A foot taller than everyone else, arms and legs as voluminous as tree trunks, the proud look of a puma, cunning and intelligent. Any ruler would have paid their weight in gold to have a man like him at their service.
Baharmis' soldiers trained hard to be worthy of his esteem hoping to match him and young males who decided to follow a military career took inspiration from him, noblewomen and courtesans sighed with secret adoration behind their veils.
It was tough to hear criticism towards him, even if someone jokingly allowed themselves to comment on his hair, which had been dyed black to hide the first gray tufts. Jabar, aware that after all he too could not escape old age, accepted these comments without touchiness.
Given his commitments as the head of the royal garrison, many were surprised that he even managed to find time to actively participate in cultural and social initiatives.
Could a cultured guy like him give up such appointments? You could tell he loved showing off his loquacity almost as much as he did with his swordsmanship. Shutting him down was almost as difficult as defeating him in a duel. Because of his manner, he might have seemed a little moody, but that was precisely why he had won over the sultan.
Sultan Husam always boasted of his collection of victories in battle as if they were trophies to be displayed, but now and then he omitted - whether deliberately or not it is not known - that part of the credit was also due to the ability of his general. Certainly, when he remembered to do so, he enjoyed seeing the jealousy in the eyes of the other nobles, many of whom surrounded him only to cajole him.
Jabar, however, did not care whether his merits were recognized by his sovereign; It was the results of his actions that he valued, not the amount of compliments, medals, or recognition he might receive. Bringing order to disorder, maintaining justice, expanding the borders of the kingdom... these were his principles, unlike other generals who only showed interest in accumulating loot and slaves.
To reach the position of prominence in which he found himself, Jabar had worked hard and consistently for many, many years. He had been dreaming of his career since he was a 13-year-old boy, no taller than a calf and a little thinner than a young shrub. Then he was foolish and arrogant, like any young man who thinks he is already a true warrior of Riakesh, indomitable and bold like Gasldir, the legendary warrior God of Victory, whom his people honored together with other Gods with a thousand celebrations. The encounter with the glorious army of the kingdom of Baharmis made him understand that this was his destiny. It was a kind of “love at first sight”; from there he understood what a true warrior was and how he behaved, and from that moment, becoming a brave soldier of Baharmis became his reason for living.
Now he had done it, he had gotten where he wanted, and he had no regrets.
Jabar defined himself as a calm and reasonable man, but even someone like him lost his temper in certain situations.
Among the things that infuriated him most were the unexpected.
His success was also due to the fact that he was a very meticulous person, perhaps too much so. Whatever plan or project he had in mind, it had to proceed exactly as imagined. Any mistake or unscheduled change made him lose his temper and it wasn't at all pleasant to be around him at such times.
Captain Rashad, his second, who had experienced these situations, did not have good memories of them.
It had happened about ten years earlier when together with the General and a small team of five men, they had escorted a caliph allied with the sultan on a secret mission. Before departure, the General had planned all the stages carefully and in detail to ensure maximum safety during the journey and avoid any unforeseen events. On the outward the journey had been almost uneventful, but on the return, a small accident had almost put the caliph in danger, due to a mistake made by one of the men in the escort. The general had not forgiven the soldier for his inattention and had punished him first, with the worst lecture of his life, then had transferred him to a role that would have prevented him from making a career.
Rashad, warned by the lookout of General Jabar's arrival, went with a small troop to welcome him at the city gates.
He immediately noticed from the expression on his face and the total lack of greetings and pleasantries that he was in a very bad mood, in fact, it seemed as if he was trying to repress a strong feeling of anger.
“Something must have happened during the two weeks he was away, something very serious.” He thinks.
He certainly couldn't imagine how great the irritation and disappointment he felt inside for not having been able to reach Basim and his precious instrument.
<< General, I see you are upset. Something wrong? >> he dared to ask him, after a moment of uncertainty.
Jabar grunted without answering, nudging his horse to quicken his pace.
<< The situation in the kingdom was very calm during his absence. There were no incidents of particular interest and traffic between merchants proceeded calmly. >>
Another grunt in response was a clear sign that something was wrong.
