Chapter 1
It was a long and fierce battle.
Atop the cold sandy grains of the desert, the blood of both mighty foes is leaking onto the earth. Each one is defiant to his opponent, delivering blow after bite after slash after scratch to fell the enemy. They break apart for a moment, catching their breaths as they fixate their gaze on each other, looking for any sign of weakness apparent through any open wound. More importantly, they try as they may to size up what is left of the other’s fighting spirit, secretly admiring the foe’s tenacity and perseverance.
Clutching his paws onto the sand and cementing his fighting posture, the lion focuses his eyes pressing through the seething pain radiating from the numerous sword strikes inflicted by his enemy. The lion is determined to stand his ground, to ensure the right of his dominion. His adversary has devastated many of their numbers, conquered vast areas of their land. With each lion and pride falling, one after the other, the lion was sure that his foe’s actions must not go unpunished. The king of the desert had to prove his god given right of being THE mighty beast entitled to do and live as the way the lion saw fit. The brutish animal instinctively knew that this lowly human standing in front of him must be made an example of as a lesson and a warning for anyone who dares to subvert the natural order of things.
Across him, the knight, bloodied and bruised, stood his ground defiantly. The knight was clutching his sword as hard as he can. Although the many bites and scratches cut deeply into his flesh and bones, the man was determined to continue his lengthy quest. He swore to free his land, his dear and beloved terrain and its people, from the haphazard and undiscriminating relentless tyranny of these creatures. Long since, his countrymen’s houses, livelihoods, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers have been plagued by the constant and whimsical interference of these beings. Arrogant and inconsiderate, the beasts run amok, pleasing themselves to whatever they wanted to do with the people and their properties. The young man took it upon himself to stop the lions and their kin once and for all, to forever be rid of their presence. He has fought a long and hard war with them paved with insurmountable amounts of strife but he was adamant and faithful that his goal was true, noble and righteous. He relieved his seething pain, as he did in such battles, by imagining that once his quest is completed his tribe would be carrying him happily above them, the way a triumphant warrior would and should be, chanting his name: “Faris, Faris, Faris”
Suddenly, the lion lunges forward toward Faris swatting away his sword with a powerful strike. The knight is startled as the hulking beast rises and clutches the man’s shoulders as it wrestled him downwards to the ground. Faris is quick to thrust his forearm forward towards the gapping maw of the monster just in time for its sharp fangs to plunge into his arm guard, preventing his face from a brutal mauling and his life from an untimely death. The fiendish creature tightened the grip of its jaw on its foe’s arm venting the full might if its hate and spite. The warrior was assured that the guard would protect him for it was specifically crafted for him by a very special person. However, the pressing problem at hand for the brave man was to be able to free his hand, get rid of the animal on top of him and retake his sword to complete the task of delivering the killing blow needed to end the lion. He slowly reaches for the hidden dagger concealed within his garment. The brute, realizing the futility of crushing the arm of his enemy, release its bite and quickly lifts its limb to finish him with a final strike by its powerful paw and claws. Luckily for Faris, he was faster and swifter as he plunged the sharp dagger into the beast’s throat before it can complete its action. The lion leaps back in pain and agony and swings its head violently in vain attempts to remove the lodged blade. The warrior moves as fast as he can, pressing through his pain, and picks up his sword. He poises to end the battle and lift his sword upwards.
Just as he is about to bring the sword to severe the lion’s head, he catches the look in the monster’s eye, that same look that he saw in all of the lions that he slew before this one. It was the same angry, insubmissive look that had a hint of disbelief in it. Faris could only guess the meaning behind the bewildered look; he theorized that the majestic beasts were unable to accept that such a puny human was able to defeat them.
The knight slashes his sword downwards killing the creature and finishing the fight as the now lifeless body of the lion thuds to the ground. Faris gazes upon the body and wonders, as he always did after one of these battles, how something that looked so fearful, so monstrous and regal in life seems insignificant in death.
He is quickly reminded by the raging pain coursing through his fatigued form that he is in need of critical medical attention. The tired man starts the long walk back to his town, slowly and carefully, just to be sure not to aggravate his bleeding wounds. He lifts his head and catches a glimpse of the serenity of the desert which he had always admired.
The desert was blazingly hot in the day and unforgivingly cold at night. The creatures and the people who inhabited it are forged by the unrelenting extremes of temperature into tough, resilient and determined beings. In order to survive this landscape, every day should be considered as a new divine struggle and challenge to brave the harshness of the environment and make it alive to the next day. Through the continuous gauntlet of trials in this terrain, Faris felt that the desert strengthened the resolve of the strong and gave them the power to survive its foreboding presence. It would occasionally reward the patient with brief blessed showers of rain to give a small reprise before resuming the perpetual trial. In spite of all its harshness, the inhabitants nevertheless adored the desert because it was strong, because it was mighty, because it was majestic, because it was home. Chief among the admirers of this land was Faris. In truth, he loved the desert so much that he had always favored it over the gods.
