he found a Death in the form of a scorpion. But God did rise from the sands and smite the scorpion, then spoke to the Third Prophet and said thus: “I, Almighty God, have saved you from Death. Go now and spread the word that you have seen me and that I am the one true God.” The Third Prophet went to the city of Azarine and told all he knew, and they did fall to their knees in worship, for they knew that the Third Prophet had seen God and that God was gracious.”
--Hahnar Scripture, The Book of the Third Prophet
Chapter One: Training
Sweat dribbled down Raheed’s scalp and soaked the fabric resting between his head and his helmet, but Raheed did not move to wipe it away. He kept his eyes focused on the training happening just below him. Some soldiers were doing better than others, and even with wooden swords, a few of the younger ones were taking quite a beating. Some looked to him, expecting him to call off the duels so that they may rest. But Raheed only shifted on top of his horse and glanced at Lieutenant Uthal out of the corner of his eye. The boy was seated rod straight atop his own dapple gelding, not even bothering to remove the perspiration from his upper lip. He was insufferable most of the time, but he was well-trained. He took his authority very seriously.
One of the men stumbled over Raheed’s way and collapsed by Ahmbra’s front legs. Ahmbra took a cautious step back, but Raheed nudged her forward until he was standing over the young soldier, casting him in shadow.
The soldier ripped off his helmet, face wet with sweat and expression tight with exhaustion.
“Sir,” he gasped, running a sleeve along his forehead, as his helment had rolled away upon his fall. “Sir, can I please have some water? I am thirsty.”
Raheed looked down at him blankly before turning to Lieutentant Uthal and nodding. Lieutenant Uthal raised two fingers to his lips and blew a loud whistle, instantly bringing all of the men’s duels to a halt.
“Asan.” Raheed looked behind him at Asan, who was standing by Raheed’s tent, hands clasped in front of him. He stood at attention when he saw Raheed facing him. “Go get a bucket of water.”
Asan nodded and rushed off for the camels.
The soldier got to his hands and knees, breathing heavily. The men watched, unsure. When Asan returned, Raheed took the bucket by the handle and lifted it, only to pour the entire thing over the soldier’s head. There was a long, tense silence, only broken by the sounds of the boy’s sharp gasp of surprise and protest. Seconds later, the water had already leaked into the ground and disappeared.
“Still thirsty?” Raheed asked the boy.
The boy twisted around to face Raheed, gaping in shock.
Raheed turned to the rest of his troops. “We’ve only been marching a week, but let me make this clear. When we reach the desert, you will always be thirsty.” Raheed chucked the empty bucket down at the boy, narrowly missing his head. “Best get used to it.”
The entire camp was silent. Lieutenant Uthal gave Raheed a satisfied nod.
“Keep going,” Raheed said. “You can all stop when I see some improvement!” He twisted around to face the boy at his horse’s feet. “And you. Back to your duel.”
The boy looked utterly defeated but nodded and did as he was asked. He should think himself lucky, as at least he’d acquired the chance to cool off.
“Good job, sir,” Lieutenant Uthal murmured. “Men like these need a strong hand.”
Raheed just grunted. He wasn’t doing it for Uthal’s approval. Fighting the Hahnars required more than a strong hand, and if it meant the men seeing Raheed as a cruel dictator, than so be it. At least they wouldn’t all perish like Raheed’s friends had. Maybe if Raheed pushed them all hard enough, they’d be well-matched.
Or maybe they’d die like the rest of their kin.
Raheed supposed it didn’t really matter to him anymore.
“We’ve moved beyond the pass and decided that perhaps the long way around the mountains might be our best option.”
“It will take months.”
“Better to take time than take lives, sir,” Colonel Waqas said gravely.
“I suppose.” Raheed tapped his upper lip as he looked across the map spread before him. He ignored Asan, who bent at his side and refilled his cup of tea before moving and doing the same for Uthal and Waqas. “I would need to know more about Hahnar forces. We’ve been attacking them for years; have they weakened any?”
“It’s hard to tell. We don’t have much information on them.”
“Why not?”
“They are an elusive people. According to reports we have attempted to kidnap a few for interrogation, but most of them are Matij and poison themselves before we can extract any information.”
Raheed shook his head. “No, the Matij don’t know anything important. They are nomads, and as far as I know, they don’t even like the Hahnars.”
“They are Hahnars, sir,” Uthal said.
“Of sorts. They have no real ties to the original sect aside perhaps from their appearance and a few traditions. The Matij are not a problem.”
“Sir, I must beg to differ. They are a constant bother to the troops that pass through their territory.”
“Exactly, a bother, a nusiance. They know they can’t defeat us with numbers so they attack in the night and then run away as soon as things do not go in their favor. If the Hahnars fall, then the Matij will not be a problem of ours.”
“And Khamal, sir?” Waqas asked.
There was a clatter, which brought all three officers’ gazes to Asan, who must have briefly lost his hold of the tray on which he carried the tea and cups. Nothing was broken, so Raheed returned to the map and his conversation, but Uthal frowned.
“Are you sure it’s wise to bring that servant with us, sir? A pampered house servant does not thrive well in the desert.”
