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Magi Journey - Babylonia

By Terry Phillip Garner

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Slavers – Desert Northwest of Ur – Day 58
Khalil was finishing eating when he heard the hooves of many horses running at a gallop. He saw over twenty horsemen with strung bows riding straight at the camp. His weapons were thirty feet away, leaning against his tent. He crouched, making himself as small a target as possible. The horsemen were in the middle of the camp, shooting down his companions with alarming accuracy. The man standing next to him took an arrow in the center of the chest and fell into the cooking fire. The horsemen reached the end of the camp and wheeled in unison, coming back for a second pass. Half of his companions were already dead, and this was no time for foolish heroics. He turned and ran west into the desert, and three others ran with him. He couldn’t see what was happening in the camp but based on the screams, it wasn’t good. He and the men with him sprinted for almost two minutes. His lungs and the muscles in his legs were burning, and he slowed his pace. Two of the men ran past him. They were wild-eyed and gasping for breath, but terror drove them on. Khalil ran for a few more minutes then heard the sound of approaching hooves. He steeled himself for the arrow in the back he knew was coming. Instead, the horseman rode up beside him and hit him in the head with his bow stave, knocking him off his feet. He looked around groggily and saw his three companions lying in the sand. Slowly the four men stood and huddled together. One horseman spoke to them in Persian, which Khalil understood, but the other men did not. The rider pointed back toward their camp, and the four men began to walk.
They entered the camp, and Khalil saw most of his companions lying dead. The attackers had stripped the clothes from his men. The slaves were free of their chains and wore his men’s clothing. The slave dogs were wearing his men’s clothes. Khalil was furious, but his features showed nothing. Now was not the time. Two of his men were wounded and sat by themselves. One was his friend, Malik, with an arrow wound to his upper arm, and the other was Rashad, the fourteen-year-old son of Sheik Malek. Rashad was badly wounded. An arrow had gone through his shoulder, breaking his collarbone, and another through his upper thigh. Both wounds had bled heavily.
One of the attackers approached and began talking to them, clearly the leader. He spoke Farsi, asking them who they were. Khalil feigned ignorance of his language and remained mute. The speaker switched to Aramaic, which Khalil and the others could understand. Khalil turned and glared at the other men, and they too remained mute. The man speaking explained that he was Navid, and he was part of a caravan of Magi that was traveling to Israel. He asked several other questions but finally shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and indicated they should take off their clothes. No one responded to the command, and another of the Magi walked over and tore the shirt from one of the men. The Magi took a step back, drew his bow, and pointed it at the man’s chest. Everyone got the message, and they quickly stripped down to their loincloths. Another man walked over carrying two chains, each with six manacles. He attached the manacles of one chain to the left wrist of each man and attached the manacles of the other chain to each of their left ankles.
Two of the Magi mounted and drove the men out into the desert without food or water. They had the decency to bind the wounds of the two wounded men, but they showed them no other mercy. Khalil looked back at the Magi leader, Navid, and seared his face into his memory. This man would pay for his arrogance. Khalil would make sure of it. The two riders followed the Arabs for a mile, then turned and rode back to join their companions. Khalil was the lead man in the chains, and he stopped and watched the two riders as they disappeared.
“We will wait here for a short while, and then we will return to camp to see what they have left us,” Khalil said to the other men.
The third man on the chain, Ammar, asked, “Who are they, Khalil? Why did they attack us?”
Khalil was twenty-five and was the leader of this group of slavers under Sheik Malek. He was the nephew of the sheik. He was tall and slender, with hard, wiry muscles. His face was dark and leathered from the desert sun. He had a nose with a slight hook and several scars from knife fights on his arms and chest. “I don’t know why they attacked us, Ammar. Maybe they don’t like slave traders. Maybe they were afraid we would attack them. All I know is they attacked without provocation and killed many of my friends and one of my cousins. This attack will not go unpunished. But the first thing we have to do is survive.”
The men sat and waited as the sun reached its zenith. Khalil saw white rime forming at the corner of men’s mouths and watched them furtively working their tongues, searching for any moisture. He also saw skin reddening in places that had never seen the sun before. If they didn’t find shade and water soon, they would be in trouble.
Khalil stood, “Let’s head back to camp and see what is left.”
They walked back, but Rashad’s leg had stiffened when they sat, and he had difficulty walking. Rashad was the last man on the chain. The fifth man in line tried to support him as they walked, but it was almost impossible. The two men kept tripping over their leg chains when they tried to walk side by side.
