Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp12

Salam guys, how are y'all? Enjoy this chapter =D

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~*Faith is an oasis in the heart
which can never be reached by the caravan of thinking*~ Kahlil Gibran.

"How many?" Faris growled as he mounted Tufan gracefully. The beast bared its teeth, stamped its feet and squealed as if sensing his master's wrath.

His low minacious voice generated dread in Hamdan, "Almost a dozen, S-Sheikh," he stammered.

Faris trailed his gaze around to search for the brute of a man, Nasser. Soon located him by the well drinking water from the well bucket. That instant Nasser lifted his head to look at Faris, he saw the incensed countenance on his sibling's face, hurled the bucket aside and dashed towards them.

"Nasser, remain here I entrust the welfare of the tribe in your hands," with that the ferocious knight commanded his chevaliers in a crisp glacial voice, colder than the bitter wind that twirled around them. "Hamdan," Faris then faced his cousin, "Mount you horse, you shall ride with us," with the last nod to Nasser they marched forward.

Faris was livid, rage ignited his blood and knot his veins compressing them. How dare such weaklings endeavour to ambush his clan! His tribe where pious women and sinless children resided. Where he lived. How dare those mothers give birth to such cowards!

He encased his headdress around his neck like a rope when wind roared rapidly. His fist tightened on Tufan's reins subconsciously. By Allah, Faris craved to display them as to why tribes around the Arab world entitled him the barbarian. If he were to spill their immoral blood and bath in it, he shall. No son of a mother has the audacity to invade his tribe. Today his sword shall feast on fresh, warm blood. Indeed his sword had been in deep slumber in it's sheath from a long time.

The thundering hoofs halted on top of a sand-dune after what seemed like an hour, wind swirled tiny sand particles around them then ceased its movements into a serene sway. There was a creek situated just few feet from the sand-dune. Faris twisted his head to his right, "Where are they, Ya Hamdan?" he hissed, impatient.

"The invaders took refuge under the tress just beyond those rocks," Hamdan directed his finger to the rocks behind few palm tress.

Thick dark hair escaped his headdress and bit on his eyes but Faris paid not heed to that. His broad chest heaved up and down from riding Tufan, jaw clenched with those sharp hawk-like eyes narrowed in sheer concentration. "What do you propose, Prince?" questioned one of his men.

"Make certain those men are the ones that plotted to raid my tribe, then, "Faris paused, "I demand for their heads. If any of my men were to hesitate I shall have your heads in return," the voice that sounded from his lips cascaded frantic shivers down the spines of the knights.

They should sink to their knees and send prayers to their Lord that Faris was alongside them, he was convinced none of his men were to get a scratch on their skins in his presence. After a while the Borkans commenced to descend the sand-dune, Faris ahead like a staunch leader a true lionhearted warrior. Their swords got restless in the sheaths to come out, slash flesh and relish warm blood.

The knights proceeded unhurriedly as if undetectable shadows. Faris raised his hand in the air when his gaze fell upon someone, his men halted at his command forthwith. "Are they the bandits?" he interrogated his cousin.

Hamdan progressed forward to stop his horse beside Tufan. "Yes, ya Faris," Hamdan responded, the moment he spoke the words Faris drew out his glorious sword that gleamed in the sunlight, euphoric to be free.