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piosenniel · 08-23-2003, 06:25 PM

Nasr

Once they had done what damage they could do, the tribesmen archers made their way down to the main battle, to the positions that the Baobab were holding. Nasr and his five bowmen hurried to the line where the Elders were fighting. Three of them had drawn their swords and clubs, and two, following the others, still held their bows.

In the press of battle, Nasr caught a glimpse of Jamílah and he craned his neck looking for Husam, but could not see him. A small group of six of the young had pressed in about one end of the Elders' line, and were moving steadily in on two of the Baobab men – Ismat and Faruq. The two elders stood back to back, their blades flashing as they revolved in a small circle. The youngsters, a mixture of the Baobab and Painted Sands drew the noose in tighter, coming at the men from all sides.

By the time Nasr’s small band reached them, Faruq had gone down under the blows of two of the Baobab young ones. The stood over him, their weapons prepared for the death blow, when his hand snaked up like lightning, his right hand driving his dagger into the gut of the nearest one. ‘Tajir!’ he hissed with his dying breath, as he ripped open the flesh. ‘With my last strength I will take you from the service of the Eye.’ Tajir fell near him, crumpling in a bloody heap on the ground, his eyes already clouding over with death. Through lips frothy with bloody spittle, Faruq spoke reaching his hand out to touch the boy’s pale cheek with own cold hand. ‘You are Baobab. And so will you die . . .’ His words trailed off as the other young one dealt him the death blow.

Now Ismat faced the remaining five young ones. His left arm was useless, broken at the elbow from a blow by Nasir and from an arrow buried deep in the upper chest from Narisa’s bow. Her face was grim as she watched the others move in on the Elder of the Grey Parrot Clan, and she knocked another arrow taking aim to drive it deep into his heart. Her aim was knocked askew as an arrow from the advancing tribesmen drove deep into the arm that drew back the bowstring. She turned, surprised, her face a twisted mask of disbelief. The Baobab bowman had drawn his long knife, and now drove it deep into her side. Its point beveled up, sliced into her heart, stilling it.

Ismat fell as one of the three remaining youngsters drove his pointed stake into his belly. The youngster was cut down by the other Baobab bowman as Nasr ran to the side of Ismat, and knelt down, holding the dying man’s head in his hands. With the last of his strength, Ismat grasped Nasr’s hand tightly. ‘Take care of Duha for me, little brother. Tell her my last thoughts were of her and of our son, Munir.’ Nasr bent low and spoke softly in the man’s ear. ‘They are safe now. I will watch over them.’ With a short gasp and a soft sigh, the Elder’s spirit fled the battlefield. Nasr stood, grieved there was no time to lay him out in a respectful manner. There were still three of the young, bent on killing who they might.

Nasir, Jasara’s second in command, pulled the youngsters back into a defensive position as they faced the five Baobab tribesmen. No mercy shone in the eyes of the advancing older men. Their faces were set as hard and dark as if they had been chipped from obsidian. Swiftly, a hail of arrows from the two bowman flew to their intended targets. The youngsters, the fact of their youth giving them extra reserve, fought on mightily, rallying around Nasir in an effort to stem the onslaught. Their blows found purchase on the bodies of two of the Baobab who carried swords, and they knocked them to the ground. But they had no time to savour the kill, no hope of recouping the victory.

Nasr’s men cut them down where they stood. Their young bodies fell in a heap on the already bloodied ground – their spirits called out rudely into the waiting arms of death.

_____________________________________________

Nasr and Thorgom

He could see the sword flash in a killing arc. Nasr looked grim and picked up his pace, dodging blows as he ran to where Husam fought the tall warrior with the red Eye tattooed on his right shoulder. He saw Husam go down and Ahmad step in to kill the scar-faced warrior. From behind the warrior of the Eye stepped a giant of a man, his long dark hair hanging to his waist, intent on keeping the tattooed warrior from harm.

Nasr watched as the larger man raised his two headed axe, preparing to deal a fatal blow to Ahmad. With scarcely a pause in his steps, he picked up an abandoned spear, stuck slantways in the ground. Gripping it tightly in both hands, he ran full tilt into the large warrior, burrowing the long, sharp iron point of it in the hollow just below the breastbone. Nasr pushed on it with all his weight, until the man’s heart was pierced and the axe fell from his limp hands, now clutching uselessly at his chest. Thorgom staggered back, dazed from the force of the blow and the loss of blood. His knees buckled, and with an ooph! he hit the ground and fell to his side, his ragged breathing winding down in jerky steps to nothing.

By the time Nasr turned back to Husam, his spirit had already fled. Ahmad, his face grave, had gently laid the slain man’s head on the ground, and now he closed the sightless eyes, and laid the man’s hands on his chest. There was no time to grieve him. Nasr caught Ahmad’s eye and nodded once to him in recognition and in thanks.

