كل عام وانتم بخير
Eid Mubarak.
A fan of mine made this, but I lost her account. Thank you so much!
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"Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror." Khalil Gibran
After a few hours of journey, the palm trees of the Borkan tribe came in sight, and Faris sighed. His wounds had started to bleed again, and by now, Tufan's mane had turned crimson. The knight wished to end his misery. It took every courage in his body to keep his eyes open. He had to keep his eyes open. How can he close his eyes when he had left his brother on the battleground with men to tend to his wounds? Right before withdrawing from the battlefield, Faris had ordered his emissaries to seek help for Nasser. He had to keep his sibling alive.
When the first mud house came in view, Marwan's words chimed in his brain. Khaleefa. His uncle. The same blood that he shared with Sheikh Mubarak. Faris could still not comprehend the ground behind such heinous acts. Did he want the title? Or did he desire Mubarak's death? Faris's jaw clenched at his train of thoughts. He blinked his eyes as a horse galloped beside Tufan. Badr.
He clenched Tufan's rein tighter as if understanding the command of his master, the horse trotted faster. The wind took his dried, filthy hair with it, drying the blood on Faris's forehead, and blowing his robe. The sun almost touched the peak of the mountains, and clouds had long departed. Puddles of rainwater decorated the land making livestock leave a trail behind them. Faris and his men crossed the boundaries of the tribe, and tribesmen gaped at them in shock.
When it came to killing Marwan, Faris was ready. However, facing the man who trained him, made him the knight that he was today shriveled his heart. Was he afraid of confronting the reality, he did not know. However, Faris did know that nothing will stop from avenging the death of the innocent.
Thundering hooves trembled the ground beneath them. Faris cast a glance towards the sun and knew it was time for sheik Mubarak and other leaders of the Borkan tribe to gather in the tent for their usual gathering. He led his men towards the tent with newfound wrath seething in his blood. Before Tufan could come to a complete halt in front of the large tent, Faris leaped down and marched towards the tent. His sandals crunch pebble stones, and blood left a path on the soil.
The world around him dissolved as Faris took quick steps towards the tent. The tent did not have a flap; it was open for guests to enter freely. At his disheveled, bloody sight, a dozen men in the large tent rose to their feet.
"Ya Faris," Sheikh Mubarak took a step forward. Apprehension marred his face and halted at relief. However, soon his brows knit when the knight of knights passed his father and made his way to Khaleefa.
Without giving anyone a moment to ponder, or sigh in contentment, Faris grabbed Khaleefa by the collar and hauled the man out of the large tent. Ignoring how his victim had turned pale, or the fact that his feet dragged behind him.
Gasps and shocked voices rang in the tent from the sight. Such audacity, such insolence, was never witnessed in the Borkan tribe, let alone among the leaders.
"Faris, what on earth are you doing? Let him go this instant." Sheikh Mubarak barked, following his son out of the tent.
At his father's words, Faris abruptly let go of Khaleefa's neck, and the man landed on his hands, next to Faris's feet.
"What is the meaning of this outrageous behavior? Have you lost your senses at the battle?" Mubarak stood before his son, not reaching down to aid Khaleefa.
Faris's knights stood behind him, bloodied and battered. They watched as Faris attempted to tame his rage. The rise and fall of his chest were an indication of how hard the knight ventured to remain calm.
"No father, the battle has brought me to my senses," he moved his burning gaze to the crowd and saw them cower. "For months, I have pondered. For months, I have fought every single attempt this man," he threw his hand to Khaleefa, who was still on his knees. "Did to annihilate my knights. And to turn the women of my tribe into widows."
"Where are you bringing these accusations from, Faris?" Khaleefa finally rose to his feet and faced his nephew.
The knight clenched his jaw as his eyes landed on Khaleefa, "Do you wish to know uncle?"
"How dare you drag your uncle like this in front of his tribe? Is this how we raised you? Is this how a knight behaves?" Mubarak now stood next to his brother, Khaleefa.
"This is how an individual like him should be treated." Faris stared at his father for a few seconds then he called, "Badr,"
The Rashideen knight stepped forward from the line Faris's knights had made and stopped alongside Faris. Surrounded by people who did not wish his presence, Badr did not waver. As though, comprehending Faris's words, he pulled out the coins and the ring. Faris took them from Badr and tossed the coins and the ring on Khaleefa's feet.
