Empires of Faith

Chapter 21: Buried

6 Sha'baan, 1663

"And that makes nineteen out of twenty," a young Abdur-Rahman Ibn Ali proudly proclaimed as another arrow pierced its target. He stood, wielding the bow in his hand with a grin on his face. The winds blew mildly, stirring up a bit of dust as he and his brother stood out in the field. "I told you that I'm better than you at this, Imran."

"Well I don't spend my time lazing around all day doing nothing," Imran retorted. "I actually do work, so I don't have time to practice as often."

"I don't sit around all day either; I just don't keep you informed about what I do. That's between me Allah."

"I-"

"As-Salaamu Alaikum," Muhammad ibn Sulayman called out, walking into the field in a brown thobe and a black jubbah over it. His turban tail and jubbah blew in the winds behind him as he approached the two from a distance. They smiled and returned the greeting, heading over to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" Abdur-Rahman asked as he shook Muhammad's hand.

"Imran and I are supposed to do some training today. Are you joining us?"

"Nah, I'm going to head inside actually. We were just shooting some arrows."

"Oh. Where's your other clown brother, Nizaam?"

"He's-"

"Let me guess, somewhere with his buddy Asghar? You know, those two spend so much time together you would think they were married."

"Yeah that's very funny," a sarcastic voice said from behind Muhammad. He turned around to see the skinny young Nizaam walking up leading a horse behind him. "And as much time as you spend away from Munirah, you would think you two weren't married. Oh, wait, you aren't."

The smirk on Muhammad's face faded and he gave a straight face before reaching his hand out to shake with Nizaam. "As-Salaamu Alaikum, clown, are you going to train with us?"

"Wa Alaikumus Salaam, and no; I haven't got the time. I'm actually about to help my father with a building behind the house."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Isa was supposed to be helping us, but he's uh....unable right now."

"What? What happened?"

"Don't tell me he's drunk again?" Abdur-Rahman cut in. Muhammad turned around with a raised eyebrow and Imran just gave a look that told him it's best not to get involved. Nizaam replied in the affirmative and Abdur-Rahman sighed. "What is wrong with that man?! Where is he at?"

"He's out front, pouring out his insides."

"I'm going to go have a word with him."

"It's not going to do anything," Nizaam wistfully spoke. "He's going to remain the same no matter what you say; it's hopeless."

Ignoring his eldest brother, Abdur-Rahman headed from the field to his house. He kept himself calm and patient reciting dhikr of Allah. While everyone else tended to view the situation as helpless, Abdur-Rahman always tried to remain optimistic. He wanted to see the good in Isa and help him to be something good. Someone worthy of saving.

"Isa what are you doing?" he asked as he came up to the old man. Isa was lying on his stomach in the dirt, his arms and legs sprawled out to the side.

"I-I'm just down here uh-uh praying," Isa lied. "I was making ruku'." Abdur-Rahman sighed, slapping a palm to his forehead at the obvious lie. "Oh hold up, shh, shhhh.... you can't talk to me while I'm praying," Isa chuckled. Abdur-Rahman groaned and rolled his eyes. Isa rolled over onto his back and looked up at the young teen. "You want to know a secret?"