Buried by the Blowing Sands

A courier's journey across the Sahara Desert, encountering all the friends and challenges that the desert can provide.

The vast desert stretches before my view. The dangerous dryness, and uncountable dangers shadow all who dare traverse its forbidden vastness. The madness of the lone traveler lurks, ready to strike like the viper at the weary.

I stand near the last oasis I will find until my destination. My loaded camel is taking her fill of water for our journey. Behind me lay the comforts of home and family; and my beloved wife, Titrit, a woman as beautiful as the stars for which she is named. My task, given me by the Amenokal himself, is to deliver a declaration of peace, or so I hope and believe it to be, to the Sheikh of a tribe with which we had long been enemies.

Mounting my watered camel, I begin my journey into the wasteland of the nomads and animals. My task requires speed, as well as careful travel. For though it would be detrimental for the message I carry to arrive too late, it would be even worse should the message not meet its destination at all.

As we plod along, swaying slightly with the camel's stride, the Saharan sun beats upon us. This sun and these sands have seen the risings and fallings of civilizations older than the Western mind can imagine.

Becoming rather bored, I begin talking to the camel, whom I had named Anisa, recounting for her benefit tales of the formers skirmishes between the two tribes.

"It all began some generations ago. The old Amenokal's eldest and most beloved nephew was to wed the other's beautiful young daughter as a compact of alliance between the two tribes. While crossing this vast expanse the boy and his caravan of gifts were attacked by lions. Only the boy and a servant survived, leaving behind the gifts to be buried by the blowing sands. On the remainder of the journey the servant died of his wounds. The boy reached the palace that was his final destination alone. There the guards, thinking him to be a beggar, killed him. That is the origins of how this enmity began, and the end to which we carry." The wind is picking up, blowing sand up. This is the first sign of an approaching sandstorm; however no great wall of flying dust is visible. There are reasons I am Rasul the Courier and not Rasul the Wise; among these are that I know the desert, and that my tendency to completely ignore the possibility of danger would make me a poor advisor. I continue, despite the risk. Crossing the rise of the next dune I see quite clearly the growing cloud of dust and sand rushing towards us. It advances with a fury as though sent by an angered djinn. I wrap myself tighter in my black robes.

The storm upon us, sand scrapes all my exposed flesh as though by countless invisible daggers. I remember my uncle who was caught in a horrible sandstorm. Thinking it may distract me, I begin recounting the story to Anisa. "Years ago my Uncle Daud crossed an expanse of this desert, carrying a negotiation for peace from the then young Amenokal. On his way he met with a sand storm which enveloped him for six days. Six days he rode steadily through the tormenting sharp winds, blinded by the swirling dust. He escaped the cloud to discover that he had kept a straight path, with only enough water to reach the city. After delivering the message and receiving a most definite negative, he barely escaped with his head." The wind brings up small stones which occasionally pelt me. Anisa's head is nearly invisible to me, only a vague pale shape. I can only pray that I'm continuing a straight path and not veering wildly to one direction or the other. As the incessant wind loosens my embracing robes, sand begins creeping into my mouth and nose. As the struggle for air becomes unbearably difficult, the storm lightens infinitesimally. The storm begins to dissipate as agonizingly slowly as it had begun. An eternity later I sit astride Anisa in a gently blowing wind. My skin is rubbed raw and crusted with sand, and my eyes burn from sand. I reach for my water-skin, desperate to relieve my parched throat. Bringing it to my cracked and bleeding lips, I find it empty. I could not have drunk all my water supply during the storm. My fingers find an open gash in the side of the skin and a stone still in its puncture. Scanning the horizon, I realize that I am not only without water but devastatingly off course. I had missed the turn northward while in the storm.

Pondering my few possibilities as night falls I decide to take the chance to sleep. Perhaps solution will present itself on the 'morrow. I dismount and curl up against Anisa, wrapping up as protection from the desert's chilling night.

Morning breaks turning the sands red as the blood in which has been shed upon it throughout millennia. As I remount Anisa and glance at the surrounding dunes I spot a caravan moving slowly over a crest. My heart leaps to my scorched throat as I speed towards the salvation ahead. The driver of the head camel sees me, less than ten strides away.

"Hail traveler, who are you and of what tribe?" he calls.

"Rasul of the Kel Ahaggar," my voice rasps dryly in response.

"Come, brother, join us and rest from your hardships." He dismounts gracefully, signaling the rest of the line to do the same, as I tumble weakly landing in a rumpled dusty heap. I am lifted, by strong hands, to my feet. The head driver's amiably grinning bearded face greets me. "I see you were caught in the storm, we only just missed its edge. Here, join me in some coffee." Before us had been quickly prepared a small fire with a pot warming in the coals.

I open my mouth to thank him for his kindness, no voice issues from my lips.

"His water-skin was punctured," calls one of the men, as he investigates Anisa's saddlery.

"Ameqran, bring him some water to drink and wash with." The man, Ameqran, who had been investigating my saddle goes to another camel bringing back a cloth and water-skin. Nodding in appreciation I accept them. I gulp water desperately. Never had the glory of water been greater. The water on my skin stings coolly.

Face clean and my ability to speak restored, I thank my host and savior. "Might I learn the name of my host so that I may thank him?"

"I am Karim, called the generous, though that is horribly redundant. We are merchants from Ahaggar to Siwa, carrying goods of the finest quality." He says with all the pride in his goods that every merchant possesses. "What of you? Lone travelers of these areas are uncommon."

