Chapter 26

Unaware of what was happening in their camp, Sheykhs Majiid and Jaafar led the charge across the desert to meet Zeid. Unaccustomed to riding, Jaafar jounced up and down in the saddle, stirrups flying and there appeared every likelihood that the Sheykh would fall from his mount and break his neck before ever reaching the field of battle. Majiid had tried to persuade the Sheykh to stay behind, but Jaafar—more than half-convinced that this was all some devious plot of Majiid’s—had insisted on riding with the leaders, refusing to let his “ally” out of sight. Thus did all the Hrana and the Akar ride into combat—keeping one eye on the enemy in front and the other eye on those who rode at their side.

So occupied were they in warily watching each other that they never thought to look up into the sky that was growing darker and darker by the moment. They might never have noticed it at all had not Jaafar—to the surprise of no one—toppled off his horse to land heavily upon his back in the sand.

The Hrana gathered around him, prepared to stop and assist their fallen leader. Jaafar couldn’t talk—the breath had been knocked from his body—but he managed to wave his men on, pointing furiously at Majiid, warning them not to let the spahis get ahead of them.

Lying in the sand, gasping for breath, Jaafar had time to contemplate the heavens while Fedj, his djinn, chased after the horse.

“I hope that damn storm breaks before the fighting starts!” the Sheykh growled when Fedj returned, leading the horse and coming to assist his master.

Fedj took hold of his master’s hand, glancing up as he was about to haul Jaafar to his feet. The djinn’s eyes widened. With a startled cry, he let loose of the Sheykh, who tumbled back down into the sand again.

“Storm!” the djinn shouted. “That is no storm, sidi! That is Kaug, Quar’s ‘efreet!”

“Boo! What would an ‘efreet be doing here?” Jaafar peered up into the sky in disbelief.

Suddenly Fedj gasped in horror. “Armies!” he shrieked, pointing behind them. “Armies of men on horseback, attacking our camp!”

Twisting around, Jaafar saw the soldiers, mounted on their magical steeds, flying out of the storm cloud, aiming for the tents below.

“Go to Majiid!” Jaafar ordered the djinn. “Go warn him!”

Within an eyeblink Fedj was gone, and within another he materialized directly in front of Majiid’s horse, causing the startled Sheykh to rein in so quickly he nearly upset the animal.

“What do you want?” Majiid roared in anger. “Get out of my way! Return to that clumsy oaf you call a master and tell him to ride a donkey into battle next time!”

“Effendi!” cried Fedj. “Our camp is under attack!”

“What fools does Jaafar take us for that we should fall for such a trick?” Khardan demanded furiously, galloping up beside his father. “The enemy is before us, not behind!” He indicated a large cloud of sand through which could now be see the armies of the meharistes.

In answer Fedj—his expression grim—simply pointed back at the Tel. Khardan and Majiid reluctantly turned in their saddles.

“Hazrat Akhran be with us!” Khardan breathed.

Majiid, his eyes bulging in disbelief, could only sputter,”Who— What?”

“The Amir’s soldiers!” Khardan cried. Grasping the reins, he dragged his horse’s head around. The black war charger, foundering in the sand, nearly lost its balance. But Khardan’s skill kept it upright until it could get its hind legs beneath its body. Leaping forward, it carried its master ahead at a furious gallop.

The other spahis milled about in confusion, shouting and pointing and passing the news along to those who were just riding up. One by one they all turned to dash back to camp, several of the unskilled Hrana riders falling from their mounts or upsetting their horses in their excitement.

“Fly to Zeid!” Majiid ordered Fedj. “Tell him the Amir is attacking and that we call upon him in the name of Akhran to help us defend ourselves against the unbeliever!”

“Done!” cried Fedj, disappearing so swiftly that the air spoke the word for him.

But when the djinn reached Zeid, he found the Sheykh already apprised of the situation, having seen for himself the armies descending from the sky.

“So!” snarled Zeid before the djinn could say a word. “What’s the matter? Was Khardan afraid that he could not take us on alone? Well, he was right! We will fight both you and your friend the Amir!”

“What do you mean?” Fedj cried. “The Amir is not our friend! Can’t you see he is attacking us?”

Consumed with battle rage, Zeid did not hear. The Sheykh was about to urge his camel forward when one of his men shouted and pointed toward the sky. A contingent of soldiers on their winged horses could be seen dropping down out of the thundercloud, flying southward.

“So that’s your master’s plan, is it?” Zeid cried grimly. “What plan? You don’t understand! Listen to me!” Fedj pleaded in desperation.

“Oh, I understand! You lure us up here and then the Amir attacks our defenseless camp while we are gone! Qannadi won’t get far! Not even magical winged steeds can outrun the meharis!”

Shouting commands, dividing his forces, leaving some to guard his rear, ordering others to lead the charge, Zeid wheeled his camel and prepared to race after the soldiers.

“You brainless goat!” Fedj flew after Zeid. “The Amir isn’t our ally! How could you think such a thing? And now you’re playing into his hands, letting him divide us up.” But Zeid, his face red with fury, refused to listen. Soaring to twenty feet in height, Fedj was prepared to grab hold of the camel with his bare hands and shake some sense into the fat little Sheykh. But he was stopped by Raja, Zeid’s djinn, who leaped out of his master’s saddlebags.

Soaring to thirty feet in height, his black skin glistening in the sun, his muscles bulging, his eyes blazing in fury, Raja leaped at Fedj. The two djinn fell to the ground, landing with a thud that caused the granite floor to crack beneath them. Howling in rage, Raja and Fedj rolled over and over, hands grappling for each other’s throat.

Sheykh Zeid, in the meantime, raced over the dunes, chasing after the winged horsemen, his meharistes shouting for the soldiers to come down and fight them like men.

Glancing over his shoulder as he thundered northward toward the Tel, Majiid saw the camel riders turn tail—or so it seemed—and dash off back in the direction of home.

“Ah! Coward!” Pulling back on the reins, Majiid caused his horse to rear on its hind legs, the animal’s front hooves slicing the air.

“May your wives mate with camels!” he called after the departing Zeid. “May your sons have four legs and your daughters humps! May you— May you. . .”

Majiid could think of nothing else. Fear for his people choked him. Half blind with tears of anger, he galloped on.