Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (29 page)

“Whose
falcon
will
race
first
to
harry
the
gazelle
and
give
our
dogs
some
sport?”
challenged
Fahad,
immediately
setting
off
a
barrage
of
good-natured
argument.

Nasir,
enjoying
the
high
spirits
of
the
party,
felt
a
light
touch
on
his
arm.
Looking
down
he
saw
one
of
the
trackers
peering
urgently
up
into
his
eyes.

“Lord,”
the
old
man
whispered,
“it
is
not
wise
to
stay.
We
smell
a
haboob
approaching!”

A
sandstorm!
Instinctively,
Nasir
looked
up
at
the
skies,
but
could
see
nothing
to
alarm
him.
He
knew
better,
though,
than
to
ignore
men
far
more
experienced
than
he
in
the
ways
of
the
desert.
Had
he
had
any
doubts,
these
were
dispelled
when
Abdul,
one
of
his
most
experienced
and
trusted
men,
rode
up
next
to
him,
his
lined
face
reflecting
his
concern.

“The
man
is
well
versed
in
such
matters.
It
would
be
unwise
to
ignore
his
advice,”
he
murmured
quietly.

Nasir,
his
mind
made
up,
ordered
an
immediate
return
to
the
town.
I
would
rather
be
seen
as
an
old
woman
if
the
scout
is
wrong,
he
thought,
than
be
caught
in
a
haboob
!
Like
all
who
inhabited
the
deserts
or
their
fringes,
he
well
knew
the
havoc
that
a
sandstorm
could
cause.
They
could
rage
for
many
hours,
if
not
days,
burying
men
and
animals
so
deeply
that
they
could
never
dig
themselves
out.
Those
who
did,
faced
a
landscape
totally
changed
from
that
which
they
inhabited
before
powerful,
sand-bearing
winds
raced
across
the
land,
scouring
out
huge
new
dunes
and
flattening
others
that
had
stood
for
decades.

Ignoring
the
cries
of
disappointment
and
surprise
that
greeted
his
decision,
he
immediately
placed
his
mount
next
to
Talal’s
and
ordered
a
swift
race
back
to
the
safety
of
the
town’s
walls.
Their
horses
were
tired
after
their
day
of
hard-riding
and
he
blessed
his
foresight
that
he’d
followed
his
now
habitual
practise
of
having
a
backup
string
of
fresh
camels,
well-guarded,
but
ambling
along
behind
the
main
party.
Their
freshness
and
superior
endurance
could
well
make
the
difference
between
getting
back
to
the
coast
before
the
storm,
or
being
engulfed
in
its
deadly,
swirling
embrace.
The
race
was
on.
Many
of
the
riders
kept
their
birds
on
their
wrists,
and
held
close
to
their
bodies
as,
despite
their
headlong
speed,
this
would
unsettle
the
birds
less
than
being
separated
during
the
wild
race
back
to
the
town.

Once
on
the
camels,
their
keffiyehs
now
tied
securely
across
their
mouths
as
well
as
their
heads,
they
were
scarcely
minutes
into
their
desperate
flight
back
to
the
coast
when
it
became
very
clear
that
the
scout’s
warning
was
frighteningly
accurate.
Looking
back
as
they
careered
across
the
sandy
flatlands,
their
robes
billowing
about
them,
Nasir
saw
the
tell-tale
darkening
of
the
horizon
behind
them,
Although
distant
at
present,
he
knew
the
storm
could
engulf
them
with
frightening
rapidity,
so
he
kept
up
their
pace.
All
the
while
he
scouted
the
land
around
them
for
any
rocky
outcrop,
any
wadi,
anything
that
could
give
some
shelter,
however
little,
should
the
storm
outrun
them.

Nasir
turned
as,
without
slowing
his
racing
beast,
a
laughing
Kerim
pulled
along-
side
him,
his
dark,
flashing
eyes
alight
with
the
challenge. “Well,
my
friend,
you
most
certainly
know
how
to
put
a
show
on
for
your
guests!
A
fitting
end
to
an
exciting
day!
Be
assured
should
I
ever
have
the
opportunity
to
repay
your
hospitality,
I
shall
do
so
in
a
similar
manner!”

Nasir
laughed
back,
though
a
trifle
more
grimly,
his
anxiety
about
Talal’s
safety
taking
much
of
the
pleasure
out
of
the
day’s
final
adventure.

“Do
not
worry,
Nasir,”
the
young
officer
said,
sensing
his
friend’s
concern
and
its
cause.
“We
will
get
the
boy
back
safely.
If
we
do
get
caught,
we
will
all
ensure
he
is
kept
safe!”

Nasir
nodded
his
thanks
as,
wasting
no
more
time
in
looking
backwards,
he
pushed
his
mount
even
harder
as
he
led
the
racing
band
in
its
headlong
dash
for
the
town.