"Tell me, uncle, what is your ring and your coins doing with someone like Marwan?"
Khaleefa's eyes were down for a while; he lifted his eyes with a grin. "Ah, I see. You have disrespected your blood because of a mere ring." He then crouched down, grabbed a few coins in his hand, then stood to his height. "Marwan is a disreputable burglar. There is not a single tribe in these lands he has not stolen from."
"So, you, reject your ties with Marwan?" Faris growled.
"There were no ties, to begin with." Khaleefa closed his fingers around the coin in his hand.
Here Faris took a step closer. "You have always been the man who made me a knight. I always honored you as my father, but you never once thought of me as your son," The knight exhaled. "When Marwan uttered your name, the ground beneath my feet vanished. It felt as if my father," Faris placed his hand on his chest. "Ripped my soul into pieces."
"What of Marwan?" Mubarak demanded.
Faris glanced at his father, and his eyes communicated the tale of Marwan's death then he looked back at Khaleefa. "I have one question, though, why? Why did you have to have Nasser's blood on your hand? Why did you kill Saif?"
At Nasser's name, Faris received the slightest of reactions from Khaleefa, but it vanished before he could comprehend it. "I do not know what you are talking about."
Having had enough of this ridiculous hoax, just like before, Faris moved like a flash. He marched to his knights and then dragged someone from behind Jabbir. At the sight of the individual whose hands were tied, Faris noticed how pallid Khaleefa's face had gone, and how his right hand trembled twice. Before Sultan could kill Aamer, Marwan's right in command, Faris stopped him for he knew the coins, and the ring was not enough. They needed words as evidence, and Aamer was his evidence.
Standing before his father and uncle, he looked at the culprit behind all this massacre. "Go ahead, uncle. Deny this as well." At this point, Sheikh Mubarak was speechless as well. The reaction from Khaleefa had awoken doubts in his heart.
Before anyone could grasp the situation, Khaleefa took out his dagger from his right and made for his younger sibling, Mubarak.
An uproar ignited among the tribesmen that encircled them. Faris's shoulders sagged slightly in despair for this action of Khaleefa had proved all those denunciations accurate.
Faris let go of Marwan's right in command then, with a deep inhale, he moved. He did what any son would commit at the moment. The knight brought up the palm of his right hand at unimaginable speed and smacked Khaleefa in the face.
The man groaned in agony as blood spluttered from his broken nose and staggered back. Sheikh Mubarak moved away slowly with extreme rage and sorrow boiling in his eyes. Suddenly, four men from the crowd made their way to Faris. The knight recognized them as Khaleefa's guards. However, before they could reach Faris, Sultan, and Jabbir stepped up to them.
Not stopping there, Faris jerked the dagger from his uncle, and then pushed Khaleefa on his knees in front of him. The wind peered as Faris glared down from his mighty height at the criminal in front of him, and Khaleefa looked up at Faris with terror apparent in his wide eyes.
The Lord of the world, the wind, and mankind has brought forth justice to the tribe. The Lord of Faris and his tribesmen unveiled the culprit, for that Faris felt his heart soar.
Next to him, Badr placed his hand on his sword, ready to take any action if need be.
"You wanted this from the beginning. You yearned for this from the start," Khaleefa yelled at Faris.
"Khaleefa, whatever transgressions you have committed, doing this, shall not protect you," Mubarak spoke to his brother. "Speak of the truth, brother, and we shall, in sha Allah, come to a conclusion."
"I do not care or need your justice. Your son has gathered enough evidence to slaughter me here," His glare remained on Faris.
"Doing this will not solve anything." Mubarak tried to reason again.
"It is already done. I have waited far too long for this. Tell me, Faris. You wished to wed the Rashideen's daughter from the start, yet you pretended to despise her. You had always craved to pursue your father's plans in terminating the feud."
From the corner of his eye, Faris saw how Badr's head snapped towards him at his uncle's words. "I will give you a minute to accept your sins, or by, Allah, you shall see an end like Marwan." Faris disregarded the comment.
Khaleefa laughed, his eyes crinkling on the sides, reminding Faris of his father. "I refused." At Faris's frown, he carried on. "When famine hit the Rashideen tribe, Mubarak desired to send aid and finish the feud. He wanted to forgive those who killed our father. So, I refused. And then, I discover that my beloved nephew behind our back sent anonymous aid to the Rashideen in attempts to reach out and cease the rage in both tribes."
