That year, however, the monsoon was not the only danger looming over the people of Riakesh.
The barbarian army advanced undisturbed rapidly, raiding and killing, leaving behind only ruins and corpses. But even during the raids those ruthless warriors never stopped more than necessary, only taking short breaks at night to sleep, aware that it was essential to reach Baharmis as soon as possible. Those barbarians from the South were used to adversity, not even the storms were able to stop them, they continued to advance despite the rain and the mud, aided by light equipment, consisting of leather armor, spears and small shields, which allowed them to move without too much effort.
Following the path that had been indicated to them, they continued towards Baharmis without being intercepted by the patrols of the Kingdom and, only in sight of the city, they would be spotted, but at that point, any alarm would have come too late. Another week and they would have reached their destination. They could only hope that in the meantime Jabar would keep his promise. Even if he had promised that there would be no impediments, it was difficult to trust completely; after all, the general, although a warrior worthy of respect, had already betrayed and could betray again. However, for the barbarians, this was an unrepeatable opportunity because for them it was not a "simple" raid, but an opportunity that would bring to their kingdom not only wealth but also honor and glory.
Their land was not green and rich in water like the Iazaresh, it was a concentration of mountains and granite valleys where numerous tribes and clans fought bitterly among themselves for the control of the few available resources. Despite their division and the absence of large cities, the people of the South had their own culture, traditions and ancient legends. Life was hard in those areas, and the fact that the people of the Iazaresh lived in opulence and despised them as rough people had aroused a strong resentment in them.
They were proud people of brave warriors, and to be treated like this was something they could not bear, but they were forced to do so, because even the bravest of their fighters were completely helpless before the power of the Sand.
The barbarians hated the Sand, considering it a dishonorable weapon and those who wielded it as cowardly sorcerers, but at the same time they craved its power. For centuries now this grudge had been simmering in their hearts, and they eagerly awaited the day when they could take revenge and that day, perhaps, had finally come.
Just before sunrise, the leader of the horde gave the order to continue the march; the men obeyed promptly. As they prepared to move on, the leader glanced at the map and noticed that two small villages were marked on the route, only a half-day's march apart, in a perfect spot to take another break.
§§§§§§
Daysam closed the book on the theory of sound that he had been leafing through until that moment and put it aside. His head was bent over the volume, but his gaze was fixed on the void, his mind at that moment was lost in a vortex of a thousand thoughts that did not allow him to concentrate. The moments in which he managed to do so were brief and unproductive, every time he tried to get back to work he ended up distracted immediately after a few seconds.
He looked at the Yasirpipe, placed in front of the desk on a sort of pedestal.
“What the hell are you?” asked him on more than one occasion.
He was almost convinced that it was a living being and not a wooden construction. He still had not found the words to explain this impression of his, it was just a feeling ... an annoying feeling, among other things. It seemed that the instrument was deliberately hiding its secrets, otherwise, how could one explain that a brilliant mind like his had not yet managed to reveal them?
When he and other Masters began to examine it, they were convinced that it would be easy to understand how it was structured and how it worked. At first glance, it seemed like a classic Yasirpipe, but it did not take long to understand that its functioning was much more elaborate; it did not depend only on the harmonization of the strings, but also on the type of material used for its construction, the size of the model and a thousand other details that emerged with each new examination and that still eluded their understanding. In short, that object was a real puzzle.
<< How the hell did Fawzi manage to build that? >> Daysam said out loud, addressing the object as if it were a real person. The first time he had done it, he had felt quite stupid while now he didn't care anymore.
<< So far none of my fellow Masters have tried to pluck these strings. They say they are afraid of ruining you but, perhaps, they are afraid that something bad might happen to them. >> he told it.
But he hadn't tried it yet either.
Then, tired of the doubt that tormented him, he decided to try, taking advantage of the fact that he was alone.
<< I can play a Yasirpipe without any problems. How difficult could such a contraption be? >> he said arrogantly.
His presumption was almost fatal to him; as soon as he played the first and only wrong note, a small pile of red Sand transformed into many tiny, sharp arrows that shot at him.
