The Raiders

Naajim

Naajim regretted his made up fairy tale next thing in the morning when Bindaq decided not to ride on the baaqui but to walk alongside it like his brother. Bindaq, feeling adventurous and brave and also a bit determined after the story, proudly wobbled on the sand alongside Naajim. Eventually, Naajim ended up carrying his brother over his shoulders while the boy played with this thick curly mess of hair.

'One day I'm going to be like the boy too!' Bindaq said as he pulled a strand from Naajim's hair. Naajim could do nothing but sigh. He loved his brother. But sometimes it can be rather exhausting.

The sun mercifully glared at them throughout the first few hours of the day before turning relentless once it reached its zenith. By that time, Bindaq gave up in his heroic exploits and got back on the baaqui with his mother. Naajim remained on foot alongside.

For the time being, Naajim just hoped that it would be just a normal boring day in the desert. That was, until their line came into an abrupt halt without warning. Sha-haaz, after settling the beast stomped ahead of the line while those in the palanquin poked their heads out of their little shelter.

'What happened?' an old man yelled from up.

Naajim looked up, shrugging. Curious, he followed Sha-haaz. Some people were yelling from ahead. Soon enough, Sha-haaz scrambled towards them as he waved his staff, 'Raiders! It's the Raiders!'

Gasped and shrieks filled the air. Someone wailed. Naajim looked up, noticing his mother who held Bindaq in his arms. Sha-haaz poked at the baaqui, urging the animal to turn the other way and flee. The livestock behind them whined as people tried to get away from the raiders before they approached their part of the commotion.

Raiders were fairy tales. Fairy tales Naajim never expected to meet in his lifetime no matter how many stories he had heard of them. They robbed nomads and merchants, took slaves and killed mercilessly. It would be a miracle if they could somehow escape from them unscratched.

But then again, not everyone was lucky every day.

The people of the line ahead of them were running away. At a distance, Naajim saw a cloaked figure running while carrying a bundle. The figure could not run far off before whoever it was, fell onto the ground.

The person did not get up again.

The cry of veerai filled the air. Someone screamed. Actually, a lot of people screamed. Baaqui bolted away, carrying its passengers along with them. Sha-haaz and Naajim stood upon the sand dunes, watching. For once they weren't at each other's throats.

'Boy,' said Sha-haaz, 'Can you hold them back? I will get the others to safety.'

Naajim snapped his head to the elder, 'Whatever rumors there are about me are not all true!'

'Can you hold them back or not?'

'I can distract them,' said Naajim.

'Then do that,' said the elder. He was about to leave when Naajim caught hold of his arm.

'What is it, boy?'

'Take care of my mother and brother,' said Naajim. The old man stared at the boy's eyes. They were blazing gold, like a pit of charcoal burning in the night. Sha-haaz nodded before turning away after the fleeing baaqui.

From on top of the baaqui, Bindaq stared at his brother. Naajim noticed his gaze. For once, Naajim smiled at his half-sibling and waved before he allowed the force that he controlled to take over his body.

Naajim disappeared out of sight while the dents on the sand became the only evidence that suggested the existence of someone.

And so, Naajim waited. He doubted he will get out of the situation alive. Be doubted anyone will remember him once he was gone. Or worse, they might capture him. Surely a boy who is as unique as him will pique some interest in someone.

The sound of despair dawned onto where he stood as the veerai approached them. Even Naajim had to admit, the lizards were a sight to behold. They were larger than him, with long necks and trails and a slender body. Their stood in them hind legs while they supported their front with the fist of their front limbs. Veerai were known to be fast creatures. They would run at top speeds even in the loose sand of the desert. While the veerai and their riders approached, Naajim drew out a dagger from his belt.

He aimed threw it at the first rider. A slender ban in black who carried a bow and quiver was the first to fall off. Naajim hoped he didn't kill the man, even though he knew it didn't matter to him even if the man did die. It was one of the reasons the boy feared his nature.

Without a rider, the veerai prowled the dunes aimlessly. Naajim ran towards the fallen man who was clutching his shoulder. He wasn't dead. But he surely was in pain. It must have come to a shock to the man when an invisible force pulled out the dagger and truck another of his companions.

The second one didn't fall. It hit his tight. Annoyed, the second rider pulled out the dagger and stared around him. It distracted him well enough from the escaping convoy.

The third rider approached, puzzled by the abrupt stop of the second.

'They are getting away!'

'We are being attacked.'

That's when the second dagger struck the third rider.

The second rider drew his arrows onto his bow.

'Show yourself!'

Naajim wasn't stupid. Also, it was a risk to walk slowly on the sand where his footprints were clearly visible. Instead, he ran and leaped onto the map, using the momentum of his weight to throw the rider off the veerai. For a moment, the man struggled with an invisible force. Even if the force was attacking him, he didn't let go because he knew the force was human.

At least something that was shaped as a human. He caught a hand and tried to pin it down. Naajim lost his concentration and he became visible again, surprising the rider.

'Ajani!' the rider cried, seeing the golden eyes of the boy. Naajim clenched his jaw before disappearing again. By that time, the baaqui that held his brother and mother were already gone in the distance. But to his dismay, more veerai arrived. Naajim backed away, picking up his dagger that the man dropped during his struggle.

'What are you doing, Yanhani?'

'Ajani. It's an ajani! There is a boy who we cannot see.'

'What demon?' another asked as he stared at his surroundings. Yanhani stood up, making his way onto his veerai.

'You fool. You let the rest of them escape. It will take a lot of effort to round them up again.'

