The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 25: Out of the Desert, Into the Mountains

HAMZA

Despite them being near a valley's large creek, surrounded by lushness, and being closer to the sun, the weather was awfully cold. Maybe it was because he had been so used to the desert. Its wind would burn his face and the sand would scorch his skin, but he was used to that, accepted it as a part of life just as much as he had accepted that the sun would rise from the east.

This was much different. Every wind made his nose harden and redden. If he were to hit anything with his fist, it would hurt him as if two blocks of iron had smashed against them. Luckily, the coats softened his skin and made it easier for him to grab things.

From the creek, he was performing wudu for the asr prayer. As he did so, he looked at the mountains that were surrounding the valley. They were steep, jagged, and grey from the sides, but relatively flat and white on the top. From the snow, he saw the heads of pointy trees that stuck up from the entire white sea.

Hamza threw water on his face. It was icy. It felt as if tiny knives were stabbing him on the face. Nonetheless, he continued to splash himself on his arms and legs. His naked limbs caught the wind and made his hair solid.

When all was thankfully done, he put on his boots and clothing and hugged himself around the chest, chattering his teeth.

'I can suddenly see why Walid thought this would have lasting effects on us,' Abbas said after he had walked towards Hamza. 'I think this would be how we become like those ice monsters that they tell in whimsical stories.'

'A bit exaggerated, but I think you should be about half-correct. My wife always said that the mountains could freeze you and turn you into snow. My son was scared for about a week after hearing that tale.'

Hamza laughed at his own information. It was a bit strange for him to laugh at something like that, but really, any memory of the two made him feel a bit joyous, nearly warming, eliminating any signs of the cold.

'I might catch a disease.' Abbas grumbled.

'We'll get used to it. I'm sure of it. For now, prayer to Allah is the way.'

'I hope He would just give us warm water from above.'

***

After prayer, Hamza had just so happened to run into Salman who looked to be in a hurry, his hands fidgeting and lips quivering.

'Young man, where are you running to?' Hamza asked.

Salman, once again as before, plastered a smile on his face.

'Oh, nowhere!' he hurriedly replied.

'Are you sure? It looks as if you are in great distress.'

'Great distress? You are talking nonsense, Hamza. No offense meant.'

'None will be taken. If you are not distressed-'

'Sorry! Need to go now. Allah hafiz!'

Before more could be said to the rushing boy, Salman had dashed off, the faint sound of panting filling the air. By instinct, Hamza knitted his eyes. Salman had been acting a little too strange as of recently, as if there was a concerning matter that Hamza wasn't aware of.

What was that matter?

That was the problem. He did not know. A mystery. It was frustrating. Hamza wanted to help him, yet because he had no idea of what was going on, he was forced to back up and simply watch.

He remembered when something similar had happened to Zaid. He would be fearing over apples but refused to tell why. It wasn't until a week later that Hamza found out that he was afraid that ants would be inside it.

Hamza shook his head. This seemed much serious, much more serious. It might have been a matter of something that might cost their lives. He remembered how he had acted some weeks ago. He had trembled and gave himself that same fake smile, and the same false calmness.

He wanted to ask Salman about it some day, but he decided that it would be needless to do such a thing since Salman would refuse to tell anything. But then again, he thought that it was somewhat a responsibility for him to see if Salman was really all right.

In the end, Hamza decided it was best if he asked Salman some day, if not today.

SALMAN

'One day, one day, but which day?'

Salman scratched his head for an appropriate date.

'Will the day after tomorrow be fine, or do I wait until the start of the next month? Oh Allah ...'

Combing his hair with his fingers, the boy's mind was rushing to now know what time should the talk take place.

'After maghrib should it be? Or asr? I think asr is fine; have all the time I need. Goodness, goodness-'

'Overthinking kills the mind.'

'Ya Allah!'

Salman instinctively, mustering up everything he had learned, unsheathed his sword only to see that it was Ali that was in front of him.

'I would very much like it if you were to be kind enough to not kill me. Thank you.'

A wave of what was best described as embarrassment creeped over Salman and he quickly put his scimitar back in his scabbard.

'I thought you were frustrated about something. Then again, I had suspected that for a long time. Turns out, I was correct, though God did not give me the ability to simply know what makes you worried.'

'It's really-'

'Nothing?'

Salman averted his gaze and his cheeks flushed.

'Ah, a common behavior among us mortals. What has this world set us up to do? Anyone asks how you are, it is nearly obligatory to say "I am fine". Why is that? Well, I think the answer is that people are afraid to bother to listen to one's struggles. To just sit down and listen closely to someone's worries and woes is quite a difficult thing, though, all things considered. But how wonderful would that be? We live in a world where everyone has put a mask on. It is a wash of realism once you realize that others are human as well. They have their own moments of passion, of love, of hate, of joy, and of sadness. But another reason for that monotone, generic response is that we are afraid to express ourselves, to respond to "Are you all right?" with "I am not doing fine". We are afraid that we might be considered "weak" or "not a man". In case you wonder, it is all right to feel as if your life is one giant grey cloud.'

Salman listened to Ali in astonishment. His words were like a song, easing his mind in a way he himself wasn't able to achieve. He suddenly felt relaxed, comfortable even.

'Tell me of your woes, Salman. I am more than willing to listen.'

Just then, almost, Salman had blurted out everything that was bothering him, chewing on his mind, as if fate, or maybe even God himself wanted him to tell Ali about his stress. But he resisted himself just in time.

'I do not doubt your empathy, Ali, but I think my woes are best left private.' Salman said.

Ali clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

'Another mistake. You trap your emotions in your body as one fills a jug with water. Eventually, it shall spill.'

It was hard to argue with the logic. Salman looked for words that might be an appropriate response.

