Alisha: A Desert Urchin Part III: The Vandals

Alisha: A Desert Urchin

Part III

The Vandals

By Frank Keith

Copyright © 2017 by Frank Keith

All rights reserved

The contents of this work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any way or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.

Table of Contents

Introduction

1 The Lonely Fort

2 Alafrid & Brunulf

3 The Rock Quarry

4 A Spy

5 The Rebels & The Vandals

6 The Problem With Sabirah

7 The Problem With Kalam

8 Enemy At The Gates

9 Enter The Vandals

10 The Last Bastion Falls

11 A New Era

12 Alisha, Zenobia & Musad

Epilogue

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Introduction

A Vandal patrol out in the desert intercepts a small group of Arabs. The leader of the patrol learns that these Arabs are an envoy task force from Sakakah. They were sent by the sultan to seek out the barbarians and to inform them that Geisarix is a captive of the sultan. Sultan Mejhem ibn El-Hashem wishes to conduct talks with the barbarians and so Geilamir, the father of Geisarix and the Vandal baron, sends a group of men to accompany the Arabs back to the city to hold talks there.

Meanwhile, things go awry for Sultan el-Hashem; Geisarix and the girls manage to escape from the dungeons. Despite numerous and thorough searches throughout the city by el-Hashem’s soldiers, the three fugitives remain at large. Thus, when the Vandal delegation arrives at the palace, the sultan has no Geisarix to present them with. As a consequence, El-Hashem decides to lock up the Vandal envoy team and plans to use them as hostages instead of Geisarix. Despite this move, el-Hashem still does not give up his search for the three escapees.

Alisha, Zenobia and Geisarix have been given refuge by an underground freedom-fighting organization called Muqatili Aleadalat, whose leaders are the brothers and true emirs of Sakakah, Farid and Salim. A couple of times Alisha and the other two must use escape tunnels to flee from the grasp of the sultan’s troops, who are still combing through the city for them. They eventually learn that a spy from Emir Abd al Alim has managed to get established within the secret organization, and no less inside the leadership cell. But not enough; Alisha realizes that there is yet another spy there too.

Events in the sultanate eventually develop in an unforeseen way. Shortly after the imprisonment of the Vandal delegation in the citadel of Sakakah, a small Arab rebel delegation reaches the Vandals on the lonely hilltop fort. They inform Geisarix’s father Geilamir that his delegation has been imprisoned by the sultan. Geilamir decides to move against the city of Sakakah to free his son and his men. The rebels are willing to help the Vandals in this endeavor, for they too have persons who are captives in the citadel and wish them to be set free.

Retrospectively, the Vandal king had promised Geilamir to sent ships and troops to him after one year had passed to look after him and his men. Geilamir had remained in the Arab lands after Geisarix was captured to seek his son. Now the year was up and the king has kept word; another Vandal force has landed on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean Sea. This force unites with Geilamir and together they march against Sakakah.

Alisha, Zenobia and Geisarix attempt to stop the second spy from divulging the secrets of the rebel organization to the emir. Alisha manages to identify who the spy is. In this effort, the three get separated in the night and in the confusion that reigns in the city. The streets are dangerous for them because the sultan’s troops are still out and about looking for them. Alisha eventually gets captured and by none other than the feared and hated Musad.

In the city, members of the rebels get prepared to help the Vandals free their men and the other prisoners too. However, they learn that the Vandal forces are much larger than they had anticipated. Thus, they contemplate doing more than just free captives; now they plan to regain control of all of Sakakah and even to depose the fake sultan, Mejhem ibn El-Hashem, and replace him with the true heir to the sultanate throne, Riyad ibn el-Hashem. The rebels also learn that el-Hashem has sent messengers to the other cities and garrisons of the sultanate to request reinforcements. They now realize that time is of the essence. Speed and planning will determine if their rebellion shall succeed or fail.

The Vandal army is finally near Sakakah, and not far from there they meet up with a small rebel force. Together they reach the city in the dead of the night. Now, everything depends on the rebels inside the city walls, who must help their allies to get inside of Sakakah, and on Alisha and Zenobia too, who must take them into the fortress through the secret tunnel that only the two girls know about. But, the two girls are not to be found and Geisarix is also lost in the dark city streets and alleyways.