Rashad stopped walking, “Khalil, I have to rest for a minute. Two of you will have to carry me. I can’t walk on this leg.”
Khalil looked at the young man. Rashad was rich, powerful, and arrogant. He was the sheik’s only son, and Rashad didn’t care if everyone else had to die to save him. Khalil knew his position was tenuous. He had lost most of his men and a valuable group of slaves. The sheik would not be happy, and the last thing Khalil needed was an unhappy Rashad. Khalil walked back and examined Rashad. His eyes were red, blisters were forming on his back, and the wound in his leg was puckered and had a deep red ring surrounding it. The wound was infected, and Khalil had no way to treat it. He placed his hand on the boy’s forehead, and it was hot to the touch. Not good.
Khalil turned to the fifth man on the chain, “Asaad, we will take turns carrying Rashad. You will go first.” Asaad was a large man and a little slow-witted, but he knew what he had to do. He turned, picked up Rashad, and threw him over his shoulder. Rashad yelped in pain because of his broken collarbone.
“Sorry, Rashad.” Asaad apologized. “I would carry you on my back, but you can’t hold on with your broken collarbone.”
“Just be careful, you clumsy ox,” Rashad barked.
Asaad said nothing; he merely turned and followed Khalil back toward their camp.
They arrived at the camp a short while later. The only thing left was dead bodies. The former slaves had taken everything - horses, tents, food, water, and weapons. They had even stripped the dead of their clothes and possessions, and nothing was left. Khalil looked at the men and noted the furtive glances they exchanged. Not all of them would survive, and they knew it. If the slave trader’s main camp had not moved, they had to walk sixty miles without food or water, naked and dragging chains. Khalil looked at Rashad. He was the only one who seemed unconcerned. In his stupidity and arrogance, he assumed that it would be him if anyone survived.
“We have a few hours of daylight left, and we need to move. We will have a full moon tonight, so we will walk until exhausted. With each passing day, we will become weaker, we have no food and water, and there is no oasis within walking distance. If you want to live, you will walk.” Without another word, Khalil turned and began walking northwest.
The sky went from light blue to red, then crimson, dark blue, and finally black within a few hours. The sky filled with stars, and the moon rose full and bright. There was more than enough light to travel. There was a light breeze that moved the sand ever so slightly. The sand formed small ridges that looked like waves breaking on a shore. Periodically a shadow could be seen as a night predator flew between the men and the waxing moon. Khalil knew that the winged predators would not be the only ones hunting tonight. He kept walking. Khalil stopped and allowed Asaad to pass Rashad to the fourth man, Haider. Haider was not as large as Asaad. He was slightly taller, leaner muscled but extremely strong, and had great endurance. Each time they passed Rashad, he yelped, cursed, and slapped his benefactors. Rashad was not a grateful passenger. Haider and Asaad had to shuffle together when Haider carried Rashad since Asaad was between Haider and his passenger. The shuffling and the weight of Rashad put a strain on both men.
Khalil kept an eye on Asaad and Haider, and as the moon reached its zenith, he called a halt. The two men had reached their limit. Haider laid Rashad on the ground as carefully as possible, and he and Assad collapsed and lay in a heap. The wind had risen slightly, and the temperature had dropped. All of the men were soon shivering from the cold. Khalil had everyone lie down front to back to conserve body heat. The men were soon sleeping, but Khalil remained awake, thinking of the vengeance he would take on these Magi. He would not die in this desert. He would have his revenge.
As Khalil lay there, he heard the sounds of hunters. The staccato barks of hyenas and less frequently the deep chuff of a male lion. The sounds were distant, but if they survived tomorrow, the hunters would pick up their trail tomorrow night.
Khalil woke with a start. The sun was beginning to peek over the distant horizon. He knew they needed to be up and traveling. With no water, they would need to rest this afternoon when the sun was at its height. Khalil woke everyone and checked them. Malik’s arm swelled from the arrow wound, but there was no sign of infection. The men’s feet were raw and bleeding from the sand and rocks, but the biggest issue was Rashad. The boy was burning up. The wound in his leg was infected and had a terrible odor. If the boy could hold on, he might live. They would amputate his leg when they reached the main camp, and they might save the boy. Might. Mercifully, Rashad was unconscious but moaned in his sleep.
Khalil looked at Asaad and Haider, “Can you carry him?”
The two men looked at each other and finally shrugged. Asaad turned to Khalil, “We will carry him as long as we can, but we will not be able to carry him far without food and water.”
Khalil nodded, “Do your best. No one can ask more.”
