"Thicker Than Water"

Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author.

Copyright 2004 Mommints

~*~*~*~*~

Blood's thicker than water, and when one's in trouble

Best to seek out a relative's open arms.

~Euripides

In time of test, family is best. ~ Burmese Proverb

Live together like brothers, and do business like strangers. ~ Arabic proverb

~*~*~*~*~

Prologue

They became friends before they were old enough to realize that they were enemies.

Three boys, each in the tenth summer of their lives, had met under the most unlikely of circumstances and despite the hatred that had existed for thousands of years between their tribes...

...despite the cultural differences...

...and away from the prejudicial eyes of their elders...

...a Medjai, a Tuareg and a Rwalla-Hunud were able to temporarily escape the constraints of their individual destinies. They played together as boys of their age often did, and the days of their youth were filled with mock war games and exploring. 

As the years passed, they went from innocent childhood into the awkward years of their youth, and yet they managed to keep the friendship between them intact, untainted by the numerous political upheavals around them. 

~*~

When the hatred between the Medjai and Tuareg escalated three months ago, and the Elders of the latter enthusiastically called for war, the three friends decided to meet for one last time to say farewell to one another.  It had become too much of a risk to keep their association a secret any longer.   

Once where it had been three boys who met secretively in the desert, they were young warriors now; age had laid the cloak of maturity on their shoulders and they all carried it well. 

Their reunion was bittersweet and short.

However unbeknownst to the young men, a small war party had followed the Rwalla-Hunud warrior and had spied on the meeting in progress.  They attacked and in the ensuing chaos, the Tuareg had managed to escape but the Medjai had been captured and blamed for the death of the Rwalla-Hunud named Tabari-Yervant. 

For three months he was held captive  tortured, beaten and starved. They tried to break his spirit and force a confession but the warrior had steadfastly refused, claiming his innocence during each interrogation. 

The Tuareg named Drevick Moubaye did not abandon his remaining friend.  With a fierce loyalty that was well-known among his people and often admired, he petitioned his father to aid the Medjai.  Again and again, he appeared before the council of the tribes and pleaded with them to intervene on his behalf.  But his requests fell on deaf ears.

The Tuareg were preparing for a war with the Medjai and nothing could dissuade them, not even the chieftain's son. 

Afraid that the Medjai would eventually die at the hands of the Rwalla-Hunud, Drevick decided to act on his own.

With a small party of his own hand-picked warriors, he set out one day shortly before dawn and rode towards the infamous Il Wasi Qa'a" or Medjai stronghold.  He carried within his heart the hope that his appearance there would not incite a war but instead, goad the chieftain Ardeth Bay to finally act. 

And rescue the Medjai named Reyhan Abbasi half brother to Commander Nabil al Fa'ud.

~*~

Part I

Jameel ibn Hisein shared the night watch with another warrior named Madjy Othman and as his reputation often preceded him, Jameel took the opportunity to lift his gaze upwards and stare at his beloved stars.

It was exceptionally clear and brilliant this night, nary a cloud to mar the smooth velvet sky studded with thousands of twinkling lights.  The moon hung low and well rounded, casting its silver light over the sleeping city and adding to the enchantment.

T'was a night for young men to court the women of their dreams with soft poetic words and promises of undying adoration. 

Jameel drew in a deep breath, and recognized the faint scents of honeysuckle and wild jasmine that grew in the gardens just beyond the south wall.  A cool breeze playfully drifted in from the West, gently tousling the warrior's curls like a woman's affectionate caress.  He smiled to himself, hoping that once his shift was over, that he too would be able to find a mara who would listen patiently as he described the qualities of the stars and constellations. 

Talk was sparse on the shift but Jameel had found that with Madjy, their lengthy silences were anything but uncomfortable.  One spoke, one would listen as they shared stories or rumors that had been heard from warriors visiting from distant tribes.  And when the conversation lulled, there was no hurry to fill in the void  no words were needed to mar the perfection of the silence. 

Jameel estimated that it must have been around midnight when he first felt the tiny pinpricks of unease decompose his sense of well-being.  What was it that often captured his attention and drew his dark gaze to roam over the landscape?

