Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

But worse than the marks on his skin were the scars on the inside. His own father had not only tortured him, but had also sentenced him to death! Although the images in his mind were blurred because of his devastated state at the moment of reunion with his father, there was one thing that felt like it would be burned into his memory for eternity: that the only answer to his plea for help had been another harsh slap across his face. Of course he had no idea – and Eleonora neither – that the death sentence that day, which was to be by hanging the next morning, had been a trick of his father not to lose his face but to also gain time in order to spare the life of his son.

Rayan had just heard from Eleonora that almost all of his friends had been captured and he assumed they were dead.

Furthermore, he could not know that the man, who he had named Scarface, had been found dead. Someone had cut his throat. Everyone thought it had been one of the rebels during their flight, in order to avenge what he had done to their leader, but that was nowhere near the truth.

Therefore Rayan felt helpless and alone. Besides his grandparents, no further relatives were left. In his eyes he no longer had a father and he had no access to his brother, who was safely in Zarifa, a place where Rayan would never return.

Everything had changed with the death of his mother almost nine years ago.

He gave himself a start – to hell with self-pity. He was alive, strong and healthy. Moreover, he knew that his grandmother was right: he could not stay here any longer. Who knew what his father might do to her and grandpa Youssef if their trick was seen through? Therefore he started out all alone, scarcely three weeks after his 16th birthday, into an unknown future.

He was from now on an outcast, a man without homeland.

What helped Carina in the end was pure coincidence. She took another taxi, which dropped her off near her hotel, right at the bazaar.

She decided to make the best of the situation: if she was hanging around here with nowhere to go, she was going to discover in more detail the treasures of the market.

Soon she was completely caught up within the turmoil and once again she could only feel fascination for this country.

When the German bought herself something cool to drink at one of the stands, she heard beside her a couple enthusiastically discussing an incident they had experienced this morning. Deriving from their accent, Carina thought they had to be from England.

As she spoke the language fairly well herself, she could not help following parts of the conversation. When she heard the words “warriors”, “riders”, “horses” and “rifles” she started to pay more attention. Soon after she asked the two of them directly what they were talking about. They were more than happy to explain: they had received advice from the bellman at their hotel, who had suggested that they make a trip to the meeting-place for caravans outside of the city. It was supposed to be a special highlight to observe the colourful happenings there, especially early in the morning.

Consequently they had heeded the advice and today they had been witnesses to the departing of a troop of riders that went on their way into the desert. However, they had not taken, as usual, camels, but instead they had ridden beautiful, Arabian horses. Someone had told him that they were the men of an important Sheikh. It had been an incredible sight – unforgettable! So many wonderful animals, in conjunction with the proud riders!

At that moment Carina was fully aware of where she had to go next …

Carina had asked the couple – who indeed came from England to spend two weeks of vacation here – how to find the way to the caravan market.

As it turned out the distance she had to cover was not really far: 20 minutes later she had arrived there.

It took her a while to find her way around the place but soon she had found out that there were two groups of people: those who wanted to sell her a one-day-excursion by horse or by jeep into the desert; and the others who were busy preparing a real caravan on the merchants’ paths to the next oasis, which would take a couple of days or even months.

Her problem was that within this latter group, which was the one she was interested in, there were hardly any people who wanted anything to do with her. Most of them even refused to talk to her. This was partly because she was a single woman, and partly because these Arabs were just not able to understand German or English.

She had almost given up the search, when she found a man that was very helpful. His English was full of mistakes but with some effort she could understand him. He told her that he was going to leave this place the same evening, on horseback because that was faster than the camels.

Yes, he confirmed, all caravans had to pass by the oasis of Wahi first. The reason was that within the desert one had to always follow the way of the water, which meant from one well to another. This was especially true with horses, who needed a lot of liquid. Yes, he could take her along until there. As they would be riding in a small group they would be much faster than any caravan, usually consisting of a lot of camels, which provided security but made them very slow.

Carina could not believe her luck! Yet she found the man to not really be to her liking, in spite of his friendly words. Somehow he did not sound genuine. She put that down to the fact that he of course wanted her money for the trip. When they had already discussed the details about the departure and were just about to haggle over the price, all of a sudden a roundish, very spirited Arabian interfered.

A heavy discussion in Arabic was the result, which ended with the speedy disappearance of her guide, who disappeared without further greetings. With an open mouth Carina was left to just stare after him. She could not comprehend what had been going on: where was he going all of a sudden?

Then she fully realised only when the other man started to yell in English: "Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea who that person was? One of the best known white-slavers in this area! That man would never have brought you to Wahi, but for sure into the next Harem! If you have the contacts you can find enough rich Arabs that would pay a lot of money for a blond, beautiful woman.”

His outburst came along with a lot of wild gestures and head-shakings. Carina felt her face burn – a white-slaver? Really? Her blood ran cold. Could it be true?

Then she found her words again: "And who are you?! And why should I now believe you of all people?! Maybe you have just ruined my one and only hope. And by the way: what did you tell him so that he went away like the devil was behind him?”

The man seemed to be a bit embarrassed now: "I told him that you are my wife, like he could have easily seen for himself if he had just looked at the ring on your finger.“ He signalled to Carina’s fake wedding band. “I told him you wanted to run away from me and he had better be gone now before I call the police. That helped. It usually does. In this country married men are respected.“ With that he grinned boldly.

Carina could not decide if she should laugh out loudly or be angry with him. Then she asked seriously: “And why would you want to help me?”

He pointed at her necklace: “Because of this amulet. For many years I have been in good business with Sheikh Suekran al Medina and I really do not want to endanger this relationship. If he allows you to carry his emblem around your neck, you have to be important to him and, therefore, you are important to me as well.”

"Then the least you could do is help me! I have to go after him. By the way, my name is Carina Hartmann. From Germany.“