Nomads

Chapter 3, Pt 3- Black is a Cold Colour

“Alsaqr! Alsaqr! Don’t Jump!” A voice in his head, as if coming from far behind. Alsaqr felt rebellious, he had heard enough of the word, he needed to jump. He looked at the same scenery in front of his eyes, the Sindh river below, the hills ahead, and the eagles above. He felt anxious, his legs trembled in anxiety, his emotions about to burst.

“Don’t jump!” he heard again. He took a few steps back and ran to the edge from where he took a big leap. He was falling to his oblivion, with nothing to hold on to. He had taken the jump and there was no going back. He closed his eyes as he saw the rocky banks of the river getting closer. Suddenly he felt a strong gush of wind from below, and before he could know, he was thrown up back into the sky. His eyes had been closed the whole time, out of fear of what was happening. He opened his eyes when he suddenly started to feel motionless, he saw himself quietly floating above the valley, in the thin air. With the eagles above. He looked down at the river, astonished, which was now far below. He looked at his hands and legs, everything was okay. He wondered if he had died. He was lost in his thoughts, contemplating what had happened when he heard the screech of an eagle from above. He looked up to the eagles and all his fears and doubts immediately vanished. He stretched his legs and arms as he aimed for the eagles, suddenly he somehow knew what he was doing. As he stretched his arms down to his waist, head pointing in the direction of the eagles, his body shot up. Tearing through the wind, racing against it, to reach the top. He felt one with them, one with the eagles. When he had reached their height, they flew off ahead and as he gazed towards them, he saw the sight of huge, fog covered, snow-capped mountains. He immediately aimed in the direction of the mountains but before he could take off, his eyes suddenly opened.

He woke up with a start, looking at a decorated red ceiling, he felt himself laying on soft silk, he looked around to find himself in a big room decorated in Persian and Arab style, he found it hard to remember what had happened, all he remembered was hearing a gunshot before his eyes had closed. 

He tried to get up from the bed, but a sharp pain ran through his stomach, he held it in pain and laid back down.

“Hello?” he said in a raised voice, “Is there anybody there?”

He heard footsteps approaching the room, a young bearded man wearing a bright yellow silk robe entered the room, he looked at Alsaqr with a calm smile.

“Where am I?” Alsaqr asked in Arabic.

“Kabul, my friend.” The man smiled as he replied back in Arabic.

Alsaqr’s eyes grew wide in disbelief, he found it hard to swallow the fact that he had averted so far from his path.

“How did I reach here?” he asked, tensed.

“The night when you were attacked, our caravan had heard the commotion. We were camping just a few yards away. We heard a lot of movement and when I and another man came to check, we saw you lying down bloodied, and two corpses, one headless. We hid in the bushes and we saw two men walking towards you, meanwhile, Abdul, the other man from our caravan was loading his musket that he had brought with him. He took a shot and one of the men fell to the ground, I rushed to the other man and slashed his chest open. We took you, with us to our camp. You had lost a lot of blood, we thought you had no hope left and you were about to die.”

Alsaqr listened to him with intent, confusion, and curiosity.

“You showed no signs of recovery until morning, but you were still breathing.”, the man continued, “We decided to take you with us, until you either gave in or recovered. But within a few days of proper care, you showed signs of recovery. The blood stopped flowing from some of your wounds and your pulse became stable.”