Empires of Faith

Chapter 9: On Thin Ice

2 Rajab, 1663

The winds howled high up on the snow-covered mountains. The thin, mountain air was frosty and barely breathable. There was an army encampment within the eastern mountains on the Northern Continent. Just outside of one central tent, there stood two armed men, wielding doubled edged swords and large iron shields. Inside the tent, two men stood discussing a pressing matter. Resting on a mat on the floor, there was a wounded old man. Numerous bandages covered up large stab wounds on his stomach, chest, and several cuts on his arms.

"Would you two yappers take it outside," the old man groaned in a raspy voice. "I am trying to sleep."

"You need to stay awake," a portly, young man answered back. Though he was neither a medic nor the man's caretaker, Abdur-Rahman ibn Ali was more than concerned about the man's wellbeing. With a stern glare, he sat beside his older companion and crossed his arms over his chest.

"He's right General Isa," a medic spoke to the old man. "I've wrapped your wounds but you've lost a substantial amount of blood. If you lose consciousness, you may very well lose your life. Try to stay awake for a few more hours while we continue trying to get you some proper medication and resupply your body with some vitamins and nutrients to speed up the healing process."

General Isa looked up, barely opening his bluish-gray eyes. "Why the in the world am I laying down if I'm not supposed to sleep?"

"Because, sir, if you sit up, you may open up your wounds and cause yourself to bleed out. And all of the strain you will put on your body will cause the pain from your internal injuries to increase."

"And if stay lying down I will fall asleep," the general spoke as he tried to force himself up. As he pushed his upper body off the ground and into a sitting position, Isa immediately felt a sharp pain surging through his body and a throbbing knot in his head. He collapsed back onto the mat, holding his wrinkled forehead. His long, curly gray hair draped over his hand as he writhed in pain.

"You see, Isa," Abdur-Rahman scolded him. "You need to listen and think before you act, man. You never consider the consequences of your actions and that is exactly what has led you to this condition you are in right now!"

"Yep," Isa replied with a shrug. Abdur-Rahman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"I need a breath of air," he said to the medic. "Keep an eye on him until you are certain that it is okay for him to sleep. Keep me informed of his condition."

"Of course; I will report to you within an hour."

"Right." Abdur-Rahman gave a nod of acceptance and stood to exit the tent. He opened the dark blue flaps of cloth and looked to the two men standing guard. "Keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Alert me if anything else happens." The two nodded in affirmation and Abdur-Rahman walked away.

As the young man disappeared behind the snowy winds, one of the two guards turned to his companion and spoke. "You would think that he is the superior here," he commented. "The way he speaks to General Isa is quite surprising, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps," the other guard agreed. "But it is mostly out of concern. Tough love if you will. He may be young, but Abdur-Rahman is a Captain and he has known General Isa for many years. He knew him before he was a general in this army; in fact, he knew him before he was even a Muslim."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. You see, the man we know as General Isa today was once a simple man named Richard. He was a poor Christian man run out of his home by the persecution of Kwaadi forces. It is been said by some that he had actually seen Kwaade with his own two eyes, and that the torture inflicted upon him was dealt by Kwaade himself. That, however, is beside the point. He managed to escape all of the persecution by fleeing to a nearby village of Muslims. He was hiding out there until one night, Abdur-Rahman and his two brothers found him scrounging for food in the city waste."