Raheed sent Uthal a rather withering look. “Don’t question my judgment, lieutentant.”
Uthal nodded, still looking sour. “I apologize, sir.”
“Khamal would be of strategical importance, sir,” Waqas said, throwing a nervous look at Asan before continuing. “They are a water source very close to Hahnar territory.”
“You can fight the Hahnars or you can fight the Khamal. Pick one.”
“Sir, the Khamal live in only one city and its surrounding farmland. It would be easy—”
“They said the Hahnars would be easy, years ago. You don’t pick battles with potential allies unless it is a necessity.”
“Potential allies?” Uthal scoffed. “The Khamal hate us even more than the Hahnars do, if that’s even possible.”
“Sir,” Waqas asked, “is it true you’ve seen the Khamal and their Sumas?”
Raheed stiffened but answered, “Yes. I was briefly a prisoner there.”
“And?” Uthal insisted. “What did you learn of them?”
“I did not see much.”
“I’m shocked they released you at all, sir. Is there a reason?”
Raheed tapped his fingers on the map for a moment, frowning. The wind tugged at the sides of his tent, and Raheed’s horse nickered lightly just outside. “I suppose there wasn’t a reason.”
“But there had to be, sir. Why else would they release you?”
“Perhaps they saw me as harmless.”
Waqas scoffed in disbelief. “But, sir—”
“I wasn’t a captain back then, just a lowly foot soldier. I was about your age, Uthal, but clueless. It was a bit of a fool, naïve. The Sumas was about my age and perhaps a tad foolish as well.”
“I’d say! He released the general too!”
“I wouldn’t underestimate him, or his people.” Raheed fell quiet a moment, remembering Dasaf’s words: If you ever step foot again on Khamal land, I will slit your throat myself before you can so much as open your mouth to greet me. “We should focus on the Hahnars beyond the mountain. They are our true target. If we have them, Khamal will fall.”
“Khamal would make a good base though, sir.”
“Not if we’re going around the mountains and not through the pass.”
Uthal and Waqas seemed to find agreement in that, and luckily they dropped the topic of Khamal.
After more dicussion of military tactics, Waqas and Uthal bid him goodnight and left his tent. Raheed pulled off his helmet and shrugged off his cape with a sigh of relief. Armor would save his life in battle, but wearing it every day all day might kill him before he even saw battle. It was necessary to look the part of a captain when commanding troops, but he looked forward to sleep more and more every day.
Raheed began to pull off his boots, but his sweat made the leather stick. Before he could struggle further, Asan knelt at his side and assisted him. Once the boots were off, Raheed tossed them in the same pile with his cape and helmet. Asan helped him remove everything save the simple white caftan beneath, something loose and partially open at the chest. It allowed air to access every place where perspiration remained, which allowed some of the tension in his shoulders to relax. He would love to have a bath as well, but they would not reach a town for at least a week more.
“Get me my canteen,” Raheed told Asan, gesturing impatiently.
Asan frowned, hesitating.
“Asan,” Raheed warned with a glare, so Asan stood and retrieved Raheed’s canteen, filled with arak purchased from the last town they’d visited. Raheed took a healthy swig, sighing as the liquid burned his throat. He caught Asan’s gaze.
“Don’t give me that look,” Raheed scolded, taking another drink. “Are you my mother? I didn’t bring you along so that you could chide me.”
Asan just shook his head and walked across the tent to his mat by the tent entrance. When he sat, he signed, You should not have dumped that water on that soldier.
“Oh, so you’re a captain now as well as my mother?” Raheed sneered. “I suppose I have a multi-talented servant now. How lucky for me.”
Asan stared at him a moment before lowering his gaze. You don’t sign anymore.
Raheed opened his mouth to protest, but Asan was right. Finally he shrugged. “I suppose now that you can read lips there’s not much point, is there?”
I can read signs easier.
“You seem to do just fine reading lips.” Raheed took one last sip from his canteen before turning and rearranging the few pillows on his sleeping mat. “Wake me at sunrise then.”
Asan nodded and settled down onto his own mat, rolling over so that his back was to Raheed. Raheed sat there and stared at Asan’s back a long time, probably long past the point at which Asan had fallen into slumber.
With a sigh of defeat, Raheed whispered, “I’m sorry, Asan,” before curling up on his own mat and digging his face into a pillow. To the sounds of wind whistling through the flaps in their tent, they slept.
As they neared the border of what had always been Mulli and what had newly become Mulli territory, they were allowed a week to set up camp and renew their supplies at the local village. It was a bit more than a village, and big settlements often meant bigger brothels. Raheed listened to some of the soldiers whisper to each other, heard the odd plan here or there to pay the town a visit at night. Raheed considered ordering them all into their tents, but he wondered why he even bothered. They’d sneak out anyway and waste what few coins Mulli paid them.
As night fell and torches were lit, Raheed patrolled around the camp, nodding at soldiers he passed and counting their camels to make sure that none had gone missing. He stepped over to Nutmeg and fed her some of Ahmbra’s grain, which she seemd to thoroughly enjoy. After giving her neck a firm pat, he moved toward the night’s watch, one of whom was Corporal Waqas.
