They had momentarily interrupted their migratory journey; their wings were sore after so many days of exhausting flight and they were still many miles away from their usual final destination but, at the end of the journey the effort would be rewarded with the possibility of building a nest and finding a partner, as well as a peaceful environment in to live on until the next migration.
The tree was located near a pool of water where a small herd of cattle quenched their thirst and refreshed themselves in the muddy water, while some white herons rested on their backs, freeing them from parasites and flies. There was a serene atmosphere, although the unpleasant smell of the animals ruined the harmony a bit.
Suddenly the flock quieted down, the cattle without showing any interest continued to ruminate passively, while the herons and houbaras raised their necks and with their glassy eyes began to scan the entire surrounding environment with growing concern, refraining from emitting any type of towards. They had sensed an anomaly in the air, something that had triggered their innate instinct for self-preservation. There, on earth, there was nothing to consider as a threat... in fact, the danger came from their element: the sky.
The big hawk shot out as fast as an arrow, so fast that it became an indistinguishable black figure.
The flock scattered haphazardly, screeching both in panic and in alarm, as a cloud of feathers scattered into the air. A young houbara ended up between the sharp claws of the predator; its desperate cry reached the ears of its peers who took care to save their own lives, rather than worry about it. The claws dug into the soft and weak body of the specimen, the blood-soaked gray feathers while its last cries were only notes of suffering. The hawk landed at the foot of a hill. With its beak, it finished off the prey in whose eyes that desire for life for which it had struggled so much up until that moment slowly disappeared.
From the top of that same hill, a group of nobles had witnessed the scene and applauded the falcon's skill in capturing prey in such a short time. They were sitting under a tent whose poles were supported by four servants, while two others were delicately waving large fans to cool the torrid air of that place. The Sultan smiled proudly and proudly of his falcon's skills, aware that the specimens of other hunters could not compete with his animal.
Prince Hazma was also present in the group, but he was not enjoying himself at all. He found that "pastime" boring and would much rather roll in the dirt with the army recruits than watch his father strut his stuff. From time to time he checked the position of the sun, hoping that it would be time to return to the palace soon.
He noticed a group of knights arriving at the slopes of the hill with General Jabar in the lead.
They had waited for him all day, but certainly not so that he could play with the birds too.
When he stopped in front of the sovereign, he was greeted by the shrill cry of the bird, annoyed by the presence of the horses who responded by neighing to its unwelcome.
<< Congratulations Your Majesty, they weren't exaggerating when they said that your falcons were the best. >> commented the man, eyeing the animal with interest.
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<< Are you sure that there isn't a price you can accept to buy one? >>
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<< I understand your highness, not even I could separate myself from my little ones. Rather, will you allow me to speak to you in private? >>
Far from the ears of people who were too curious and whose easy gossip would lead to nothing good, the two men and the prince, riding slowly across the plain, discussed important matters concerning the kingdom and in particular the Master's case. Jabar briefed father and son on his investigation and Basim's still uncertain role in the whole story, always pretending that it was all news to him.
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<< Yes sir, the Rector himself met him in person. >>
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<< No. Nobody knew about this invention. >>
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<< He could have had an accident, the road is known for its insecurity. >>
The Sultan didn't seem convinced, you could see on his face that he had doubts.
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<< I think this Basim is innocent, a classic case of "happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time". >>
<< Don't you think that boy understood the value of the object and decided to sell it? >>
<< From the stories of friends and relatives, he is such an honest person that he even apologizes to the ants he tramples. >>
<< So this supports the thesis. If he is not dead, he will be keeping the item with him. We will need to organize a research group and… >>
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The ruler stared at the interested man, wondering why he had chosen those specific words.
Jabar explained that whoever killed Master Fawzi may have done so because they were interested in the instrument. Surely someone who, having learned of its power, wanted to take possession of it before his creator could make it public. However, not having found it, their plan was ruined. It was still too early to say, but there could be a possibility that the assassin... or assassins, might have already known that the instrument was in Basim's hand and perhaps they were now already on his trail intending to complete the mission.
<< It can only be a possibility...>> reiterated the General << ...but with the killing of such an important person we must not leave out any leads. The consequences of failure could be disastrous. >>
<< Yes, you have a point. What you say makes perfect sense. What do you intend to do, then? >> asked the Sultan, convinced by his logical reasoning.
