Legends Born: Tahir Edition (History's Shadow)

by K. Dzr

T H E S A N D S O F T I M E

  As the wind blows, the sands of time are swept through the air as if alive with a destination all their own. We leave Nephram for now and whisk forward thousands of years and almost as many miles.

  In the desert heat, I listened to the cries of pain and suffering of the Hebrew slaves with the Egyptians standing over them with whips. I saw the Red Sea open to welcome the Hebrews toward freedom and the wave’s crash down upon the pursuing Egyptians.

  I watched as a group of men rolled a giant, beautifully constructed wooden horse, with warriors hidden within towards the wall of an unsuspecting city—quite ingenious really.

  I’ve watched giant walls stretching for miles on end being built. I’ve seen new religions being born, with them new temples, mosques, pagodas and shrines; of course with each of those new religions came new wars, new persecutions.

  I watched men, women and children stubborn in their beliefs put to death in coliseums for the entertainment of royalty.

  Then there were the fanatic cults so determined in their goals they were willing to destroy anything that stood in their way.

  I watched an interesting series of events that plagued one village in particular. Two brothers, along with their friends took their sons fishing. It was a perfect day I suppose. One of the boys was a bit young, but even the youngsters have to learn to hunt and gather. Unexpectedly, the line jerked. With excitement, the boy tightened his grip on the rod; the others cheered as he battled the fish. Eventually the line snapped, the boy fell backward, and the men cursed. Then, they noticed the waters churn.

  The group fell silent. Perplexed, they stood on the river’s edge and studied the waves. The water steamed and bubbled as though it were over a flame. From the depths, a wall of water shot up and thrust itself onto the fishermen dragging them all into the boiling abyss.

  As the fishermen met their demise, I watched as a young girl screamed. Her brother never saw the camels charge. They knocked him to the ground in their frenzy. He tried to shield his body from the oblivious hooves of the stampeding animals, but was overcome. The terrified camels battered his limp body as they frantically sought escape from their pen. Ignoring the fear of succumbing to the same fate as her brother, she leapt from the fence and ran towards his body. The earth trembled beneath her. She skidded to a halt, lurching from the tremors. The camels jostled and rammed the fence until they burst through. They wailed and scattered through the village trampling and falling over anything in their way. She’d never seen such behavior before. The ground shook again, throwing her down. She looked to her brother; he lay motionless.

  Go to my brother, or run to get help? the girl wondered. Her thoughts were snatched from her mind and replaced by survival instincts. The ground trembled again and she found herself scrambling to keep from being swallowed beneath the earth. She clawed the ground trying to pull herself free, but the more she struggled, the more the sand poured onto her. As it rose to her neck, she could hear nearby screams. She thought the screams were for her. She thought someone was coming to save her.

  The blacksmith’s rhythmic hammering of steel was a familiar sound to all the villagers. What wasn’t so familiar were the screams of agony that escaped the smithy. The same screams that the girl thought to be of her rescuer. Just as he issued his final blow to the hot steel, fire erupted from the forge and came to life with a vengeance. The smithy hurled backward flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames consuming his body.

  A merchant and his wife were walking by when they heard the screams; both ran to the aid of the blacksmith. Like a powerful invisible hand, the wind snatched them up. High into the air they tumbled until as suddenly as they were plucked, they were released and plummeted back down to the earth.

  Meanwhile, in a modest hut at the northern edge of the village, a woman prepared a meal for herself and her only son. The boy enjoyed helping her in the kitchen because she usually sang while she cooked. Lately, she stopped singing. He knew she was sad; she had been sad for a long time. He just hoped the sadness hadn’t stolen her beautiful voice forever. He continued to keep her company. Perhaps, he thought, his presence might soon encourage her to sing again.

  Suddenly, thunderous booms followed by piercing screams interrupted their silence. The hut trembled; the ceiling groaned. She barely had time to grab her son before the ceiling caved in on top of them.

  The blacksmith’s shop burned; the earth trembled and swallowed man, woman, child and beast. Fires erupted throughout the village. Trees uprooted and slammed into homes and shops alike, demolishing them on impact. From clear blue skies came bolts of lightning seeming to target only the most occupied areas. What didn’t fall victim to the bowels of the earth, or the raging fires, the wind ravaged. Nothing was left untouched.

  I stand as witness to all these things and more. So much destruction, so much strife and persecution over the centuries. I watched it all. Silently observing as humankind destroyed and rebuilt itself over and over again. I witnessed countless deaths for the glory of doomed civilizations; empire after empire, dynasty after dynasty. The Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Huns, the Mongols, the Vikings, the Muslims, the Catholics. Brother leading armies against brother; father against son, crusade after crusade, war after war. Fighting and killing for possession of a land that belonged to no one. Fighting, ostracizing, and unrelenting destruction for a mere adornment to sit upon one’s head.

  And to think, they called me evil.