Ibn Sharjar: In the land of the Fraj-Senni
Posted on 20 Nov 2022 @ 3:41am by Atif ibn Sharjar - Merchant of the Al Ashar
Edited on on 15 Jun 2023 @ 6:09pm
Mission:
Ongoing Mission - Planet Obsidian
Location: Planet Obisidan
Timeline: M3 D06 1414hrs
2850 words - 5.7 OF Standard Post Measure
Ibn Sharjar left the intake port and moved across the rough ground to the edge of the rocky plateau he had landed his ship on. Cautious of the unstable, flaking sandstone clifftop, he peered over and caught sight of a troop of warriors mounted on Eraulsu. There was perhaps a dozen of them, they were pushing the beetles hard up the narrow gully, some fifty feet below the plateau, the beasts snapped and chomped and ground their mandibles together, making that chilling noise. Those riding them were armed, several with lances, all with swords. They were dressed in similar gray robes, with orange tribal stitching.
One looked up and cried out, he pointed up at Ibn Sharjar, yelling some guttural curse. The faces of the rest all turned upwards. The one in the lead, older, bearded, with a cruel leer, yelled a command and jabbed his lance point twice in the air. Two of the bunch stood up in their saddles, balancing easily as their mounts cantered over the rough ground, both drew their daggers. One, then the other, lept from their Eraulsu, daggers held high they stabbed them into the crumbly rock, clawing at it with their other hand and feet. One slipped down a foot or so but recovered, both paused, got themselves settled on the rock and then began to climb. They both looked upwards, shouting threats and curses at Ibn Sharjar.
The rest of the column continued, other riders snatching up the harnesses of the two riderless beetles, keeping them moving with the column.
Atif backed away and looked around the plateau. It was maybe two hundred meters across, perhaps three hundred long, the ravine ran around three sides, the one end sloped downward toward the end of ravine. It was a steep slope but not as steep as the cliffsides and he had no doubt the Eraulsu would be able to climb it. It would take a few minutes for the troop to circle around and then reach the top, but the two climbers would be here first.
“There is a dozen of them, two are climbing the cliff, the others ride around. Is this a blood feud, between your tribes” He asked Jelik
“It is an older quarrel, for the generations, as far back as memory goes the Tej-Ka-Jalfa and the Fraj-Senni have fought. There shall never be peace between us” Jelik gripped his sword tightly “Twelve is too many, we must leave”
“Did they see you?” Atif asked
“No, why?”
“I have to finish cleaning out the intake port, maybe two- or three-minutes work before we can take off” Atif explained. “Hide in the cargo hold” he pointed to the open hatch. “If they don’t know you are here, they may not attack”
“The Fraj-Senni are blood thirsty zealots Atif, they will kill you just for being an offworlder in their lands!” Jelik protested. “You make your repairs I will hold them off, you will save my family!”
“Jelik, trust me, we do not have time to argue, please, hide in the hold” Atif pleaded “I will not leave you here, your father entrusted you all to me. I gave him my word, on my honor!”
“The Fraj-Senni have no honor! My father would understand!”
“But I do Jelik, please, do not make me break my word to your father!” he put his arm on Jelik’s shoulder and turned him towards the open cargo hatch, guiding him that way. The tribesman reluctantly moved forward and clambered in through the hatch.
“Atif, they cannot be reasoned with!” Jelik stalled
“But I am such a reasonable fellow” He gave Jilek a grin, leaned in the hatchway and opened a maintenance panel, “Pass me the air line” he pointed to a reel of tubing ending in a small nozzle. Jelik put his sword down and did as he was asked, pulling out the line, unspooling it and handed Ibn Sharjar the nozzle.
“Good, as soon as I get back to the wing, push that button. Then stay out of sight!” He pointed to a button marked Air Compressor On and began running back to the clogged port, pulling the line with him.
As soon as he got there, he heard the compressor start up, the line went stiff as it filled. He tested the trigger on the nozzle, there was a loud hiss and a jet of air shot out. He quickly lifted the nozzle up above his head, pushed it into the vent and pulled the trigger again. With a hissing roar, shards of sand and slivers of glass flew out of the vent, he turned his face away from the stream of debris, looking back to the cliff edge.
Moments later a hand clasping a dagger came up over the rim, stabbing the blade into the ground, another hand clawed at the stones then a head and body followed, the first man reached the plateau, quickly followed by the second. They were young, both of them, perhaps no more than fifteen, undoubtedly sent because they were the most able to have climbed the cliff quickly. They got to their feet and got their bearings, seeing Ibn Sharjar by his ship they exchanged words and split up, both circling to come at him from two sides, knives held ready before them.