“Quiet?” Raheed asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course. We’re not even in enemy territory yet.” Raheed looked out across the flat landscape, a view interrupted only occasionally by a scrubby tree or bush. “It will be a while before we get there.”
“Quiet is fine with me, sir.”
“Me too.” Raheed paused as the sound of distant laughter was picked up by the wind. “You weren’t going into the village tonight, were you?”
“What for, sir?”
Raheed shook his head with a chuckle. “Don’t play naïve with me, corporal.”
Waqas kicked a rock with the toe of his boot. “I haven’t much interest in whores, sir.”
“No?”
“Not really. There’s a girl back in Ayllamal . . .” Waqas rubbed his cheek with his palm. “A servant girl.”
“Ah.”
“I know I don’t have anything to offer her, but she seems to like me despite of that. I imagine by the time I return, she’ll be married to someone else.”
“That’s how things are, I suppose.”
“Have you ever . . .?” Waqas asked hesitantly, almost shyly.
“No, not really. All my bridges have been burned.”
“That is wise, sir.”
“I’m not wise. In fact, I’m incredibly stupid. But I know better now at least.”
“Sir?”
Raheed patted the man on the back affectionately. “Best not worry too much about your servant girl, Waqas. Time that feels fleeting to us is infinite to those who remain in Ayllamal.”
“Do you think we’ll beat the Hahnars?”
Raheed considered whether honesty or hope was the best route. He went with honesty. “I don’t know.”
“You fought them.”
“I did.” Raheed tapped the scar on his forehead. “And I didn’t live through some heroic act, I can assure you. Most of it was luck and perhaps a little bit of acting.”
Waqas nervously played with the belt around his waist, unlatching and latching the buckle. “I don’t know anything about them.”
“That’s probably best. It’s easy to kill people you know nothing about.”
“You met one. You spoke to him.”
“How did you know all of this?”
Waqas shrugged. “We were told our captain had once been captured by the Khamal Hahnars and lived to tell the tale. I suppose they wanted us to see you as a hero.”
Raheed couldn’t help but snort at the idea. Ah yes, the brave hero, lying through his teeth about being the lover of his general. How noble. Certainly he’d be written into Mulli history for such valor.
“The men still don’t know what to think of you.”
“It’s a good thing. No attachments, no regrets.”
“They should have some loyalty to you, sir. Perhaps if you gave them a few tidbits, perhaps a tale of your time with the Khamal—”
“And let them lift me up to that sparkling view that these circulating stories have shown me in? No, I think it’s best that they feel ambiguous. I don’t need them to like me. I just need them to respect my command.”
“They already do that, sir.”
“Really.”
“Yes, sir. You are bhanak and yet you are a captain. It inspires them. None of us have ever been under a bhanak officer, only corporals and sergeants. And before you it was the lieutentant—” Waqas bit his lip.
“What about the lieutenant?”
“Nothing, sir. But he is not bhanak and therefore the men do not identify with him. If I may speak freely—”
“Of course.”
“The men believe that no Mulli-by-blood works for his position, so they do not inherently respect the lieutenant.” Waqas’s voice was hushed, almost afraid.
“Hmmm.” Raheed had sensed that typical Mulli-by-blood arrogance in Uthal, but nothing quite so irritating as the Lieutenant General’s. Of course, he was still a boy and had plenty of time to work himself up to the Yussam’s level. Maybe Raheed could nip that pride in the bud before it became unbearable.
“Do you respect him, Waqas?”
“Sir, it is not right for me to speak ill of any of my commanding—”
“That groveling bullshit they teach you in Ayllamal doesn’t fly with me here. When someone puts a sword through me, it won’t kill me any slower than it does you. We’re both bhanak, so let us consider one another equals. Do you respect Uthal?”
Waqas’s lips thinned as he replied, “I’m not sure, sir.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sir—”
“You told me the men don’t respect him, and I’m sure you’re in agreement with them.”
Waqas turned away, a silent affirmation.
“I’ll see what I can do with him. It will be difficult, considering that most Mulli-by-bloods think they are better than any bhanak, be he captain or general. It’s a shame General Mamid can’t be here to whip you all into shape. He’s very good at rallying troops.”
“I’ve only met the general once. He seemed . . . stern.”
“It takes getting used to, that’s all.”
“But is he what they say he is?”
“Well . . .” Raheed found it difficult to answer, because he wasn’t sure what others said. He recalled what he’d heard of General Mamid before he became acquainted with the man, but he wasn’t sure if it was still true. “He is a brilliant leader and strategist. But I don’t know anyone who takes his status less seriously than he does.” Raheed frowned. “He’s not a happy man.”
“Someone told me once that happiness is a luxury only Mulli-by-bloods can afford.”
Raheed chuckled, but it held no humor. “Truer wisdom has not been spoken.”
“But the general is bhanak, and I believe every man here would follow him to the grave.”
Raheed reached out and clapped a hand on Waqas’s shoulder. “I believe they will, corporal. I believe they will.”