'You speak like a whitebeard.' Was the best he had come up with.

'That is what everyone says. One looks at a person's age, and one judges them.'

The statement was a close hit at Salman's heart. It was as if Ali knew all about him. Almost as if he could read his mind.

'I suppose that the matter is ... something that might ruin another person's life? Just a guess.'

'Assuming it was,' began Salman. 'What am I to do?'

Ali's lips curved into an amused smile, as if he knew that he was right, but had decided to entertain Salman's attempt to lie without lying.

'Well, I know the full context, don't I?'

'Well ... all right. See, there's this - er - friends of mine. He has this secret. I know that secret. But he doesn't know that I know, and ...'

Salman took a moment to look at Ali's smiling face. In his eyes, there was a look of anticipation. He was simply waiting for Salman to continue. That was the moment he gave up trying to hide it. There was no point in trying to even mildly deceive people now. Moreover, that was a sin.

'I found out Ilyas isn't actually a Muslim,' he revealed. 'He is a Christian. I found a cross in his tent. There was also a Star of David. It might have belonged to Adam. They do not know that I have found out.'

Salman said all of it quickly, maybe it was to quickly relieve the burden that was on him, maybe it was because he was desperate to share his findings with someone. Nonetheless, the secret that he held was out. He had told someone about another's sin. That in itself was a sin if Salman remembered correctly. He echoed the word 'astaghfirullah' in his heart over and over again.

Ali's eyebrows knitted, but he soon returned to his usual smiling self.

'I should have honestly expected that from them,' he said. 'But I do not think it would have been wise to judge people immediately. It was just a theory that I kept to myself. Anyway, is that the problem you are facing?'

Salman nodded sheepishly.

'This is quite a unique situation that you have found yourself in.'

Salman frowned. The last thing that he wanted was Ali pointing out the obvious.

'The short answer would be to just confront Ilyas for it. Tell him that you know.'

'What if he hurts me in some way in a moment of rage?'

'He will not. Trust me. The first person you were supposed to tell this to was him, not me. I am just some person. You are lucky that I have made a vow to myself that I will not tell this information to anyone else. If I were just a bit more interested in gossiping, I do not think Ilyas would have survived.'

It was true. li did hold that kind of power. Salman wondered what the result would have been if he had told someone like Umar the same information.

'I am still afraid of how he will react.' Salman said.

'You are keeping the truth from him. That is a sin. You have already committed one, and I do not want you to commit another. But then again, maybe I was the one who encouraged you to disclose such sensitive information, so I share that sin. So maybe I should ask forgiveness as well.'

Ali started murmuring a silent prayer.

'What are the possibilities?' Salman asked.

He began waiting for a reply, but saw that Ali was deep in his prayer. Salman was about to snap him out of it, but remembered that it was practically a sin to interrupt someone's prayer. He had committed one sin already, he didn't dare to commit another one.

Luckily, Ali came out of his thoughts as one is roused from a deep sleep just when Salman was thinking that.

'Ah, I blacked out again,' he said. 'I tend to do that sometimes. Sorry. What were you saying again?'

'I was just asking what the possibilities could be if I were to confront him about the entire thing.'

'Ah, that,' Ali ran his fingers through his hair. Instead of it falling back, they created locks in front of his eyes. 'Complicated matter that one. Really dependent on hypotheses and guessing. Can't be too sure of this, can't be too sure of that. In the end, you are creating dialogues for every possible situation. Burns your brain and might give you a terrible headache. Trust me, I speak from experience.'

Ali let out a chuckle before returning into his regular smile.

'Ali, this is serious.'

'When have I said that it is not serious? This is quite much concerning.'

'You do not look concerned.'

'A fire is contained so that it does not burn its surroundings.'

'Is that really all the advice you have to give me? "Confront him". I thought you were wise.'

Something of a mix of frustration and anger was brewing inside Salman, and leaking out from his mouth.

'There is no one way to consider wisdom. That can come in many forms. I am giving you the wisdom of the only option.'

'But there has to be another way!'

'The one that I tell of you is the best way. Well, unless you want an amendment in my statement.'

'An amendment?'

'Just a little thing to make you feel better, young scholar.'

'I would like to hear it very much.'

'Are you sure? I thought you did not like my idea.'

'Ali!'

'Patience, Salman. I am only joking. You remind me too much of Ismael. I do not quite like that, I think. Ah, there I go straying. You wanted to hear an added suggestion?'

'If you are not going to be rambling off with anything else, then yes.'

Ali chuckled and smiled. His eyes were drained of any amusement and they were once again filled with wisdom. The air around Salman suddenly felt different, as if he was in the presence of an entirely different entity altogether.

'Tell him that you know, and you will be relieved of your burden,' he said. 'But there is another thing that you must keep in your mind. When you say such to him, remember to be considerate. Say to him that it is his responsibility to reveal this secret to the others. It is not your job to tell that to the rest, it is his.'

'Will he be willing to do such a thing?'

'Only Allah knows, Salman. What your job is, is to be the one responsible, or at least play a part, in the development of Ilyas's soul. There are few good deeds that exceed that. Quite few.'

'Can I trust you with this? What if your plan does not work?'

'I have no confirmation if my plan will work. There is no confirmation for anything, actually. It is up to God to decide whether He wants your plan to succeed or not. If He does not want it to succeed, then He indeed has something better planned for you.'

The statement didn't make Salman feel any better, but at least he knew that if Allah willed it, he would succeed.

'I, for the most part, pray that this plan will succeed.' Ali said.

'Ameen.'

'So do you agree with it?'

Salman stared at Ali for a moment before nodding.

'I pray that everything that can turn right, turns right.' Ali said as a finale.