The Warrior's Path

by Karim Soliman

  “The king is going to marry, and his new wife will be one of your honorable family,” said Rasheed. The wide grin on Munzir's face spoke for itself.

  “That's a great honor for our house, Your Majesty.” Feras gave him the best smile he could manage.

  “That's another reason for calling your father back,” Rasheed said. “He must be here when I vie for his daughter's hand in marriage.”

  Wait! Whose daughter? My father? Sania? Feras was speechless, and so was his lord uncle. The king had just turned the tables on him.

  “I have to acknowledge that it was your uncle who convinced me of the idea,” said Rasheed. “After spending some time thinking of who can be my queen, I decided to propose to Sania.”

  “It's an honor for our family, King Rasheed.” Feras was thrilled. He could not hide the gloating smile on his face.

  Munzir cleared his throat. “It's…an honor…for both families.”

  “I never considered you as two families, Munzir,” said Rasheed.

  “You're right, my king.” Munzir tried to hide the scowl on his face. “We are one house after all.”

  “The whole kingdom deserves a few days of joy,” said Rasheed. “Our people suffered a lot from the scourge of war, and they need to be rewarded for their endurance.”

  “You have a point, my king.” Feras nodded.

  “But what if we have someone among us who endangers these peaceful days?” Munzir growled, glaring at Feras. “We are on the verge of war with the Rusakians because of your furious commander,” Munzir spat. “He killed their marshal's son, and now they seek justice to be served. He who kills must be executed.”

  Feras turned to Rasheed to see how much he agreed with that. “It's lamentable to take a decision against one of our commanders.” Rasheed tightened his jaw. “But I find myself here obliged to do what is good for the kingdom, not for a single man. Especially, when he is not a Murasen.”

  “What's your decision, sire?” Feras kept his eyes fixed on Rasheed's face in anticipation.

  “Masolon must disappear,” said Rasheed. “Forever.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  MASOLON

  Masolon and his band were only one mile away from the walls of Kahora when he spotted Feras with his retinue. The lords' knights stopped when they recognized Masolon, who raised his fist to stop his horsemen as well. As he split off his company, Feras approached him.

  “Commander Masolon, meeting you here is not a coincidence if I know you right.”

  “My men are watching over the whole region, milord.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Masolon.” Feras lowered his voice. “Do you have any friends outside the kingdom?”

  Masolon shot him an inquisitive look.

  “Can you return to your homeland?” Feras asked. “I'm asking you because you must leave the Murasen lands tonight.”

  “Why? What is wrong, Lord Feras?”

  “The Rusakians sent to King Rasheed asking for your head.”

  “What did the king say?”

  “King Rasheed told them that he had no idea about this incident and he must investigate for the truth before he surrenders one of his men. Justice would be served if he found out that you were guilty.”

  A diplomatic answer.

  “This is what he said to them. What about his real intentions?” Masolon asked.

  “Rasheed doesn't want those Rusakians to arrest you,” said Feras. “But at the same time, he can't keep you as one of his subjects if you are convicted.”

  “I was never considered one of his subjects,” Masolon mused, shaking his head. “All of you still see me as a foreigner.”

  “You were recognized by the king himself as a Murasen commander, Masolon. You were granted the Murasen armor.”

  “It was nothing more than rituals. If these Rusakians were coming after you, he would never surrender you to them.”

  “If I were you, I would never abandon my duty and follow my lust outside the kingdom,” Feras said. “You don't understand that we are trying to protect you.”

  You mean protecting yourselves from war.

  Masolon exhaled, trying to think of his next step. Ending his journey in this kingdom was inevitable. He had to cede his authority as a commander. He had to leave Sania after he had gotten so close to her.

  Curse you, Rusakians! Why now?

  “You have one night to pack your things and prepare for a long journey outside the kingdom,” Feras said. “My piece of advice is to keep this issue discreet. For your own good.”

  “Do you expect that I will let my fellows discover next morning that I have deserted them without any notice from my side?”

  “This is better for you and the gang as well. You will create a state of havoc in the gang by announcing that you are leaving. As for you, I recommend you have a new start away from any previous acquaintances. This will make you harder to find. Trust me, Gorania is but a small town.”

  “I think we do not have much to talk about,” Masolon said. “I was honored by your acquaintance, Lord Feras.”

  Feras acknowledged. “I hope we don't meet again.”

  Courtesy followed by menace. Masolon wheeled his horse and trotted back to his company. His brothers surrounded him, their eyes inquisitive, but he was determined not to talk about it before he made up his mind regarding his next move.

  “Back to the hill,” he commanded and said nothing more until they reached their destination. He was the one who had started this gang, and it would be his third time to leave them, this time for good. Feras had warned him against telling his brothers, but Feras could burn in Hell.

  He called out at his fellows, including Blanich, to sit together and have a quick word away from the rest of the gang.

  “First, we must agree on keeping our voices low.” Masolon looked at Ziyad and Antram. “Are you fine with that?”

  “My voice is not loud,” Ziyad protested. “It's your voices that are too quiet.”

