Through a pain-filled haze, I awoke with a start, wishing my head would stop being used as the receiving end of everyone’s frustrations. My wrists hurt, and my hands felt numb. I peeled my eyes open – they were sticky with sweat and sand – to find myself looking at a fire-blackened skull close to my face. The eyeless sockets stared at me accusingly as if I was guilty for its predicament. The sick smell of a burnt breakfast was thick in the air. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Looking blurrily around my surroundings, I found that I was tied to a rusty metal pole with my arms hanging above my head. Below me was a pit that contained nothing but ashes. Craning my neck to the left and right, I saw that the pit was some twenty feet long with five tall poles like mine. On each pole there was the remnant of something that was once human, but was now only burned scraps of bone and flesh. My stomach recoiled in revulsion when I realized these people had been eaten from the foot on up. I struggled against my bonds without effect.
I finally looked up and saw three Mutans sitting in the sand in front of the pit. I now had a chance to study them, but the extra detail did little to help my quaking heart. They were hideous creatures with coarse but hairless grey skin, black eyes and malformed faces that almost looked human but were grotesque to the extreme - the noses were only slits, while the mouths were lipless, revealing rows of pointed yellow teeth. They were short in stature, like a boy of twelve summers. They had no clothing except for a roughly made belt to hold their sword and a quiver of arrows. Their short bows were lying in the sand. I wondered what perversion of Allah’s will allowed such evil things to exist.
The Mutans were talking in some garbled language to each other, but that stopped once they notice my struggles. With barking laughs, they got up and approached the pit with swords drawn. One stepped closer, his mouth spreading to a wicked smile that was nothing but a wall of rotted teeth. With a flick of a wrist, his blade tucked in under my chin. I could feel the sharp tip jabbing into my windpipe. I croaked in protest, but was careful not to move. The blade then dug in deeper, allowing a trickle of blood to escape, before it was mercifully dropped.
I let out a gasp of relief. “Please,” I pleaded, “don’t kill me.”
They cackled at my appeals. The ringleader was goaded on by this cruel laughter, and this time his sword sliced through my tunic and into the flesh underneath. Gritting my teeth, I felt hot blood began to drip down my chest and past my stomach. My head beat hard with pain, swimming red with color. Once again, the Mutan thankfully pulled his sword away.
I breathed hard as rivulets of sweat dripped off my forehead. “Stop,” I screamed.
This only brought more laughter from my tormenters. But instead of using the sword, the Mutan in front of me began motioning with his hands. Through my pain-wracked vision, it appeared that he was miming the making of fire. It suddenly dawned on me that they aimed to cook me like the other poor victims of that caravan. I shook my head, fearing the dreadful pain of the fire licking against my feet and legs. I knew it would hurt worse than anything I had ever experienced before.
One of the other Mutans dug into the ground behind him. A large basket was soon uncovered, revealing a coal-like substance. With the help of his friends, they began ferrying the contents into the pit under my legs. I could do nothing but watch and scream, fearing the moment they would set me on fire. Even though no one could help, I began praying for Allah’s divine intervention.
No one came.
A tinderbox was produced. A few scrapes of flint later, and a Mutan had a cheery blaze going on a scrap of wood. Sheltering the tiny flame with his hand, he walked over to the pit and then set the black fuel on fire.
Looking down, I could see the little fire spread. The minute heat was already heating my booted feet to an uncomfortable degree. To the delight of the Mutan, I started screaming again, this time swearing at my tormenters. The flames quickly spread, heating my feet and legs with a hot, piercing tongue of pain that ran the length of my body. I began to moan and cry in agony.
Tears welled in my eyes, but through the blurriness, I saw one of the Mutans suddenly collapse to the ground, clutching his neck with a frightful shout. Fighting the intolerable pain, I managed to open my eyes to look again. Another one immediately fell, an arrow sticking out of the bare back. The remaining creature ran for his bow, but it was too late. An arrow struck the leg, causing the Mutan to fall to the ground with an unworldly cry. That was all I saw before I had to shut my eyes again and scream from the pain caused by the licking flames.
When I was able to open my eyes again, I saw a lithe figure standing over the wounded Mutan. It was a girl. She took out a knife and neatly cut the creature’s throat.
“Help me!” I called out before I let out another scream of pain.
Suddenly the intensity of the fire began to abate. Opening my eyes, I saw her standing in front of me, kicking the burning coal to the other side of the pit. Even through my pain-induced fog, I saw that she was a pretty thing with short-cropped hair, narrow cheekbones, a thin, girl-like body, and flawless ebony skin. Her clothing was simple – a tunic and a pair of pants that were almost the same color as sand. I soon felt my bonds part and I fell forward into the ground. The heat of the sand felt cool against my face compared to the burning fire I had just experienced.
“You need water,” she said bluntly. Her voice was rougher than her beauty, but I was in no mood to debate the merits of either.
Turning over, I saw her bending over me, her face expressionless. Those eyes were as blue as the sky.
“Who are you?” I asked with ragged breaths, needing to know the name of my savior.
“My name is Suvan,” she replied simply.
“I am Mikel,” I gasped.
Without a further word, she took a water-skin from her belt and handed it to me. With shaking hands, I removed the stopper and took a drink of the warm leathery water. It felt wonderful.
