The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 10: Fort Al-Nasr

ABBAS
  

A nervousness had come to him when the fortress started to come closer. The towers were round, cylindrical. The walls were tall and straight. The entire thing was made of sandstones, limestones, and basalts that boasted a dull yellow. There was a sort of ancient look upon it as the sand of the desert flew around it as if it was some sort of protection. Abbas thought he could perhaps manage to live here.
  
Soldiers started to walk out and marched towards the fort. Abbas followed them. He saw more caravans coming. They must have originally set out from the east, from Persia. He thought about who could be from Tehran or from Shiraz.
  
When the gates opened, they all went inside.

***

They had started to line up in the middle courtyard. Abbas saw a diverse range of people. Some must have come from the peninsula, some from a place close to Egypt, some from the farthest side of the east. He saw black-skinned, fair-skinned, brown-skinned, those with curly hair, those with straight, those with none. He saw the little details, the scars, a hooked nose, greying hair, an eyepatch. He would see a man with thin eyebrows, men with a bad eye, and men with their blades on their right side. Some were young, some had already seen war. Every man Abbas saw, there was a different, unique thing about him that separated him from the rest of the people. Yet, the armor that they wore created an illusion that they were all the same. Perhaps to promote unity.
  
People rarely spoke, but the place was still alive with noise. There were grunts, coughs, and other, more unrecognizable, sounds. They were waiting, stomping their feet in anticipation, twirling their mustaches, or striking their beards.
  
BOOM!
  
It was unexpected. Abbas thought his heart had leapt out of his chest. He clutched the place where it was thumping, making sure he was alive. When he looked up at the catwalk, there was now a man with a square face looking down upon all of the soldiers.
  
‘You have not come here for loitering,’ he said. ‘Stand straight!’
  
Immediately, most of them frantically started to line up in symmetry while the more experienced ones stood their grounds, their chests puffed and arms straight down. Abbas eventually found out what to do and he blended in naturally with the others.
  
His eye followed the man – whom he assumed was the general – as he took the stairs down, reaching the men. He didn’t avert his gaze somewhere else and stared at the miles of soldiers straight into their pupils as if he had the intention of battling them all at once.
  
When he reached their level, he walked around them, inspecting them, touching the hilt of their swords, lightly taking them out of their scabbards sometimes. He would suddenly yell at those who didn’t have their feet straight, or belt tied up properly. Abbas thought of how it was like school, which saddened him a bit.
  
‘Do you know why you have come here?’ asked the commander as he walked forward to the middle in front of them all. ‘You come here for war. Of course, many of you do not seek it, but are rather forced, but that is not my problem. My problem is trying to keep you all alive. But who am I?’
  
For a moment, he paused and looked around at them all, observing who was paying attention and who was not. He continued.
  
‘I am Walid, son of Talha. I am the master of this fortress, Fort Al-Nasr. For the next months, or years, this is your new home. Whatever you have left behind, forget about it. Most likely, you will die before seeing them again.’
  
Abbas didn’t particularly find it pleasant that Walid was giving out such pessimistic thoughts. He would have criticized it openly, but he knew better not to disturb a serpent in his realm.
  
‘In this new home, you will have no wives, no children, and no parents. Here, you will only have one another. You are brothers, whether you like it or not. You need to learn to tolerate one another if you want any hope of returning back. Now, to the rules, and their punishments if someone were foolish enough to break them.’
  
Abbas sharpened his ears and tried his best to listen attentively.
  
‘Treason will result in death. Murder will result in death. Fornication will result in death. Any woman who has managed to sneak her way here, you shall be sent back home. Persecution will result in a hundred lashes. Lying will result in flogging. He who spreads falsehood will be severely punished. Anyone who breaks these rules of war, they will face punishment according to their deeds: no women shall be killed, the elderly will be spared, children, those who pray, and those who lay down their arms will be shown mercy. Orchards, trees, and any other agricultural things will not be damaged. Note that these aren’t laws made by me. These are the codes of jihad that were made by our prophet, so if you break them, you are refusing to act according to what our Lord has ordered us.’
  
This gave Abbas a reminder of what his teacher used to teach him. He mentally noted all of the rules in his mind.
  
‘Either you will die here, or you will. These are your only two options. Anyway, there will now be multiple soldiers that will come to you and will set you up in groups that each have five to twenty people. To the groups that are made, you will go to your dormitory. Learn to live with each other. Allah u Akbar.’
  
The soldiers repeated the phrase and Walid left to go upstairs to wherever he wanted to go. Hardy soldiers came and they started dividing up the others. Whenever a group was formed, they would send them on their way.
  
For Abbas, his group consisted of eight people. One was a gaunt man, one was fifteen years old with a shoulder bag, one was a tall, dark-haired man, and four others. They were sent, leaving them to look for a room of their own.

