by K. Dzr
Chapter Seven
T A H I R
“Hello?” he called. “Can anyone hear me?”
His was the only voice heard over the soft crackle of flames. His blue eyes squinted into the black smoke snaking through the small village. He hopped through the window. The roof was caved in; rubble blocked the doorway. The stench of death was strong to his sensitive nose, and filled his mouth. He spit to get rid of the repulsive taste, but found little relief. Begrudgingly, he rifled through the scattered debris.
Home after home, it was the same; corpses picked over by scavengers. Some burned nearly to ash, most already rotting from the desert heat. The sun was fading, and so were his chances of finding any survivors.
He rubbed his chest; the burning sensation was returning. He ignored the discomfort and the squawking of vultures, and tuned his ears for any sounds of human life. It was barely audible, but it was there. The raspy, labored breathing of a survivor. He tossed pieces of fallen roof with a bit more zeal.
“Have hope! I am coming!” He dug deeper into the rubble, following the source of the sound. The debris moved ever so slightly; the ragged breathing came louder. With one final heave he uncovered two bodies, a small boy with a woman draped across his chest. Shards from the roof pierced her back. The blood was dry. The man squatted down and touched her face. Despite the heat, her skin was cool and stiff. The boy struggled to breathe under her weight. The man carefully lifted the woman and took the boy’s hand. The child gratefully clung to his rescuer.
“You are safe now,” the man said, patting the boy’s back.
Between coughs and sobs, the boy nodded his acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure if the man was speaking another language or if his head was too confused to understand. It didn’t matter; he welcomed the embrace as he cried.
“Come now,” the man said, kicking debris out of the way. “Let us go outside to talk.”
“What about my mother? You have to help her, too,” the boy said through tears, pulling the man’s hand.
“I am terribly sorry child. It is too late for her.”
The boy looked back at his mother lying amid the destruction. The fine fabric of her once golden shayla was torn and stained with blood. Her soft, black hair, usually tucked under her shayla, was light brown from the dust and matted to her head. Her clothes were always clean and she often scolded him for not keeping himself well kept. Now she was dirty; her clothes were torn. She wouldn’t stand to be seen like this, especially by a stranger. Tears welled up in his eyes. He clung to the hope that she was only hurt, injured from the collapsing roof, that maybe someone would come to help and she would be all right. She had long stopped moving; he felt the cold seeping into her body as he lay helpless beneath her. She was dead. He cried and turned his face away from death.
“Come,” the man repeated, leading the boy away.
The boy jerked free and knelt beside his mother. His hands trembled as he brushed the sand from her hair and straightened her robes as he knew she would have liked them. He didn’t know what else he could do; he just rocked and cried. The man allowed him a few moments more to mourn before placing his hand on the small shoulder. The boy wiped his face and hushed his sobbing as best he could, then allowed the man to lead him out of the house through the window.
The boy stared wide-eyed at the destruction, the air stolen from his body.
“I cannot explain what happened here. I arrived only a short while ago.” The man’s words still seemed jumbled, but became clearer as he spoke. “I do not believe there are any more survivors.”
“I don’t understand. I thought it was just our house that, that…How did this happen?”
“I am not certain. Let us sit over here,” he led the boy to a fallen date palm by the river.
The boy collapsed onto the log. It was bad enough that his mother died saving his life, and that his home was destroyed. But to find his entire village, all of his friends, everything he’d known; gone, wiped out; it was far too much for him to bear. He didn’t want to see any more; he didn’t want to hear any more. He wanted to run. Run as fast as he could to get away from there.
“What is your name, Boy?”
“Tahir. Tahir al-Din.” he wiped the tears from his face.
“How old are you?”
“Nine.”
“Tahir, I am a traveler. A lone traveler. But for now I will make an exception. You will come with me. There is a village but a day or two’s travel from here. I know a family there. They have a son about your age. Surely they will take you in. I think you would find it quite acceptable.”
“I don’t want another family, and I don’t want to travel with you.”
“You have a better plan? You cannot stay here all alone.” The man raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.
“I’m going to England and become a great warrior.” Tahir’s jaw and fists clenched.
“What makes you think you can become a great warrior?” the man scoffed. “You are but a child.”