At the revelation, both Mubarak and Badr stared at Faris in absolute astonishment. He ignored them.
Finally, after years of searching, he unearthed the root that corrupted the tree. Indeed, he had for many years, hunted for ways to extinguish the flame between Rashideen and the Borkan. When at last, Faris was ready to give up on his notions and aims, Allah opened a closed-door for him.
He remembers that day as if it was yesterday. He had just returned from hunting when Faris found out that Saif, his cousin, had been assassinated by the Rashideen tribe.
Muddled and enraged from such injustice, Faris had assembled his knights and made his way to the Rashideen tribe. Once there, his suspicions began to mount. Salem, a man with the mind of a child, cannot possibly kill a newly entitled knight like Saif.
Faris had aimed his first words to Khalid, and he craved to utter more to comprehend and prevent carnage when Abu Issa had emerged and brought forth the end of a feud through his matrimony to Raghad.
And that is why Faris had voiced his thoughts to Badr on his nikkah. He desired to see if the eagle of knights noticed something ominous lurking in the shadows of his tribe or not. However, Badr was free of such thoughts, and Faris knew he had to make his move, and fast.
Faris's throat was parched; due to the feelings that raced in his form. However, the knight was petrified. Khaleefa could discern that in his nephew's eyes. Faris was terrified of the events that were to come, the blood that he was going to shed. Could he do it? Could he avenge those innocent people with the blood of his uncle?
"After all the sacrifice I did for this tribe. You, boy, have the nerves to treat me like a dog." Khaleefa wiped the blood from his mouth.
"It is not he, but you, Ya Khaleefa." Sheikh Ahmad, Sultan's father, stepped forward. "You are our elder. What possessed you to commit such dreadful sins? What was the crime of my Saif? He was just a boy." He stopped near Faris, his form quivering in wrath, tears in his eyes. "Did we not fulfil our obligations to you?"
Faris's hand that grasped Khaleefa's shoulder and drenched his thobe with blood clenched when he felt the man tremble. "You converse of fulfilling duties, Ahmad? Where were you when Mubarak was appointed the leader? Was it not my right?"
"Mubarak was the most suitable leader for this tribe."
"You agree with him. You wish to reach out to the Rashideen. You are just as deluded as him." Khaleefa growled.
At this, Sheikh Ahmad jeered, turning away. "You veered away from the path of your Lord the day my son's innocent blood coated your skin. You are beyond repentance."
Knight of knights looked at Sheikh Mubarak for the final verdict as he was the leader of the Borkan tribe. "Today..." Mubarak paused, standing to his full height. Faris at once took note of the grief in his father's eyes, the clench of his jaw. "You have not only dishonoured my trust but the trust of your people as well, Khaleefa." He stepped away from them and stood in the middle of the crowd so everyone could hear him.
Sheikh Mubarak then looked at Badr. Sagr al fursan watched as his eyes trailed to his sword then back at him. Understanding him, Badr pulled out his sword from its sheath and gently handed it to Sheikh Mubarak, who took it in his right hand.
"Sultan," Mubarak called.
Sultan limped his way to Sheikh Mubarak with a frown on his face. He looked at Faris uncertain, then at his leader again.
"Avenge your sibling," The leader of the Borkan tribe tilted the sword for Sultan.
Faris frowned at his father's verdict. However, he did understand it. Marwan was his to kill, and Khaleefa was Sultan's wrongdoer. After a short pause, Sultan moved to take Badr's sword from Sheikh Mubarak and turned to face his other uncle. Faris moved away from Khaleefa when Sultan took his first step.
Faris winced as more blood filled his sandals, but he disregarded them as that moment Sultan's fingers clenched around the hilt of the sword, and he faced Khaleefa.
Pain, regret, anger was all Faris could see in Sultan's eyes. He and Sultan had trained together under Khaleefa, and now the man who instructed them how to wield a sword was going to be the prey of Sultan's sword. His uncle had not taken a spouse mainly because he was occupied in training the knights of the Borkan tribe and protecting them. Then, how on earth can he possess such hatred in his chest? How can he murder his nephew?
"Look me in the eye, boy. Is this what you learned from me? I do not remember teaching you to avert your gaze from your prey." Khaleefa grinned. "Stare them in the eyes and kill."
Faris gazed at Sultan, reading his every move. He hesitated; Sultan could not terminate Khaleefa. Before Faris could move, Sheikh Mubarak lifted his hand in the air to prevent him. He wanted to provide justice to Sultan.
