"I mean no disrespect, Uncle, but I have come a long way to offer my services- mine and my men- to the Lord Mohammed of the Al'Quryash. I knew he would need men skilled in war to follow him, so I gathered those I could and followed him out of the north. My grandmother tells me there has been some blood spilled already- but not all that needs be. I bring him news, too, from the north, from the city of Yathrib, whence we have just come."
Uri nodded slowly and removed his hand from the saber. A hot wind lapped around his ankles. "You were at Palmyra, then? You served the Persian? What did you see?"
Khalid bowed again, pressing his hands together. "I saw a noble city fall, Lord Ben-Sarid," he said. "I saw the Lord Mohammed strive against impossible odds- outnumbered five to one or more- and come within a day's breadth of victory. For months the Persians strove against the walls of golden Palmyra, and each day they dreaded the stroke of his blade. At every turn he was waiting for them, matching wit and skill and cunning not only with the great general Shahr-Baraz, he whom men name the Royal Boar, but with the thing-that-walks-like-aman as well."
"The what?" Uri scowled at the youth. Many stories had circulated among the followers of Mohammed about the siege of the City of Silk, but Uri had discounted the wilder ones- even when they had come from the mouths of Tanukh well into their cups. Dreadful things had happened in the north, but he could not bring himself to believe all of the stories.
"The dark Prince, my lord." Khalid's face turned grim, and his easy smile faded, leaving him looking old and worn. "The one the Persians name Dahak. The Lord of the Ten Serpents. The destroyer of cities."
Jalal bulled his way through the flames, leaping over a fallen idol that was wrapped in smoke. At the door, the men who had followed him into the warren of the building were gone, and he turned sideways to drag Mohammed through the opening. The chieftain was starting to struggle in his hands, and Jalal was forced to pin the older man's arms to his sides. Grunting, he heaved Mohammed up onto his shoulder.
Even in the hallway outside the burning room, the air was thick with smoke. Jalal staggered under the uneven weight, then righted himself.
"I hear you!" The shout startled Jalal, and he tripped, spilling Mohammed onto the tiles of the hallway. It was dark, only fitfully lit by the flames creeping out of the doorway and drifting along the ceiling. Jalal stared, seeing only Mohammed's eyes, white in the darkness, ahead of him.
"I hear you, Lord of This World!" Mohammed staggered to his feet, ignoring the smoke that curled around him. "I will act! These abominations will be thrown down, and you will be raised into your rightful place!"
Jalal stared around in concern- no one else was in the hallway. The echoes of Mohammed's shouts were swallowed by the darkness and the crackling roar of the flames. Jalal scuttled forward, keeping his head low and out of the slow billowing waves of smoke. Mohammed swayed from side to side. Jalal captured one of his arms again, and yelped as a fat yellow spark snapped between the chieftain and his hand.
"I hear you, O Lord of This World! I will tell men what I have seen and:"
Mohammed's voice faltered, and he suddenly slid sideways. Jalal caught him, cradling the older man close to his chest. The smoke was worse, flooding the hallway. Jalal crawled forward, hoping that he remembered the way out. It was becoming very hard to breathe. Mohammed muttered in his ear, senseless words, rambling and incoherent. Jalal began pushing Mohammed ahead of him, but the air was thinning quickly. Sparks began to dance in front of the Tanukh's eyes and his ears began to ring. He gritted his teeth and crawled onward.
A terrible heat beat against his back, and he heard the sound of stones cracking in the fire.
"For ten nights and ten days, the Persians raged against the city. And when they were done, not one stone remained upon another. Temples were thrown down, and palaces shattered. Those people who had survived the fighting were herded into the wide avenue that ran from the Damascus gate to the great Temple of Bel. Tens of thousands of them packed the street. We were outside the city, in the hills, but we could hear the sound of their voices, raised to the night sky, pleading and begging for mercy."
Khalid paused and uncorked a leather bottle that hung at his side. Uri waited, quiet and patient, while the young man drank from the flask. When he was done, Khalid offered it to the older man, but Uri shook his head. The young man stared out at the desert, and the bleak hills that rose above Mekkah.
"The Persians chained them, all those who still lived, to one another. Later, I saw the iron links themselves, lying scattered in the street. Then the Persians left- every man in that army marched out of the city and over the hills, into their camp. Only he remained; the Lord of the Ten Serpents. It grew quiet in the city, and we strained to hear, but there was no sound. No weeping, no cries for mercy, no voices raised in fear. Then: then you could feel it, in the ground, like the rattle of dry bones, and you could taste it, in the air, a sour taste of bile and copper. My men fled, running over the crest of the hill, back to the warm fires and the wine bottles of the Persian camp."
Khalid's eyes narrowed to slits, and Uri could feel tremendous anger welling up in the young man.
"But I? I waited and I watched, though every instinct in my breast screamed at me to run. I waited for him to emerge, to come forth from that place where he had fed. I waited for hours. At last, when the dawn was close to breaking, I thought to creep down into the valley and cross the siege-trenches and the fields of broken tombs, to look into the city itself. But then he came forth, a shape of black deeper than the night. I could not see him, no- not in that darkness- but I could feel him, even across the breadth of the valley."
Khalid paused and unsnapped a pouch at his belt, drawing out a sliver of pale white bone. He held it up, and Uri frowned at it- the bone was almost translucent, passing the light of the noon sun through it like a prism. The youth turned it back and forth in the sun.
"Sometimes, when you are watching the flocks, out beyond the lights of town, you can feel the night hunters come. Do you know the feeling? Yes, all of us have felt it- something almost inaudible alerts us as we drowse at our watch to the soft pad of great paws on the sand. Or you are in a city, and a man hunts you, then you can feel it in the air- something is watching you. This was worse- this was being a mouse, hiding beneath a stone while the dragon walks past. I fell down, even before that thing came forth from the gate of the city, and screamed in fear. It felt so gigantic; oozing out of the wreckage of the gateway, like an enormous spider that was fat with blood. I tried to burrow into the earth, but the stones stopped me."
The youth held up his hands, and Uri saw that they were scarred along the fingertips and some of the fingernails were missing. Khalid half smiled at the blanched look on the older man's face.
"I left within a day- as soon as I could ride again. We passed thousands of Persian soldiers on the road, fleeing mindlessly from that same fear. We went southeast, into the deep desert, and I did not look back. One of my men, who caught up with us at the oasis of Sabkhat-Mukh, brought me the bone fragment."
Uri coughed, clearing his throat. He had heard parts of the story before, but he had not believed it. He still wasn't sure he believed it.
"Why did you come here? Why seek the Lord Mohammed?"
Jalal stumbled out of the entranceway of the temple, his lungs burning with smoke. He carried Mohammed on his back, though the older man was beginning to struggle against him. The priests had run away, leaving the Tanukh milling about in front of the building with the hundreds of supplicants who had been trying to enter the temples. Smoke spilled out of the doorway, climbing into the clear blue sky. A great heat radiated out of the portal, making the air shimmer.