What made his hand rest on the hilt of his scimitar, his eyes narrow as he sought what had caused this strange unease within him?  Madjy must have felt Jameel's growing restlessness and although they talked about it, tried to understand it  nothing was resolved.

"Something is not right.  I can feel it in the air."  Jameel had no evidence to support his concerns and he glanced over at Madjy with a rueful smile on his face. 

"You probably think I am being too cautious or taking my duty too seriously."

Madjy shook his head and faced the desert landscape, his dark eyes raking over the sand and endless rolling sea of dunes.  "Trust your instincts.   From the stories you tell, they have served you well in the past."

Jameel sighed and shook his head, a frown marring his features.  "There is nothing out there, ya sahib and I am acting foolish."

Madjy didn't reply but instead, walked over to Jameel, his hand resting on his weapon.  They stood shoulder to shoulder, and remained alert and poised for what was gathering in the darkness.

Suddenly a cold and fierce wind blew in from the north, swirling around the warriors and wildly whipping the ends of their robes.  It battered their bodies, stole the air from their lungs and moaned and screamed as if it were a beast in great pain.

The formerly clear and pristine orb of the moon was shadowed and covered with thick, boiling black clouds.  The beauty that was once the night evaporated as evil seemed to invade every sense, easily suffocating and blanketing the world.

Jameel struggled to breathe and pulled up his face covering as the wind continued to torment them.  He stood against it, supporting Madjy just as the other warrior supported him.  When they could no longer stand the noise or the force of the currents, the wind abruptly faded away and left both of the warriors gasping for air. 

"What in the name of Allah was that?" Madjy asked hoarsely, as he pulled down his face covering and walked around checking the perimeters of the post.

Jameel shook his head as he uncovered his face, but an odd noise caught his attention and he turned towards the north.  He uttered an oath of surprise a moment later and gestured for Madjy to come look.

The clouds had departed and once again the silver light of the moon bathed the world below in its revealing and ethereal glow. 

Lined up on a distant ridge were fifty riders dressed in black, their long war spears spiking up into the night sky, the mark of the red hand displayed on their breastplate, proudly proclaiming their identity.  

Jameel felt a shiver of dread race down his spine and he knew that each horse carried that same red mark on its hindquarters, that each rider wore battle armor that covered most of their body.  Only a small portion of the face remained visible but no warrior had ever gotten close enough to gaze fully upon the face of the Rwalla-Hunud.  To do so would mean certain death.

"We must inform Chieftain Bay of this as soon as possible," Madjy said as he stared at the sight before them, "we must tell him that the Rwalla-Hunud are on the war path this night."

"Aiwa and may Allah help us all," Jameel murmured. 

~*~

"Chieftain Bay, the Tuareg delegation will not be deterred and insist that you speak with them." Counselor Abdul-Hafiz hurried after the warrior, looking very much like a crane flapping its wings as he waved his arms in the air in agitation.

"Ignoring them will not make them go away," he added on.

"Ah, nothing escapes the sharp eye of my most trusted Elder and Counselor," Ardeth replied dryly and glanced back at the man following him.  "If the Tuareg have waited this long to speak with me, surely they can wait a few hours longer.  I have more important matters to attend to."

Ardeth purposely strode through the long, narrow hallways of the citadel, well aware that he was already late for a mid-morning meeting with two of his commanders and sub-commanders.  The topic of discussion was the very people that Abdul-Hafiz was referring to since the threat of war loomed dangerously on the horizon. 

"Normally I would agree, ya ra'is but perhaps the wisest course of action would be to talk to the Tuareg. Their leader is a chieftain's son and he is quite persistent, claiming he brings news of great importance."

Ardeth abruptly stopped walking and turned around.  Abdul-Hafiz bumped into him and profusely apologized. 

"What news could he possibly bring?" Ardeth hissed and leaned close to the counselor's face, his dark eyes glittering with anger.  "Does he wish to talk about the recent raids on the neighboring villages near the Medjai or how many women and children have been killed? Or does he wish to chat over tea and discuss the burning of crops and slaughter of animals  these are all acts of war, Counselor.  These people were under the protection of the Medjai and by the Tuareg attacking them, in essence they have attacked us."