Captain and General entered the palace doors, welcomed by a trumpet blast. They made a long circuit of the perimeter, passing courtiers who happened to be walking nearby until they reached the stables where some servants were taking care of the thoroughbred foals and stallions. Jabar dismounted even before one of the servants helped him, heading quickly into the glorious structure. Rashad followed him like a shadow, speaking as little as possible so as not to bother him.
<< Enough with the traffic news. >> the General blurted out at a certain point. << Is there any more important news? >>
<< No, not at the moment. >>
<< Good. What I want now is just a hot bath and a hearty dinner. >>
<< Of course, General. Oh! I forgot. The prince would like to see you. >>
<< The prince? Really? >>
<< Yes, he said to bring you to him as soon as you returned. >>
<< I'm amazed, it's the first time His Highness has asked for me. What would be the reason? >>
<< He didn't specify it. He just insisted on seeing you. >>
Jabar, intrigued, immediately went to the prince.
Until then, except for court formalities, the two had not developed any type of relationship simply because there had never been the opportunity for a confrontation. And it was a shame, Jabar thought because the boy's ideas on how to carry on the kingdom weren't bad after all. If refined better, they could become as precious as diamonds.
Maybe this was the right opportunity to start a profitable relationship.
The prince was at the training camp, just as Jabar expected. It was a small mustard-yellow stone fort with a particular serrated arrowhead battlement, inside which there were 30 rooms, many of which were used as gyms. There, mixed with the unpleasant smell of sweat, you could hear the instructors' incitements coming from everywhere, the insults directed at those who were slacking, the clang of swords crossing each other. Among the various disciplines practiced, there were free wrestling, archery, fencing, and sand fighting. Yep, even that. Baharmis undoubtedly had excellent soldiers, but having some Sand Master expert in combat at hand was always an additional guarantee of both safety and possible victory.
The Guardians of the Sand - the honorific name of the category - being warriors too, had to keep in constant training.
Their training was held in rooms that only the Masters and all those specifically authorized could access and one of them was Jabar. From behind the closed doors, you could hear an infernal din of screams, metallic screeches, and violent drums. It seemed like all hell was happening, but it was just simulations needed to train the Guardians. Controlling the Sand required a very high concentration effort and a considerable expenditure of energy.
The Guardians, unlike the other Masters, were taught to always remain extremely concentrated, indifferent to any situation, sound, or noise. No matter how many allies died around them or how many times an arrow grazed them, they had to continue playing while always keeping the sound at the frequency necessary for the Sand to act until victory was achieved.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
A Guardian's Yasirpipe was slightly different from the classic one: it had two rows of keys instead of one and was wider; the spheres to produce the vibration were smaller in size and the pipes had a wider opening which allowed a higher-pitched sound capable of propagating over long distances to come out.
The Guardians course is the most popular one at Al Haimat school.
The usefulness of the Sand in battle was immediately understood by the first Guardians who realized that they had a deadly weapon in their hands against the enemy and had no way of defending themselves. At the right frequencies sand walls, sand warriors, sand catapults, and even sand projectiles could be created to annihilate the opponent without them being able to react. For the wise old men, however, who considered Sand a sacred element, the use of it for war purposes was reprehensible, and they made no secret of it; it was a gift from the Gods made for the well-being of man and not to cause him harm; Knowing that it was stained with blood was a terrible sacrilege for them, but its power as a weapon and the consequent possibility of using it for new conquests had over time induced the Sultans to establish this course of study and training by law.
Jabar would have gladly stopped to watch this interesting exercise, but he could not keep the prince waiting.
<
Inside the fort a courtyard was formed, closed in a perfect rectangle, and on one side of it puppets and targets were positioned which the recruits took turns using for training. At that moment, a small group of archers was targeting them with a flurry of arrows, and among them, in the center of the row, was Hazma.
Seeing him, Jabar was stunned.
“Is it really him?” He wondered. “How much a person can change when motivated by revenge.” he thought again.
In those two weeks of absence, the sultan's son had changed; he showed a more mature appearance, he had cut his hair and acquired, however little, evident muscle mass, he was dirty and bruised, with his hands marked by fresh scars like those acquired by those who begin to juggle with blades. Had his jaw become more squared, or was it due to the unkempt beard that was slowly growing? Of course, he now looked more like his father.
