Harsh winds blew sands hard across the top of his tent, the coarse rain a mute promise that only pain and death waited outside for him. His tent was small, just being enough room for himself, and he could feel keenly every buck of the wind against the sturdy wool of his tent that thankfully was still yet holding back the heathen winds raging outside. More than a few times a year Hikzu struck, and more often than not claimed the unwary traveler. For those lost in such a bitter way his heart mourned for no body deserved such a fate, for even murderers where redeemable in his eyes.
Such a howl raged outside, as if Zulrav was throwing all he had at the tents of his father on some unseen offense. He could hardly hear himself thing so scathing was the scratching of the sand hitting his tent constantly, and his hands went up to his ears if only to block out the dreadful sound. Before his very eyes gazing outside of his shelter in the tent he saw the wall of sand taper in the slightest till the wind no longer blew and instead there was just heaps of sand all around the entrance to his humble tent, more than a little of it even spilling over onto his bedding and drawing a groan from the young benshira. It wasn't as if his clothing wasn't already soaked in the gritty stuff as it was.
Outside there was a thundering in the distance, not of a storm but seemingly the footsteps of what he'd expect a large grouping of cattle would make. He quickly exited the tent to stand up, and turn around, his eyes widening at the sheer strangeness of what he saw. A line of horses as far as he could see thundered over the dunes on the horizon, each with men bearing fresh blades astride them, their eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. His fathers voice called in the background for weapons, and for Haben there was only the one. Bringing it quickly loose from his belt, he set a smooth rounded lead ball in the cradle of his sling before he grabbed the cords tight and followed his father who sprinted ahead to warn the rest of the family. Children's crying, and mothers fear ridden voices soon filled the void of silence that echoed after father's every word, and Haben's blood raced as he constantly kept looking over at the army of men pounding towards his father's tents.
"For my families safety blessed yahal please save us" He whispered through chapped lips, his eyes squinting even then to make out yet another line following the leading riders. Would they be enough?
It was not the right question, for it had to be enough for there was no other choice. They had but a few mounts that a couple of women and children could get far away on but not enough for them all, and especially not any for any of the men. No, they would just have to do what they could and hope those few that got away would make it far enough to escape. He didn't want to die so young, but such was not his choice to make. That was in the hands of Yahal.
He could barely hold his composure then as he saw the riders creep ever closer, while his fathers brothers ran to form a line before the vast approach of their assailants. It seemed they traveled on the wind, their steeds hooves scarcely touching the sand as they spiraled ever closer. He could see now the pitch black color of their coats, and the dirty smoke that filtered from their nostrils with every toss of their heads. Haben gripped the cords of his sling tight as he came into line alongside his father, and even closer to the iron clad warriors racing ever closer towards them on their hell born steeds. To his side above the noise of his brothers, and uncles sporting their weapons his father called for those favoring ranged weapons to be ready their shots for the men where soon to be in range. Rotating his wrist, Haben sent the sling into a spin slowly angling it to rotate over and under keeping it moving in tight circles at is side.
Men continued to pour over the dunes like ants, casting the hill in shadow though the sun shined bright. Haben's legs trembled, but his jaw remained firm for what was the benshira to do for he could not let down his father in these moments. Not yahal either for that matter. If he was to meet dira, than he would make sure to bring a few of these men with him to the gates of death, and hope the others found redemption.
"Forgive those so misguided yahal" Haben whispered as the men came into range and his fingers released the knotted cord to send the stone shooting into the sky, disappearing for a moment in the blue. His eyes followed the stone though even as his hand dug around in his pocket for another one after his fingers situated the cords properly into his hand. In the swath of men rushing towards them a few of them fell to the ground in a cloud of dust as missiles from the benshiran men flew through the air. More still came to take their place, but at least his kin could take pride that they'd made the men pay for their defiance all the same. His hand was spinning over his head now, the riders almost upon them and much to close for him to have to lob a stone over. Their demon mounts fought to climb the dune upon the top of which the benshiras stood with hardly any effort as if some unseen force was guiding them. The though chilled the son of Jarob's bones, but he kept enough presence of mind to send the stone spinning down towards them.
Another man fell, and Haben could his forehead erupting in blood before he disappeared under the trampling feet of his horse and those of his comrades. More men went down as well, seemingly by the dozen as father's brothers, and the elder himself sent stone after stone down on the trespassers. As one though they dropped their slings, but Haben did not for he had no weapon save the sling to call his own. His father, and relatives charged as one then leaving the young benshira behind as they echoed their cries to yahal as they rushed to meet him in his hallowed halls. Perhaps the god was with them that day though for as he watched his father rushed up to meet one of the riders with his scimitar, and beheaded the charging stallion in one powerful sweep of his blade throwing its' rider off balance to tumble backwards into his death. It was not a singular event for the most part either as one by one his uncles worked miracles with their blades, sweeping around in deadly dances that sent men and beast alike to dira's cold embrace.
Unconsciously his sling slipped from between his fingers to fall into the soft sand beside his feet as he stared dumfounded at the prowess of his family. Perhaps they still stood a chance against such legions, maybe even they could turn the tides against the intruders. He snapped quickly out of his trance, but not quick enough he learned as the butt of a spear met his head and knocked him into blissful unconsciousness. |
by Haben on December 15th, 2011, 5:16 am 