“Do you think you can walk?” she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder.
“I don't know. My feet hurt so badly.”
There was little sympathy in her voice when she replied. “You had better try. It won't be that much longer before their friends come back. I do not want to be here when that happens.”
“I have a horse,” I said. “It would be easier if I could ride.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid it is already dead. The Mutan hate horses even more than men and kill them on sight. But come, we’ve wasted enough time on talk. Now is the time to move.”
She helped me up to the ground, her grip surprisingly strong for such a thin body. I was soon stumbling alongside her, each step bringing a new wave of pain. Already I felt dizzy from exhaustion and I wondered how much longer I could go on. I saw that we were taking a well-trodden path that was already heavy with the tracks of the Mutan.
“Why are we going this way?” I asked irritably. “We are going to run into a whole pack of those foul creatures.”
She sighed with exasperation. “If we went straight across a fresh part of the desert, then our tracks would be obvious. This way we can confuse any followers.”
“Very clever,” I admitted. “But how do you know so much about their ways?”
“You talk too much,” she replied impatiently. “Now stay quiet until we are safe. It’s not too much further, and then I can answer your questions.”
We soon reached a flat, rocky outcropping and turned off the path. Suvan stepped onto the stony surface, motioning me to follow. The hard surface of the rock was too much for my feet compared the softness of the sand. Every step was pure agony.
Suvan reached the end of the stony surface and dropped back down to the desert floor. I did the same, the jolt of pain making me grunt. It was shady here against the surface of the rock, so I sat down, thankfully taking the weight off of my feet. I was about to take off my boots, when Suvan gently grabbed my shoulder.
She said, “I know it hurts, bu
t you will have to wait just a little longer. I want to wait until darkness comes before we move again. Until then, it is better that we remain prepared. You wouldn’t want to run from the Mutan in your bare feet.”
“You’re full of wisdom,” I retorted harshly. “Exactly who are you, and why are you here?”
Ignoring my sharp words, she said, “I did not choose to live here. I had no choice in the matter.”
Suddenly feeling foolish over my childish outburst, I said, “Then why are you here?”
She was still looking over the edge of the rock, presumably checking if we had remained hidden from any potential pursuers. Suddenly, she dropped down to her haunches and sat next to me. She kept her voice low as she started to tell me her story.
“My father was named Aseik, and he was a well-known Scout for the Traders. With the use of their crumbling maps, he found many of the lost cities, earning a fee from the merchants. It is dangerous work since he had to visit uncivilized parts, far from the safety of the Mujadeen guarded roads. In turn, these Traders took the risk of scavenging the cities for the valuables contained within. But the number of new cities being discovered has now dwindled to zero. And with that came the decline in trade. The Traders are still looking for new sources of wealth, hoping some large cache will refill their coffers.”
“So your father came to the Wasteland?” I asked.
She nodded. “There have always been rumors of a great city lying in the sands of the Wasteland. My father and I came to investigate for ourselves, thinking the stories were untrue, but still worth the risk. A discovery of a large city would have filled our coffers for a long time.”
“But why did he bring you?”
She smiled wanly. “My mother died when I was very young. I’ve worked with my father ever since. Anyway, Scouts always work better in pairs. We came to the Wasteland and had much trouble with the Mutans. By luck, we found an entrance to a valley that led to an undiscovered city. Except for the work of the Mutans, it has been untouched by man. There is a wealth of treasure inside that could make someone rich.”
Taking the map from my sleeve, I showed it to her. “Is this where you went?” I asked.
Her eyes widened with amazement. “How did you come across this?”
“It was drawn for me by someone who has already traveled through the valley. I am trying to reach the other side where the mountains are.”
“It is a dangerous trip. What is your reason for making it?” she asked.
I did not wish to tell her of the note I was carrying, so I decided to tell a half-truth. “I’m afraid I’m an outlaw on the run from the Mujadeen. If I am captured, they will kill me.”
She gave a start at this bit of information, looking suspiciously at me like I was about to attack her.
I gave her an easy smile. “It’s nothing like that – just a little misunderstanding. I’ve heard that free men live safely inside the vast tracts of the Wasteland. I was told I can reach them by going through the valley and on to the mountains beyond.”
Suvan looked intently at me. “The valley is dangerous. I’m surprised you were told to go that way. It will mean your certain death.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a safe place anywhere in this damn land. But I’m afraid I don’t have much choice.”
She frowned as if reminded of a bad memory. “My father died in the valley. We were coming back from the city when we were ambushed by the Mutans. There were too many of them to fight. I was able to escape, but my father died under a hail of Mutan arrows. I’ve been living in the Wasteland ever since, waging my own war against those evil beasts.”
“Is that why you rescued me?”
“When I saw the smoke of the burning caravan, I came to rescue anyone who survived. You were lucky that I arrived in time, unlike the others who filled the bellies of the Mutan.”
I said gratefully, “I too was drawn to the smoke, but fell into a trap. I am glad that you found me in time. Tell me, will you be willing to lead me to the valley entrance? I’m afraid that I am lost.”
Looking up at the darkening sky, she said, “The sun is setting soon. That will buy us some safety. I can take you to the entrance of the valley, but you will die if you go into that cursed place.”
Chapter 9