The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 33: Salman the Poet

ABBAS

Abbas was not doing anything out of the ordinary when Walid had another announcement.

'Honestly, I think this has gone out of hand,' Umar said. 'Four announcements in five months? All I can do is hope that he has not set up another camp on top of a mountain.'

Luckily, that didn't turn out to be the case. Walid had announced that he wanted to set up a simple scouting party to search for resources. He had said that they were apparently in need of food if they wanted to last, as well as searching for any signs of enemies. It wasn't a serious search by any means, just something to relieve their hunger until the next caravan would appear with hills of necessary food.

Around fifty people were chosen to go with him. He, Salman, Hamza, and Ilyas were included.

'I heard that we are to go farther up the mountain.' Abbas had said.

'Do not believe in the rumors,' Ali said, who had fancied to join the conversation despite the fact he was not going. The same was the case with Ismael and Umar. 'Words change when they are going through people to people.'

'I see that is a truth,' Hamza said. 'Best to just see what happens.'

'And what of the whole "seeing enemies"? Are we to fight?' Salman asked.

'Hopefully not; I do not think I might have the strength to harm them.'

'It would be bad news, logically speaking,' Umar commented. 'We are all quite undertrained, so it is a perfect opportunity for the Mongols or any other enemy to simply kill us.'

'I question Walid's decision of having us be so close to Mongolian borders as well.' Ismael said.

'The mountains might be the only safe place,' Abbas argued. 'Thought the Mongols have lived in similar terrains, I doubt they are willing to set up camp in such places for long periods of time.'

'If us desert children can do it, then so can they.' Ali said.

'Let us be optimistic. Pray that the best happens.'

'Ameen.'

***

Some foods were packed and the fifty or so men were preparing for the scouting. Salman had made sure to grab his The Art of War book while Abbas and the rest made only the necessary preparations. Then there was Ilyas, ever secluded from the rest.

'Does he even talk at this point?' Umar asked. 'How long has it been since either of us heard a word from him?'

'Do not shame him, akhi,' Hamza defended. 'He must have quite a bit on his mind if he is behaving in such ways.'

Abbas caught a glimpse of Salman trembling a bit. Abbas knew it was useless to do so, but he asked nonetheless.

'Are you all right?'

'All is well.'

As always, Abbas didn't believe him, but he spoke no further.

'What is with him and his little secrets?' he asked himself.

ELIJAH

Clumsily, he packed his things for the journey tomorrow. They were all loosely inside bundles that weren't knotted properly. As of now, bundling things correctly wasn't the most dominant thought on Elijah's mind. He was distracted. Distracted by thoughts that came in the form of voices.

'Learn from he who learned the ways of the Maulana.' They said.

'Maulana'. What in the world did that mean? Of course, all it meant was 'master' or 'teacher' as far as Elijah was aware. But to be named Maulana was an entirely different thing. Who could be named such a thing?