“It’s my destiny. My father said so. He said the best were trained in England. We were even planning on going together one day.” Tahir stood up, determined not to let this man stop him. He puffed his chest out and looked into the man’s cold blue eyes. The man stared right back. It was as though the man could see through him and see his every thought. Tahir didn’t break his gaze. He wasn’t afraid. He was going to go to England and he was going to become a great warrior.
“Tahir, I know this is very hard for you right now. I am sure your father was a very sensible man. I do not believe he intended for you to travel to England all by yourself, especially at such a young age.”
“Yes he did!” Tahir insisted. “We talked about it all the time. But then he got sick. He said I would have to go without him and that I would know the right time to leave. He even told me how to get there. He made me memorize the directions before he died and he told me not to forget my destiny. He made me promise.”
“Have you any idea how far England is from here? Look around you. All of your camels are gone; there are no horses. It is going to be a very long journey. For now, we should find a nice family that you can stay with. In a few years, you will be older and more prepared for the journey.”
Tahir shook his head at the stranger’s proposal. “No, I think I'll leave now. I can take care of myself.”
“I am not going to force you to do anything. I must insist however, that we stay here tonight and get some rest. We can talk more about this in the morning. Perhaps we will be able to come to an agreement.”
Tahir looked at the scraps of what was once a peaceful village. The sadness overcame him again. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought to keep them back. He didn’t want this stranger to think of him as weak. He needed to show strength and courage if he were to convince this man that he was able to take care of himself.
“I don’t want to stay here, but there’s a place just outside of the village where my mother used to let me set up camp with some of my friends.”
“Very well. Let me look at you. Are you injured?”
“I don’t think so.” Tahir replied.
The man examined his extremities. He patted down the boy’s chest looking for wounds or bruises. The boy seemed to have escaped his home’s collapse unscathed.
“Indeed.” The man’s hand paused over a bulge in the boy’s shirt, and his eyebrow rose again. He used one finger to trace the boy’s neck, and lifted a chain bearing a tarnished talisman. “Interesting,” the man said as he inspected its markings.
“My father gave it to me.” Tahir snatched the talisman and quickly tucked it back into his tunic.
“You would be wise to keep it hidden. I have no intention of stealing it,” the man half smiled. “There are many who would not be so honest.”
Tahir nodded.
“Come, lead me to your campsite.”
Tahir led him to a clearing along the river. As promised, it was a nice spot to make a camp.
“V
ery good. Gather wood for a fire. There may be some things of use to both of us back in your village. Would you mind if I helped myself?”
“Why should I mind? There’s no one left to use anything anyway.”
“Is there something of personal value you would like me to retrieve for you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know.” Tahir sat with his head in his hands. He wasn’t able to think clearly right now.
“Start on the fire. I shall return.”
Tahir hugged his knees up to his chest and rested his head in his arms. He couldn’t hold back the tears. He felt his sadness would go on forever. Everything, everyone was gone. All he had left was his destiny and a promise–one in which this stranger was trying to keep him from.
Tahir wiped his face. He would make it to England. He would become a great warrior and he would make his parents proud. It might require an escape from this man to do it, but he would do it. Tahir quickly gathered dry bark, sticks, anything that could be used as kindling. He tried to concentrate on his task; if his mind was busy, perhaps he could keep himself from crying. He had to be strong.
He worked diligently, meticulously organizing the kindling. Though he tried to think only of what needed to be done, the tears kept coming. He wiped his eyes again and softly blew the small flame. He sat with his knees pulled against his chest and watched his small fire dance. He used to like watching fire, but now, he saw it as a miniature reenactment of his village’s destruction. The fire consumed the small sticks, just as the earlier fires consumed his neighbor’s homes. He surrendered to his feelings and cried again.
“After this night I will not cry again,” he vowed. “I will be brave and strong. I will fulfill my destiny just like my father said I would.” Tahir lay down on the sand and cried himself to sleep.
The sun had barely risen and the air was still cool when Tahir awoke to the sound of the man snoring. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. A blanket was draped over him, presumably by the man. It wasn’t his blanket; it smelled funny. He looked around the camp. A stuffed pack sat nearby. There were also weapons; everything he needed to become a warrior. He could simply leave and avoid another confrontation with this man. If he distanced himself enough before the man woke up, the stranger would never be able to find him.
He stood slowly, afraid to breathe for fear of waking the man. He carefully tiptoed around the camp gathering everything he could carry. He would examine it later; for now he needed to grab it and get away.
