Kitara: A Tale of Leinyere

Story Notes

1) There's really not any smut in this. Sorry!

2) Sha'ir and Rawi are taken from the actual Arabic poetic tradition. A Sha'ir is more of a composer and a Rawi memorizes and conveys

"Vengeance sees the future clearly and mythologizes the past, though it dwells there." Abdul ibn Malik

Faisal gripped the pommel of his saddle and waited to hear the sound of distraction on the other side of the oasis. On cue, his cousin's men rode their horses by, thundering past the palms with torches brandished. The sleepy town hidden behind the low walls sprang to life, and defenders made their way to the only gate large enough for horses to pass easily. Faisal and his brother, Ahmed, slid off their horses and tied them along with the third to a nearby palm, then scaled the low wall easily, landing in the packed earth of the street below.

They emerged on a moonlit street that led to the house of the trader, Hakim and the dwelling of his love Jahane. The thought of her stirred his breast. Jahane with her eyes as large and luminescent as the moon which lit their path, her hair as dark as a raven's wing and lustrous as a pearl. Her eyes the color of coffee, and her skin the same as if sweetened with milk. Her voice smoldered like the coals of a newly banked fire. Her curves were as lush and as bountiful as the green lands beyond the desert. How often had the thought of the pleasures that he might prize from her full lips.

At Twenty-three, a man of the world, he was no virgin. He knew her though, to be one. She was a woman only a year now, just eighteen, and her virtue and purity would refresh him as a mountain spring. His love for her was boundless, and she was promised to another. Tonight, he would rescue her from being chained to some old man. Tonight, they would run, and in three months' time when her tribe had not yet reclaimed her the old ways would make her his wife.

"I still don't know why you didn't just ask the man for her hand" his brother grumbled as they made their way down the street. "you're a seasoned warrior and a renowned Sha'ir, the youngest to be considered a true talent. Your herd is sizable, and our family is old and respectable"

It was true, as a notable Sha'ir, or poet, he had status far beyond his years and currency with which to ply even these soft oasis dwellers. "Because it suits me to steal her, in the manner our grandfather stole our grandmother. Also, it suits her. The notion of it lit her face with a smile bright as the noon sun. "

For his part, his brother replied only with a long-suffering look, followed by a hand on Faisal's arm and another pointing at the house "Some guards there, I believe. Why are they not at the gates?"

The brothers crept closer. Accomplished raiders and horse thieves they were expert at making themselves one with the night. As they approached, Faisal's nervousness gave way to anger. His hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar and he hissed "Mahmoud Ibn Ali, you dog. What brings your wretched hide here?"

Standing in front of two horses was a single man, unarmored though armed with a scimitar as was Faisal. Tall, handsome, and possessing a spectacular beard was Mahmoud. His rival, at least in his own head. Mahmoud was also a poet, a horse thief, a trader and a leader of the men of the tribe of Nahaz. "I heard that vagabonds were here to steal the virtue of young Jahane, and so I came to spirit her away"

"Insolence! Stand aside. The girl loves me and I her"

"I fear I cannot, I've come for a second wife and she is as beautiful as the night and her hips are wide enough to birth me another set of fine strong sons."

"You dare discuss her hips you villain?"

"I dare much, pup." Mahmoud's voice was low and calm, and his hand slid his blade from its sheath. "You are a youth of much promise, and I will regret killing you... but you are yet a youth and I a man. Abandon your foolishness before I paint the packed earth of this street with your blood"

At that Faisal and Ahmed drew and advanced. In a blur Mahmoud disarmed Ahmed, sending his blade spinning into the darkness with a clang. He smashed his hilt into the side of Ahmed's head, downing him. Swiftly, the larger, older man spun to face Faisal, his approach less aggressive with the more capable swordsman. Mahmoud shifted his feet, moving so Faisal could see the tied-up form of his lady love slumped over a saddle.

'He must have an accomplice at the gate' the thought rose in his mind and made him seethe. In that moment of distracted anger, however, all was lost. Mahmoud lashed out with the hilt of his blade, cracking it against Faisal's elbow and forcing him to drop his sword from nerveless fingers. Mahmoud sprang away and grinned, spitting out a couplet in Old Qurayshi, and Faisal could not help but take a moment to translate

Your arm hangs limp and useless

Flaccid as an old man's cock.

