Kissed by Chaos

Kissed by Chaos (4) - Coward

Kissed by Chaos

Chapter 4 - Coward

After watching the furious black of the night sky weaken into a dark blue, Raafi prayed Fajr, the morning prayer. He begged God to rid him of his nightmares, but he had been praying for years now. 

Trying to escape those dangerous corners of his mind, he emerged from his tent to find his father, Zahir. Raafi walked into his father's tent to find Adnan, his brother, his father and a handful of other men sitting cross legged on the floor, hunched over a map spread out between them. Their voices were sparked with the sick thrill of battle. Raafi himself felt sick as he approached them, wishing he did not have to.

"Aah, the great prince is finally awake!" declared his best friend and advisor, Sami, slapping him heartily on the back. Raafi could not help but smile in reply. Sometimes he felt that Sami was the only sane person in the whole of Mirzan, although sane was not quite the word some would use to describe him.

With the combination of rebelliously long, black hair reaching past his earlobes and his towering height, Sami was easily distinguishable in a crowd. Add to that an ever present gleaming grin and a joke always at the ready to lighten the mood, Sami was the opposite of the man Raafi was supposed to and raised to be. That was why they were such good friends.

"As-Salaamu Alaikum," Raafi said, greeting the men, all of whom were older than him, even Sami. 

They muttered back a distracted "Wa Alaykum-us-Salaam", too engrossed in the map to even look up at him. It was Adnan who finally decided to explain the situation to Raafi.

"Badra is not surrendering."

"What? Why not? Most of their men are already dead." Raafi did not understand the reasoning behind this decision by the King of Badra. The small, neighbouring kingdom was nothing for Mirzan to worry about. Conquering Badra was as easy as squashing an ant for Mirzan. King Zahir's strategy was to simply cause enough damage to force the ruler to surrender. However, Badra was different. Raafi was disappointed to find that they were being difficult. He was glad that finally someone was standing up to his father's tyranny, but it would only cause the insignificant kingdom more damage - the battlefield was already dotted with uncountable bodies, forever cold despite the exhausting heat.

"They're being stubborn," replied Adnan with a dismissive wave of his hand, black eyes cold and emotionless. "It's nothing to worry about. King Shahid wants to see everyone dead before he surrenders, I guess. But he will surrender, eventually."

"How many more do you want to kill?"

The men glanced up at Raafi's enraged tone.

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" demanded King Zahir, his voice booming in the lack of space. His hardened face and the unusually light, hazel eyes he had handed down to Raafi commanded respect. He was not nearly as tall as Sami, but even so, the power he held and the way he wielded it made him seem a hundred feet tall. His body was visibly fit, even in his not quite young age. Raafi felt his confidence shrivel up under his father's cutting gaze.

"I, well, I... um, I was-"

"See, Raafi? You do not know. I have been in battle since the age of twelve, fighting off men greater than you can ever hope to be.  How many men have you killed?" The scar that ran from Zahir's left temple to the middle of his left cheek seemed to glow in agreement.

Raafi did not want to count. Every time he looked at his reflection, he saw his skin stained by the blood of those whose lives he had snatched. He remained silent.

"That's what I thought," said the king, satisfied. He turned back to his map and the gawking old advisors who hurriedly averted their eyes as Raafi met their gazes. The tent was once again filled with the quiet humming of their voices considering battle plans. Sami glanced up at Raafi apologetically and motioned for him to sit down next to him. Raafi shook his head in reply. He had found an answer.

"I have a suggestion," he began.

The king almost rolled his eyes at his naïve son and forced his gaze away from the map in front of him to grace Raafi with his attention. "What?"

"What if we were to let them be? They are not attacking us and only defend themselves when we attack them."

"You're saying we just pack up and go home?" asked the king incredulously.

"Well... yes." Zahir opened his mouth to protest but Raafi cut him off. "Before you interrupt, listen, Father. It could be advantageous to us if we were to leave Badra alone. There is a possibility that they could surrender if we were to show them mercy."

Zahir scoffed at this. "Do you know how miniscule that possibility is, Raafi?"

Raafi continued, ignoring his father's question. "Mercy is an admirable thing to have. Being able to do things a different way than usual is a skill worth possessing. Why not now? Think about it - if we were to give them mercy now and actually ask them to become a part of Mirzan, they could admire the fact that we do not need to kill to conquer. Do you want to be a leader, Father, or a tyrant?"

"Raafi-" began Adnan in a pleading tone, foreseeing the explosion of words that was to follow. But his father held up a hand, ordering him to remain silent.

His face reddening with barely controlled anger, Zahir exclaimed, "Mind your tone when you are speaking to me, Raafi. Before I am your father, I am your king, and you will treat me like your king. I have been ruling longer than you have been alive. Who are you to call me a tyrant?"

Raafi spluttered, feeling his resolve disintegrate under his father's rage. "I was merely-"

"No! You do not merely do anything! Do you know what will happen if we just pack up and leave Badra? They will laugh behind our backs, sneak up behind us and stab us in the dark! Just because you are afraid of shedding a little blood here and there does not mean that you have the right to bring down the whole of Mirzan!"

It was Raafi's turn to be enraged. It seemed that his father did not understand the value of life. The king proudly claimed to be a man of God, but hadn't God forbidden them from shedding a single drop of innocent blood in the Holy Quran?

"I am not afraid of shedding blood, Your Majesty. I simply understand what a life is worth. You are killing innocents in the name of expanding your empire. Can you honestly say that not one woman or child has been injured in your conquests?"

The tent was deafeningly silent. Wide eyes stared up at Raafi from the floor, wondering where he had summoned the courage to speak in such a way to the feared, great King Zahir. He was aware that Susannah and the other nurses were peeking into the tent from outside, wondering what all the commotion was about. Raafi, however, paid attention to nobody but his father. He could see a vein throbbing in the king's temple, his teeth gritted in frustration. Raafi noticed with satisfaction that the man he called his father could not muster a reply to his question. What Zahir said next, however, cancelled out any satisfaction Raafi felt.

"You are a coward, Raafi. How you are my son, I do not know. Get out!"

Raafi stared up at his father, eyes wide in surprise. This was what Raafi hated about him. When he was lost for words, he lashed out at the people questioning him. Raafi could only pray that when Adnan eventually became king, he would have the ability to listen to what others had to say with an open mind. He could only pray that Adnan would be a better king than Zahir.

"You-" Raafi began, his voice hoarse with shame and disappointment in his father.

"Get out!"