The stranger opened one eye and watched Tahir folding the blanket into the pack. He found it humorous how slowly the boy moved, nearly losing his balance as he picked up the sword. It was too big for him, but it was well crafted; one day the boy would want it.
Tahir almost felt like he was stealing, but he decided he was more entitled to these things than this stranger. Besides, this man could always go back and gather more. Whereas Tahir could not bear the thought of returning to the village. Equipped with all he thought a young warrior might need, he snuck away.
Tahir needed to focus on walking. Every step took him farther from the destruction and closer to his destiny. He just had to keep going. The sun was hot, but that wasn’t going to stop him. The wind incessantly blew sand in his face; he shielded his eyes and mouth and kept walking. His weapons and pack were awkward and he kept dropping them, but he repositioned them and continued on. His water skin was getting low, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He scooped up a rock from the path and chucked it as far as he could.
“You’re not going to stop me either!” he yelled at the rock.
It was almost exciting thinking of all the things that wouldn’t stop him from becoming a warrior. His legs were getting tired, the pack was getting heavy, insects nibbled at him, and he needed to pee; but none of that was going to stop him. Maybe he should stop to pee, he thought. But after that, nothing was going to stop him.
After a short break, Tahir was on his way again, throwing rocks as he went. He wasn’t walking long before he noticed a small fennec fox not too far away. He watched the small animal pounce on an insect. Although common in the desert, he’d never seen one during the middle of the day. The fennec’s ears stood out like fans as it watched Tahir watching him. It cocked its head, holding a locust in its mouth. With a couple snaps of his jaws the insect disappeared down its throat. Tahir walked backwards, still watching the fox as he went; it seemed interested in watching him too. Maybe it could be his friend. It was cute. He smiled at the thought of having a little friend. Maybe it would follow him all the way to England. The fennec trotted along, zigzagging in the sand looking for more insects. It was obviously unafraid of Tahir, and at times ventured surprisingly close. Tahir tried to think of a good name for his new friend.
“I will call you Farid. Farid the Fennec.”
Farid stopped his hunt and stared up at him with blue eyes when he heard the boy’s voice. Tahir knelt in the sand and reached into his pack to find some fruit. He bit off a small piece and tossed it to his little friend.
“Do you like ginger fruit, Farid?” he asked, taking a big bite of the juicy fruit for himself Farid’s head darted back and forth from Tahir to the piece of fruit.
“It’s ok, I won’t hurt you,” he bit off another piece and threw it toward the fennec. “Come on, try it. It’s good.” As though he understood, the fennec trotted over to the fruit and gobbled it up. Tahir smiled as he ate, occasionally tossing pieces of fruit on the ground. Soon, he was continuing his journey with a new friend.
For most of the day Farid trotted along with Tahir, occasionally stopping to investigate whatever scents his little nose picked up, or running ahead to chase an insect. Either way, the fennec never seemed to stray far from Tahir’s line of sight. At times, Tahir wasn’t sure if Farid was following him or if he was following Farid. He wondered where the little fennec was going; maybe he was on an adventure too.
They continued on, taking few breaks. The stranger hadn’t packed much food; the supply was already low. Despite walking along the river, he found few opportunities to replenish it. He was getting hungry, but had to make it last.
Farid trotted ahead of him, veering away from the river. It was Tahir’s plan to follow the river as long as he could, that way he would be certain to have water. Now, Farid was clearly moving in another direction. He didn’t want to lose his new friend.
“Farid! Come back!”
The fennec continued on its way. Tahir considered his options: stray from the security of his water source, or lose his only companion. He could always find his way back to the river. Farid probably knew of other water sources. He quickly filled water into his skin and ran after the fennec before it disappeared behind a dune.
Farid didn’t appear to be startled by the boy chasing after him. He just kept going about his business sniffing around.
“Where are we going, Farid?” Tahir asked, not expecting an answer. “Do you live this way?”
Tahir shielded his eyes and looked all around. He’d never been this far from home before. It seemed he was still going toward England. The river wasn’t too far away; his little detour didn’t seem so problematic. He continued walking and talking to Farid the whole time, toward where he figured was his little friend’s home.