"Churl" Faisal spat and approached the other tribesman, who tossed a handful of sand in his eyes to cover his escape. In parting, a shouted verse again in old Qurayshi leapt from the lips of Mahmoud

The young ram's horn

Stands ofter too attention

But the old ram's strikes deeper, longer

Into the young ewe.

Mahmoud's mocking laughter was swiftly covered by the sound his horses' hooves beating a retreat to the other gate, away from the horses of Faisal's tribesmen. As Faisal bent to retrieve his sword, the townsmen came running to investigate the sound of the departing villain. Faisal drew up his blade but swiftly was surrounded by townsmen with spears and crossbows. He raised his hands "Mahmoud Ibn Ali came to steal away your priceless treasure. I tried to stop him but it was of no avail."

"More like the three of you hit on a plan to steal her, and he betrayed you" The angry voice of his beloved's father rang out across the night "I took you into my home, I fed you from my own hand. You will pay for this perfidy, Faisal. I will whip you like a dog and your brother too"

"I swear to you that I had no alliance with Mahmoud!"

"Then you worked at the same purpose, and he was more successful. After whipping you, I will pay for a poem to castigate you for your failure."

***

Mahmoud rode carefully over the Dunes that surrounded the oasis. He had not been expecting trouble and so he brought a second horse known less for its speed than its steadiness and gentle disposition. He wasn't sure he could keep the sleeping girl on it if it came to flight. Looking over his shoulder constantly, it was some time before he felt able to relax. The boy had nearly ruined everything.

"You're late I worried."

"Never worry for me, my love. I will always return."

"Until the day you do not Mahmoud, do not make light of my worry."

Mahmoud looked over the woman on the horse ahead of him, ringed by the best warriors of his band. "I apologize my love. I joke to cover my own nervousness, not to make light of your concern." He slid down off his horse, walking over to the woman to take her hand and kiss it. "How can I make my indiscretions up to you, without a tent to preserve our modesty?"

"Mahmoud you ass" came the snort "Get your lazy ass back on your horse and ride."

"Noreah my love, my only."

"Not your only now."

"Always my only"

His wife wheeled her stallion around and set south across the dunes, and he scrambled to follow her. His men circled them, easily matching their pace as she too was careful of his package "She seems to be sleeping well enough. So, the spirit did its job?"

"She sleeps the sleep of the virtuous, which is by all accounts at least deserved" Mahmoud scratched his beard "go on, ask what you want to ask"

"Did you have to..."

"No. there was a boy I struck in the head, but he was sitting up when I looked over my shoulder."

"you're normally stealthier than that. How did you rouse attention?"

Mahmoud laughed, the sound of it echoing across the tunes, a low baritone rumble "Gods woman! Give me more credit. Two youths, Faisal and Ahmed ibn Fairuk, of the Asani. They had the same idea. They were there for the girl and had I been a few minutes later I'd not have had the prize"

His wife turned and regarded him "they say Faisal is a deadly blade"

"They say much of lackwit boys. I moved aside, let him be distracted by the sight of her luscious rump in the air and I disarmed him. He was too focused on the prize to deal with the reality of his surroundings."

Noreah shook her head, looking back to the north "He will come for her. He is prideful and this is his first defeat. Blood may yet be spilled in this endeavor"

Mahmoud reached for his wife's hand, gently clasping it in both of his as they slowly rode "I promised you, my love, no more killing." He took her hand and kissed it softly "Well, I promised I would try"

"That is not the same Mahmoud"

***

The early spring sun beat down on Faisal as he was strapped by the damnable oasis dwellers to a pole in the center of the town. His brother Ahmed stared reproachfully from the thicket of armed men surrounding him. "You got us into this" was written across the younger man's pout. Faisal shrugged, then looked around the square. His whipping appeared to be the social event of the season. The soft water-round faces of the oasis dwellers all turned toward the pair. Faisal determined he would give them no satisfaction. Reaching forward, he gripped the pillar and held his back rod-straight. "Faisal ibn Fairuk, you have betrayed the hospitality of this oasis. You have repaid the generosity of our trade with perfidy. You have stolen that which is most precious to us, our virtuous daughter Jahane."

"I stole nothing, and moved to stop the villain who took her."