"I am Rasul, of a family of couriers well trusted by that of the Amenokal." I introduce myself, as I sip the reviving elixir of fresh coffee. "I was once sent with a caravan to Siwa with a message to settle some disagreement over salt prices. I took my eldest son with me, for his first journey. I had to keep a sharp eye on him in the city."

"Is his name Idir?" Karim asks curiously.

"Yes, but might I ask how..?"

"I remember the trip, it was my father's caravan, my camels were among the herd. My father mentioned a courier who would be accompanying us. Your boy would come back to us and look at our things. An inquisitive boy. He bought a small star design necklace, he said it was for his mother." I know the very necklace, and remember wondering where she had gotten it. “And what is your current mission?"

"I was sent with a message to the Sheikh of the Zuwara."

"For peace?" Karim asks eagerly; this is, I suppose, of great importance to his trade as it would greatly shorten his journeys.

"So I believe, little else has been the Amenokal's purpose in sending."

"Then we shall aid you however we can, and not hold you from your task longer than necessary. Ameqran, how much water can we spare?"

After some investigation of each man of the caravan he answers. "We can spare one skin."

"Then he shall have it for his journey." Ameqran brings me the filled skin. Accepting it I rise and walk towards Anisa.

Mounting, I tie the new water-skin onto the saddle, and turn towards Karim. "I thank you for your hospitality and generosity. May your kindness return to you hundredfold." With that farewell I perform the closest resemblance to a bow possible on camel back.

"Farewell, and may Allah's blessing go with you."

Nodding in acknowledgement I reply. "And with you." I guide Anisa north-west and our journey continues.

Living creatures begin to appear along our path. This a sign that we are approaching our destination, no more than one or two day's journey. Despite these signs of life and journey's end, they also harken the dangers that present themselves with the presence of hyenas, jackals, serpents, and lions.

Suddenly Anisa begins galloping off uncontrollably. A gentle well-tempered creature, and not prone to running off, Anisa must have been spooked by something. As we careen, I try desperately to calm the frantic camel, but to no avail. Not far behind a lion, whose attention we seem to have caught, chases us. The lion gains on us, then a lioness appears ahead of us. She rushes, releasing the reign I grab frantically for my rifle. As she is about to spring, I fire. The bullet meets the lioness in mid-leap and she falls to the ground. Unable to reload the rifle before her mate catches up to us, I drop it. The mechanism lands across the lioness’ body the half extended ram-rod bending as it hits the ground.

At that moment the lion makes his final bound. I attempt to bring my legs up, out of its deadly reach. This effort is in vain for as he attaches himself to Anisa's flank, the claws of one massive paw pierce my leg painfully. Anisa lets out a horrible cry, a sound only camels can produce. She halts immediately. The saddle slides forward from her shoulders as the creature pulls me, my foot slipping from Anisa's neck. My hood falls over my head when I catch the fall with my hand on Anisa’s neck.

As it stands if I do nothing I am as good as dead. There is a dagger on my belt and it is this for which I reach. Removing it I feel some tension suddenly snap, and I vaguely register the small satchel that contains the message that I am to deliver fall from beneath my robes, its strap broken. I start bringing the dagger towards the shaggy beast trying to mount. With my releasing elbow just outside the reach of his deadly maw, he need merely pull himself up slightly. He performs the very act I dread. Pushing off from his lower footholds. His mouth closes over my elbow, the points piercing my arm. My grip upon the dagger fails and it too falls uselessly to the ground.

I am tugged down, now captured at two points; I hear my arm snap in the lion's mouth as I hit the ground. I know that I will die, and that the message shall never reach its destination. I feel cold, despite the mid-day sun beating down upon the burning sand. Final agonized cries escape my lips. The flesh is torn from my bones and my innards revealed to the ravenous predator. My last thoughts are of Titrit and our children. With a shudder, I sink at last into merciful blackness. I was aware of little other than that my remains would soon join the long history of this desert, buried beneath the blowing sands.

Author's Note

Please review.

Reviews

[Aiben Aero]

You created a nice atmosphere and set up for this story, there isn't a lot of depth in the main character but he is still identifiable. The characters, interactions, and plot are very close to how it was back in the old days in the Arabian Peninsula which makes it more relate able and that's and admirable feet.

As for story I think the ending is the weakest part, not that it isn't good, but to me it feels rather short and somewhat rushed, I'm sure you can make it much better. The story itself is organized and easy to follow, you gave enough details about the period they lived in and its hardships with Rasul talking to his camel which is pretty nice.

Your writing isn't bad at all, but the paragraphs feel stuck unto one another, try separating them so that the reader's eyes won't get tired or mixed up, kind of like what I'm doing with this review.

I hope I helped, and I hope you get better.

[Auxiliosophiae]

Thanks! For the advice, and critique. I tried to slow down the end a little but it could probably use a bit more help.

[Cyndy Robinson]

I love this, very gripping! I sort of get the comments about the rushed ending, but the story was very well developed, and I am not feeling the same I guess. I like the ending. I look at it as more of a punch line. It would not work at all, if the story was not so well developed, but in my mind it is. Good Job, wonderful read.

[JulianaSun]

What a captivating story set in the innards of the desert! The depiction of the wild and merciless scenery was engaging and hauntingly beautiful. You have added so many interesting elements to the story – the bond between man and animal represented through Anisa and Rasul, the dangers an untamed place like the desert can hide, the kindness of strangers and how time and certain circumstances can connect people, the loyalty of a man and his determination to fulfill his duty despite perilous situations, the mention of the djinn and the history lessons Rasul shares with his companion...
It is sad though that Rasul's journey ended the way it did. But, I guess the desert doesn't always grant safe passage to it's travelers as it had happened with Amenokal's nephew. Great story-telling. :)