Adhan of the Dragon

•••

There were no wonders left in the world for Falak. Or so he believed. Being a 1200 year old, saurain dragon, he was still counted as young considering that he could live a perpetual life of immortality.

He was an intelligent, pearly-white, beast covered in impenetrable scales that grew from his skin as armor. His lengthy tail that converged into a retractable, needle-sharp, venomous, stinger brandished at his rear. A pentagon of five horns were erected upon the crown of his head. Enormous nostrils that flared with each breath captured the scent of everything within miles. His snake-like eyes were fiery red and tiny in comparison with his very large head, but they were so keen that, while perched on the Idraren Draren, he could catch sight of anchovies submerged under the Alborean sea. As was his hearing. Falak was the fastest winged animal that roved the empyrean skies- a spectacular sight to behold!

However, like all the Dragons before himself, he roamed the lands undetected by mankind. He was incapable of being seen and heard by any humans with the exception of the gods. In spite of that, only one god of the gods carried the innate ability of “the great gift” that could be used to summon the Dragon and it’s powers. This one would always be born when the force of great evil established itself in the lands. The Muezzih was the only god born possessing the authority to Call upon the Dragon!

Chapter 1

When Falak found himself peering into the eyes of a lost in the middle of the forrest, lilliputian, human girl- naked except for the grayish swaddling cloth wrapped below her abdomen, he wondered in his mind,

“How did YOU get here?”

It was obvious that she was a god- a descendant of Rabu Al Tiniyn. the Lord of the Dragons. She bore the distinction of incandesant eyes that posessed as much color and depth as the Alborean sea which was in unique contrast with her ochre complexion that resembled the hue of the sands of the desert.

Full of interest, her almond shaped eyes peered back at him. As they gazed at each other, they became transfixed and frozen in time as every past memories of this decided princess unfolded in his mind.

~~~~~

Sultan Idriss anxiously paced back and forth the palace's halls outside of the maternity room of the bed chambers. Today was the scheduled arrival date of his first born child and heir to the throne of the Moroccan Kingdom. Though Sultan Idriss maintained one hundred courtesans, none of them were allowed to bear children, until firstly the Sultans had. So deep in thought and prayer, he did not notice the indistinct pitter-patter of the Royal Eunich, Ahmadi, growing increasingly louder as he swiftly strolled closer towards him. Bowing before speaking, it was Ahmadi's shiny bald head that had reflected light into the eyes of the Sultan which has brought him back from his prayers.

"As- Salaam-Alaikum, benevolent King!" Ahmadi greeted his master with an exuberant disposition.

He wore a violet gandora with red stitchings and bronze sandals. A heavy golden chain and pendant in the shape of an elephant hung from his neck.

As the Royal Eunich, he was the head of the imperial harem where the concubines led lives of leisure, but he was also deemed a friend.

The Sultan paused, drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly, releasing some of his apprehension before sternly responding,

“Walaikum-As-Salaam,” then continued to pace.

“There is no need to worry, Exaulted One. Sultana Sa’faa is not the first woman to ever give birth, nor will she be the last,” Ahmadi confirmed with a chuckle.

Sultan Idriss stopped pacing and asserted, “Yet, she shall be the first to bear my seed.”

Looking for a distraction, he sauntered over to one of eight, floor-to-ceiling, silver, mirrors that decorated the grand palace’s walls. He stood in front of it and studied himself. Sultan Idriss was the quintessential of masculinity. He was a robust giant. The tint and texture of his skin was alike that of a polished onyx stone- black, shiny, and smooth. He wore his dark, wavy hair of considerable length pulled back into a braid and crowned it with a silky, rose-gold colored, turban. Burnished diamond nuggets the size of pomegranate seeds adorned both of his pointy ears. Draping his muscular frame was a thick, oversized, golden robe made of silk-velvet that drug the marble floor. Ornate motifs were elaborately woven into his clothing. Looking at his image, he had hoped that if they bore a princess, she would be the like of her mother, and if they had bore a prince, he would be the splitting image of himself.

“Whether it be male or female, Your Grace,” Ahmadi said, interrupting his thoughts, “either of them shall bear your mark of distinction- those brilliant sapphire blue eyes.”

At that moment, the faint cry of an infant made its way to where they stood. Startled, Sultan Idriss so excitedly grasped Ahmadi’s shoulders that he almost pushed him off balance. Sultan hastened towards where his beloved wife and child lay in wait for him.

Chapter 2

Sultana Sa’faa was sitting up in her canopy bed looking down at her nursing infant. She smiled as the newborn tugged on her breast even though the discomfort in her uterus was intense. She desired that it never be apparent to her child that she suffered. Sitting beside her was the mid-wife who was gently dabbing her forehead with a cool, damp, sea sponge. Sultana looked up when the tall, waxed oak doors to her chamber flung open. It was Idriss. Her eyes swelled with tears of joy as he neared her. The mid-wife stood without speaking, bowed to the Sultana and turned to bow to the Sultan, then quickly excused herself from their presence. She turned to them with a graceful smile before closing the doors behind her.