<< Finding the boy is certainly the priority. We don't know what state he is in, much less whether his life is in danger; I recommend using maximum caution with him. I don't think he's dangerous, so there's no point in using force once we find him. When this happens, we will escort him to a safe place and keep him isolated from other civilians so that he does not speak to anyone. >>
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<< It is a precautionary measure; by speaking to me first he will be able to clarify his position without external influences being able to jeopardize his freedom. >>
<< Is this intervention really necessary? >>
<< It may seem harsh to you, Your Highness, but it is in this way that many innocent people have guaranteed their freedom. >>
<< One step forward as always, General. Good job. >>
The Sultan was satisfied with Jabar's strategy, while Hazma was surprised by his approach.
Rather than seeing their target as a threat, he spoke of them as a person who needed to be saved. Well, it was more likely that he did it mainly because the Yasirpipe was involved, but this attitude, different from the General's usual brusque ways that he was used to seeing and hearing, couldn't help but give him a sense of admiration.
Who would have thought that he also could investigate? He had to admit that this man was a constant surprise. He had already demonstrated these abilities in other similar cases that occurred in the city, demonstrating that he knew how to "enter" the mind of whoever he was looking for but, in that situation, he was at another level. He understood that he couldn't do without his abilities.
<< I'm finishing selecting the best men and the areas of the kingdom to send them to. I already have the whole plan ready. I was just waiting for his permission. >>
<< I want to join the searches too! >> Hazma began determinedly.
He wouldn't take no for an answer and wouldn't back down even under the threat of punishment. Both the Sultan and the General knew this well and fortunately for him they did not have a reason to prevent him from joining. Even though his father himself had tasked him with investigating Fawzi's case, in that type of operation he preferred to leave the reins to Jabar due to his long experience. As always, his father was generous with recommendations, above all he recommended him not to hinder the General's work. The presence of the prince to the man was more than fine as an extra man in the team was always an advantage.
In the barracks, preparations for the mission were in the excited phase of conclusion.
Forty bold men stood at attention like stiff statues, each paired with a freshly forged sword. With a watchful eye, they followed every step of their commander who, as he marched back and forth, gave his instructions for the last time, reminding them of the reason why they had been summoned. The speech was clear and direct, which meant that no questions were asked for clarification.
Behind the impassive faces, there was a mix of different emotions: the more experienced men saw it as another task to complete in the name of their sovereign, while the younger ones were excited at the idea of ??being part of it for the first time of such an important mission. This enthusiasm also infected the prince, even if in his case it was mitigated by the disturbance and the rush to find a reminder of his dear Fawzi. A part of him thought that by taking part in the research he would also find the solution to the murder of his friend... but he knew that it was an illusory hope, a dream that was too beautiful and would not come true so soon.
The General granted one last hour of rest before departure and the small garrison took advantage of it and dispersed in the blink of an eye.
Hazma returned to the barracks and walked alone towards one of the empty gyms, still soaked in the smelly sweat of the men who had trained. He unsheathed the sword his father had given him and began slashing through the air, pretending to be in the middle of a duel. His muscles still struggled to support the weight of the weapon, but thanks to the training he had undergone, the fatigue was more bearable. He imagined that his invisible adversary was Fawzi's killer and the moment in which he would have pierced them with that deadly weapon and then withdrawn it soaked in their guilty blood and the satisfaction he would have felt in seeing them take their last breath. He had never killed anyone before and hoped he would not have to feel any hesitation in carrying out this act of justice.
<< Can I join the duel? >> Someone suddenly asked behind him.
Hazma turned instinctively, pointing his sword. It was Jabar but, intent as he was in his thoughts, he had not recognized his voice.
<< I apologize General, I was training a bit before leaving. >> said the prince, lowering his weapon, mortified by his reaction.
<< It's good... actually, perfect. Any time is a good time to train, even if alone. >>
<< Was your request just now real? If it is, then I'm ready. >>
Jabar smiled amusedly and unsheathed his sword.