He squinted to see as far as he could. There seemed to be an image rising on the horizon. Perhaps a village? An oasis? Maybe his eyes were just tricking him. It was impossible to tell from this distance. His stomach rumbled. If it were an oasis, he may be able to find some fruit. He jogged past Farid toward the mysterious shadow.
As he got closer the oasis took shape. It was big, with lots of trees; dates, ginger fruit, and baobab. Tahir’s mouth watered and he ran faster. Tahir dropped his pack and weapons at the base of a date tree, shimmied up and snatched a bunch of the sweet fruit.
“It’s real, Farid!” The fennec didn’t seem as interested in the fruit as it was in the pool of clear water. Tahir dropped down from the tree with an armful of dates a
nd chased after the fennec.
“You have a wonderful home, Farid!” Tahir said as he stuffed his mouth. “If you don’t mind, I think I'll stay right here for the night.”
When Tahir had his fill of fruit and water, he looked through his pack to see what the stranger filled it with. There was a knife, the smelly blanket, bread—which he took a few bites of, clothes that were too big, and some jewelry. The stranger must’ve planned on selling it. He shook his head as he examined each piece. Maybe he could sell it to buy a camel or hire a caravan to take him to England. He had no idea how much each was worth. His hand froze as he picked up a familiar piece. It was his mother’s ring. The one his father had given her that she never took off. That man must have taken it off her finger. How dare he steal his mother’s ring!
Tahir’s fists clenched and he felt his face getting hot. He tried the ring on each finger until he found one that it fit. He shoved the rest of the jewelry back into the pack, flung the stupid, stinky blanket to the ground and lay down. Farid rummaged in the foliage but Tahir lost interest in the fennec’s activities. There were too many emotions all trying to surface at once. He just wanted to calm himself. He should be grateful to that man for rescuing him. He just didn’t see why he had to steal his mother’s ring.
Tahir was in that place between asleep and awake when he heard a noise. He remained still, wondering if it were real or part of a dream. A moment later he heard it again: a rustling sound. Now he was convinced it was not something carried over from his dreams. Farid was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t completely dark yet, so whatever was making the noise could see him. His heart thumped in his ears; he remained wide-eyed and motionless. He heard it again. It was behind him, louder. Suddenly his bow flew over his head and crashed into the sand.
Tahir scrambled to his feet and snatched up his knife. He stood at the ready, searching for the culprit. But no one was there. He looked at the tree where his bow had been propped, then at the ground where it now lay.
“Farid?” he called out into the twilight. He stood listening for the rustling of footsteps. Tahir cautiously stepped backward to retrieve his bow, focusing his attention on where he last heard the rustling noise.
Despite the fact that his bow was thrown by an invisible hand, Tahir felt somewhat foolish. He sat down, keeping his knife and bow close at hand. He didn’t think he imagined the experience; but he must’ve. Maybe Farid did it somehow. He didn’t see him anywhere, but fennecs are night creatures and he’s small. Maybe he was chasing a snake and crashed into it and sent it flying and kept running. That made sense; it was possible.
“Farid?” Tahir called again. He’d feel a lot better if he knew where the fennec was. Tahir hoped his friend would return in the morning. He lay on his back and watched the curtain of darkness close upon his lonely world.
After a while, Tahir grew restless. He couldn’t sleep, partly because he was afraid of what happened earlier, and partly because he was feeling sorry for himself. He decided to make a fire. It wasn’t long before he managed some glowing embers. He added a few twigs and softly blew into it. Rather than the fire growing, it went completely out. He knew he hadn’t blown that hard. There was no wind to speak of. Tahir was dumbfounded.
Once again, he worked on his fire. As soon as a flame emerged, Tahir cupped his hands around it. He blew even softer this time to oxygenate the sparks. But as soon as he achieved fire, the flame suddenly went out. This time however, Tahir definitely heard a whooshing sound. He jumped to his feet and looked around.
“Hello?” he frantically wielded his knife and spun around. He heard the rustling of footsteps again.
“Who’s there?” he turned in the direction of the sounds. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he strained to see in the dark. There was nothing but the sound of retreating footsteps and what he thought might have been snickering. He clutched his knife with both hands, twisting and turning this way and that to see if anything was sneaking around behind him. Several minutes passed. He swallowed hard and sat down with his back to a palm tree. He stared into the night still clutching his knife. Hours passed without incident. He fought sleep as long as he could, but eventually nodded off.