~~~~~~~

Sultan Idriss observed the woman who had brought forth his heir into the world. She was the most beautiful woman in his eyes. Her curly ember colored hair was wet from sweat and strands were sticking to her high cheekbones. She stared at him tenderly with light brown eyes embellished with black kohl that made the Sultan weak. There was a soft, colorful cast of light glimmering on her skin. The detailed stained glass windows and prisimatic chandelier that hung from her ceiling produced light of many hues to brighten up her room. He sat on the bed next to her and raises his hand to gently caress her face.

"Allah has given us a little girl," spoke the Sultana.

“I am aware of this thing,” replied Sultan Idriss.

With an arched brow, Sultana inquired, “But, how could you know already?”

“Because she is in the like of you, my dear," Sultan insisted.

"You are always right, my love," Sultana coyly remarked.

After a short pause, she added, "What shall we call her?”

“I will leave this up to you, my Queen.”

Sultana Sa’faa thought for a moment and Sultan noticed a twinkle in her eye. She smiled and said, “Hassaniya.”

“Hassaniya? The language of the Muezzih?- of the one who is able to Call upon Al Tiniyin? The Dragons?” Sultan Idriss felt a swell of emotions rising in him that made him want to reject giving his heir that name, but he did not know why.

“She is The One, my King. I am sure of this,” she assured him. She leaned down to kiss the forehead of the infant, and removed her teat from her mouth. She then locked eyes with her husband and she thought about how captivating his being. She brought her lips to his and they exchanged a long, deep, and passionate kiss that ignited a flame in the Sultan. The cooing of Hassaniya interrupted them. Sultana Sa’faa repositioned herself so that she could place their baby into her father’s arms. She was delicate and weightless. He forced his eyes shut in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. When he opened them again, a single tear fell down on Hassaniya’s nose. Using the tip of this pinky-finger, he lightly wiped away the moisture. This prompted nystagmus in Hassaniya. When Sultan Idriss discovered her lambent, blue eyes, he gleamed with pride.

Suddenly, two soldiers of the guard burst throught the Sultana’s chambers. Sultan Idriss rose to his feet and handed his child to her mother. Both of them quickly kneeled to one knee. The captain of the guard spoke in a panic.

“Your Majesty, please forgive the intrusion- there are hostile invaders on our lands and warships in great number on our shores! They will soon reach the palace!”

Chapter 3

Still aboard his ship, King Rupert reveled in the mayhem that transpired before his eyes. He had been planning this surprise invasion for months. For the ambitions that he had- land, servants, gold and silver were not enough. He wanted to rule the entire world! Therefore, he required the ultimate power under his command. Dragons. However, since he was of the bloodline of the gods, this would become an impossible feat, unless he were able to get to Sultan Idriss.