And still the battle raged on, pulling them once again into the midst of it.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

08-23-2003, 06:25 PM	#166
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,786	Nasr Once they had done what damage they could do, the tribesmen archers made their way down to the main battle, to the positions that the Baobab were holding. Nasr and his five bowmen hurried to the line where the Elders were fighting. Three of them had drawn their swords and clubs, and two, following the others, still held their bows. In the press of battle, Nasr caught a glimpse of Jamílah and he craned his neck looking for Husam, but could not see him. A small group of six of the young had pressed in about one end of the Elders' line, and were moving steadily in on two of the Baobab men – Ismat and Faruq. The two elders stood back to back, their blades flashing as they revolved in a small circle. The youngsters, a mixture of the Baobab and Painted Sands drew the noose in tighter, coming at the men from all sides. By the time Nasr’s small band reached them, Faruq had gone down under the blows of two of the Baobab young ones. The stood over him, their weapons prepared for the death blow, when his hand snaked up like lightning, his right hand driving his dagger into the gut of the nearest one. ‘Tajir!’ he hissed with his dying breath, as he ripped open the flesh. ‘With my last strength I will take you from the service of the Eye.’ Tajir fell near him, crumpling in a bloody heap on the ground, his eyes already clouding over with death. Through lips frothy with bloody spittle, Faruq spoke reaching his hand out to touch the boy’s pale cheek with own cold hand. ‘You are Baobab. And so will you die . . .’ His words trailed off as the other young one dealt him the death blow. Now Ismat faced the remaining five young ones. His left arm was useless, broken at the elbow from a blow by Nasir and from an arrow buried deep in the upper chest from Narisa’s bow. Her face was grim as she watched the others move in on the Elder of the Grey Parrot Clan, and she knocked another arrow taking aim to drive it deep into his heart. Her aim was knocked askew as an arrow from the advancing tribesmen drove deep into the arm that drew back the bowstring. She turned, surprised, her face a twisted mask of disbelief. The Baobab bowman had drawn his long knife, and now drove it deep into her side. Its point beveled up, sliced into her heart, stilling it. Ismat fell as one of the three remaining youngsters drove his pointed stake into his belly. The youngster was cut down by the other Baobab bowman as Nasr ran to the side of Ismat, and knelt down, holding the dying man’s head in his hands. With the last of his strength, Ismat grasped Nasr’s hand tightly. ‘Take care of Duha for me, little brother. Tell her my last thoughts were of her and of our son, Munir.’ Nasr bent low and spoke softly in the man’s ear. ‘They are safe now. I will watch over them.’ With a short gasp and a soft sigh, the Elder’s spirit fled the battlefield. Nasr stood, grieved there was no time to lay him out in a respectful manner. There were still three of the young, bent on killing who they might. Nasir, Jasara’s second in command, pulled the youngsters back into a defensive position as they faced the five Baobab tribesmen. No mercy shone in the eyes of the advancing older men. Their faces were set as hard and dark as if they had been chipped from obsidian. Swiftly, a hail of arrows from the two bowman flew to their intended targets. The youngsters, the fact of their youth giving them extra reserve, fought on mightily, rallying around Nasir in an effort to stem the onslaught. Their blows found purchase on the bodies of two of the Baobab who carried swords, and they knocked them to the ground. But they had no time to savour the kill, no hope of recouping the victory. Nasr’s men cut them down where they stood. Their young bodies fell in a heap on the already bloodied ground – their spirits called out rudely into the waiting arms of death. _____________________________________________ Nasr and Thorgom He could see the sword flash in a killing arc. Nasr looked grim and picked up his pace, dodging blows as he ran to where Husam fought the tall warrior with the red Eye tattooed on his right shoulder. He saw Husam go down and Ahmad step in to kill the scar-faced warrior. From behind the warrior of the Eye stepped a giant of a man, his long dark hair hanging to his waist, intent on keeping the tattooed warrior from harm. Nasr watched as the larger man raised his two headed axe, preparing to deal a fatal blow to Ahmad. With scarcely a pause in his steps, he picked up an abandoned spear, stuck slantways in the ground. Gripping it tightly in both hands, he ran full tilt into the large warrior, burrowing the long, sharp iron point of it in the hollow just below the breastbone. Nasr pushed on it with all his weight, until the man’s heart was pierced and the axe fell from his limp hands, now clutching uselessly at his chest. Thorgom staggered back, dazed from the force of the blow and the loss of blood. His knees buckled, and with an ooph! he hit the ground and fell to his side, his ragged breathing winding down in jerky steps to nothing. By the time Nasr turned back to Husam, his spirit had already fled. Ahmad, his face grave, had gently laid the slain man’s head on the ground, and now he closed the sightless eyes, and laid the man’s hands on his chest. There was no time to grieve him. Nasr caught Ahmad’s eye and nodded once to him in recognition and in thanks. And still the battle raged on, pulling them once again into the midst of it. [ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.