What will happen? Will the Vandals and rebels be able to enter the city gates as planned? Will the fake sultan receive his reinforcements on time and will they be able to defeat his enemies? Will the rebellion succeed, or was it a mistake for the rebels to ally themselves with a barbarian people, who are known to sack cities and cause mayhem? What about the girls—Alisha and Zenobia? Will they and Geisarix survive, and will the love between them survive too—after all these trials and tribulations—not to mention to grow stronger?

1 The Lonely Fort

Geilamir was not in a pleasant mood on this day. Alas, since his son had been captured during that raid about a year ago his mood had been anything but good. And it only got worse the more time that marched by.

He and his band of men were sitting on a hill near the small settlement of Shobak, wedged between the northern part of the Arabian world and southern expanse of the Byzantine Empire. Upon its summit stood a primitive and dilapidated fortification, which the Vandals had easily occupied since it was abandoned. They actually never planned on staying in this place for this long … this Godforsaken oven, dry as ancient bones, dusty and barren and hot and relentlessly forlorn.

Since the day when Geisarix and another man were captured and taken away by the enemy, Geilamir decided to remain here with his troops, trying to find the lost men again and to get them back … in particular his son. The men understood their leader’s desire, but being here was tough on them and even they, a band of hard warriors, would one day find an end to their understanding and patience.

But it was not only the heat that tested the staying power of these men, who sometimes longed for cooler weather, such as they were used to in their beloved homeland far, far to the north. It was not even the almost perpetual deficiency of water either, for although it was quite a chore, there was an oasis not far away and they were able to get fresh water from it whenever needed. And it was not the dust or dirt either that let their morale to waver.

No, it was the disposition of being a part of a senseless effort and of utter boredom.

If there was such a place like purgatory, then this area must be a foretaste to it, the men were convinced. The tediousness of being here was interrupted only by getting water, foraging for food and by participating in patrols to the surrounding lands. None of the men had been with a woman in many months. None had seen their families for just as long. And no one knew how much longer this waiting and hoping would go on. And what was all of this deprivation and hardship for? For ghosts?

Geilamir knew about all of this too well. It was a truth as plain as the certainty that the sun burns hot … that time was running out for him. There would come a day when everything would fall apart, when things would crumble like these ancient walls on this forlorn hilltop. The perseverance that let Geilamir endure the hardships on this hot rock had rested on a weak foundation, based solely on hope and not on anything tangible. There were no signs, hints or evidence that he would ever lay eyes on his son again. The world is a big place and Geisarix could be anywhere in it by now, or he could be nowhere. He thought about the latter often enough, although he tried not to. He refused to believe that his son might be dead … not unless he saw the corpse with his own eyes.

Each new day that began up here, Geilamir got ever more secluded, for his men were ever more moving away from him. It was an increase of distance in the emotional sense and not that of physical nature. They were grumpy and moody and his orders were carried out with lackluster enthusiasm. Geilamir sensed that he was losing command over his men. If he was lucky they would remain by his side for another week and if he was really lucky perhaps a few days beyond that.

And thus he had felled a tough decision in the morn and that was why his mood was particularly foul on this day.

Knut, the elder and his right-hand-man, came over to Geilamir and reported; My lord, I have made the preparations as you wished.

Geilamir stood next to the former outer curtain wall of the old fort, or what was left of it. In many places the walls had crumbled over the years and were only knee-high or so in many places. He had one foot resting on the conglomerate of clay bricks and stones that made up the leftover barrier and did what he mostly did; stare out into the desert, there where his son should be, far beyond the browns and tans and pale yellows of the parched landscape lying stretched below his feet. Every caravan that passed by was duly searched. He would shout an order and the men would swoop down the slopes to stop them and nothing was left unchecked. Patrols were sent out too on a daily basis to look, to search, to seek out … to return empty-handed.

Yes, at first the baron had great expectations of finding Geisarix in this manner, somewhere in a slave caravan, or a settlement, or an oasis, or a plantation. But, as time went by, the patrols served more as a way of keeping the men occupied rather than for anything tangible.

Geilamir nodded. Thank you Knut, he said. His voice was monotone. It had lost much of its former vitality.