Spanish soldiers outnumbered the Moroccan soldiers 10-1. In a matter of only a few hours, the Spaniards had overtaken the palace. Accompanied by eight soldiers, King Rupert strutted down the great hall that led to the throne room of the palace. Catching sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors, he walked towards it and adjusted the pale codpiece that protruded between his legs. He wore a scarlet jerkin that was closed together at its seams golden broaches. Black silk doublet sleeves were decorated by a pattern of diagonal slashes and a rich black cape brushed the floor. A long white feather stood up from the rim of his black bonnet that he wore tilted to the side. He rested his right hand on the baldrick of his sword. With his left hand he twirled the whiskers of his mustache upwards and offered himself a wicked grin. Then he proceeded to the greet the Sultan.

Stepping into the throne room, King Rupert saw that Sultan Idriss was not alone. Sitting in the Sultana’s seat was a beautiful-looking woman whose face was covered with a veil. King Rupert thought it odd that the Sultan had not sent the Sultana away to escape knowing that their home was under seige. He shrugged it off and without any suggestion of formalities, expressed his demands to the Sultan.

“I have come to claim what is yours,” announced the King of Spain, hand still on sword.

The woman turned her head sharply in shock of what she had heard. The Sultan sat on his throne made of pure gold. His chin resting on his large fist, he glared at the unwelcomed intruders.

“What good will that do, King Rupert of Spain? As your own lands have not been sufficient enough to satisfy you, adding little Morocco to it is futile and will do little to appease your greed.”

“I plan to conquer the entire world,” King Rupert revealed. “But I cannot do that without you, Rabu Al Tiniyn.”

“I am no Muezzih!” the Sultan remarked furiously.

“No?” questioned King Rupert. He roared with laughter.

The woman adjusted her seating position. The Sultan stood up and stepped off his throne striding towards King Rupert. The guards behind him grabbed their swords as if they were about to attack but King Rupert quickly made a hand gesture signaling them to back down. Sultan Idriss towered over him. King Rupert felt fear in the pit of his stomach but it didn’t show. He leered into the Sultan’s eyes.

“No.” Sultan asserted, staring down at Rupert.

King Rupert broke their eye contact by shaking his head, looking down.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said. “That is no good, amigo.” Swiftly unsheathing his sword, King Rupert forced it into the belly of Sultan Idriss.

“Where is the dragon scroll?” he demanded coldly.

Sultan Idriss snatched the sword out of his gut with a counterattack, slicing off King Rupert’s right hand. The King exclaimed in pain and horror ordering his soldiers to cut down the Sultan.

The beautiful woman that wore the veil hurriedly jumped from her seat revealing two cutlass swords. She let out a war cry and begin to single-handedly dismember the soldiers that were killing Sultan Idriss. One of the soldiers was equally skilled to the woman and sliced away her veil. It was Ahmadi, the Royal Eunuch, disguised as The Sultana.

King Rupert ran out of the throne room accompanied by one of his soldiers, yelling “Kill him!” on the way out. All of the soldiers attacked Ahmadi, hacking him to pieces.

Once King Rupert had made it back to his ship, he ordered the captain to raid the palace’s treasure room and to gather all of the Sultan’s servants who had survived. He would bring them back to Spain to work as slaves in the sugarcane fields.

Unbeknownst to King Rupert or the captain, Sultana Sa’faa had dressed herself in modest clothes and pretended to be a maid-servant. This was the Sultan’s desire in order to save her life. She too was captured and wound up on the ship. She had hidden Hassaniya in her bosom by tying a stretch-cloth around her body, securing the baby closely. Then she draped her body with a loose-fitting sack-cloth.