Khalil got everyone on their feet and helped Asaad put Rashad over his shoulder. They began to shuffle northwest once again. The pain in Khalil’s feet grew steadily worse. He looked down, his feet had swelled, and there was raw skin on the outsoles and insoles of his feet. He hated to think about the condition of the bottom of his feet. He looked back at his men. Everyone limped, especially Asaad and Haider. He looked at the blood-stained trail behind them and knew the hunters would have no trouble finding them tonight. Khalil remembered a rise he had seen on their way out of camp, strewn with boulders; it might provide some protection tonight if they could reach it.
They walked on through the morning. The lack of saliva caused Khalil’s tongue to swell. He could barely breathe. His vision was beginning to blur, and he wasn’t sure he could walk much farther without resting. Suddenly the decision was taken out of his hands. He was pulled over backward by a hard tug on the chain attached to his arm. Haider, who had been carrying Rashad, had finally collapsed. Everyone lay on the sand, too exhausted to move. Khalil knew they must rest. Based on the sun, it was almost noon.
“We will stay here until later today. We will continue during the cool of the evening. Get some sleep. We will need it.” Khalil looked at his men. There was no response; the men were already asleep or unconscious. It was hard to tell which. Khalil lay on his stomach with his head resting on his forearm, keeping the sun off his face and out of his eyes.
Khalil awoke and raised his head enough to see the sun’s position. The sky was darkening slightly. He had slept too long, and they were in trouble. He lay there a moment longer. Pain radiated from his feet to the burns on the back of his legs and back, and his swollen face and sunburned eyes. The pain was sharp and intense, and he knew everyone was feeling the same pain. He pushed himself to his hands and knees. The man next to him saw Khalil move and did the same. Khalil finally managed to stand, as did the man next to him, but the others remained inert. Khalil knew they must either get up now and begin moving or die here. His tongue was too swollen to speak. He moved down the line of men, pulling on chains and kicking them until everyone was on their feet except Rashad.
Khalil pointed at Asaad and Haider and then at Rashad. Both men hung their heads and then shook them no. They had done all they could do. Khalil bent down and picked up Rashad, Asaad and Haider helped get him on Khalil’s shoulder. Khalil motioned to everyone that they were to walk side by side. Khalil carried Rashad, the last man on the chain. The second man on the chain walked with Asaad, and the third man walked with Haider. There was just enough slack in the chain to make this possible. Khalil faced northwest and began to walk. He forced all thought from his mind, blocked the pain, and walked. They must reach the rocks before dark.
Khalil watched as the sky went through the same pattern as last evening, red to crimson to dark blue. But just before it turned black, he saw the land beginning to rise. They had reached the rocks. Khalil and the others stumbled up the shale to a plateau on top. Khalil saw what he was seeking. A group of five large boulders formed a semicircle, with enough room between two of them for a man to barely fit through. He pointed at the others and then at loose rocks strewn about the plateau, indicating they should pick up the rocks and carry them inside the rock formation. They all worked together and, in four trips, had created a large pile of stones inside the rock shelter.
They finished barely in time. The hunters had found their trail. He heard the deep chuff of a male lion and knew that the females of the pride would be hunting with him. Farther in the distance, he heard the high-pitched barks of the hyenas. Now for the last part of the plan. He knelt next to Rashad and felt the pulse in his neck. The pulse was rapid and faint. The poison from the wound was working its way through his body. He would not live till morning. Khalil removed a large rock from the pile and brought it down on Rashad’s left hand until he pulverized the bone. Then he pulled the boy’s hand through the manacle. He raised the stone again, did the same thing to Rashad’s left foot, and pulled it through the manacle.
Khalil looked at the other men. These were warriors, hard men. They knew he had just saved their lives. He picked up the boy’s body and walked out of the rock formation, the others following. Khalil walked over to the edge of the shelf and rolled Rashad down the hill. In the distance, he could see the hunters coming down the trail. He and the others turned and went back into the rock formation. They all picked up stones and turned and faced the opening. They would fight. Not all of them would see the morning, but they would fight.
In a short while, they heard growls and the sounds of tearing flesh. The lion pride had found Rashad. The lions fed, and then they heard the hyena barks. The scavengers had circled the lions and were encouraging them to finish eating. One of the hyenas smelled the blood trail going up the rock scree and followed it to the boulders. Khalil saw two bright yellow orbs at the rock entrance and could smell the foul breath of the hyena. Asaad did not hesitate. He raised a rock, almost the size of his head, with both hands and threw it at the hyena. It struck the hyena squarely between the eyes and crushed his skull. One predator down.
