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Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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Imal was already half way to him when Millard and DeLoren walked out of the court yard. He had his saber drawn and he was running his thumb along the side of its edge. His strut was long and slow, he seemed to glide toward the man. The area dropped into silence at his approach. The excited chatter died to a thick watchful silence that filled the air like the incomprehensible heat.
Imal strode along side the block, standing along side one of the men who held the man’s arm down. But before delivering any cuts he raised his head and gave a short speech. Displaying the sword and presenting the prisoner like a prize kill from a hunt. Upon his finish he got a round of applause. He took a short bow. Then raised his blade over his head.
There was a brief pause. The sword gliding down to the man’s arm. The moment was tense and it seemed to hang in the air. Imal’s loose sleeves rippled in the air as he made the arching swing. Then there was a sharp clash, like that of a black-smith’s hammer contacting the anvil. Followed by a banshee’s scream that echoed in the plaza. The sword had cut cleanly through his arm.
A crimson stream of blood oozed from between the flesh and metal of the sword. A dead, limp hand rolled onto the ground. Benni Raqem continued to scream in pain at the block, the guards let loose of his bonds and he bent over, holding onto his bloodied stump of a hand. Imal raised his sword from the stone – a small valley left in the surface of the stone – and cleaned its edge on his shirt sleeve before putting away his weapon.
“Northerners! Bring the water, pour me a cup.” Imal called, gesturing for Millard and DeLoren to approach. Slowly they walked over. They avoided Benni who still screamed and held dear to his arm. They poured him a cup of water and he drank it slow and casually.

07-Mar-2010 02:11:42 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:23:24 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Posts: 58,110 Emerald Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Imal finished the cup. The splashed the rest of its contents at the writhing prisoner. “Will someone bind his arm and silence his screaming!?” Imal called, “It’s bordering on enough.”
From the courthouse a man came running. He carried a small handbag from where he produced a belt and a role of bandages. He strapped the belt around Benni’s arm and began nursing the wound. At this time he was lying on the ground gasping for breath. Millard and DeLoren were unsure if he would make it or not.
Imal stood silent and watched. Seeing this task carried out without a problem. Holding his cup out for more water he said to the knights, “Don’t think us any more barbaric than you outlanders. We are as equal in punishment as you. What is it you do to your thieves? From what words reach my ears you nail them to a post by the ears. Or you brand them with hot irons. At the worst you hang everyone the passes through judgment. Here we carry our punishment by The Book. Should crimes of theft be made the hand is severed, as the ear is lost when the thief decides to finally rip himself from the post. Or his forehead burned and destroyed by irons from the forge. We mark ours with the loss or destruction of a part of the body. They are branded as to be seen and to remember. Don’t sit there with the hateful fire; you know we are no different. And know that if you commit likewise your hands will be cut from your body. Now, you have furthure work to do. Scrub away the events of today. This whole square must be cleaned!”
Millard and DeLoren were taken back. Clean the entire square? The severing of the hand only played out in one small place. How should this mean the whole square be swept and mopped clean? Imal laughed, he knew the look in their eyes. “I will not leave you to do it with your hands. You will have brooms and scrubs.”

28-Mar-2010 02:16:26 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:23:54 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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He turned, and in a loud scratched voice ordered some of his dispersing men to watch after Millard and DeLoren. Another pair he ordered to fetch broomsthe equipment. The orders were carried out immediately and Imal left for his own business with the rest of the crowd.
DeLoren and Millard sat in the hot square, the cruel desert sun beating on their backs. After twenty minutes wait the men ordered to fetch the provisions returned, brooms resting on their shoulders and buckets in their hands. They were thrown down in front of the men and were ordered to begin cleaning.
They stayed in the square for the remainder of the day, sweeping away the dust and the blood. They worked in silence, the guards watching from the shade. As the shadows themselves moved they did too, keeping out of the hard sun which beat and burned the slaves in the center. And although the two could not understand them, they were sure the taunted.
Having enough of his treatment Millard threw down the broom and yelled at them. “You barbarians sit in the shadows and laugh at us!” he yelled in fiery rage, He made an approach towards them. Waving his hands, “But I could fell anyone on of you!”
The Khardians laughed, humored at this show. “You’re crazed by the sun northerner.” One responded, “Go back to work before it gets you killed on our blades!”
Millard continued to advance on them. Noticing his show of persistence they stood up. One partially drew the sword from his scabbard and spoke. The guard who had spoken earlier said, “My friend will be happy to oblige your death wish. One does not make a full slave rebellion, sadiq.”

