Words of Swords

1 . 1

A piercing stare met Ala as he averted his gaze from the retreating Blue Skin and met that of his father's. Yes surely this was not in any way part of the plan he had set out with. Bringing in that plague into the walls of his Kingdom was failure, but not failure graver than coming back empty handed and facing his father as a greater disappointment than he already was.

The deathly stare dragged on and the Vizier observed from the background, stroking his maroon henna dyed beard in quietude waiting for the resounding sound that followed moments like this. For it was no new nor surprising sight for the King to strike his son not caring of anyone's presence, sometimes even in the vicinities of the court. Bala had witnessed it countless of times and even gotten acquainted with the routine. On good days, it was only a jab to the jaw loosening a few teeth or a kick on the abdomen spluttering slobbers of blood but on bad days, it was worst; multiple cuts by a sword or a hundred lashes from a horse tail whip and sadly, from the look on Kallam's face, Bala feared today might be one of the latter and he was right.

Wincing, Bala wished for the loud and merry haggling of oblivious merchants with their patrons just a few feet below to elevate into the canopy and drown out the svelte sound of the whip as it licked Ala's back and sliced through the thin cloth of his white tunic. It hadn't been a hundred whips but Kallam stopped when sweat gathered on his temple and his wrist tired of handling swing of the tail.

Ala's tunic now bleached in the red of blood fell to the ground in shreds as he got up from kneeling and stretched painfully to his full height, bare chest glistening with sweat under the scarlet light of the setting sun and a pattern of blood-dripping snakes adorning his back but blank faced none the less. Showing pain wasn't the place of a son of Kallam and he wasn't about to shame his father a second time.

"Forgive me Father, I had no other choice. It was either this or the whole treaty to be annulled."

"This?" Kallam heaved wondrously, his hands still tight on the whip. "This, letting the enemy into our territory?"

Ala pursed his lips, whether it was from a loss of words or the pain radiating from the wounds gaping on his back, Bala strained to figure out but couldn't as he continued to observe the duo and finally decided that it was a safe moment for a Vizier to share his wisdom. "Your Majesty, the Blue Skin is only a boy, I reckon he is the youngest of the sons of Ibra. The one they call The Ghost for his oddly not being anything like the other four and thus hidden as a shame... I'm surprised he was even tasked so, for his father and people alike deem him incompetent. Majesty, I assure you, their is nothing alarming about him."

Save for the color of his eyes. Eyes that danced between hues of the ferocity of a crackling fire and the serenity of a pearl lost in the depths of sea. Eyes of a ghost.

Bala mused but tightened his lips, speaking nothing of his suspicions in his efforts to calm his King.

"The Ghost? Why would Ibra send him and forgo his Lion?" King Kallam blurted. Assad was he who was feared by the whole of the Sudan, his infamous brutality and bravery living up to that of the Lion he was named after. Then why would Ibra send such a weakling in his stead? Kallam looked to his Vizier in earnest confusion. Bala was the only one allowed to witness this much of his vulnerability.

"Your Majesty it might be because Ibra's motive is the opposite of what you think it is." Bala answered, curious of how Ala's trembling figure suddenly stiffened at the mention of that. "It might be because he wants you to rid him of his burden..."

Kallam's eyes slowly started to widen with realization as Bala continued. "...it is no secret that he resents the boy and he thinks him a taint to his regal image. Blue Skins are savages... but are equally as savage in fiercely abiding by their beliefs. They fear their Deity more than anything. It is the greatest of blasphemies for a Tuareg to annihilate the other of the same blood. So Majesty, I believe, it is Ibra's tactic to send him here in hopes that you would end him."