The yierkas, horses, and camels are gone; the tracks, about six hours old and fading fast in the desert winds, lead southeast. Twenty-seven animals in all, 8 yierka, 12 horses and 7 camels were taken. The two older boys assigned to guard the beasts through the night are dead, stabbed in the back, just below their kidneys, severing their renal arteries; their deaths, swift and silent. How easily it could have been me only a short year or so ago, before I began my trials. A textbook raid, only this time it is against my clan, my people. There will be revenge and it will be served in blood. We are Tehir.
G'Arrone, my second-father approaches me, his normally scarlet clothing exchanged for his raiding attire, a mottled tan burnoose and veil, spurred riding boots, goatskin waterbag, a large morduska hide satchel, his quiver of arrows and his longbow. His veil has one length of scarlet ridgeweaver silk among the tan strips woven about his head and face, his one allowance to his chosen color. He asks me to walk with him.
"Radeek" he says to me, "you will be joining us on this raid." I am stunned. I have completed over three quarters of my trials and bear the scars to prove it, to include my training as a raider, yet I did not expect this; I have not yet reached halfway through my fifteenth year. G'Arrone says to me "Go, see your mother, she has something for you." "Yes father," I say to him as I bow respectfully and take my leave to find my second-mother, K'Miza.
I find my second-mother in our tent, sitting on a padded mat made of reeds woven into an intricate pattern. Incense burns in various censures around the tent. My second-mother bids me to sit across from her and as I do this she offers me tea, which I accept. I do not speak as we sip our tea, she will tell me what she has to say when she is ready. After what seems an interminable time, during which I have consumed half my tea, my second-mother speaks.
"Radeek, my son," she begins, "it is the tradition of our clan that the first raid which one goes on be accompanied by what will become the manner of dress of the new raider. Tradition also states that this clothing come from the raiders mother." My second-mother observes me over the lip of her teacup as she takes another sip. She points to a package on the floor of the tent near me and bids me to open it. "My son, this gift is from your father and I," she says to me. "It is to be worn with us in mind. You will show neither cowardice nor mercy to your enemies when wearing it, for to do so would dishonour not only you, but your father and I as well."
Inside the package is clothing, black clothing, a majority of which has been made of ridgeweaver silk. I am stunned, this is such a wondrous gift, I can only imagine the cost attached to these garments. Veil, burnoose, cloak, all of the finest quality. There are also various accessories, pants, yierka riding boots, containers for various things, an herb pouch. I don't know what to say to her, thank you somehow doesn't seem enough. I stand, go to her, kneel, and hug her. I whisper into her ear "Upon my honor, by my blood, with my life, for my people." As I pull away I see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "Hunt well Black Raider, remember my words," she says to me, her voice cracking, "and may you always walk with the sun."
I proceed into my small part of the tent, partitioned off by linen screens, and change into my new clothes. As I am winding my veil about my head and face I come back into the main room of our tent and find myself alone, my second-mother has gone. I look down at myself and think that I am undeserving of such gifts as these. I think back to my earlier life which seems so very long ago; the loss, the pain, the fear, the unknown, so many questions, though the main one has always been "why?" It has all led me to this point in my life, I have been waiting for this moment, though I did not realize it until now. It appears my time has come and I feel comforted in this new-found revelation and identity., although deep inside I am still troubled.
I leave the tent and enter into the bright sunlight to find my second-father waiting for me. He tells me my second-mother has gone to the Seer's tent to help with the bodies of the two who were killed. I hear the keening cries of the female friends and relatives of the slain rising up through the desert air. Mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, cousins, close friends, I believe I can hear my second-mothers cries among them, but I could be mistaken... all in mourning, all expecting vengeance.
I look towards the tent where the bodies are being prepared and listen to the wails of heartbreak and loss of the women for a moment, closing my eyes, trying to draw strength from the sounds of pain, anguish, and despair I am hearing. I have always found strength in things like this, I don't know why. My second-father watches me closely, waiting for me to open my eyes again before he speaks. "Radeek, the elders have seen fit to name you as the Black Raider of our clan. I myself petitioned them for this due to the circumstances and manner of your coming to us." I nod to him as he pauses a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues, "Many have worn the black veil through the ages, but none in many years. It is not a color most desired among our clan; the man who wears the black veil is different... inside," he says, as he taps himself on the chest, over his heart.
