13. The Desert of Salaha

“March! March quick and swift! Hurry up now!”, Zimon shouted.

It was two days since they left Legendia. The army was moving in an open area somewhere near the reigns of Pindo. The sun was on its peak but no one felt thirsty. Peter did not speak to Marco since the last night because Marco was busy in his world of riddles and secrets. Fred, unnoticed by Peter’s presence rode by his side. Fred seemed moody and glad this time and the pride was clearly visible on his face.

“Hi Fred.”, Peter decided to speak up.

“Oh... hi.”, Fred replied expressionlessly.

“The battlefield’s not that far now it seems. Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

Peter was shocked to hear this from Fred’s mouth.

“Not for my life.”, Fred continued, “I’m scared for my mom. If something happens to me, there will be no one to take care of her. I’m her only bread winner.”

Peter nodded, “Don’t worry, you’re a great warrior... gifted by nature as they say.” The envy in his tone was lucid.

“Every man on this land is a great warrior unless he fights for bad deeds!”, Fred said.

Peter shocked again by Fred’s answer, nodded blankly again and took a deep thought before saying, “So you say that you are scared to die. Don’t you want to die for your land, if required?”

Fred was silent for some time then said, “I would rather live and protect my people.”

Peter shook his head and smirked.

A mass of dust swept through the land. Slowly, slowly, they realised that they were marching on heaps of sand.

“Sand dunes!”, one of the soldiers remarked.

“And so we enter the Deserts of Salaha!”, Zimon murmered.

Dusty and hot wind hit the faces. A small village was spotted at a distance.

“The Pindo city...”, Marvelo called out.

Tiny huts and tents were seen distinctly. They could see men taking shelter in their houses when the huge army passed through.

“How do they survive in such harsh conditions?”, Marco said as he drank some water.

“They are wild men.”, Zimon replied, “They feast on wild rats and snakes. Once upon a time, they ruled this desert with around fifty villages. They fought among themselves to claim their dominance. There are only two villages left now; the other named Ranch.”

“I’ve heard that they wanted to change the name of this desert.”, Marco said.

“Yes,”, replied Zimon, “Some say the name would have been ‘Sahara’. But Pindo men resisted the change.”

“But what’s wrong with the names?”

“Actually Salaha is an ancient word derived from a language called ‘Robec’...”, Zimon said as he drank some water, “Salaha means snake devil which when changed to Sahara would mean ‘great support’.”

“Who speaks Robec?”, Marco’s curiosity never ended.

Zimon never stopped replying either, “Decades ago, Robec was very widely spoken around the world. Now Robec speakers are rare and they are scattered vaguely across the lands. You know what’s special about robec?”

Marco shook his head.

“Robec is related to the magical world. Most of the spells come from it. But due to its difficulty in phrasing sentences and applying grammar, Robec gradually faded away while English which already in practice steadily emerged widely which by no means has anything in common to Robec.”

“Interesting...”, Marco said dreamily.

Zimon asked his men to settle down for rest when the sun set sank low.

They ate little and then continued their journey in the night. The temperature dropped greatly. Everyone had wrapped the blanket around while marching at the same time. Zimon on the other hand used his staff to emit heat which kept him away from freezing. It was tough to tackle the ferocious wind which slowed down their speeds. Zimon kept on shouting when the men slowed down. Dust erupted insanely around them. The men choked for fresh air as the dust filled their nostrils. Had it not been the food given by Zimon, they would have held back by the fierce wind.

“The Salaha winds are too dangerous... they can sometimes sweep away the whole army. KEEP LOW AND MOVE SLOWLY... Feet FIRM ON THE GROUND!”, Zimon shouted as he struggled to keep his horse steady. Only Marco and Marvelo were able to hear him. Marco turned and made signs by his hands to his fellow men which he taught them for communicating during battles. The men understood that they had to stoop low and walk. Large gust of wind surrounded the army suddenly when they heard a thundering roar. The men halted right at their positons.

“What was that?”, Fred bellowed.

Another loud roar and a number of sand tornadoes erupted around them.

“My worst fear of crossing this desert!”, Zimon murmured and got off his horse, turned to his men and shouted, “IT’S THE SAND MONSTER!”

All started to panic.

“NO ONE MOVE!”, Zimon ordered.

Marco gestured the army not to move; three times.

Zimon raised his staff higher and shouted, “HALT! SALAHA MONSTER!” A lightning white light emerged through the tip of the staff and enveloped the front half row of the army. The tornado couldn’t pass through the circle and that was when two huge eyes appeared high in the air; yellow eyes amidst the tornado. Bulk of sand was pouring endlessly around his eyes. Zimon could not resist the strength of the monster as it moved forward into the army and the light vanished. Men in the front started to fly off the ground swirling in the air. Breathing vigorously Zimon stood up pointing his staff to the yellow eyes and with all might, he shouted, “Labero Samiyo! Labero Samiyo! ADKHAMEER RAGHOZZE!!!”

A raging red fire like thunder hit through the tornadoes striking straight into the yellow eyes. Zimon forced his staff higher and the monster bellowed at the highest pitch any man ever heard before. In the night of the stormy desert, never was such a shrill heard before. It quickly withdrew and the eyes vanished. The dusty wind and tornadoes could be seen fading away. Then there was an eerie silence with the breeze piercing the skin.

Peter coughed again and again... harder each time. Marco ran up to him, “You okay?”. Peter nodded without looking up.

“Six men injured!”, Marvelo reported to the king, “Richard broke half of his bones.”

Zimon sat next to the six men who were lying on their backs. Their skins were peeled off due to the rough storm. Few other soldiers had swept off the ground but managed to land safe. One by one, Zimon healed the injured by closing his eye lids, half open and his lips moving frantically. Each time a person was cured Zimon breathed hard and paused to regain his stability. It surely demanded a great deal of energy to cure someone. After he finished the procedure, he drank some water and turned to Marco and then looked at Marvelo, “Let’s camp here tonight.” He was still panting.

The moon was visible. It poured a cold light on the men. There was a weird scent in the air that made the night more uneasy. The harsh cold of Salaha added to the misery.

“Salaha is a mysterious place.”, Marco said as he shivered near the bonfire.

“I hope no more mysteries reveal themselves until we finish the battle.”, Zimon said, his eyes closed.

“You knew of the monster, didn’t you?”

Zimon nodded silently.

Marco didn’t talk either. Then Zimon spoke, “I am still trying to make out the monster’s presence.”

“You mean he’s not dead?”, Marco asked.

Zimon shook his head and said, “I just chased him away. But I can guarantee that he won’t turn up again. No one is sure which path the monster shall cross, lest I would have never chosen this route. He’s the king of Salaha. He roams wherever he wants to.”

“King of Salaha?”, Marco said, startled.

“The men of Pindo and Ranch worship him. They remain unharmed by the monster. The villagers that fought among themselves were destroyed by the Salaha monster. Men of Pindo and Ranch provided offerings of new born children to the monster and used him as their weapon. So in reality, the real dominance on this land is of the monster.”

Marco pondered for a while. “You were amazing though. What was the red flash?”, he asked.

“It was from the last two words that I said. They are spells used against dark magic.”

“What about the first two words... that you repeated twice?”

“Labero Samiyo?”, Zimon said and looked at Marco, “Labero means die... and Samiyo means sand devil.”

Marco widened his eyes, “Did he understand it? Wait... did you just speak-

“" Robec.”, Zimon finished.

And with that, Zimon lay on his back and instantly slept off while Marco sat their gazing at the wrinkled skin of the old man.