Daysam was old and sick, and his physical and cognitive faculties were not at their best, but fortunately, at that moment, they were sharp enough to allow him to dodge the danger by throwing himself to the ground. One more second of delay and he would have been pierced. Daysam was shocked, in all his years of experience and use of the Sand he had never had it turn against him. He had always considered it a faithful ally. He raised his eyes, involuntarily holding his breath, and saw the marks left on the wall by those small darts. Thinking that they could have killed him if they had hit him, made him tremble. Was this, then, the secret potential of the Sand with the help of music? He had no wounds on him, but the experience had somehow wounded him... and all because of a single musical note.
He didn't tell anyone what had happened, he was too proud of himself, but the accident had upset him, and he could barely hide it.
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From that day on, he was never the same. His mind, already in turmoil from fear and, perhaps, also due to the illness and the medicines, began to play strange tricks on him. There were moments when he thought he saw Fawzi in place of the instrument. Not as a shadow, a mirage or something fleeting that could be seen out of the corner of the eye, but him in person. Every time this happened, his heart began to beat hard in his chest, making him hurt. He knew that his colleague was dead, yet he really thought he saw him there, always staring at him with the same angry look, and this put his nerves to the test. Then, like a child, he closed his eyes.
“He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s not really there. He’s dead.” It was repeated.
<< Daysam? Is everything okay? >> asked the General, immediately noticing that something was wrong, but since he pretended to be indifferent, he understood that it was something the Master did not want to talk about and did not insist.
<
<< I wanted to let you know that I managed to convince the boy to cooperate. >> Jabar announced.
<< Oh, perfect. >> Daysam replied with cold enthusiasm.
<< I hope he is as committed to helping us as he is to keeping his mouth shut. >>
<< I'll tell you, I respect him for that. I like it when I meet young men with such determination. >> Jabar said, wiping blood from his hands.
Daysam noticed him and said: << Did you at least have the good sense to leave him in a position to be able to talk? >>
<< One night's rest and tomorrow it will all be yours. >>
Suddenly a thunder struck the air, making everything vibrate like a slight earthquake.
The two men looked out the window in silence. The heavy rain began to fall again in a crescendo that was becoming more and more intense, the drops pattering on the stone walls with a constant hypnotic rhythm. There was something different in the air than on other days… as if this time the bad weather had brought them that “something” they had been waiting for so long.
<< You feel it too, right? >>
<< Yes, the monsoon has arrived. >>
Another thunder broke from the sky as if to dramatically emphasize the men's words.
They exchanged a look of serious understanding and went to the large table where a large map of the kingdom was spread out, hanging out from the edges. The drawing on it was very simple, almost a draft, on which were written the names of villages and cities and notes on the territory. They placed colored wooden pieces on it, some near the southern border where a very large city called Al Ghilaga was indicated, others instead to the north, very far from Baharmis in a place called Dirusan, less important than the first.
They began to review the details of their project.
To achieve their goals, by stirring the collective conscience of the population and, above all, the support of the royal family, they had to prove their theory of poor defense.
A small raid would not have alarmed the authorities and especially the Sultan; they knew well that they could count on both the Masters and the General's ability, but what would have happened if both had made themselves unavailable and if there had been a real invasion?
The answer was simple: chaos.
General Jabar, as skilled a strategist as he was, could not continue to defend the kingdom with a limited number of good soldiers, and even though this gap was filled by the Masters who, with the Sand, formed an insurmountable defensive shield; often, however, they also found themselves with a limited amount of Sand and, therefore; without it, they could not exercise their magic. Sooner or later, the neighboring kingdoms, envious of the riches of Baharmis, would notice these weak points and exploit them to their advantage. The project was precisely to demonstrate the existence of these defensive flaws. Jabar wanted more to be spent on the army so that it would be able to attack and defend without having to resort to the Sand which, although powerful, was not always sufficient and Daysam was more than aware of this. The supplies were increasingly limited and as much as they could force Abu Wasaa's collectors to plunder the silent desert of its treasure, the quantity had never been enough.
