Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

He sponged up all knowledge he could get and along with it his English grew better every day. Quickly he made hardly any mistakes when speaking; it was only with writing that he had a lot of trouble. After having only learned English orally from his grandmother, writing confused him.

In exchange he taught Clara some phrases in German, which he also had learned from his Granny. After a moment to adapt he could speak German fluently, almost without any accent.

"You definitely have a gift for languages“, Clara kept repeating, "you have to exploit that.“

From time to time he had to go for several days into the desert for a guided trip but most of the time he just made short explorations in the closer surroundings. He never heard again anything from the old guide, his predecessor; it was most likely he had not survived his illness. Rayan was well aware of the peril of contaminated water: he never took a chance with an unknown source and would always do careful checks in advance.

In respect of that, he had to thank his education and the teachers in Zarifa, who had provided him with useful skills up to now.

"The lieutenant was at our place for dinner yesterday. He was talking about you“, Clara told him one day in September. "He said it was you who saved the whole troop. My father was very interested. So you are famous now.“ While she said it, she was grinning as she knew that this was exactly what he specifically did NOT want. Yasin never talked about his past, and about his family she knew almost nothing. While they discussed other topics, sometimes for hours, when it came to this one he blocked her out and became silent.

"How do you do it?“ – "How do I do what?“ – "That you know precisely when the weather is going to change … I have been here long enough to know that the big sand storms usually arise suddenly without any warning.“ It was the day before that Rayan had indeed made the troop turn around, because he knew a storm was coming. Some of the soldiers thought that he was crazy, because there was no sign at all to be seen in the sky, but the lieutenant, a blond, chubby Texan, trusted in his abilities and followed his advice. What else was a desert guide good for? They had just reached the city with their vehicles when the storm broke out.

Rayan stared at the ground embarrassed. "I cannot really explain it, you have to believe me. I just know it. It is as if the desert is talking to me …“ He looked up with the expectation that Clara would laugh at him, but instead she just eyed him in her usual calm manner and full of interest said: "Tell me more about it.“

"Well“, he stammered. "I was born within the desert, in the middle of a sandstorm. My parents were travelling when the storm unexpectedly and quickly started. They took shelter between some huge rocks. It was in this “break” that I came into the world three weeks early”, he smiled awkwardly. He did not like to talk about his past but then again he knew that all his secrets were well kept by Clara.

He thought that this was a strange topic for him to discuss, as the previous day had been his 17th birthday. He had never told Clara the date so she was not aware of it.

"I would very much like to introduce you to my father“, she said out of the blue. Rayan thought he must have misheard: "What?! Are you crazy?!“

"Listen. I just want to finally let them know who I am spending most of my free time with. They are starting to think I am doing something forbidden“, she grinned mockingly. "Just imagine if my father catches us red-handed ...“

"How do you mean? We have never …“, Rayan started to protest. Clara kept on grinning and added: "but we could have. At least my father could come to that conclusion, if he sees us hanging around together so secretively all the time.“

"NO! And that is the end of this discussion!“, Rayan put his foot down firmly.

But some weeks later, of course, she succeeded in persuading him.

Carina was out of her mind with joy: finally they really were on their way. The caravan moved slowly and sedately away from the starting point into the open desert. How lucky she had been to find Hatem. This just had to be destiny.

She was just rejoicing from the beauty of the sun coming up on the horizon, spreading its colours all over the sand, when they noticed some turmoil further ahead. The other members of the caravan seemed to accelerate their trot.

Soon she saw the reason why: something had been placed directly on the side of the path. Was it some kind of monument? Here in the middle of the desert?

As she came nearer terror grabbed her and she could understand the nervousness of the other riders: it was a human being that was hanging there!

Someone had fixed the man on a wooden frame, which was about two meters high, with the clear aim that everyone passing by had to look at him. He seemed to be dead.

It was a horrible sight! His body was covered in blood, he had been whipped and, additionally, he seemed to have been tortured with a knife. In some places of his body the skin appeared to have been cut and partly peeled away. From these gaping wounds blood was trickling all over.

Carina was stunned by terror and could not stop staring at the grisly scene. Every little detail burned into her brain and she had stopped her camel without even realising it.

Above the head of the man was a sign fixed to the wood. It seemed to be some kind of inscription but she could not read as it was written in Arabic.

"Who does something like this?!“, she asked in a low voice, without really expecting an answer.

As if the man had heard her words, he suddenly raised his head up and looked at her pleadingly. He tried to speak, but did not succeed. His head sunk low again, he seemed to have lost consciousness again. "Or maybe he died“, a voice whispered in her head.

The stare went to her core and then her blood ran cold: she suddenly remembered that she knew this man. She had seen him at the airport but because of the horrible state he was in and all the blood she had not immediately recognized him. Yet now she was sure that it was the assassin.

Carina felt cold despite the rising temperature and she addressed Hatem, who had brought his camel aside of her and was just about to take over her reins to encourage her camel to move onwards.

"Good lord Hatem! He is still alive! Someone has to do something!“

However Hatem just dragged her camel with a gloomy face, without even hesitating for a second.

"No one can help him anymore. Stay out of things that are not your business!“ Tears ran down Carina’s face.

"What did it say on the sign?“, she demanded to know. When Hatem did not reply, she said it again. "Please Hatem, I have to know!“ Finally in a low voice he answered her: "Beware! This is going to happen to all enemies of the great Sheikh Suekran al Medina y Nayran.“

Carina moaned. "Oh lord! This cannot be true!“

The Sheikh? What kind of monster was he if he allowed things like that to happen?

Hatem was still holding the reigns of her camel, as if he was afraid she would do something stupid.

"How long do you think he has been hanging there?“, she asked Hatem with a trembling voice. He looked shaken as well.

"Supposedly since yesterday morning. I heard rumours that the assassin managed to break out of prison the night of the assassination …“

"But why would anyone do something so savage and cruel?“

Hatem laughed dryly and without any humour said: "You have heard what is said on the sign. It is a warning: now everyone will think twice to dare go against His Excellency.“ Then he added: “And now Miss Carina you understand why I told you that you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. We are in the desert now and you should just forget about all the laws that you learnt at home. Here it is the rule of the strongest: whoever is not strong enough dies. Very simple!“