  Masolon would really miss his Murasen fellow's jests. “Listen to me. From now on, Captain Frankil will be leading you because I am leaving. I will not be back.”

  Antram and Frankil looked shocked.

  “What?” Ziyad blustered.

  Masolon shushed his noisy fellow. “What did I just say about keeping our voices low? Just listen to me, all of you, because I do not have much time. For the good of this gang, I must be outside it. I must leave tonight, and that is all I can say.”

  “Why?” Antram asked. “What happened?”

  Frankil shook his head. “What did you do this time?”

  “The usual.” Masolon stood. “Getting into trouble with the wrong people. I must go now, brothers. Night is short in these lands, you know.”

  “Wait,” said Ziyad. “Where will you go?”

  Masolon hadn't made up his mind yet. Everything depended on the girl he should pass by next. “I have no idea. What matters now is that the sun of next morning does not rise while I am still in any sort of desert.”

  “You are not returning to your homeland, are you?” Ziyad asked.

  The notion hadn't even crossed Masolon's mind. “Even if I want to, I do not think I can survive another journey in the Great Desert.”

  He went to mount his horse, his brothers following him on foot to see him off. “I know you will lead the gang better than me, Frankil. Because you believed in the gang more than I did.” He meant every word. The only one in this gang who cared about the cause Masolon had suggested was the Bermanian captain. Even Masolon himself had his own priorities sometimes.

  “Not going to Durberg, I guess.” Blanich grinned.

  Masolon answered with a chuckle. Of course, he wouldn't go anywhere in the snowy kingdom. Neither to Durberg nor to any other city.

  Masolon kicked his horse's flanks and raced the wind away from the hill. He still had one last ride to Burdi before he ended his Murasen journey. He might have lost the gang and his title, but he wouldn't lose Sania for any reason.

 
; CHAPTER SIXTY

  SANIA

  “Amal!” Sania called out as she went from room to room. Her maidservant would never leave the house without her permission. Where was she?

  Taking a torch with her, Sania pushed the door open and scanned the dark yard with her eyes. Amal was there at the fence, bending over something on the ground. Since Sania didn’t spot a broom or a bucket nearby, she could safely presume that her maidservant wasn’t doing any cleaning.

  Amal rose to her feet when she saw Sania coming. “Milady.” She looked uneasy when she greeted her.

  Under the flickering light of her torch, Sania eyed the hole Amal was trying to hide. “What are you doing here, Amal?”

  “Nothing of import, milady.” Amal smiled nervously. “I was just burying a dead snake that tried to creep into the house.”

  “You killed a snake?” Sania always feared them. After a couple of seconds, she reminded herself that the snake was dead already. “Why didn’t you tell me at once?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you, milady. You seemed busy in your reading and—”

  “Show me the snake.” Sania nodded toward the ground.

  Amal acquiesced to her order. With her hands, she dug in the ground, and indeed she pulled a snake. Dead or alive, those damned snakes looked scary.

  “Why does it smell like incense?” Sania sniffed as she bent over the hole. “It is incense.”

  Amal couldn’t hide her guilty face.

  “Amal, what is going on here?”

  “It’s for our protection, milady.”

  “Our protection from what?”

  “From that demon…I know it’s hard to explain.”

  Sania smiled to encourage Amal to elaborate. “Just try me. What demon are you talking about?”

  Amal exhaled. “Commander Masolon. I heard he came from the Great Desert.”

  Sania chuckled, relieved. “I was scared like you the first time I knew, but don’t you worry, he is just a man of flesh and blood.”

  “No man of flesh and blood can survive a cursed place like the Great Desert, milady. I feel something wrong about him every time I see him.”

  On the contrary, Sania always felt there was something right.

  A galloping horse was coming, Sania listened to the thundering hooves. She would be sure it was Masolon, but his three days hadn’t passed yet.

  “Speak of the demon, and he shall appear.” Sania grinned, watching Masolon on the back of his horse. “You go now, Amal.” She motioned the maidservant toward the house.

  Sania waited for him until he dismounted and tied his horse next to hers. She was about to tease her impatient lover as he strode across the yard toward her, but today he looked different. The grim look on his face was worrying.

  “Something wrong, Masolon?”

  “I am leaving the kingdom tonight,” he said without preamble.

  “What for? Did my brother send you to fight the Mankols?”

  “I am no longer a commander. Those soldiers around the town perimeter do not know that yet. When they find out, they will arrest me on sight.”

  “Arrest you? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I am banished, Sania. By order of King Rasheed.”

  “Banished? What have you done?”

  “It is a long story, and I am afraid I do not have enough time now.” He glanced at the wooden gate behind him. “Your brother’s soldiers may come here at any moment.”

  “Why, Masolon? Why? What happened?”

  “I was trapped. I will tell you on our way out of here.”

  “Out of where?”

  “Out of the realm, Sania. If we are going to leave, we must leave now.”

  And Sania had thought her maidservant was wrong in the head. “Masolon, are you drunk?”

  “I know a merchant in Kalensi called Galardi,” he said, ignoring what she had said, “and he wanted to make use of my services as a caravan master. I can have a new start there.”