06-Apr-2010 13:47:21 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:24:15 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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Seeing this was beginning to quickly get out of hand DeLoren ran over and stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulders. “Don’t,” he said, “He’s right, just try to ignore them.”
Millard sputtered in anger. But He was right. Nothing good would come of it. But he knew he needed to escape. He couldn’t live as a slave as long as had already. Stubbornly he went back to sweeping the square. But the seed had already been planted. He couldn’t ignore the thought of escape.
Sore and burned they returned to their cells later that evening. Their skin was a deep, dark red that spread through over their body. Their soiled shirts did nothing to stop the sun from searing their backs and movement was slow and careful. Everything they did burned them, it was hellish.
They carefully attempted to sit down on their cots. Their bodies protested their moving as it did everything and the grip of the guard’s hands. With aching bodies they sat, a small prisoner’s meal was set up on a small stool in front of them. The two ate quietly before going to sleep.
The next few days there were no signs of Benni Raqem. Millard and DeLoren would leave to be put to work with his cell empty and then return with it in the same condition. They were beginning to think he died or had been properly executed. But obviously he had not been.

08-Apr-2010 16:46:10 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:24:32 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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Five days after the sentencing Benni returned. The jail’s doors swung open and closed with a thud. In walked Benni and a guard. The stump had been covered with a cap of leather to protect it. He looked cleaner; where ever he had been he had been washed up. But his hair and beard was still scraggly and messy. The pair made their way to the cell. The door was opened and Raqem walked through. The door closed with a soft clang.
No attempt to talk with him was made. Millard returned to sleeping. DeLoren only glanced up from studying the Khardian papers. He was beginning to use it as a kind of therapy. It took his mind off of things. He also believed that if he was to survive it was to make an effort to assimilate somewhat. And assimilation may just be the tool Saradomin may use to guide him through this Hell.

Another week went by and soon Benni was joining them in their labor. He shared with them the same amount of work. It was during this week of bare-backed work that their skins began to numb to the sun. It began its process of self rejuvenation. Much of the dead skin showing the beginning signs of peeling. But no shield could be made against the ever looming presence of Imal or any of his officers. Where as their skin and formed a shield against the sun. Their ears were still defenseless from the biting knives of whipped-tongues.
Time passed with no event to break up the work. The sun still beat on them as it had. Their work was ever watched. Millard was becoming un-easy, the contempt for his forced labor growing ever steadily from the day of the trail. It came much to the point when he decided to risk his and his comrade’s safety to confide in DeLoren. They were working in the stables, it was cool. And only a few horses remained, a party of soldiers having gone off into the desert. The guards appointed to watch them had granted them a rare moment of semi-privacy, having retreated to the safety of a canvas tent not far off.

13-Apr-2010 14:06:10 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:24:58 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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Millard edged his way to DeLoren. “We need to get out.” he said cautiously, “I’ve been worked like this for too long. What say you?”
“I don’t know.” DeLoren said, scooping away another pile of refuse. Benni stood nearby, silent in his thoughts as he fumbled a broom with his one good hand.
The stables sat alongside a small, makeshift race-tack. Scraggly cypress and olive trees grew in the central part of the track. Shelters from the sun provided comfort for men and women visiting the tracks to watch their friends of husbands ride. If there was no raiding party out the men would race each other and the area would be filled with the cavalry of Abu’s army and then some. The tents would be filled with shisha smoke as men relaxed supping water from ceramic cups. Trades of knowledge and equipment would be made amongst the gathering people.
Fortunately this was not that day.
“You would still serve these barbarians in slavery?” Millard gasped in astonishment.
“No.* said DeLoren, careful to not hesitate in his work like Millard. Should he attract the attention of the guards, “It just won’t be safe. We’re watched day and night. If you want to leave then how to you propose we do it.”
Millard growled disapprovingly and looked about the building. The few horses stood, watching the men curiously. Their large heads held over the walls of their stalls. Leaning over a pile of dung he looked to DeLoren, a malicious grin on his face and a distinct sparkle in his eyes. There was a sparkle in his eyes. He had a plan, and one that no good would come of.
“You wouldn’t.” said DeLoren.
“Friend,” he said in a crooning voice, “Can you not see the circumstances. The guards are a fair distance off; I can bolt out on one of those horses and be well out into the desert in no time. Come now, there are plenty ponies in this stable for you too. We can run, be free. Well on our way home and back to the crusade.”