The weapon gleamed a vivid silver, and the perfect, sharp curve of the blade made it look like a perfect crescent; the hilt was long and thick, the hilt was black, and adorned on both sides with two small stones that changed color from red to black depending on how they reflected the light. The sword was normal-sized, but in the General's large hands, it felt small and even a little fragile. Hazma knew by reputation the solidity of that weapon and even if over time the blades of the swords deteriorate, fade, and lose sharpness, Jabar's, after a thousand fights, still had a perfect and shining appearance, as if it had just been forged.
The one between Jabar and Hazma was a simple training duel, but it didn't seem that friendly due to the effort the two were putting into it. The level of experience they had was evident; the General moved naturally giving the impression of hovering in the air, while the young prince was quite stiff and moved with little grace but seeing him fight would certainly have made the Sultan proud, who would have been amazed by the speed with which his son had learned the art of fighting.
The duel soon ended, with a clever move, Jabar managed to disarm his opponent, decreeing his victory with a bow.
<< Not bad, my prince. You are learning well, but there is still a long way to go. >>
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<< I don't want to offend you, but it was like playing with a child. You have a long way to go before you are even remotely capable of standing up to me. >> Jabar replied in a tone that almost seemed disrespectful.
<< Yes... you're right. >> admitted the prince, a little disappointed.
Curiously he asked him:
<< Was your training difficult when you joined the army? >>
The question triggered a tumult of nostalgic emotions in Jabar.
Yes, he remembered that period well.
He could never forget the obstacles he had to overcome to climb to the top, the extremely rigid methods of the school, and the classmates who were as hungry for success as he was.
From his first day, he had prohibited failing. It didn't matter how many insults he might receive, how hard the training would be, or how many times he would get hurt along the way, he had to be the best, he had to surpass everyone else no matter what. Having succeeded now gave him particular satisfaction.
<< It was a long time ago, a lot of things happened. But it was difficult for me too. >> Jabar finally replied.
<< I confess that once I was even tempted to give up, but I gritted my teeth and resisted. >>
<< What was the most important part of your journey? >>
<< I would say everything. Every moment of the training taught me something fundamental. I not only developed my body but also my mind. You know, there's no point in training your body if you don't do the same with your mind. >>
The prince remained listening intently.
Since they had begun to meet more closely, Hazma had realized that the General was not only a tough and determined soldier but was also a sensitive and intelligent person, with a vast cosmopolitan culture.
He was particularly impressed by the stories of his travels and experiences with different cultures and people and the many things he had learned. Those stories resembled the ones he heard from Fawzi when he returned from his travels, always enriched with wonderful details that enchanted him every time he listened to them. The thought had often occurred to him that many of those stories might be a little exaggerated but, knowing Fawzi well and knowing that he was incapable of lying, those thoughts immediately dissolved.
At that moment, a phrase from Fawzi many years earlier resurfaced: “Having great admiration for someone is just an action we do, trying to make ourselves better. In theory, it's great. But if we choose the wrong person to admire, then we will get worse instead of better.”
How strange that it had come back to him just now, as vividly as if he had just relived it firsthand. He didn't feel sad nostalgia as usual, but a strange feeling of guilt, as if he had done something wrong.
The sound of a horn called their attention.
The break hour had already passed, and it was time to leave.
They joined the ready squadron and officially kicked off the mission.
One after another the forty soldiers, riding their best stallions, left the barracks in formation and crossed the city to the outer gates where the group split up. One group went north, and the other, of which Hazma and Jabar were in command, went south.
<< Come on Your Majesty! Let's not fall behind! >> Jabar urged him.
It was no coincidence that Jabar chose to put himself in command of that very group; in fact, it was made up of men who had chosen to swear loyalty to him preferring him to the Sultan; they were the ones he could count on for special missions and who shared his ideals. He could not have chosen better individuals. But obviously, the prince could not know this.
The group was supposed to search a very large area. Their mission was not a simple one and perhaps they would not have solved it in a short time. The royal family's territorial domain stretched for miles and miles; the thirst for power had meant that over the years the rulers of Baharmis had managed to conquer such a vast territory as to make it difficult to control the borders.
The vastness of the area, however, did not intimidate the soldiers much less the General who would not have stopped at anything and would not have allowed anyone to hinder him.
1]is a bird of the Otididae family native to northern Africa.