As he speaks these words to me I realize he is right, I am different. I appear as any other Tehir, though perhaps a bit taller than most and with a proclivity for longer hair than other men wear, but on the inside, in the place of my spirit, I find turmoil and violence, much like a desert sandstorm or an unbroken yierka... raging, unpredictable, and dangerous. I do not know whether being the wearer of the black veil is a good thing or not, but I decide it is as it was meant to be and there is nothing I can do about it, except to live up to my second-parents expectations and honor them, though a nagging doubt gnaws at my heart.
G'Arrone looks at me for a moment and places his hand on my shoulder before speaking again. "I am proud to name you as my son, Radeek, you have done well in all that has been expected of you. There are some things I wish to tell you though, things you need to hear and that you must remember." I nod to him in respect, G'Arrone rarely has ever told me anything that wasn't of use, somehow. His hand leaves my shoulder as he bends down and picks up a handful of sand, allowing it to flow through his fingers and be dispersed in the wind. His action with the sand tells me he is thinking, it is one of his quirks I have come to know over the years.
"Tonight you will face death," he says to me, "and you may deal death to others. You will be afraid, Radeek, but to deny your fear is foolish, so do not make that mistake. Instead, use your fear as a strength rather than a weakness; it will make you alert, it will give you a sharpness and a sense of your surroundings that is far beyond that which you now know. Trust in your fear, embrace it, name it as your friend and it will save you many times over your lifetime, if you only let it."
"Yes father," I say to him. "It will be as you say." There is something deep within me, nagging. "Father, may I ask a question of you?" I ask with some trepidation. "Anything," is his reply. I pluck at the sleeves of my cloak, the black ridgeweaver silk cloak. "Father, am I cursed? Am I somehow less? Is this why I wear the black veil?" G'Arrone smiles at me, but in that smile there is an underlying sadness. "Radeek," he says, "there is no curse upon you. Each man is something more and something less than any other man."
He looks into my eyes and says to me, "There is a fire burning within you Radeek, a dangerous fire, I saw this the very morning I came upon you in that burned camp, covered in blood, the dead lying all around you." He closes his eyes, recalling some distant memory. "You were covered not only in blood, but in soot as well, your face nearly black with it, but there was not one mark of a tear upon your cheeks Radeek. You were re-born that night, my son, out of fire, sand, and blood. In death you were given life, a new life, this life. Only you can decide if this life is better than the last."
I am confused and my second-father knows it. G'Arrone looks at me and says, "You see Radeek, we each have a path we tread. It's not the path itself that's important, it's where we are upon the path and what we do as we walk it that matters, and each man determines that himself. I cannot tell you where you will be or where you will go or what you will do, only you can do that. Perhaps your birth-mother could have, but even then, the gift of sight does not always turn out as expected."
"But father" I say to him, "what of the black veil?" I am growing concerned that I have been somehow singled out as unbalanced or untrustworthy. G'Arrone thinks a moment before answering me. "Radeek, the black veil is reserved for those among our clan who have... not an evil, but a darkness about them, something in their spirit that is absent in most men. You have always had this, since the day I found you; I do not know if it was there before I came upon you or whether it is due to your experiences, but my son, to wear the black veil is not a curse or a punishment, it means that you have the gift to use that darkness as a weapon in your favor, and it can become a very powerful weapon if used properly."
I understand then what I am, why I have been given the black veil. I am a product of two lives, the life before and the life after the Empire destroyed my clan. A life sacrificed so that I might live; blood, given freely, for me. I thank G'Arrone for this explanation, for his honesty and I bow to him respectfully.
"Radeek, there is one more thing," he says to me. He then steps through the tent flap as he motions for me to keep my place. He is gone only a moment and when he returns he has with him a second longbow and quiver of arrows. As he hands them to me he says "Here, you will have need of these tonight. Use them well." I accept the weapons and look them over with a keen eye. I can see all are well made, especially the mottled grey longbow that G'Arrone named Eyesore, master crafted in fact. I thank G'Arrone for the gift of these fine weapons and I promise him they will be used well; to do otherwise would have been dishonorable to G'Arrone.