Just a short while ago the baron had ordered Knut to see to it that preparations were being started to abandon the old fort and to return home. He made sure to let the men know that it could take several days before they could move out. Geilamir wanted to meet his king’s ships on a certain date. They were supposed to land at the coast where he and his men had landed about a year ago. Then they shall sail away from here. And his son would be forever gone.

When the men found out that they would leave this dusty perch they regained new hope and purpose, even if their departure should be another week away. Their moods improved a lot, as they now had a concrete goal ahead and would finally end chasing ghosts. Geilamir knew and Knut knew it too that none of them felt happy for giving up. There was not a man here who did not feel deep sorrow for their lord. But it was time to go. It was time to let loose. There was a life waiting for them, and it was far away from this place. It was many leagues away, there where the sun sets.

And Geilamir could not say being disappointed by his soldiers. No, not in the least, for they had endured more and longer than most other men would have, in particular for something as whimsical as this. They had done whatever was possible in trying to find and to get back Geisarix.

Geilamir did not look into Knut’s eyes. The elder stood behind him and waited for further instructions, but he did not receive any. The baron had a lump in his throat and he had moisture in his eyes. He could not let this weakness be seen by anyone, not even Knut. He simply told Knut that he could go now; he was no needed for the time being.

And then the baron was alone again. He remained standing by the crumbled wall, alone with his thoughts, his disappointments and the hot gusts of wind blowing the tears dry.

Yet, despite his deep pains there was a strange sensation still alive in his body and in his soul. He sensed that he could almost reach out and grasp it. But he could not get in touch with it. It was difficult for him to describe it if he had to portray it to someone. Why, he did not understand it himself. Where are you? he mumbled silently to himself. The wind carried away the soft words like it did the water vapors from his eyes.

The patrol leader and his eleven men had been out in the desert since after the morning meal. It was now late in the day and they were heading back to the fort. They were tired, dusty and their water bags were going dry. The other patrols would also be heading back to their base on the hilltop right about now. And another day had come and gone for naught.

The leader of this patrol was Geilamir’s captain and his name was Æthelwine. He did not look forward to telling lord Geilamir the result of today’s effort. Although today’s patrol report would be as it had always been during the past miserable months, it never got any easier.

But this evening he would have a word with the baron. He had been thinking about it for days and he kept pushing this desire before him, making one excuse after another for not doing so. He could no longer stave off the inevitable. His men had been very cantankerous of late and this was not a desirable situation. It made life hard on him as a leader and he sensed losing control over them. He knew it would be only a matter of time when the first man would refuse orders. They were, after all, a barbarian force, and not a highly disciplined army, such as the Romans have. Æthelwine, however, would not have to tell his lord all of this, for when he returns to the hill fort he would learn of Geilamir’s decision to leave this land.

Their horses went at a leisurely pace. They too were tired. A few men were even walking next to their steeds in order to spare them. Suddenly, someone shouted out a warning. The men glanced to where he pointed to and they also saw a small dust cloud. It was to the east of them, there where the sun rises.

The column was ordered to stop. Æthelwine stared in the direction of the apparition. It would not have been the first time that what they perceive to be riders was in reality plain dust, picked up by a gust of wind, a dust devil. In this case it would disappear in short order. If it remained, then the chances were good that there was indeed someone out there. And it remained. As a matter of fact, it grew bigger by the minute.

They are approaching. We will seek cover and wait for them, Æthelwine told his men. It was actually a command that was given for naught, since this was their standard procedure. Everyone already knew what to do. It was always wiser to hide first and to see who it was, but more importantly how many there were.

It was not always easy and sometimes even impossible to hide, out here in the barren lands. Today they were lucky, for there was a wadi nearby. Wadis are ravines washed out by rains during the wet seasons over the eons. Some are only a couple of feet deep and a few feet wide, while others could swallow an entire army. The one they had been following was an average one.

They went over to it and scurried down its precarious slopes. Only one man remained on top of the edge to watch, but without his horse. He saw how the group of strangers came closer. They suddenly stopped to study the surrounding area. The observer could clearly see this now.

They are Arabs and they seem to be looking for something! he called down to the others. He spoke just loud enough to be heard only by his comrades, waiting in the bottom of the gulch.

Æthelwine asked how many there were. About ten, the man said.

The captain was satisfied. These strangers would pose no great danger to them. They