Young and eager to prove themselves, Atif reasoned, moving in separately was smart but both looked nervous of the ship, neither wanted to cross underneath it and they kept their distance as they moved around the stern and bow
Atif thought of his phaser, it was in the pocket of his robe, hanging in his cabin, there may have been time to get it earlier, but perhaps not, either way it was too late now. He put on his widest smile and shouted over the hiss of the compressed air. “Ho there! I am Atif Ibn Sharjar, a Merchant and trader. I had to make some repairs to my ship, I mean no disrespect by landing here”
“We are Fraj-Senni! We do not trade with offworlders! You are all servants of fire!” One shouted back, accent harsh and guttural.
“We will slit your throat, take your wares and burn this flying heresy!” the other yelled gesturing at the ship with his knife.
“That is most unfriendly, spawn of the jackal” Atif called back, still smiling, as he moved the nozzle around in the vent, from which sand and grit still poured out. “I had hoped there could be peace between us. I have traded with many of the desert! I have many things to offer, arrow heads, spices, metal, straps that do not grow dry and brittle in the sun”
“We will have all of those, while the sand drinks your blood and the sun eats your bones offworlder!” One shouted back, moving his knife from hand to hand as he closed in.
“Hold! I claim the right of his blood!” the other shouted “I am older!”
The pair of young warriors glared at each other.
“I reached the cliff top first!” the other protested “He is mine!”
Atif nearly laughed watching the pair squabble over who would kill him. “You did not sort this out before? I had thought you warriors, but you are unproven boys!” He provoked them a little, there was less sand coming out now, the vent nearly clear. “Perhaps we should wait until the men of your tribe arrive?”
That got them angry and the first rushed in, yelling a war cry, Atif waited until he was two yards away, then dragged the nozzle from the vent and sprayed the lad in the face. It was just compressed air, but the hiss and high-pressure blast startled his attacker. The boy cried out, covered his face with one hand, flailed about widely with his knife and backed away.
The other tried his luck and ran in, Ibn Sharjar kicked up some sand and glass shards, the blast caught them and flung them at the boy, stinging his face and hands. He too backed off, cursing angrily.
Satisfied the vent was clear now, Atif quickly stopped to grab up the pry-bar and wire brush and began moving back towards the open cargo hatch, keeping the nozzle pointed at the two young would-be assassins. He dropped the nozzle, gave a couple of trigger pulls and send another whirl of sand flying.
“You two jackal pups have been most unfriendly. I think I shall decline to trade with you” he called to them reaching the open hatch.
“I’m going to climb in with you and shut the hatch” he called back to Jelik, keeping his attention on the two. He was aware the main hatch was unlocked but reasoned the two would not think to try it. They looked to have summoned up some more courage now and were moving in again, this time coming together. Just then came a shout and the column of Earulsu riders came scrambling up the slope at the far end of the plateau.
The pair looked to the arriving warriors and back to Ibn Sharjar, seeing he was going to get into his ship they closed in.
Atif got one leg up and was preparing to roll backwards and slam the hatch when he heard a voice call out.
“Father?” It was Gabrul, the boy had opened the main hatch and was peering out.
The two young attackers stopped seeing the boy, recognizing his tribal clothing instantly. ”Tej-Ka-Jalfa!” One cried “Tej-Ka-Jalfa!”
The cry carried to the arriving warriors, and they urged their mounts onwards.
“For the love of the Prophets!” Ibn Sharjar swore, throwing the airline and wire brush behind him, he took a solid grip on the pry bar and pushed back out of the hatchway.
Jilak was right behind him, sword coming up. “Get back inside Garbul!” he called to his son.
“You bring Tej-Ka-Jalfa to our lands off worlder!” The older boy screamed in fury seeing Jilek now “Your death will be one of long agony and you will beg for the end!”
“You will die first Fraj-Senni!” Jelik shouted back, his sword tip moving with sinister practiced grace as he crossed to block their advance.
Ibn Sharjar slammed the cargo bay hatch and locked it, then moved along the hull to the main hatch. Jelik stood a few yards away, holding the two at bay. The arriving riders were closing in, war cries and Earulsu mandibles making a dreadful noise.
Atif reached the hatch and pushed Gabrul back in, the lad did not want to move, his eyes on his father and the oncoming warriors. “Father! He called out fearfully.
“Jilek! Come on!” Atif called too, holding the hatch way open.
Jilek began retreating, walking backwards, keeping his sword towards the nearest enemy. There was a yell from the oncoming riders and four of them launched lances. The spears flew through the air; one clattered off the ship’s starboard wing, one fell short. The other two were nearer the mark, one passed in front of Jilek, the last thudded into the dirt behind him.
