[piosenniel]

Ealasaid's post: Ahmad kills Ghurdan

Riding among the mounted warriors of the Painted Sands, Ahmad spurred his horse forward with the first charge. The endless waiting had finally come to an end, he thought, as the blade of his sword connected with the first of the warriors of the eye. He brought his blade down in a fierce slash against the man’s collar bone, withdrew it, and ran the man through. He fell in a heap on the ground. Scarcely even glancing at the fallen man, Ahmad turned his horse to face his next foe.

For a while he could see Adhem fighting somewhere off to his right, but, after a time, lost sight of him. Somewhere to his left, Husam fought alongside the group of Baobab spearmen. Ahmad had seen him before the fighting started and, remembering his promise to Qirfah, now worked his way in that direction. He made slow progress as the warriors of the eye ceded no ground without first sacrificing life or limb. He had just caught sight of Husam engaged in fighting a Baobab girl -- was it Jasara? -- when he was clubbed hard from behind and knocked from his horse. Ahmad landed heavily on his left shoulder, but was able to roll with the momentum and regain his feet as the other warrior advanced.

The warrior raised his sword to drop a crushing blow that would have severed Ahmad’s sword arm, except that Ahmad was able to parry it with his sword. He then made a sharp feint to the right and moved in, smashing the pommel of his sword into the man’s nose. There was a sharp crack as the bones shattered in the warrior’s face. Blood spurted from the cavity where his nose had been, blinding the man. Ahmad finished him with a single thrust of his sword. Turning his attention back toward Husam, Ahmad saw that the girl had disappeared and been replaced by the scarred warrior he had seen earlier among the priestess’ envoy. Ghurdan, he was called. Jerking his sword free of the warrior he just dispatched, Ahmad leaped to Husam’s aid.

“For the eye!” growled the scarred warrior, raising his sword to administer the final blow to Husam. Ahmad’s blade intercepted the blow inches before it met its mark.

“Not so fast,” he growled in return. The two of them squared off, circling each other, swords at the ready. The scarred warrior smiled.

“Come on, boy,” Ghurdan taunted Ahmad. He lowered his blade slightly. “You dare to run up against me? You’ll shatter like glass against a stone.”

“Will I?” answered Ahmad. Testing his opponent, he made a quick feint with his blade. Ghurdan’s sword answered it with lightning quickness. Ahmad knew then that he would have to fight his best against this man. Anything less would mean his death. He made slash toward Ghurdan’s right side, which Ghurdan parried and followed with a thrust at Ahmad’s thigh. Ahmad dodged, knocking the blow aside with his sword as it passed. His left hand, which had been holding his reins, felt for the dagger he wore at his waist. Finding it, he and Ghurdan circled each other once more.

Again, Ghurdan smiled. This time, he beckoned to Ahmad with his left hand. Seizing the opportunity, Ahmad leaped forward, his sword raised. Ghurdan blocked the blow with his sword, and, for an instant, their hand guards locked and they stood nearly nose to nose. Sneering, Ghurdan drew his fist back to strike, but he had not seen the dagger in Ahmad’s left hand. He never saw it as Ahmad drove it deep at an upward angle under his ribcage into his heart. Ghurdan’s dark eyes glazed over, and his limp body dropped to the earth.

Disengaging himself from Ghurdan’s body, Ahmad ran to where Husam lay, bloody and still on the ground, yet still breathing. Ahmad bent over him, his eyes taking in the extent of the other man’s wounds. Blood poured from a stab in Husam’s left side. Taking off his head shawl, Ahmad pressed it to the wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

“Is he dead?” whispered Husam.

“The scarred warrior? Yes, I got him for you.”

“Good.” Husam tried to smile, but his breath caught in his throat, changing the smile to a grimace, as a fresh wave of pain took him. Ahmad lifted him against his shoulder, still pressing the head shawl to the wound in Husam’s side.

“Ahmad, is it?” Husam asked after the pain had passed.

“Yes.”

“You know my wife, then.”

Ahmad nodded, a sudden dread entering his heart. “Yes, I know her.”

Husam raised his blood-caked hand and gripped Ahmad’s hand in his. “Take care of her for me. I know I am not long for this world. Go back. See that she knows I thought of her at the last. See that she wants for nothing.”

Gravely, Ahmad nodded again. He remembered another promise, the one he had made to Qirfah. As hard as he had tried, he had not managed to keep it. “I will,” he said grimly, giving Husam‘s hand a squeeze. “She shall want for nothing.”

Husam nodded, satisfied, and closed his eyes. “Tell her I love her.”

“It is done,” Ahmad reassured him, but it was too late. Husam’s grip on his hand had gone limp. He breathed no more. Ahmad laid Husam’s head back on the ground and with his fingertips, lowered his eyelids over the now sightless eyes. Finally, he laid Husam’s hands upon his chest and rose to go. The fighting still raged around him. There was no time to grieve or make his peace with the man’s memory. That would have to come later.

Nodding once to Nasr, who had caught his eye through an opening in the battle, Ahmad picked up his sword and returned to the fray.

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]