Allan COLE: Wizard of the winds

Safar had more reason than most to dislike the Ubekian brothers. They'd fixed instantly on his odd, blue-eyed appearance and had mocked him unmercifully. In fact, until the arrival of the family no one had commented on his looks at all. But now others, such as the old woman at the lake, had become bold enough to torment him.

One by one, Safar had caught the brothers alone and thrashed them. Now they no longer mocked himat least not in his hearing.

Safar had no doubt the brothers were to blame in the fight he saw below. His dislike of the brothers plus the unpleasant events of the day made his blood sing in furious joy as he ran down the hill and threw himself into the fray.

Cries of pain and surprise greeted his attack. But the brothers quickly recovered and turned on him. Safar was hard-pressed for a moment, catching a blow to his nose that made stars brighter than those that formed the Tiger.

Then the brothers victim jumped up and barreled in. Everything became a fury of fists, knees, elbows and butting heads.

Suddenly the fight ended and the brothers scampered away, pausing at the top of the hill to hurl empty threats to salve their pride. But when Safar and his companion moved forward the brothers dashed off, shouting obscenities over their shoulders.

Safar turned to see who he'd rescued. The youth was about his height and weight. But then shock hit when he saw that the boy was fair skinned with blonde hair, moody eyes and a strong beaked nose.

The features were disturbingly familiar.

The strange boy grinned through bruised lips, showing bloody teeth. You arrived just in time, he said. In a moment I would have lost my temper and risen up to break their heads."

Safar recovered his wits. From where I stood, he said, dryly, you didn't look like you'd be getting up soon."

The strange boy laughed. That's because I have such a peaceful nature, he said.

The comment broke the ice and Safar laughed with him. Next time you meet the Ubekian brothers, he said, lose your temper as quick as you can. Or it'll be your head that's broken."

The strange boy stuck out his hand. I'm Iraj Protarus, he said.

Safar hesitated, remembering his vision. But the young man's face was so friendly he couldn't see any harm.

He clasped the offered hand. I'm Safar Timura."

Iraj looked at him oddly. Safar, eh? I had a dream about a fellow named Safar."

Safar didn't reply. The coincidence froze his tongue.

Iraj noticed, thinking, perhaps, that Safar was only being shy. He shifted his grip into the handshake favored by brothers. I think we're going to be very good friends, Safar, he said. Very good friends, indeed."

Badawi shifted in the saddle, seeking a more comfortable position for his haunches. His gray mare chuffed in complaint, stumbling as she moved to accommodate his bulk. The fat man nearly fell, grabbing wildly at the saddle to save himself.

He lashed the mare, growling, Watch how you go, you fly-blown daughter of a dung beetle."

The animal was used to such treatment and, other than a painful grunt, showed no reaction as she picked her way across the rocky ground. It was not yet midday and although the worst hours were still ahead the high plains sun was hot enough to make the overburdened gray miserable. The ground was hard on her feet, the brush dryoffering little relief for her growing hunger and thirst. But Badawi had no pity and raked her with his spurs and cursed her again to prod her on.

The mare's breathing quickly became labored, nostrils foaming, coat darkening with sweat. Badawi ignored her plight. He wasn't worried about grinding the beast down and leaving himself afoot. His final destination was in the rolling foothills to the south, no more than five or six miles away. Towering above those foothills were the snow-capped peaks of the mountain range he knew as the Gods Divide. To his east was the dusty wasteland that marked the border of the Forbidden Desert.

Badawi rode the gray hard a few score paces then suddenly rememberedsawing hard on the reins to slow the mare. You are a fool, Badawi, he chastised himself. An unfeeling fool."

He turned, chins descending in a cascade of sorrow, to look at the animal trailing behind. It was a graceful young camel, padding easily across the rocky ground. A rope lead looped from its neck to Badawi's wood-framed saddle.

"Forgive me, little one, he called. For a moment I forgot you were with me. He lashed the mare. Blame the foul temper of this ugly daughter of a bonegatherer's ass. She tested my kind nature and I had to teach her a lesson."

Badawi gave the rope a gentle tug and the camel obediently quickened its pace to come to his side. His greedy little heart warmed and he smiled fondly at the animal, who presented him with dark pleading eyes framed by long, upswept lashes. The camel was pure whitewhite as the snows, Badawi thought in a rare moment of romantic reflection, powdering the peaks of the Gods Divide.

He pulled honeyed figs from a pouch and the camel's head swept out for the treats. I can deny you nothing, Sava, he said, shivering as the camel's tender lips nibbled at his fat palm. Not even the food from my very mouth. He sighed. What a lucky man I am. The gods must truly love one such as I. To have a thing of such beauty."

Badawi was a man much pleased with himself. Any who knew him would've instantly realized his enjoyment came at the expense of another. They would have guessed, correctly, that he'd ground another man into the dust to win the pretty white camel. He was a man of low cunning who'd made his fortune farming and breeding fine horses and camels in a region no one else would approach. The land he owned was rich, but cost him nothing because of its proximity to the Forbidden Desert.

Years ago his first wife had reacted first in fear, then in rage when he'd announced the news of the place he'd found for their new home. After he'd beaten her into submission he'd given her a good husbandly talking to.

"Don't be such a stupid cow, he'd advised. The only reason people are frightened of that place is because it's close to the Forbidden Desert. I say, bah to that! Pure foolishness. So what if the demon lands are on the other side of that desert. I mean, it is called Forbidden, after all. The demons can't cross it any more than humans can. Besides, there hasn't been a demon seen for hundreds of years. And the only reason there's land for the taking is because people are not only stupid but have no vision.

"I, on the other hand, am not stupid. I see fortune where other see fear. And wife of mine, if you don't have the household packed and ready to move before the week is out I'll whip you within an inch of your life. Then I'll send you back to your father. Let him see if he can knock some sense into such a silly cow."

Badawi's lips curled into a sneer as remembered that conversation of long ago. He'd prospered mightily since then, raising his herds on the lush grass of the foothills and selling them for fat profits to the settlements and nomad encampments in the so-called safer regions. He'd worn out the first wife and three others in the process, as well as many children, all of whom labored on his land like slaves.

Then his grin suddenly became a growl as his mare snorted in alarm, head jerking back and almost striking him in the nose.

"What's this? he shouted, slashing its flanks with his whip.

This time the gray reacted. It shrilled fear, rearing onto its two hind legs. Badawi plunged to the ground. He struck hard, breath whooshing out, but was remarkably unscathed. He was just coming to the realization the mare had been frightened by something other than himself when he heard his beloved Sava bawl in fear.

The camel attempted to bolt away but became tangled with the rope and the plunging mare. The two animals screamed and fought the rope, trying to escape.