We then have our evening meal, a much lighter meal than normal; to fight on a full stomach is to invite fatigue and sluggishness when neither would be welcome. At dusk we mount and ride, southeast. We have our suspicions of where our animals went, we have been tracking a group of Tahlesh, or People of the Wind, vagabonds, thieves and murderers... most are outcasts from other clans of Tehir. There is little doubt in anyone's mind that this is who stole our animals and killed two of our clan.
Bophwaz, my clans Master of the Desert, who is leading this raid, halts us after we have ridden for nearly five hours. He motions us to dismount. We sent a scout out earlier and he is waiting for us and confirms that, indeed, our animals are here. The raid will commence as planned. I am to be on the right flank, G'Arrone on the left. We are to take out the sentries before the assault begins and then cover the main force once they enter the camp. G'Arrone signals me, asking me if I am ready. I nod to him, though I feel fear. I remember his words, "use the fear as a weapon." We each split off from our band of raiders, stealthily taking our positions. I see two sentries in my area of responsibility, one stationary and one patrolling the perimeter of the camp.
I wait for the signal, the soft sound of a horses nicker, mimicked perfectly by Bophwaz, means be ready, the second nicker means to fire. I have an arrow nocked and eight more stuck in the sand on my right side. I choose my target, the stationary sentry. At the sound of the first nicker I draw my bow. It is the target and I, nothing else exists in those few fleeting moments. I draw a breath and let half of it out. I hear the second nicker and let fly. My arrow catches the sentry in the throat and he falls soundlessly in the sand. I am already reaching for a second arrow before my first shot has even struck the first sentry. I search for the second sentry. I see him just as he comes around the last tent in line. I draw my bow and fire. Another kill, this one to the head.
The raiding party moves forward, this tells me that G'Arrone has eliminated his targets as well. My eyes comb the darkness, looking for targets. I see none. The camp is asleep as our raiders creep among the tents, takoubas and yierka spurs in hand. Death creeps among the Tahlesh and they don't even know it; surprise has been achieved. As the raiders enter the tents a scream erupts from the darkness and the camp comes alive. Tahlesh exit their tents, some armed, some not, and are cut down by our raiders. I shoot two more as they attempt to enter into combat with my fellow raiders and one that attempts to escape into the desert.
The battle, what there is of it, is short lived. We have suffered minimal casualties, five wounded, none seriously and none killed. The Tahlesh band is no more, all are dead or on their knees in the sand, to be taken and sold or bartered as slaves. Our animals and those they already had are now in our possession. I come down from my position in the dunes and enter the camp. I retrieve my arrows from the bodies of the Tahlesh I dispatched. I feel no remorse, I feel no joy, in truth I feel little, and I don't really know what I should feel. It is not the first time I have taken a life. I released a young woman, Va'mek was her name, from her agony on the morning after the Empire eradicated the clan of my birth, but this is different. I have killed five men this night, five enemies of my clan. Five Tahlesh who will not see the dawning of the sun. Five Tahlesh who raided my people and killed two of ours. I should feel something, shouldn't I?
Suddenly my head begins to spin and I sit down in the sand, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I suddenly feel ill and quickly turn to my right and what little was left in my stomach is now upon the sand. G'Arrone sees me, approaches, and sits beside me. He says nothing, but offers me his waterbag. I shake my head but he insists and I have him pour some into my cupped hands and use this to clean the foul taste from my mouth. He hands me some spearmint leaf to chew, which I know to be good to settle the stomach, and he then rests a hand on my shoulder, he is there and that is all that matters.
I begin to shake uncontrollably as the realization of what I have done hits home. I turn to face G'Arrone in the darkness and I say to him, in a quiet voice, quivering with despair and shame, "You didn't tell me about this part, father. Please, don't think less of me for my weakness." He says to me, in a soft voice, "Radeek, had you not felt as you do right now, then I would have thought less of you. I will now tell you something else. Killing a man is not hard... living with it after can be another matter entirely, for a good man. My son, you are a good man, so you will see these Tahlesh for the remainder of your days, they will come to you in your dreams, as will others throughout your life. Be ready for them, for they are a part of you now."
G'Arrone then rises and offers me his hand; I take it and he pulls me to my feet. He embraces me, as father to son, and tells me he is proud of me, that I have done well for our clan. Then, with the rest of the raiding party, we gather the animals, captives and any other items of value, and we head home. The desert will claim everything we left behind, including the bodies...
Those same bodies I still see in my dreams.
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