He stood straight with a proud and confident bearing as he shot the arrows one after the other.
The other archers were training with Mu'aqabbah-type task bows, while he held a Qadib, of the simplest kind. He counted the number of successful hits: 14 out of 20, not bad for a beginner.
<< Keep your back less stiff, otherwise all your muscles will be sore afterward. >> Jabar debuted.
The archers and the prince turned at the same time. Apart from Hazma; everyone bowed when he arrived.
<< Congratulations your majesty, it seems you have a knack for archery. >>
<< Thank you, General, I hope your compliments are sincere and not a pretext to soften my incompetence. >>
<< I would never dare! I am always honest when it comes to giving judgment. >>
<< If that's the case, then could you give me some other advice? >>
The man smiled delightedly.
<< Aiming is not just pointing the arrow at the target; it is very important to focus on the objective, keeping calm and concentrated, making the weapon become an extension of your body. Wait a few seconds and finally let it pop. >>
Jabar borrowed a bow. He took the prince's place and after just a second he shot his arrow, which landed precisely in the cotton "heart" of the dummy. Everyone gasped when they saw how deep the dart had gone. The Captain did not participate in that leap of admiration, managing to contain an expression of envy.
<< Nice shot. >> was Hazma's comment.
<< Shooting instinctively requires coordination between the eye and the arm holding the bow, letting experience guide your movements. It takes a lot of concentration and practice to reach this level. >> the General explained with known pride in his voice.
<< And for a beginner? >>
<< Adjust the position of the bow arm. This makes it much easier to learn to shoot. >>
<< You know a lot about the subject. I thought you were only skilled in swordsmanship. >>
<< I enjoy it. But I don't think you had me summoned for this. >>
<< No indeed. I need something more from you. >>
<< And would that be? >>
<< Of all of your experience. >>
“This is getting very interesting”, Jabar thought.
The prince wanted him as his trainer. He couldn't have asked for a better person to train him.
But that wasn't the reason he was particularly excited.
As Hazma spoke, Jabar thought that he could use the situation to his advantage to find Master Fawzi's "Yasipipe". Jabar was a man of a thousand resources and knowledge, but still limited. If he had had the support and means of the royal family at his side, and perhaps even a bit of luck, the search would have been easier. The damned thing had vanished. And with it the man who had it with him.
If Daysam had looked a little further than his nose, Jabar mused, the revolutionary instrument would already have been in his hands.
When he had been told of the arrival of Master Fawzi and his instrument; a whirlwind of ideas had arisen in his mind about how he could use it. An instrument that makes the Sand move with music, making it easier to use? Wonderful! He had thought. What a brilliant mind that man had been who had built it!
<< Your Highness, if I may ask, is there any news on the Master's case? >>
The prince let out a sigh:
<< Nothing has been discovered yet. >> he said saddened.
He refilled the goblet with Arak, in an attempt to sweeten his mouth.
In the large mess hall of the fort, still empty because there were at least two hours left for lunch, Hazma was able to freely express his uncertainties without anyone else being able to hear him. He openly confided in the General, also aided by his kindness and his persuasive voice. He told him how much determination he had set out to do justice to his late friend and how high the expectation was of obtaining results immediately, only to then realize that between saying and doing... well, there was an obstacle as deep as an abyss. Without clues or testimonies, the undertaking was almost impossible and this did not help his self-esteem at all, which was so eager for success.
<< Do you have at least an idea as to why he was killed? Excuse the frankness, but a Sand Master is worth more alive than dead. >> Jabar stated, taking a gamble.
Hazma rubbed his hands nervously, he seemed undecided about whether to answer that question or not.
<< I... I think I know. >> he began to babble in a low voice. << But I can't venture an official accusation. I would unleash chaos. >>
<
<< The fact is that... the Master had invented something. >>
Hazma, unaware that the General was already informed about the instrument, began to tell everything about the story. Jabar, pretending to learn about it for the first time, let him explain every detail about that sort of guitar and how Fawzi had been inspired to build it during a trip to a distant land. Hazma also told him of the Master's desire to simplify and expand the control of the Sand with that instrument and to present it to the other Masters, being aware however that they would not willingly accept an object not in keeping with tradition. Jabar knew very well how rooted the elders were to the ancient rules and this was a big problem.