The sound of feeding continued for a short period. The sounds changed as the lions left the kill and followed the blood trail up the scree. The men heard the sounds of the hyenas fighting over Rashad’s remains and knew the lions would be coming for them. They didn’t have long to wait. A young lioness approached the opening and sniffed at the dead hyena. Then she lifted her head and smelled the men inside the rocks. She was small enough to fit through the opening, but she hesitated, growling and throwing her head from side to side. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side of the rocks, but she knew whatever it was, it had killed the hyena. The pride’s male grew impatient and let out a thunderous roar, encouraging the young lioness. She hesitated a moment longer, then leaped through the opening and landed squarely on Malik. She sank her fangs into his shoulder and dragged him to the ground. Asaad grabbed the loose end of the chain, and leaped on the lioness’s back. He wrapped the loose end of the chain around her neck and began to squeeze. The other men surged forward and began hammering at the lioness’ head. She was soon blind and bleeding from numerous wounds. Asaad continued to saw at her neck with the chain, and she soon lay still between his efforts and the rock blows.
The men dragged the lioness off Malik, but it was too late, she had opened his throat with her claws, and Malik was dead. Khalil performed the same operation on Malik as Rashad, crushing his hand and foot with a stone and removing him from the manacles. He motioned to the other men, who helped him lift Malik, and they threw his body through the opening to the waiting lions. The sound of feeding began again. The men crouched in their shelter next to the dead lioness, rocks in hand, waiting for the next predator to come through the opening. The lions finished eating, and sated, wandered off into the night. Then the hyenas came and finished off Malik and then ate the dead hyena. Satisfied, they too wandered off into the night.
The men squatted next to each other for the rest of the night, too tense to sleep. Their eyes fixed on the opening, waiting for the predators to return. Khalil noted the sky beginning to lighten and finally began to relax. He looked down at the dead lioness and knew she had turned from predator to savior. He looked around and found a large piece of shale, which he hammered with one of the rocks. A large piece broke off. It was perfect, both sides were razor-sharp, but one end was smooth and flat. He ripped off a piece of his loincloth and wrapped the smooth end of the shale knife in the cloth. He approached the lioness and indicated to one of the men that he should cup his hands under the lioness’s neck, which he did. Khalil used the shale to open the vein in her neck, and the men all rotated, drinking the hot salty blood. Khalil also drank, and it was wonderful. Next, he used the shale to cut hunks of meat from her flanks and rump, and the men ate greedily. They rested a short while, letting the food digest, but Khalil knew they would not survive another night if they didn’t find the main camp soon. He stood and led the way through the opening. Everyone was limping badly, their feet were in horrible condition, but at least they were not carrying Rashad. The four men walked down the shale scree and continued northwest again. They walked until the sun reached its zenith and then rested.
Khalil woke in excruciating pain. The blisters on his back had cracked open and were weeping, his tongue filled his mouth, and he was not sure he could stand. His mind was a fog from the pain and lack of water. But he knew one thing, if he did not get up, he would die here. He forced himself to his knees, then finally stood. He tugged on the chains and kicked people until everyone was on their feet. He knew if they did not find the camp this evening, they would die. It was that simple. He staggered forward, pulling everyone with him. They stumbled on hour after hour, men stumbling, falling, and rising again. The sky began to redden, then turned dark crimson, and Khalil’s heart sank in his chest, but still, they walked. The sky was black, but the moon was bright, and Khalil could see the north star. He knew if they stopped and lay down, they would never rise again. He walked.
In the distance, he heard the deep, loud grunts of a male lion. A shiver ran up his spine, and his stomach knotted. They had come so far. He was beyond exhausted. His vision swam. Things moved in and out of focus. He couldn’t rely on his sight or his mind. He thought he saw a shimmering star low on the horizon, and for some reason, he fixated on it and walked toward it. The star grew as they drew closer; odd behavior for a star. Then it began to flicker and grow. He walked on. Then there were multiple stars scattered on the ground, and he knew his mind had gone. His mind began to think that he could see tents and people moving. He wanted to shout, to call for help, but he could not with his swollen tongue. The men behind him saw nothing. They staggered on, heads down, following wherever he led. Khalil walked between two of the tents. How odd, it looked just like their camp. Even some of the people looked familiar; what a strange vision. He heard shouting, or he thought he heard shouting. Then he thought people were talking to him. How pleasant. He smiled at them and thought how nice it would be to die with people around him. Maybe I’ll sleep for a while. Maybe they’ll still be here when I wake up. He collapsed and dragged everyone down with him.