As he stepped back his ankle caught on the shaft, and he stumbled, his sword wavered, dropping to his side as he tried to keep his balance. The youngest warrior saw his chance, rushing forward, dagger raised. Still off-balance Jilek tried to recover, his sword came up at the last moment and the attacking teen impaled himself on it. Fully half of the blade punctured his chest, Jilek staggered backwards driven by the momentum of the rush.
The boy’s face changed from rage to surprise; he looked down, eyes widening at the sword embedded in his chest. The dagger dropped from his hand as he brought both hands to the sword trying to pull it from him. He whimpered as his fingers scrabbled over the blade, cutting himself deeply as he tried to grip its sharp edge. A bloody froth erupted from his mouth as he struggled.
There was a cry of anguish from the riders, it came from the leader.
Jilek regained his balance, for a moment he and the boy stared at each other, then he stepped back withdrawing his sword. It slid from the young warrior’s chest, coming out dark with blood, the teen stood for a second then dropped to his knees and fell forward in the sand. He twitched and then was still.
The Eraulsu riders were at the ship now, the beetles skidded to a halt, screaming and champing as their riders leapt down from their backs. Weapons drawn, they rushed toward the ship.
Ibn Sharjar, now in the doorway, leaned forward, grabbed Jelik’s shoulder and hauled him backwards to the hatch, pulling the man up and in, they both fell backwards into the ship. A warrior reached the hatchway and tried to jab at them with his lance. Jilek kicked it away. Ibn Shajar managed to get to his knees and shut the hatch before the warrior could try again. He slammed his palm into the panel and locked it before getting to his feet.
The warrior at the hatchway began pounding on it with his lance, others joined him. Beyond them through the hatch window Ibn Sharjar saw the group’s leader kneeling by the dead boy. He rolled the body over, cradling him in his arms, his hand on the bloody wound in the boy’s chest.
Turning away Atif moved quickly forward to the cockpit. The hull was strong enough to keep the attackers out, but they might still do some damage and he wanted away from here as soon as possible. He clambered into his seat and began the engine start up. The group were battering hard on the hatch now, sword points, lances and rocks.
Atif’s hands worked nimbly over the controls, the intake vent warning light was out, the blockage was safely cleared. As the ship powered up, he caught movement out of the lower cockpit window. His eyes dropped there, straight into those of the warrior’s leader. The man stared up at him, his face contorted in anger and grief, he raised his fists and began pounding on the cockpit window. His hands, wet with the young warrior’s blood, left sticky red fist-prints on the window.
Atif dragged his eyes away, concentrating on his controls. Everything showed green and his brought up the thrusters, quickly pushing the thrust output to take-off level. Outside the windows, the blast from the engines threw up sand and grit, the racket from the hatch stopped as those trying to break in were driven back. The leader remained at the cockpit windows as long as he could, sand and glass shards swirled around him but he continued to pound his bloody fists into the windscreen.
Ibn Sharjar pulled back on his control stick and the Al Ashar became airborne, moving forward and rising as he lifted off. The warrior had time for one final blow, he slammed his open hand into the windscreen, trying to claw at the screen edge, he left a long bloody hand-print that streaked down the screen. Oblivious to the flying, stinging, grit he screamed his hatred as the ship lifted out of his reach.
The craft lifted away, gaining altitude and speed. The man stared after it, eyes fixed on the point in the sky where it was last seen, before distance made it invisible.
He remained there unmoving for some time. Eventually one of the others approached. “We have prepared your son M’reth. He died like a warrior”
The man turned and looked at him. “He died like a fool But I shall avenge him despite that. There were Tej-Ka-Jalfa on that accursed thing. The Off Worlder brought them to our land. I shall see them both again, the sand will drink their blood. We will leave before the dawn”
Satisfied everything was working correctly Ibn Sharjar had set the auto pilot and gone back to check on Jilek and his family.
"That was a bad business" he said quietly
Jilek nodded. "II has been ever so between the Tej-Ka-Jalfa and the Fraj-Senni. I did not seek that boy's death, though he would have taken all our lives."
"The Fraj-Semmi are our enemies" Gabrul commented
"Yes, but the Divine one would not have us rejoice in their deaths" Jilek chided his son "That is not in our path"
"No father"
Atif returned to the cockpit, sitting in his chair he let the autopilot complete their journey. As the adrenaline drained away his eyes were repeatedly drawn to the elongated bloody hand-print on the windscreen. The afternoon sun had dried it to a muddy brown stain.
He wanted to land again and wash it off, but more than that he wanted to wash away the gaze of raw hatred from the man who had left it there.