They said they were carrying out studies on the magic sand, but in reality, the words "change" and "innovation" sounded blasphemous to their ears. He had never understood why such obstinacy against new things was so ingrained in their heads, perhaps he should ask Daysam in person.
<< Really surprising! This explains everything! >> he finally replied, feigning surprise.
<< Right? Fawzi was truly incredible. >> said the prince, in a melancholy tone. << Sometimes I wonder if he wasn't magical too, in a certain sense. >>
<< That's what I think too. Now, based on what he just told me… I think it's possible that the news somehow leaked out and that someone found out about it. >>
<< But who? Fawzi kept the secret from everyone. No one in Riakesh could know this. >>
<< But the fame of the Masters extends beyond the borders of our lands, and rumors spread among them. Perhaps some of them will have seen him practicing with the instrument and wanted to prevent him from disclosing his invention... >>
<< As impossible as this may seem, I too have come to the same conclusion. >>
<< They are still men, Your Majesty. They too can fall into the trap of violence. There is a lot of antagonism between the Masters and a discovery of this magnitude could have unleashed strong feelings of envy, jealousy, and lust for power such as even leading to killing >>
<< Yes, this is also true... >>
Hazma was tremendously worried by this possible prospect. If the intervention of a Master was involved in that delicate matter, the laws of justice could not be applied as in the case of a civilian. Even for a ruler it was risky to accuse a Sand Master. The only body with the power to judge the Masters was a special tribunal made up of the highest dignitaries of the school and in this case, the risk that everything could be hushed up was very high.
And while the prince was worrying about a thousand thoughts, Jabar was developing a new idea in his head.
The General's home was informal and spacious, located in one of the tallest buildings in Baharmis. Its prerogative was that it had a small tower with a pointed dome, accessible via a hidden staircase inside the house.
There wasn't much furniture other than the basics, but tapestries depicting bloody battle scenarios abounded, and objects such as helmets, flags, and medallions were arranged like trophies on any flat surface. Each room was large enough to hold three large oxen; all were decorated with dwarf palms and scented with delicate incense released by candles. However, Jabar's favorite one was his study with his dear library from which he could access a large balcony overlooking the city, where in the evening he loved to sit and relax in the company of a good book and a cup of tea.
The sun was about to reach the edge of the horizon; in half an hour or less, it would have begun to sink into the earth to make room for the deep blue of the night while some stars began to show themselves among the faint pink streaks of the sunset. Jabar, however, was not paying attention to this, concentrated on writing a short letter. Next to him, the table was set with falafel, hummus cream, and grilled chicken skewers with steaming vegetables, but still intact despite the delicious smell and appearance. Dinner could wait, he had to finish his work first.
The message was addressed to his friend Daysam, where he explained in a few lines what he had planned regarding their project. He wrote as much as would arouse his curiosity, promising a meeting as soon as possible.
He ended the letter with: “See you soon my friend; Extraordinary times are about to unfold!".
While writing this last sentence, with his hand trembling with emotion, he dropped a couple of drops of ink which stained the paper. He ran up the stairs of the tower, hidden behind one of them, and reached the top of the structure where he had set up an aviary with splendid specimens of falcons with plumage as dark as coffee, trained both for hunting and for carrying messages. The birds were perched lazily on their perch half asleep, remaining indifferent to the arrival of their owner who greeted them with the usual whistle with which he made himself known. He chose the one that was usually responsible for carrying messages to Daysam. It was the smallest of the group but made up for its small size with surprising wing speed. He tied the message to its right paw and let it go, in a few days, the letter would reach its destination, barring possible unforeseen circumstances.
The hawk quickly disappeared among the buildings whose windows lit up one at a time, blending in with the growing shadows and the bats that left their burrows to hunt insects.
Jabar smiled, his teeth gleaming. The hunt had just begun.