Abdul-Hafiz threw up his hands in surrender, almost backing away from Ardeth's cold fury.  "I am not disputing the stories that you have heard in the past few days but what I am suggesting is that you listen to this young man, for the love of Allah.  We must try to find a peaceful solution to all of this before there is any more bloodshed."

"On that, we are agreed on," Ardeth replied grimly and turned on his heel, spinning away from the older man.  "Tell the Tuareg that I shall meet with them shortly, after I have talked to my commanders.  And tell them to pray to whatever gods they worship that I have managed to talk my warriors out of any acts of retribution.  For now"

Abdul-Hafiz sighed and bowed his head.  "As you wish," he murmured. He turned and ran back down the hallway towards the room where the Tuareg impatiently waited, wondering how they would take this new delay. 

~*~

It was a cruel trick and one he was helpless to do anything about.

His role in this farce had to be played out no matter the consequences. 

He held onto the pommel of the saddle with both hands, and ignored the blood that ran freely down his wrists from the ropes that were cutting viciously into his skin.  His weakened and beaten body swayed in the saddle while his vision blurred and faded only to clear up once again. 

His will to remain conscious was rapidly fading away, like his strength, yet he continued to fight against the restraints.  He tugged on the ropes, desperate to be able to reach up and remove the gag from his mouth, to tear off the offending robes they had dressed him in.  It was a trick meant to confuse the Medjai guards posted around the citadel, with the irony of it all not lost on him in the least.

They had released him with no food, water or weapons and knew that the guards would kill him on sight.  For how else could he answer their call or give them his true identity if he was bound and gagged?

The wound in his shoulder suddenly flared up with a breath-stealing intensity and darkness nipped at the edges of his consciousness.  He finally surrendered and his body slumped forward across the horse's mane as it continued plodding forward. 

In his dreams, he saw the friends of his youth and for a brief moment his joy knew no bounds.  But the dream quickly became a nightmare when Drevick and Tabari-Yervant were killed.

And he was unable to help them

~*~

In a spacious chamber located at the end of one hallway, the chieftain of the Medjai and his warriors sat around a small oval table, and discussed the recent and alarming events that had taken place over the past few days.

Ardeth had quietly listened to the commander of the Tribe of the Third relay the incredible news that another village had been attacked, the claim made even more valid by eye-witness accounts.

"Are you certain of this, Jericho?" Ardeth asked the commander.  In his hands he held a signed statement from a witness claiming who had been responsible for the attack on the village of Sohag, north of the el-Kharga oasis. 

Sohag had been a quiet little town, mostly a small farming community with less than one thousand people in its population.  The inhabitants had been peaceful and hard working and according to the statement they were easily cut down like ripe wheat by the enemy. 

"The mark of the Rwalla-Hunud will not be readily forgotten by this woman.  Like a brand, it will forever be burned into her memory.  They killed her family, destroyed her home and all that she had held dear."  Jericho stated firmly and looked around at the warriors who had assembled for the meeting.  His gaze momentarily rested briefly on his sub-commander and friend, Dharr al Rushdi, then went back to Ardeth.

"The Rwalla-Hunud" Ardeth murmured disbelievingly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand.  "I thought they no longer existed."

"We all know the stories, ya ra'is," Nabil al Fa'ud spoke up, his gray eyes clouded with concern.  "Ancient myths and legends that tell of a warrior race of people so savage and blood-thirsty, they had almost destroyed the Tuareg nation in an epic war thousands of years ago.  It has been written in the tribal chronicles that the Tuareg survived only from the intervention of our warriors and in a battle that lasted seven days, their combined forces were finally able to drive the Hunud from the Sahara.  We all know of the tentative truce that blossomed from that action between our nation and the Tuareg."

"They were grateful for our involvement," Berin al Usama casually interjected and shrugged his broad shoulders.  "Apparently they are no longer."

"Over time, we all know the truce collapsed, and we have been rivals with the Tuareg ever since," Jericho said.