18-Apr-2010 18:13:59 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:25:35 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

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“Sadiqah,” a cracked voice butted in, “as-saharaa is deadly, you will not live long in it.”
Millard looked up to meet the voice. Benni had stopped working and leaned up against his broom. He could be in no better position, to his back was the wall of the stables; the guards were blind to him. “What are you trying to say moon-man?”
Benni chuckled and beat the stub of his hand on the end of his broom.. “as-saharaa will lose you. As I hear sadiq the two of you were found forgotten and dying in the sand. I know how to navigate.”
“You can lead us out, back to the north?”
“Na’am.” he said. He glanced around through the door. Checking on the guards before placing his broom down. He pointed to the end of the stable, “Put wheelbarrow there, sadiq.”
Millard hesitated; he put one more scoop of horse dung on the wheelbarrow before picking it up and moving it to where Benni was pointing. He was already at one of the horses, stroking its muzzle, calming it down before getting the saddle. DeLoren watched from a distance, creating a nice new pile. Trying to keep the illusion of working.
Millard put the wheelbarrow down. Benni pointed to the saddle and gestured to him to put it on the horse; having exhausted the extent of his northerner tongue. He finished strapping the saddle on tight, he nimbly bounded up on top and sat on the horse. A large and boyish grin graced his face. “Feels so good.” he whispered. DeLoren could only feel un-easy. A gut feeling telling him this would not end well.
He held his hand out and pulled up Benni who clung to the DeLoren’s side. But before anymore adjusting - or enjoyment of finally being back up on a horse he could control again - Benni kicked the horse hard with his feet and yelled in a loud and powerful voice, “YALLAH!”

21-Apr-2010 17:00:21 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:25:59 by Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Smok Taunter

Posts: 58,110 Emerald Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The guards outside bolted back into attention as to the horse in action. It thundered through the building. DeLoren ran forward and reached his hand out. Benni reached out to grab it and pull him on. But the two’s grip slipped. He was pulled no furthure than the door when his fingers fell through and he tumbled to the ground. The hot sand and rocks ground into his face and his shoulder came down at a hard and painful angle. There was a loud crack. He gritted his teeth in pain and lay crumpled on the ground.
“Yallah!” Benni continued to yell, “Insha’sha’lal, we will return for you!”
Millard added in, “We’ll try to get you back comrade!”
The guards were in action. They shouted at the tops of their lungs. The prisoners were escaping. They ran past DeLoren to find horses in the stables. Pounding of boots soon became thundering of hooves as the guards – securing horses – thundered out of the stable. Soon the entire garrison was in action. The news moving as fast as the wind by shouts. They echoed, putting men to action.
DeLoren lay there, crumbled in the dust. Eyes closed tight and body curled into a ball. All around him the idle men of Abu’s army mobilized bent on returning the escaped prisoners. They shouted to each other, spreading news on where they are and where they were heading.
Soon it quieted down and a hard hand gripped the curled DeLoren by the collar.
Millard and Benni rode hard. With his arms wrapped tightly around the northerner. Benni - the now escaped convict - urged the horse on and DeLoren – the former slave – steered the beast. Their escape route took them down a gently sloping path towards the rear of the racing track. The route snaked down the side of the hill-side, now turning into cliff-side. It snaked down, ahead of them they could see the desert scrub and trouble.

27-Apr-2010 14:31:31 - Last edited on 18-Nov-2010 01:26:39 by Smok Taunter

LovelyMelons

LovelyMelons

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Incredible story mate! I have one thing to ask though; wasn't Abu Bakr the father-in-law of Muhammad, (the prophet of the Islamic religion, which I DON'T believe in) and the first Caliph of the Sunni? Just wondering...overall, great story, better than most I've read, keep on going mate!
-Sincerely,
Pownhydra the Critic

27-Apr-2010 20:07:11

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