Khalil awoke, he was still in pain, but something had changed. Someone had washed him, and there was salve on his back and feet. He was lying in a tent on pillows, and he heard the soft murmuring of women’s voices. One of the women saw he was awake and came over with a water skin. She held it to his lips, and he drank greedily, but she pulled it away. He looked at her, and it was Naila, one of Sheik Malik’s servants.
“Slowly,” she said, “or you will make yourself sick. We are also tending the three men who were with you. They are in bad shape. Sheik Malik has many questions, but he will wait till you are strong enough to speak.”
Khalil wanted to thank her, but his tongue was still not working very well, and he merely nodded his head in thanks. Naila brought over a bowl of gruel, made with barley and goat’s milk, and she had ground some figs into it. She fed it to him slowly. He was exhausted after just a few bites, and he lay back and was soon asleep.
When he awoke again, he could tell it was evening. Torches and candles were flickering in the tent. Naila came over with water and gruel when she saw he was awake, and he was able to drink better than this morning, and he finished all the cereal in the bowl. He even managed to say thank you, and she smiled at him. Another servant left the tent and returned a moment later with Sheik Malik.
The sheik was tall with a neatly trimmed mustache that flowed into a beard that covered his chin and was three or four inches long. He had scars on his face and arms from numerous battles. He was almost six feet tall, 40 years old, with a few grey streaks in his hair and deep-set black eyes. He was sheik of this Bedouin tribe. He had been a slave trader all his life. He traded in human misery, and it made him hard and cruel. Khalil did not look forward to this meeting.
The sheik strode up and, without preamble, asked, “Where are my slaves, my son, and the rest of your men?”
Khalil replied with great difficulty, “Your son is dead, along with the rest of my men, and they stole the slaves from us.”
The sheik’s face reddened, and his eyes turned down, “What happened? Who stole the slaves?”
Khalil looked the sheik in the eye, “Three days ago, just as we were finishing the morning meal, a group of riders rode out of the desert and attacked us without provocation and warning. They rode into the camp, and within minutes, they killed all but six of us. Your son was badly wounded, with one arrow to the thigh and the other through his shoulder. A man named Navid led the raiders. I overheard the men talking to each other. This Navid is part of a caravan of Magi traveling from Persia to Israel. We have no idea the size of their party. The group that attacked us was approximately twenty-five men. The Magi freed the slaves, stripped us of all but our loincloths, chained us together, and drove us into the desert without food or water. Asaad and Haider carried your son for two days. I carried him the third day, but Rashad’s wounds became infected, and he died. We left him in the desert. We made it to a rock shelf south of our camp the third night, and lions and hyenas attacked us. The lions killed Malik. Only Asaad, Haider, Ammar, and I survived. We did everything possible, but we could not save your son.”
Sheik Malek glared at Khalil, “Are you telling me a group of Magi priests attacked you? Are you saying these clerics defeated your men? Do you take me for a fool?”
Khalil bowed his head, “Great sheik, the leader, Navid, said they were Magi. But these were no clerics, and they could ride and shoot like no one I had seen before.”
Sheik Malek stared at Khalil, “I should kill you. You have failed, and you lost my son. But I am a merciful man, and I will allow you to redeem yourself. These Magi must stop at Ctesiphon. The Parthians will want a toll for their passage, and there will be a few days of negotiation. You will join them there and offer to guide them through the desert. Then you will lead them to me. They can take the place of the slaves I lost. I will sell this Navid in Tyre or Sidon. He will finish his life chained to an oar in a galley ship.”
“My sheik, I will gladly do what you have asked, but this Navid has seen me. He may remember me,”
“Excellent point,” said Malek. The sheik walked close to Khalil, put his hand under Khalil’s chin, and tilted his head up. He pulled his knife and cut Khalil from just below his hairline to the corner of his mouth. The wound bled freely. “Naila, bind this would. There, Khalil, I don’t think Navid will recognize you now. When your face and body have healed, please make your way to this Magi camp and lead them to me. I will adopt you as my son if you are successful since I have no heir. Do not disappoint me.” The sheik turned and left the tent.
Naila rushed over with salves and bandages and bound Khalil’s face tightly. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at his ruined face.
Khalil looked at the young woman and smiled, “It’s all right, Naila. The sheik is right. The scar is a small price to pay to have my revenge on the Magi. Navid will not recognize me now. But he will when I chain him to a galley oar with my own hands.”

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