The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 9: The Journey

ELIJAH

Elijah looked around to see if anyone was watching. Everyone in the caravan seemed to be minding their businesses, so he took out the cross his mother gave. He looked at the Jesus that was hung on it, with his robes and thorn crown. It wasn’t a comforting image to him. He quickly pocketed it before anyone else could see.
  
The cross always brought a painful memory. He still remembered when he had said good-bye to his mother, how she had cried. Remember this, ibn, you will do great things. You will be proud of yourself. But please live for me, live for Jerusalem, the city you wish to protect.
  
Around here, he wasn't known as Elijah, but rather the Arabic ‘Ilyas’. Adam just had to pronounce his name differently and he was considered to be Muslim. Unfortunately, – and he nearly lost his temper because of it – Adam wasn’t to bring his kippah, otherwise the soldiers would immediately recognize them as non-Muslims, and they would be kicked out of the army, or even punished. It was a good thing he managed to sneak in a Star of David.
  
The caravan had passed through Baghdad and Kufa. From there, there were caravans that came. Their caravan had joined with them as they had a common destination. Elijah had asked the camel rider what the destination was. Unluckily, there was never a straight answer.
  
Elijah sighed and he looked at the dunes. As always, they were shifting due to a wind that Elijah couldn’t feel. It was a bit strange. He imagined himself new to the world of the Abbasids. How would someone who has never seen a desert react to the dunes? He imagined them writing texts that covered three meters of parchment just to describe the strangeness of it.
  
He had heard the desert tempted people to do things that they never expected themselves to do. Elijah had always wondered how that was true. The desert wasn’t a living creature, or was there a more philosophical reason for that claim.
  
He groaned. He shouldn’t be torturing his mind with thoughts like such. He should make it feel relaxed, allow it to be ready for what is to come.

***

  
When night came, Elijah was inside a tent, looking at the cross, turning it, noticing every detail about it.
  
‘Lord, protect me.’ He thought.
  
When someone rapped on the flaps, Elijah hastily hid his cross.
  
‘Come in.’ He said.
  
A boy entered. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. In his arm, he was carrying a titleless book. He bowed a bit.
  
‘Er – sorry. Am I interrupting something?’ he asked.
  
‘No. You are not.’ Elijah lied.
  
‘Ah, all right. I just wanted to ask if this tent was free. Sorry, I should explain. Er – the caravan leaders told me that all the other tents were occupied and being used for one purpose or another. So, I was wondering if – um – this tent was free.’
  
Elijah wondered. He was thinking that Adam would have come, but he remembered that he was in another tent quite a distance away. He looked at the boy again. He was anticipating an answer, his hands fidgeting. Elijah sighed.
  
‘Yes; this tent is free; you can sleep here.’
  
‘Ah, shukran. Thank you.’ The boy bowed multiple times as he went forward.
  
He sat down next to Elijah and opened his book to begin reading it. At least he was minding his business, which was a low standard, but nonetheless, a good thing. Perhaps when they were young, the Muslims were kinder and more respectful. Elijah felt bad for the boy as he thought of what his religion would teach him. How it would command him to kill the ones who didn’t believe in their god.
  
The boy started reading the book, and Elijah tried his best to not look at him.
  
‘Shouldn’t we be asleep?’ he asked the boy.
  
‘We have time, no need to worry. Besides, I am not feeling relatively sleepy.’
  
So there was something the two had in common at least.
  
‘What is that you are reading?’ Elijah asked. He had tried to resist the temptations, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
  
‘Oh, this?’ he asked, holding the book in front of Elijah’s face. ‘“The Art of War” it is called.’
  
‘Ah, seems suitable enough.’
  
‘And where do you hail from? What name do you go by?’
  
The sudden, much more personal questions caught Elijah off guard. He hesitated a moment, wondering if he should tell him off, or actually answer. He decided that the latter should be fine.
  
‘My name is Ilyas, son of Ishaq,’ he answered. ‘I come from Jerusalem.’
  
‘Jerusalem?’ the boy’s eyes widened, and Elijah found a bit of satisfaction with seeing him that surprised. ‘Have you seen Masjid-ul-Aqsa then? Or what about the Dome of the Rock?’
  
Elijah laughed. He answered yes. The boy had put down his book and paid attention to each word Elijah was saying. He described the golden domes, the squareness, the calligraphy, and anything that was beautiful about the city. Elijah had found a certain type of pride swelling in him as he talked.
  
‘And what about you? Elijah asked. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself as well; it is only fair.’
  
‘Salman son of Abdullah,’ the boy replied eagerly. ‘I come from Baghdad.’
  
‘Ah, capital boy then?’
  
‘Well, I immigrated there, but yes.’
  
‘Most of the people there did.’
  
‘Anyway, is this your first time here also?’
  
Elijah looked at Salman for a moment. He saw a glisten in his eyes and smiled.
  
‘Yes. This will be my first war.’
  
‘Oh good. I thought I was the only one. That is a good thing to know.’
  
‘Is it? Does the City of Knowledge teach you that war is good?’
  
‘Of course not! See, I just think that in bad things, there are good things. I mean, you need to take care of a camel, or a horse. But we think of how we use it to travel. Consequences are a normal thing in both good and bad things.’
  
‘Hm, I suppose there is wisdom in your words.’
  
‘Thank you, sir.’
  
Elijah nearly chuckled. It felt queer for a stranger to refer to him as ‘sir’. Was he getting that old?
  
For some time, the two talked about a few things until their eyes were heavy. As Elijah laid down, he thought about what he had conversed with Salman. In the few moments they talked, he had learned some things. For instance, there was the fact he wanted to be a scholar some day, perhaps even a chronicler. Though he had no interest in the subject, he still respected the fact that he was so passionate about it.
  
It was a good thing he thought about Salman that way. It gave him a sort of motivation that he should most definitely focus on trying to achieve his goal of gaining glory and respect in the war, to kill Mongols. Sure, being a historian and a warrior in search of glory were two different things, but they were goals, and goals were something that should be achieved.
  
With the thoughts of motivation in his mind, Elijah slowly fell asleep.