Up ahead, the cloud veiled the sun. They did not desire for the mighty sun to witness such a verdict. For them, the sun was a source of warmth and delight for this tribe. Trees stood still, craning their necks to see if it was Faris who would permit his sword to smear in the blood of his own.
"Did you annihilate Saif with your own hands, or you had someone do it?" Sultan hissed through his teeth.
Khaleefa peered at him for a few seconds. "It took me a while to cleanse the blood off my hands."
At this, a roar escaped Sultan's lips he lifted the sword and rammed the blade straight in Khaleefa's chest. A single drop of tear rolled down his eye when blood rushed from Khaleefa's mouth. Pulling Badr's sword out, he staggered back, sinking to his knees.
Sheikh Mubarak had turned his back to them the moment Sultan had lifted the sword. He could not witness the death of his brother. Faris tilted his head back and looked at the sky as intense feelings obstructed at his chest.
Knight of knights did not want this. He did not want to spill the blood of his blood, but Khaleefa left no options for him. He pushed himself and Faris to such an extent that now they were cornered, and only death could free one.
If only he had seen it earlier.
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Raghad pressed her hand against her throat and paced in front of the door for the countless time. A while ago, they had heard that Faris had appeared in this tribe. To say she was joyous would be an understatement. Tears of utter happiness and relief rushed in her eyes as she left whatever task she was doing and made her way to the main wooden door.
However, just as soon as she entered the courtyard, Raghad saw Fahad leave and latch the door behind him. Upon the sight, she ran to the door and rattled it but failed. He had locked the women of Sheikh Mubarak's family inside. Something was going on outside the walls of the house, which they did not wish for them to witness.
And now, she kept pacing, waiting for Fahad to return and unlatch the door so she could see Faris and finally tame her raging heart.
The younger members of the wind that sat by the chicken coop gaped at Raghad. They could feel her heart beating like drums within her bosom. The wind knew the bride was hanging from a thin thread. A daring one tiptoed to Raghad and whirled around her, taking the strand of hair that had escaped her scarf with it.
"Ya Raghad, sit down. The earth shall weep now from your pacing." Shouq, who had followed her sat by the mud wall of Nasser's room.
"I cannot, ya Shouq. I must see him."
"You shall."
"Fahad is late. Why is he late?"
"He shall return soon."
"I desire to see if he is alive or if he is well."
Shouq stood from where she rested. Both had not slept the previous night, and Raghad took note of the darkness around her eyes. "He is alive. You heard what Fahad said."
"He did not state if Faris is well." Regard's hand clutched the scarf around her head. It was the same scarf that Faris had purchased for her from the market.
"Raghad, do no_" Shouq halted when the wooden door was unlatched and pushed open.
Fahad rushed in, his eyes searching for someone. "Where is mother, Shouq?"
"She returned inside." The sister responded, at once taking in Fahad's pale face and shaken form. "What has happened?"
"Nothing," Fahad took another step inside. "I must see mother right away."
"Faris. Where is your brother?" Raghad requested, running out of endurance.
Fahad glanced at her as if seeing her there for the first time. "He is alive."
As those words left his mouth, Raghad swayed from the haste of emotions in her heart. "Where is he?"
Fahad frowned.
"Where is Faris?"
"He is in a tent. The knights are aiding his wounds."
Raghad gasped. "Where?"
Again, Fahad remained hushed.
"For Allah's sake Fahad. Tell me where is Faris." She stepped closer, ignoring how Shouq bit her lips at her words.
Fahad exhaled. "You will find him in the tent by the training ground." Before he could finish, the bride turned towards the door and sprinted out of the house. Raghad did not pay heed to Shouq, who called her name behind her or the tribesmen who watched her puzzled as she nearly ran towards the training ground.
She needed to see him. Raghad desired to decorate her eyes with his sight. Ya, Allah, when and how she became so wholeheartedly his, failed her senses.
Every step she took caused more tears to sting her eyes. She needed to see Faris so she could breathe. Raghad needed to see Faris so she could live.
When at last, the tent by the training ground came in sight, her steps slowed down, and Raghad quickly pushed aside the flap of the tent and froze.
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The next chapter will be updated within 2-3 days as promised. The story also only has 2-3 chapters left.
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Sorry for the mistakes I am extremely sleepy.