While the people of the land admired the desert, they had much more respect and devotion to the gods; Faris was not. As a matter of fact, Faris did not have much respect to the gods. He did not even believe in their divine right. Whenever a god, be it Hababel, Uzzad or Waddan, “blessed” his people with a visit, carrying out one of their routine parades that emphasized their divinity without ever bothering to explain their deservedness of it, all Faris could feel is the throbbing swell of anger in him. He never saw or heard of them helping his people in any way imaginable or meaningful. The young man constantly heard how great Hababel is, or how generous Mabitam is, or how benign Ishtar is, without ever fathoming the reason of such lofty praises.
The people’s devotion to the gods was incomprehensible to him since in his eyes he saw no precise action that any of the gods carried out to justify the adoration of the people. The gods never stepped in to resolve or even mitigate the people’s quarrels and infighting. In reality, they were amused by these fights and instigated many of them, unbeknownst to the people, as entertainment. These almighty deities did not help the people with their lives, did not raise their crops, did not heal them and did not protect them. They expected worship and complete obedience simply because they were divine. The very reason Faris started his long quest to quell the invasive lions and decimate their numbers was because the holy lords of the Phoenician gods were never going to step in and solve the problem. However, the thing that amazed him the most was the people’s reaction to the rampant lions problem:
“Don’t worry the gods will take care of us”,
“You are just a human, the gods will bless us by solving this problem”,
“You worry too much, the mighty caretakers are just taking their time because we can never understand their wisdom”,
“Do not question or doubt the actions of our Lords or else...”
Faris tried as he may to encourage his people to own up to their problems, disregard their perceived limitations and abandon their reliance on the gods who would rather forget them before coming to their aid. He hoped that by embarking on his mission and completing it all by himself, his countrymen would try to follow his example and become independent from the supposed divine deities. He truly wished from the bottom of his heart that his tribe would acknowledge his valor in these fierce battles and someday cheer him for his courage. As earlier in tonight’s battle, he would fantasize at the thought as it brought him comforting relief that his cause is just. However, his people never did recognize his effort. In fact, they were ungrateful and secretly wished that he stopped his actions because they believed that somehow it offended the gods. Nevertheless they never said anything directly to him since the declining number of lions was a major convenience for them. They also figured that sooner or later, the gods will take notice of Faris’s actions and his ultimate fate would then be decided.
But in truth, his task could not have been completed without the vital help which he received from a particular person. Although he was drifting in his thoughts while he continued his labored, steady steps, he remembered that his arm would have been gnawed off tonight if it wasn’t for the protection of his armguard. The youthful fighter raised up his arm to admire the craftsmanship of the blacksmith that forged the armguard, along with the rest of his battle wear, for him. Indeed, the blacksmith had been the greatest help that Faris had ever had; believing in his pursuit, encouraging him and supporting him all the way. He recognized that if it wasn’t for his carefully crafted equipment, his armor, shield, sword and daggers, he would have definitely perished long ago. The metal shaper also shared Faris’s opinion regarding the gods and had many lengthy discussions with him about the best method to help their people arrive at the same conclusions that they have made. The headstrong warrior had regularly opined that the best method was to confront the people about the reality of their situation and stand-up to the gods. On the other hand, the blacksmith persistently advised him that in order to inspire their tribe, a positive role model is needed to lead by example.
“Another victory!!!!!!” rang out a voice amid the prevailing silence.
Faris was surprised to find the blacksmith in front of him. He looked around and realized that he had reached the edge of his town, Wajdan, without even noticing it. His drifting thoughts and constant pain have caused him to lose track of time.
“Oh my, you are badly injured. I didn’t imagine you would be having so much trouble this time. I have spent a lot of time forging your newest armor and weapons. I made sure to take into account what you will need to continue your quest but it seems I must work harder and provide you with better items Faris!”
Faris wanted to reply to the blacksmith but he found himself too tired to actually speak and she was certainly a fast talker. “Faris are you alright? Speak to me please! Tell me how are you feeling? How bad were you injured? I knew I should have brought the medical herbs with me. Oh, you make me worry so much. If you ever understood how much you make me worry you’ll take pity on me. I simply cannot stand your daily trips to combat the beasts. You should take it easy and comprehend that the lions will be there for you the next day, there is no reason to...”
“I’m fine MOTHER!”
Faris was finally able to muster these three words. His mother, Widad, looked at his face waiting for him to continue after finally realizing that the conversation was one sided.
“Just take me home please and let us wrap these wounds as soon as possible before I…”
“Sure, sure, definitely, definitely!” replied his mother as she took his arm and placed it over her shoulder to aid him in the short remaining stretch to their home.