"Could it be that the Medjai have remained unawares that the Rwalla-Hunud have remained hidden in the desert all this time, recovering from their losses as they slowly grew stronger?" Dharr wondered. 

"They have been behind the raids," Ardeth concluded and suddenly stood up to pace around the table as he continued thinking about his theory. 

"What better way to incite a war between two old rivals than for one to blame the other for crimes that neither committed?"

"Did you not say that a small party of Tuareg was waiting to speak to you?" Nabil asked Ardeth.   

"Go and talk to them," Ardeth commanded Nabil and Berin. "Find out what they want, stall for time, do anything you have to, but wait until I get there. There is something I must do first."

"As you wish," Nabil and Berin stood, bowed to Ardeth and then hurried from the room. 

"Jericho, I want to go and talk to Jameel and Madjy.  We need to review their report from the other night once more," Ardeth commanded.  Dharr, I want you to alert all of the captains on duty this night and tell them of what you know so farand then report back to me at once."

"Aiwa, ya ra'is," Dharr bowed and left the room. 

Jericho lingered for a moment, his concern evident by the expression on his face.  "Why would the Rwalla-Hunud do this?" he asked softly.  "Why kill innocent people and place the blame on the Tuareg?  Why and to what purpose?"

Ardeth walked over to Jericho and placed a comforting hand on his trusted commander's shoulder.  "That is what we need to find out, ya ukh and quickly before any more lives are lost."

~*~

The horse was trotting...

...and it was the jarring motion of its gait that rudely brought him out of the calm sea of unconsciousness that he had been floating in, relatively free of pain.

But with a muffled groan of pain he pulled his body upright.  He shook his head to clear his vision and concluded that the animal must have smelled a source of water nearby and quickened its pace. 

Water meant that there may be a wella well meant civilization and he lifted his gaze up, horrified to see the walls of the city were far closer that he realized.  He weakly struggled against the ropes, and fresh blood dripped down his arms and onto the saddle.  He strained against them when he realized he could see quite clearly the guards walking around their posts and he prayed that somehow, they would be able to see him for what he truly was and not the threat he appeared to be. 

~*~

"You lie," one guard scoffed at his companion.  "No one has ever been able to defeat Amid in a game of Jackals and Hounds.  He wins every time."

The second guard quickly shook his head.  "I do not lie  I have watched Safwan Dabir defeat every challenger with ease.  I tell you, he is better than Amid and we should schedule a game to prove it."

The first guard laughed and started pacing around their post.  "If we ever get re-assigned from our duty.  No one told me how boring this was to remain on watch for an entire day, with nothing to doand no one to talk too."

"I am no one?" the other guard asked, irritated with his friend.  "If you are yearning for something to occupy your time, practice your marksmanship and shoot anything that moves out in the desert.  I am sure none of the captains will mind a little target practice."

The first guard shrugged his shoulders at the suggestion but nevertheless held up his rifle and peered through the site.  His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a lone rider approaching, the horse clearing the crest of one dune. 

"A rider draws near from the north and is headed straight for us," he exclaimed and slowly pulled back the trigger. 

"Hold your fire until he gets closer," the second guard snapped.  "I want to make sure that he is not an ally."

"All one has to do is look at his robes, and at the markings on the saddle and bridle ornaments  he is an outlaw."

The second guard smiled maliciously and glanced down the walkway, making certain no one else would witness the horrible deed that they were about to perform. 

"Then shoot him."

~*~

He moaned despite the gag in his mouth and frantically yanked on his hands, his gaze riveted to the warrior that he could see standing at his post.  Fractions of light bounced off of the shiny barrel of the weapon as it was leveled and aimed directly at him.  He tried to guide the horse away from the line of fire but the animal was exhausted and intent on reaching its goal and he was too weak to further command it.

With one last mighty effort, he threw all of his weight backwards and pulled on the ropes and felt them give slightly. He leaned forward again and a second later he heard the loud crack of the rifle.  He looked up and saw a plume of white smoke drift into the air and a second later, he felt the bullet slam into his body.