'Leave them be,' said a voice. Naajim backed away as a broad shouldered man in a black called mantle rode towards them. He had a commanding voice with a face that was once handsome and yet scarred and a skin of a much lighter tone than of those Naajim had seen. The rest of the riders glanced at each other, not wanting to argue with the newcomer.

'But rayeas, we could get a lot_'

'Always the poorest and lease significant of the tribe travels in the back... Let them be. No need to waste effort with those without value. Come, we have to round the rest up. And Yanhani... what demon?'

'It was a boy sir,' said Yanhani, 'Dark skinned with golden eyes. I saw him sir. He's probably gone now.'

Or maybe now, Naajim thought at he stood his ground. He didn't want to move. Not until they had left. Now it was the leader's turn to survey his surroundings. Naajim saw the rest of this tribe escape in the distance. They looked like beetles from the distance. Then he looked down, his feet were standing on a much solid spot so that there won't be any footprints.

It will take him days to reach his tribe again if he could reach them again. He had no food, nor water. Then he resolved to steal it from the raiders. Surely they will not miss too many supplies. But he dreaded to head back to the rest of the tribe that was captured. He was sure there was much bloodshed. It was not the fact that the sight would make him feel that unsettles him; it was the fact of what he will not feel.

All his thoughts were shattered when an arrow pierced through his shoulder. Naajim fell onto the ground, loosing concentration. He felt his form flicker on and off. Rough hand grabbed him and pulled him up, twisting the arrowhead on his flesh as he squirmed and screamed.

How did they find me?

'Foolish boy,' said the leader. Naajim was forced onto his knees on the sand. The man's scared face loomed over him, 'You forgot not to breath.'

Then, everything went black.

When Naajim woke up, his hands were tied behind him. His back was forced to lean over a wooden pole. He felt the surface of wood under his toes as light filtered through a thick canvas that was draped over what seemed like a cage. And the cage was moving as it swayed to and fro.

For a while, Naajim wondered how he ended up in such a state. Then his memories flooded back towards him. Everything made sense.

For the first few counts, Naajim struggled to get his wrists loose from the bonds that tied them up. But they were tight and firm. He struggled uncomfortably over the wood. But he could not move much due to the sharp pain that erupted from his left shoulder whenever he tries to pry his arms away and twist them. His shoulder felt swollen and his clothes smelt of stale blood. From in front of him, he heard movement. But he could not see well.

'Don't move,' said a voice in Althean. It was a language Naajim learned long ago from her mother, before she became her current state. No one knew the language as she did among his tribe; also she had not always been with them.

Naajim froze, narrowing his eyes to catch a glimpse of anyone in front of him. He heard some shuffling. Then a face appeared, draped by the sunlight that seemed through the space of the canvas that covered their cage.

It was a girl. And pretty one, with bronze tanned skin, warm brown eyes and midnight black hair that draped over her shoulders and reached up to her waist in a single braid. Naajim knew she wasn't from where he was. He did not know where... but surely not the desert lands of Oblivion.

Naajim felt breathless as he gulped. No matter how beautiful the girl was, there was something unsettling about her. She studied him like he was a scroll that was found by a scholar, tilting her head slightly with wide eyes. She didn't speak, only waited.

Once satisfied, she leaned onto her side of the cage disappearing again into the darkness.

'You are like me, aren't you?' she said.

'I guess not,' Naajim said. He saw nothing in her that seemed to be like him. Yet, he felt that there was something strange about her. He did not know what or why, but she didn't seem normal. Not in his sense, even if he did not know why.

Then he went back to struggling with his wrists. He gave up the effort then it seemed fruitless. Slowly, the light beyond the canvas dimmed and became cold. Desert nights were usually cold. Naajim spent most of the time listening to the animals groan and people talk. He could not pick up much conversation. But when the light became dim and the sky turned pink, he heard footsteps approach them. The cage in which they were in stopped moving.

Someone lifted the canvas off the cage and dim light poured in. For the first time, Naajim saw the girl. She shielded her eyes for the light. She was clearly not tied up, which Naajim felt rather envious for. Their cage was on top of a cart, pulled by a mashi. Someone untied Naajim's hands and another threw two pieced of bread and a water skin into their cage. For a while, the two didn't move.

The girl slowly moved and picked up one of the flat round loaf. Naajim picked the other and started to eat. He was ravenous but he didn't want to seem like uncivilized, especially in front of a girl. While they ate, the leader of the Raiders approached them and stood in front of their cage.

Naajim stopped eating and glared at him. The girl ignored him and continues eating peacefully.

'Don't look at me like that,' said the man, 'you attacked us.'

Naajim didn't say anything. Instead he looked away.

'Your father is a demon they say.'

Hearing this, Naajim turned his head back at the man. The girl too diverted his attention to him. The girl in fact found it amusing and turned to Naajim, studying him again. Naajim felt like snapping at her to stop staring. She turned away eventually.

'I doubt it though,' said the leader, laughing out loud. 'You don't know what you are. Such a pity. What a shock would it be if your tribesmen got to know that you are a descendent of an ancient deity? Not a good kind anyway. But a deity... nonetheless. Tashara here is the same as well. But form a different one.'

Naajim turned to Tashara, wanting confirmation of some sort even if he doubted she knew much. The girl shrugged, confirming his suspicions.

Once again, the canvas was thrown over the cage and surrounded by total darkness. The laugher of their captors slowly faded away. Then again, if you look at the bright side, it won't be too cold at night and they won't burn from the sun's ray during the day.

'Good night,' said Tashara.

'Yeah,' said Naajim. 'Good... night.'