"Silence, dog. Your presence in the town after the passage of your tribe, along with the extra horses and provisions found outside the walls tell a different tale. You came like a thief, and you will be whipped like a thief. Ten lashes." The amount itself was an insult. Twenty for stealing a horse, fifty if he had successfully taken the girl. Ten was more of a rebuke than the lashes themselves. It was a subtle dig at his failure. He felt the burn of the first even before hearing the crack of the whip, as the tip snapped through the air faster even than the speed of sound. He tensed. He did not cry out, but instead let the fire in his skin fan the power of his hate. Hate for these soft men of the town, hate for Mahmoud. The second lit a bright stripe of pain across his back, and his fingers gripped the pillar tight. His pride would allow no sign, no cry at the impact, no change in his face save the subtle flare of nostrils and widening of the eyes. 'You are Faisal. You are a swordsman, a horse thief, a Sha'ir. You are a man and those that whip you are jackals' he told himself over and over as the skin of his back opened under the whip and grew sticky with blood. 'You are a son of the desert. You are a lion among sheep'

His brother, to the delight of the assembled crowd, gave the soft townsfolk exactly what they had come to see. With the very first lash, his lips parted with a cry. Faisal grimaced, he had gotten the young man into this. It was his love and his pride that had led them to try to snatch the girl rather than negotiate a bridal contract. Ahmed had been there largely to be a set of eyes. He was no warrior, but a shepherd. No poet, no Rawi even. Just a man, recently a boy, who idolized his brother. Faisal steeled himself even against his guilt, however, deciding that this would merely make a man of his kinsman.

After, as the crowd dispersed, Faisal gathered up their shirts and placed a hand on the quivering Ahmed's arm. "We will ride to camp and they will bandage you brother. They won't take our horses. This is an exercise in shame as much as anything. They need us to return home to send a message."

The sullen Ahmed nodded, and the pair turned towards the gate when Faisal saw the face of Mehmet, the girl's father. "I will return Jahane to your house, this I swear."

The man frowned "I believe you mean to." He crossed his arms over a fat belly, but something in his expression changed, some subtle relaxation momentarily evident in his face. He begrudgingly looked east "You'll have to ride hard to overtake him before he reaches the Oasis of the Seven Wells."

Faisal grasped at that dropped bit of intelligence like a man clawing at the dust for a drop of moisture. "So, he heads east, does he?"

"His tribe makes a circuit, up from the south come early spring, then across the north along the hills that line the desert, towards the City of Aqba where they sell the wool their animals gathered during the winter in the south."

Faisal nods "I will be there within the week. You will be reunited with your daughter before the next moon"

The old man shrugged as if to say "perhaps, perhaps not" then spat at Faisal's feet before entering his shop. Faisal looked to his brother "I will seek tending for my wounds at the trade post along the east road. If I ride hard, I can make it there before nightfall. You must return to father and let him know I will be gone for a bit. You may take my sheep into your flock, and my horses. When I return you may keep any increase to the flock in my absence."

Ahmed nodded. Faisal's herd added to his own would be more work, but much greater profit, if Faisal was not back by the time new lambs whelped. Ahmed was practical enough to understand adventures rarely were as swift as Faisal made them out to be. "And if you do not return?"

"Then you will be the wealthiest man your age" Faisal grinned

"I would be wealthier in spirit if you would return with me, if you would marry Zafira as her father wishes you to. If you would put aside this foolishness over a slip of a wetlander girl." Ahmed came as close to pleading with his brother to change his course as he was able. "In a season you'll forget this girl's name."

Faisal seethed a moment, his brother of all people knew how his heart burned with love for Jahane, how she was the only woman in his estimation. She was a prize above all others, the lone star in Faisal's sky by which he could navigate the world. He calmed though, reminding himself that Ahmed was only as the gods made him, cautious, practical, steadfast... not a poet.