The momentum propelled him backwards, effectively severing the weakened ropes and he tumbled over the back of the horse.  He hit the ground hard and had the air almost knocked out of him when he landed on his bruised ribs although he tried to roll with the fall. 

He came to a dusty stop a few moments later, lying on his stomach with his hands painfully wedged beneath his battered body.  Agony unlike any he had ever known coursed through him and he welcomed the black void that enveloped him, covering him like a death shroud.

~*~

Nabil shook his head and reached over to restrain Berin from going after the Tuareg warrior.  The meeting was not going as well has he had expected.  Then again, he could hardly blame Berin for his actions.

Old beliefs die hard and the Tuareg were still the enemy and both Medjai warriors felt that they had a lot to atone for.

"I came here to share information that will hopefully save a life," the Tuareg in charge snapped.  He surged against the hands of his men that held him back and jerked himself free. 

"I should have known the sanctimonious Medjai would be too stupid to listen, preferring to pass judgment first," he added on.

"We have not rendered any judgment," Berin growled and reached for his scimitar, a grim smile dancing across his face.  "We already know what you are and I welcome the chance to send your soul to hell."

The other Tuareg warriors answered Berin's challenge with one of their own as angry shouts filled the room and they simultaneously pulled their weapons free.  It didn't seem to matter to the combatants that the Medjai were outnumbered by four, blood was going to be spilled and war would soon ravage the land.

"Haji! Enough!" Nabil shouted.  He stepped in front of Berin just as a Tuareg had launched forward with the intent of burying his blade deep within the sub-commander's chest.  Nabil blocked the deadly blow with startling ease with his own blade and the room abruptly fell into a stunned silence.

"I highly doubt the Tuareg called for this meeting just so they could die by our hands, ya ukh," Nabil calmly talked to Berin but his gray stormy gaze impaled the Tuareg with its intensity. 

"Perhaps we should let them speak."

"I would rather kill them," Berin smirked.  His arm held his scimitar point out, silently taunting anyone to come close enough to feel its lethal bite.

"And I would rather tell you about the fate of one of your own and the danger that he is in," the Tuareg leader stepped forward.  He slowly sheathed his blade and glanced over his shoulder, smiling slightly when he saw his men reluctantly do the same. 

"You mentioned something about saving a life earlier," Nabil reminded the warrior.

"I did and if the rumors and reports are true, they have released him as a trick but will be coming after him and soon, charging him with a crime he did not commit.  And nothing," his gaze slashed to Berin and then back to Nabil, "not even the coveted skill of your most experienced warriors will protect him from their wrath."

"You speak in riddles when we cannot allow the time for such childish games," Berin growled impatiently.

The Tuareg leader surprised the Medjai by ordering all of his men except his second in command to leave the room, a gesture of good will that he was relieved to see had been well-met.  The two imposing warriors that stood in front of him hardly seemed impressed with his action but nevertheless sheathed their weapons.  They waited expectantly for what he had to say and he drew in a deep breath, his gaze focused on the commander.

"Three months ago, a Medjai was captured by the Rwalla-Hunud," he began.

Ardeth and Jericho found Jameel and Madjy in the south end of the city, eating their midday meal in a local kitchen well-known for its good food and the motherly attention that the owner paid her customers. 

For the sake of comfort, Ardeth had forgone the traditional robes of a chieftain and reverted back to the warrior style of dress.  Long, flowing black robes molded his muscular physique and emphasized his underlining strength.  Belts and bandoleers adorned his broad chest, crossing over the other in an 'x', and his scimitar was strapped to one side.  His turban partially covered the long, thick wavy hair that hung down to his shoulders and the face-covering hid the unintentionally harsh expression on his face.

Once they had tethered their horses to a nearby post, Jericho reached over and tapped Ardeth's shoulder. 

"You may want to remove this," he gestured to the covering with a slight grin.  Although he was older than Ardeth, and therefore his elder, Jericho was one of the rare warriors that had managed to attain a relaxed camaraderie with the chieftain.  He often used humor as a way to defuse a tense situation.

"While Jameel has had the privilege of enjoying your company in less formal situations, this will be the first time Madjy has seen his king outside of the warriors' forum.  You're going to scare the poor boy," he said with a chuckle.