***

  
They didn’t talk with each other. It seemed that the dark-haired man knew somewhat of what he was doing and so, the others followed him. They eventually reached a door and he opened it. They entered inside.
  
Eight beds, a window that revealed nothing but the dunes and harsh Sun, no carpets, and walls of limestone. Abbas changed his opinion on the place being manageable. They all went inside and one of the men closed the door behind them. They all awkwardly stood in a deformed circle, struggling for words and tapping their feet.
  
‘All right,’ began the dark-haired one after a long silence. ‘We have never met each other, I suppose? Who knows who prior to this?’
  
Two pairs of men pointed at each other. All four of them were new to adulthood.
  
‘Oh, then that takes some burden off. I suppose we should introduce ourselves and tell where we are from. No need to explain who our father is. I heard from my brother that it is a good starter for conversations. I should go first. I am Hamza, and I hail from Medina.’
  
Abbas saw a look of satisfaction on Hamza’s face when there was a pleasant reaction from the rest.
  
‘All right! Good start,’ he said. ‘Now, who would like to go next?’
  
The young boy raised his hand.
  
‘Er – I am Salman of Baghdad.’ He said.
  
Perhaps because he saw that a person younger than him had the confidence to speak, Abbas also raised his hand.
  
‘Abbas. I come from Kufa.’
  
Two more hands were raised.
  
‘I am Ismael, and this is my brother, Ali. We both come from Makkah.’
  
Joyful murmurs commenced and another pair of palms were shown.
  
‘I am Ilyas, and this is Adam. We are from Jerusalem.’
  
There were more murmurs, but not as pleasant. The final person, the gaunt man, was silent. Hamza looked a bit bit uncomfortable.
  
‘Um – and what is your name?’
  
‘Why the hell are you so keen to know?’ he said with a frown and knitted eyebrows.
  
Hamza was taken aback by the harsh response, and he tried to find the correct words to use.
  
‘Well, I simply thought it would be a good thing if we know who we are.’ He replied.
  
‘Oh, and then we suddenly become one big happy family and ride to the setting Sun. Ha! Life ain’t like that. We’ll all die for all I know. No point in getting to know each other.’
  
‘I simply ask for your name and where you come from. There is no need for this.’
  
‘Go to Hell. Did you not hear what I said?’
  
Now, everyone started to feel uncomfortable. The softness that was forming was suddenly replaced by a harsh, sizzling, solid iron. Abbas couldn't tolerate that feeling and he glared at the man.
  
‘It is unwise for you to disrespect your elders.’ He said.
  
He saw that the man knitted his eyes at him.
  
‘Ah, a person of morality,’ he said. ‘They will sing about how you told me that.’
  
‘All of this can be simply avoided if you just told us your names.’
  
They were caught in some sort of staring contest. Both of them refused to blink. Abbas observed how much rage the man was controlling. Hamza had to step in between them.
  
‘It is fine, Abbas,’ he said. ‘If he wishes not to tell, I am all right with that. It will be revealed sooner or later.’ He added the last part as a whisper.
  
He looked at the rest who were, so far, trying not to show their uneasiness.
  
‘For now, we have been allowed to rest. I think that should have us be a bit more … at ease.’
  
There were murmurs of agreement and all of them – excluding Abbas, Hamza, and the other man – sat on their separate beds. Abbas saw how the boy took out a book from his shoulder bag and began reading it. The two pairs started talking to each other about things that Abbas was only slightly aware about. The gaunt man grunted.
  
‘Don’t bother me.’ He said before going up to his bed.
  
Hamza looked at the man. He put his hands on his waist and sighed.
  
‘He will be a difficult one.’ Abbas said.
  
‘Difficult, but not impossible to handle,’ Hamza replied. ‘My son was nearly like him. Fortunately, I think I tamed him. It is all about peeling the skin.’
  
‘I beg your pardon?’
  
‘Think of it as an onion. It has layers, does it not? A human being is similar. Allah has made them complex. You need to peel one layer, and it is revealed somewhat of what they are. You know a bit about them, an interesting fact, a trivial quirk, or whatever. Then you peel another layer, more is revealed. You keep on peeling and peeling the more time you know them. Once you get into the final layer, understanding comes. With the final layer, you do not know who they are, or how they are. You understand why they are. Why do they act the way they do? You get the answer to that’
  
‘Why’. It was an interesting thing. Abbas had asked a question starting with that single word. Why. Limaza. What would he give to know about reason?
  
Abbas nodded at Hamza.
  
‘Perhaps you are right.’ He said.
  
‘It might take a little time, but Inshallah our efforts will bear fruit.’
  
‘Inshallah.’ Abbas replied, though the word didn’t sound as sweet when it came out of his mouth.
  
‘We will be sparing after this. You need to be ready.’