Another point they wanted to focus on was to try to be the first to conquer the neighboring kingdoms so they could impose their will and prevent any future rebellions. That was the right time to implement this plan and it was the only one because the sultan, convinced that Baharmis was impenetrable and invincible, had no intention of financing new military expenses for the defense and expansion of the kingdom. It was absurd to think that his Highness Hussam, the "great leader" of Riakesh, did not understand how important this strategic aspect was.
To work, the plan had to follow a very specific pattern.
During the monsoon season, the kingdom became more vulnerable, so Jabar had arranged for a strong attack at that time of the year, certain that it would be successful. This surprise attack would be a shock to the population and he, with the support of some politicians with whom he had secretly agreed, would start a strong political campaign to force the Sultan to accept his conditions. Hussam could not ignore them and if that happened, it would give the nobles a reason to stage a coup to overthrow him. In this case Jabar would not hesitate to ask for his son to take his place, considering him a better successor, but also young enough to be influenced by his advice.
In any case, Jabar had to stop the invasion without the damage becoming so severe as to be irreparable. He had promised the barbarians to let them escape after the incursion, but from the beginning, he had never intended to keep such a ridiculous promise. He would annihilate them all and look like a hero.
<< Have all the Sand supplies been secured yet? >>
<< Yes, down to the last grain. No Master of Baharmis will be able to use it during the attack and the few who might have it… well, you already know that the rain makes it ineffective. >>
<< Good. I have just received word from my men that the planned attack on the opposite side of the kingdom is imminent. I will leave tonight with the Sultan and if my calculations are correct, on the sixth day of our absence the army in the South should cross the border. >>
Jabar spoke excitedly about what they were about to do, seeing an idea he had only imagined coming to fruition sent him into ecstasy.
<< You're taking a big risk with this plan, Jabar. >> Daysam said.
<< If you make a mistake, your reputation will be at stake, as well as your head. >>
<< Nothing will happen to me. Everything will go as planned, I feel it. To make peace reign in our land, it is a risk I am willing to take. >>
Daysam knew Jabar's determination and knew he was truly willing to risk everything to get what he wanted. He had no idea if this behavior was the result of his military training or if it was instead the result of a particular event in his past, regardless, he knew he would not give up until his project was completed.
Having finalized the last details, Jabar set off to return to Baharmis, galloping in the pouring rain, heedless of the thunder and lightning that followed one another repeatedly above him, and of the cold wind that seemed to want to slow down his ride. Daysam, who remained in command of the fortress, followed him with his gaze until he could no longer distinguish him. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, he had begun to tremble and his teeth chattered, his sick body felt the cold more intensely and this made him suffer a lot. He would have preferred to return to Al Haimat rather than stay there, the stone castle of the Masters of the Sand was certainly more welcoming than that old prison, as well as warmer, and perhaps, even safer, not from people but from thoughts.
Now that he was alone again, he felt dark presences hovering around him, ready to insinuate themselves into his mind, but he had had enough of thinking, now he needed a hot tea and a good sleep and possibly, a few hours of serenity.
Cautiously he turned to the Yasirpipe. The instrument was there, in its place.
<< I've had enough of you for today. >> she told it, locking it in a small, narrow cell.
The double lock gave him a certain security, making him think that being locked in there could do him no harm. He left the room starting to think about the questions he would ask young Basim the next day, and between one thought and another, he remembered the book he was reading and turned to go back and get it. It was at that moment that his heart threatened to stop forever. Fawzi was in front of him, staring at him with glassy, ??cadaverous eyes, with white skin that no longer had blood flowing, worn clothes on which worms and spiders were crawling. Daysam fell to his knees screaming for him to go away and leave him alone. He was crying in terror while covering his face so as not to look at him. There was no one there with him, it was only his sick mind that was producing that image that tormented him. At that same moment, he seemed to hear the Yasirpipe playing a kind of melancholic melody. Maybe it was just the hiss of a strong current of air….