Ardeth blinked in surprise and pulled down the covering.  "Are you saying that my presence is intimidating?" he asked with a grin. 

Jericho motioned for Ardeth to precede him.  "Aiwa," he simply replied.

"I am not intimidating," Ardeth quickly denied, and then frowned when he heard Jericho's snort of disbelief. 

"You are his sovereign, and according to the ancient chronicles, you are a legend come to life," Jericho droned on, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth.  

"Madjy will fairly tremble in your presence," he continued with a chuckle. 

"Will you stop?" Ardeth shook his head and laughed as they stopped at the gate that led to the outdoor eating area of the building.  Through the wrought iron fencing, they could see that Salma Aludra's kitchen was doing a brisk business today.   Most of the small tables were occupied; the majority of the patrons being people that lived in the surrounding neighborhood.  The two warriors that Ardeth and Jericho were looking for were easily spotted at a table situated in a far off corner.

Unable to resist as they wove their way through the courtyard, Ardeth had to add one last jibe, "I knew I should have overruled the Elders' decision and built that dungeon anyway.  Then I could have you thrown in there to test out one of the cells," he muttered. 

Jericho was saved from replying when the owner of the eatery spied her newest arrivals and stopped to stare at them in astonishment. 

"By my ancestors' tombs, now here is a warrior that my poor eyes have not seen in many a day," Salma Aludra said as she theatrically placed a hand over her heart. 

Ardeth winced slightly, and braced himself for what was to come next.  "Sallim 'ala Salma," he said with a slight bow.  "I agree it has been far too long since we last"

"And what is this?" she interrupted him and as fast as her ample figure would allow, hurried over to Ardeth, her hands gesturing at his body.  "You are far too thin to suit me. Have you not been eating properly? Do not reply, I can answer that question just by looking at you."

"Sallim 'ala Salma," Jericho parroted with a grin, clearly enjoying the scolding Ardeth was receiving from the old woman.  "I see you are in good health."

Salma glared at Jericho as she enveloped Ardeth in a motherly hug, and then pushed the warrior back, still inspecting his appearance with a critical eye. 

"I am not speaking to you, Commander ibn Sakhr, since you have failed to live up to your promise.  When was the last time my humble establishment was honored by your presence?" she asked and patted Ardeth's ribs.

"A thousand pardons for my lapse," Jericho murmured and bowed to Salma, slowly backing away.  He coughed to hide his laughter as Ardeth danced away from Salma's hands. 

"Both of you will have something to eat right now," she ordered them and gestured for the servers to bring something from the kitchen.

"Salma, I am here to speak with two of my warriors," Ardeth slowly and carefully extracted himself away from the older woman's hands.    He turned and hissed at Jericho.  "You are leaving me to fend for myself, eh?"

"And where is it?" Salma gestured to Ardeth's left wrist as the warrior's backed away.  "Where is the binding thread that symbolizes the union of a man and woman?  You are still unmarried?"

"I am running," Jericho whispered back to Ardeth and then impulsively grabbed his chieftain by the collar of his robe.  "Never let it be said that I would leave you to a fate worse than death."

"Oh merciful Allah, grant me the divine patience when dealing with these two obstinate warriors." Salma lifted her hands in supplication to the heavens.

"You love me, old womanadmit it," Ardeth grinned despite the fact that he was stumbling backwards as Jericho dragged him along. 

"Never," Salma waved her hands at the retreating warriors.  "I will never admit such a thing. Now stop wasting my time and let me get back to my business. Oh hulu Allah, he is still unmarried."

As Ardeth and Jericho approached Jameel's table, they could still hear Salma lamenting in the kitchen about the distressing state of affairs, and that her king was still without his queen.

~*~

"Do we tell the captain on watch?" the first guard asked as he lowered his rifle.  The body was lying motionless on the sand, and the horse was now running towards one of the gates.

"We can wait until our shift is over," the second guard replied nonchalantly.  "The warriors at the front will take care of the horse, most likely thinking it was lost from a Tuareg raid or passing caravan."