"I will return before the next moon"

***

Jahane roused slowly, the gentle sway of the mare she was tied to helping to keep her asleep after the enchantment wore off. She was at first dimly aware of being in an awkward position, then the smell of horse, then burning sun heating the robe covering her. She blinked herself awake, finding her hands tied and her body draped over the back of a horse. Her sluggish mind accepted that she was supposed to be kidnapped, as that had been the plan all along. Slowly she came to the realization that she had no recollection of meeting Faisal, and no earthly notion of how she came to be tied across a horse. She came to fully in that moment and snapped her head up to look. She was decidedly not among the Asani. The colors of the clothing were wrong, the patterns even more so. The soft robe she wore, which was not her own was of a softness and quality that was beyond the wool of the herdsmen of her intended's tribe. She took a moment to luxuriate in its softness, but then had the presence of mind to try to ascertain if she was still clothed in what she had worn when she saw... damnation. A spirit of some sort. A small swirling wind making patterns in the air that had made her sleep. She was not among friends. All of the romance of being kidnapped by Faisal had given way to the horror of being kidnapped in actuality by some uncouth desert chieftain.

Jahane craned her neck a bit, looking up to see an old woman, grinning a toothless grin, offering a skin of water. "No thank you" the girl said, regretting it after as she felt the dry desert air already parching her. At the sound of the conversation, the caravan seemed to stop. Another woman in robes to keep the sun off rode up. She was hawk-faced, more striking than beautiful. Her body had the leaner drawn look of the desert folk. Her dark eyes regarded Jahane over her aquiline nose. Her lips pursed and then she smiled "You're awake. Let me cut you free. Do you know how to ride?"

"I'd prefer to walk thank you."

"A walk through the desert would likely kill you, oasis girl." The woman replied, not unkindly. "you're not used to it and would likely overdo it before you knew to ask for help." She leaned down and untied Jahane, then helped her stand so she could remount the horse. "This old mare is gentle and easy tempered. Even if you are new to riding it will be less of a burden.

Jahane looked out over the trackless desert, and she fought the urge to bolt. For one, the surer riders would easily catch her as she'd ridden here and there for pleasure and never in any serious context. Secondly, she did not know where she was, and third, she was kidnapped and by the ancient rules was a guest of the tribe. She had her own duties as a guest, and civility was part of that duty. Though it rankled her, she had to wait for her male relatives to mount a rescue. "Many thanks for your hospitality, lady." She schooled her face to placidity, attempting her best to not reveal her desire to split the woman's grinning face with a fist.

"Well, aren't we well mannered" the woman straightened in the saddle. Jahane looked her over and couldn't help but feel she'd seen her before. Likely recently when this tribe had passed through, but before that. Perhaps a few times. She must have been staring as the woman regarded her oddly for a moment "Noreah" the other woman offered. "You have the pleasure of being a guest of Mahmoud Ibn Ali, of the Nahasz. He is my husband, and I welcome you."

"The pleasure is indeed mine. I hope, however, not to burden your tribe overly long with my stay." Jahane replied, her tone polite even if her words implied escape. "I am sure I will be collected soon."

Noreah smiled wide at that "surely" she shifted her mount a little closer to the girl, putting her hand on her leg "don't grip so tight. You won't fall. If you don't sit right, you'll be sore for days."

"Easy for you to say, you Nahasz were born to the saddle" Jahane smiled. It cost her nothing to be polite to this woman, and an even temperament might go a long way in increasing the comfort of her time with the tribe. She caught something in Noreah's face and blanched "I apologize if I have given offense. I... I did not expect to be here."

Noreah looked at her strangely, then laughed softly "You are far more well mannered a... guest... than I would have been. You've given no offense girl. It is we who have offended for all that this is a game our people have played for centuries. An outdated game of men, with women as the pawns and the prizes." Noreah made some motion with her hand, slowing her own horse which wanted to move ahead, making sure to match the pace of the girl's gentle nag. "I am not a Nahasz. My people are Masalim. I married into the Nahasz... as you might yet." Noreah looks ahead to the front of the caravan making its way across the dunes to a nearby oasis "unlike you for love. I was more fortunate in that choice... though from what I understand you were promised as third wife to an old man. Selim, the gem seller. So, you would not have married for love at home either."

The girl picked up on a few things. One, the suggestion that her marriage was not considered a foregone conclusion. Of course, it was the first thing her mind seized on, the hope that Faisal would rescue her and she would be his in truth as she was in his heart. The second that the woman was a Masalim. "I thought your people stuck to the protection of towns with walls." The Masalim were pacifists. Some of them taking their credo to the extreme, not even eating meat in their desire to not kill or do violence. "And that you did not marry outside of your own clans"