  “Let me understand this right. You want me to elope with you?” Sania asked.

  “Why not? Do you know another way?”

  “Another way for what?”

  Masolon looked surprised by her question. “To be together, Sania. I thought you might be happy about that.”

  She had thought the same. But now she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was his plan that didn’t make her feel comfortable. The plan of their future life; an idea that still sounded awkward on its own.

  “Kalensi is too far away from here.” She folded her arms, weighing his reckless suggestion.

  “I know the way, do not worry.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

  “I will be nobody there. No one will take care of me while I am alone, waiting for months for your return from your long journeys with those caravans. I will never be the wife of another Lord Ahmet or Lord Feras, Masolon. What you are asking me to do is even worse.”

  Masolon fidgeted. “We are running out of time, Sania, and that is our best alternative so far.”

  “Your best alternative.” Disappointed, she pointed her finger at him. “I thought you’d know better.”

  “I am a warrior, Sania. If I decide not to travel with merchants, my only option will be offering my services to warlords as a mercenary. In both cases, I will be absent for a while.”

  “So your absence is a matter of fact that I must accept. Is that it?”

  “I do not mean to impose anything on you, Sania, but this is part of my profession that I cannot change.”

  “You want me to cede my title, my country, my family—everything. But you never considered abandoning your bloody profession. You know what, I’m really shocked.”

  Masolon’s lips moved, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked down, letting out a deep breath of air. “I am losing my mind, Sania. I cannot imagine how I may spend the rest of my life without you.”

  “You mean you cannot imagine spending the rest of your life without your sword and horse.”

  Masolon lifted his chin, looking her in the eye. “I will never choose them over you,” he promised.

  “You are sure of that?”

  “Quite sure.”

  Sania looked at him warily. “Masolon, the great warrior, are you ready to become a blacksmith or some carpenter?”

  “A blacksmith will suit me more. Carpentry needs some fine art.” He grinned.

  “I am not jesting.”

  “Do you love me or not, Sania?” he asked, his voice firm.

  “What is this question for?”

  “Answer me,” he insisted.

  “You had my answer before.”

  “I want to hear your answer in a familiar language this time.”

  Sania studied his stern face. He was serious about his demand.

  “Alright.” She exhaled. “I love you. Now what?”

  A smile transformed his gloomy face. “This settles it.” He wrapped his arm around her thighs and threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

  “What are you doing, Masolon?” she screamed, kicking the air.

  “Helping you come to a decision.” Carrying her, he walked toward her brown horse. “Such a hesitant girl!”

  “Put me down! We are not done talking!”

  “We have a long way ahead. We will talk about everything you want.” He laid her on the back of her horse.

  “Get off me!” She kicked when he tried to help her with the stirrups.

  “Alright, alright.” He stepped back, untied both horses, and mounted his. “Let us go.”

  Running away with the man she loved. The notion had always sounded befitting in the old romantic stories in Goranian poetry. A charming moment she could only fancy in her daydreams. But she never thought it could be that scary when it happened for real.

  “Move on, Sania,” Masolon urged her.

  “Masolon, I’m not ready yet,” she said. “I need more clothes for this long journey.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  MASOLON

&
nbsp; Masolon held a torch to light the way in the desert darkness.

  “I’m so scared,” whimpered Sania, her horse next to his. He felt bad for putting her in such a situation. Most probably a delicate princess like his girl had never traveled without a howdah, or guards to escort her. Right now, Masolon was her only guard.

  “Is this how you usually travel?” she asked.

  “Not really.” Masolon grinned, trying to cheer her up. “At least I have a torch tonight.”

  “My Lord!” she exclaimed. “Are you telling me you have traveled in such darkness without a torch? You can’t be serious!”

  “Your eyes are accustomed to your burning sun, and mine are accustomed to darkness. We are even.”

  “No, we’re not! This is not normal! Only demons see in the dark!”

  “Now you realize who truly I am.” Masolon laughed. “But it is too late now, sweetheart. You are stuck with this demon, forever I am afraid.”

  “Speaking of forever, how long are we going to stay on this abandoned road?”

  “Everything is going to be fine,” said Masolon. “When we reach the Oasis, we can join a caravan heading to Kalensi, or any place you wish.”

  “The Oasis?”

  “It is a gathering point near Kahora for caravans traveling from everywhere. There, we can replenish our supplies.”

  “Sometimes, I feel that I’m the foreigner, not you.”

  “I have seen a lot in Gorania in my first year.”

  “A year? Time passes so quickly indeed.”

  Her voice sounded more reassured as he kept talking to her. One night in the desert would be nothing to him, but it would be too long for her.

  “Have you met any demons in the Great Desert?” she asked.

  “Not so many.” He shrugged, laughing.

  “This is not funny,” she protested. “Do they really live there as in the Tales?”

  “Even for demons, that cursed place is too deadly.” He shook his head, recalling his horrendous passage. “The blazing heat came from the sun in the sky and from the sand. The air I breathed burnt my chest. The blood boiled inside my veins. I spent weeks, and not a living creature I saw. Even cactus does not exist there.”