The first guard stared at the carcass, not sure what bothered him more  the ease he had felt in squeezing the trigger or the callous attitude from the other guard. 

"What about the body?"

The second guard laughed, shook his head and clapped his friend on the shoulder.  "What body?"

~*~

"How did you come by this information and how do you know about Abbasi?" Nabil asked. 

For the past hour, both he and Berin had listened in amazement to Drevick's tale and its many tendrils.

A secret friendship between enemies.

The presumed fate of the missing warrior.

And what an ancient and powerful enemy was plotting and preparing to do.    

"You can rest easily in knowing that all of my information was gleaned from outside sources - there are no spies within your tribes," Drevick said. 

"For the full identity of the warrior Abbasi, do I get to beat it out of you?" Berin asked hopefully with a wicked gleam in his eyes. 

Drevick's eyes widened at that comment and although he quickly assured his subordinate there was no need for alarm, he prayed that the scowling sub-commander would be so easily appeased.

"My people are scattered across the land, warrior, and not all of us are as bloodthirsty as our reputation dictates.  We often are impartial witnesses to the events that transpire in the desert or towns, yet we often choose to remain silent in regards to them. We have no desire to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.  We have been aware of the fate of Abbasi for quite some time, but after my pleas to my father for aid fell on deaf ears, I decided to act on my own."

"What tribe does Abbasi hail from?" Nabil asked impatiently, tired of the impromptu history lesson and speech.

"He comes from the Twelfth and more importantly, after our ill-fated meeting, he was going to journey to the tribe of the Fifth to see you, Commander.  He wanted to meet his half brother," Drevick stated quietly.

Nabil's eyes blinked in surprise.  "What did you say?" he asked incredulously. 

"Reyhan had intentions of seeking an audience with you, once he had learned of his heritage prior to his ume's passing.  He never knew the existence of an older brothernever knew that you were related and he wanted nothing more than to hopefully be reunited with you. You are all that is left of his family."

"But the Rwalla-Hunud intervened and has somehow framed Reyhan for the murder of their warrior," Berin surmised. He placed a comforting hand on Nabil's shoulder, astutely guessing at the inner turmoil his friend must have felt.

"My assumption would be that one of their own did it since they would enjoy nothing more than to see two very old adversaries go to war against one another.  That would leave them unfettered to fulfill their own plans.  With my people and the Medjai engaged and each depleting their resources, the Hunud could then sweep in and wipe out all resistance from both nations with a few well-timed battles and raids."

"And become the predominant power in the desert," Berin concluded hoarsely.  He glanced over at Nabil, his heart aching for the look of disbelief on his saHib's face. 

"Please believe me when I say that my primary concern is for Reyhan," Drevick pleaded quietly.  "I have already lost one friend.  I do not intend to lose another."

"So you came here looking for our support in this matter?" Nabil asked. He shoved a hand through his hair, still refusing to believe that Reyhan was his half brother.  The treachery of his English father had left a bitter memory in his heart, a wound that had finally healed but now had been carelessly reopened by one simple act.

Reyhan wanted to meet him

"I came here to save a life, and to warn you of the Rwalla-Hunud's intentions," Drevick replied.  "They want war, and it is my belief that they will somehow use Reyhan as the catalyst."

~*~

At first Salma was a troubling but well-intentioned presence as she hovered around the table, and made certain that all the warriors had been fed well.  She gleefully ignored Ardeth's growing sighs of impatience for a good while before finally leaving them in peace. 

Ardeth and Jericho took turns questioning both of the warriors, but eventually grew frustrated when neither one could elaborate any further than what they had already stated in their report to the captain on duty.

Ardeth was almost ready to give up when a messenger appeared at the table and delivered a note.  He opened the parchment and frowned a few moments later, the coincidental timing of it not lost on him.

"Bad news?" Jericho asked.

"Kull min intu ija ma'I, a horse has appeared at the gates located near the north end of the city and the saddle is covered in blood." Ardeth said and rose up from the table.  "Considering the events of last night, I find this most troubling indeed."

~*~

Translation: 

Kull min intu ija ma'I  roughly means all of you come with me

Part II