Sultana weeped as the captain set sail to the ship. As more and more distance found it’s way between her and her home, a strong feeling of hopelessness crept into her heart. The midwife who had cared for her and assisted her during the birth of the princess cut her way through the sea of servants on the deck of the ship, stopping in front of the Sultana. They met eyes. Sultana continued to bawl as the midwife pulled her in to cry on her shoulder. She held her queen with loving arms and began to inquire about Hassaniya. Sultana only continued to cry but the cooing of the infant reached the midwife’s ears. Still comforting Sultana, she squeezed her eyes shut, striving to be strong and fight back the tears of both sorrow and joy as the past life of the palace was becoming only a memory and the new life in a different land loomed over them.

~~~~~~~~~

Though the journey to Spain only lasted a week, it seemed much longer than that. They arrived on the shores of Granada where over-seers were waiting to round them up and take them to the cane fields.

Sultana had become only a shell of her former self. She wouldn’t eat. Making matters worse, the afterbirth kept flowing out in huge clots.

They eventually made it to their slave quarters. It was dusk. There were dozens of busy working black slaves spread out among the sugarcane. The stalks were so long that they appeared to brush the sky. The acreage was lush and green. If they had not been there because such horrible circumstances, it would have been a great place to journey. Small mudbrick homes provided shelter for the slaves.

Sultana Sa’ faa limped along the footpath as the midwife did her best to carry both her and her young child.

“Guzeeda,” Sultana mumbled weakly to the midwife.

Guzeeda was taken aback. This is the first time she had heard the Sultana speak since they were taken captive.

“I am here my Queen,” she answered quietly, not wanting anyone nearby to know that she was the Sultana.

Whenever Sultana Sa’faa would make herself public, she wore a veil. None of the members of the kingdom except the royal servants knew what she looked like.

A single tear rolled down her cheek before she spoke, “take me there.” She managed to lift her finger and point to one of the mud houses sitting off to the side. Once they reached it, Guzeeda felt Sultana losing her feet. Though she tried to hold her up, gravity prevailed and Sultana collapsed on the floor. Guzeeda let out a short but hysterical shriek. She quickly covered her mouth in a attempt to quiet herself. Still holding Hassaniya, she dropped to the floor and gently raised the head of her beloved Sultana into the axes of the elbow of her empty arm. Guzeeda wept quietly as she rocked her body back and forth. Sultanas eyes were closed. Her beautiful skin was smudged with dirt and clothes were stained with the blood of menses. Her breathing was shallow and her body pendulous and weak. The feeble woman hardly had the strength to open her eyes much less speak, but with the last of it she whispered,

“Bring her close to me.”

Guzeeda situated the princess face down onto her mother’s breast and placed the Sultana’s hands on her tiny back. The consolation of feeling her baby so close brought a slight smile to her face. After a moment, the little princess grew fussy from lying on her belly. Guzeeda allowed her to cry. It would be the last sound that her mother would hear. As Sultana Sa’faa’s life slowly drifted away, she wallowed in the melody of her baby’s mournful cry.

Chapter 4

Three years had passed. One morning, Hassaniya wondered off into the forrest near the cane fields. It was only curiosity and the lack of supervision that had led her there. Stumbling barefoot through the undergrowth, the toddler pricked her foot on the vines of a mountainous bramble that was clustered with dewberries. Whining because of the tenderness caused by the pang, she looked about for someone to tend to her. No one seemed to be there. Without realizing it, she had wandered quite far and had found herself lost. Becoming afraid, she sobbed. It was her sobbing that had awakened Falak who was concealed in the bramble.

*****

Emanating from his trance, Falak found the little girl stuffing her mouth with dewberries. She looked up at him and offered an ear-to-ear smile, reaching her hand to him as to offer some food.

The wind carried the voices of the slaves calling out to Hassaniya. Falak traveled from the Fire Realm in the Sahara Desert to the forrest of Granada guided by his extrasensories. Now he knew that it was because of the misplaced little human girl who sat before him with a thickly coiled, ginger colored mane and blue eyes. The Muezzin of Rabu Al-Tinyin had found him. Falak knew that for a Muezzin to be born, great evil had manifested on the land and it would be determined that he would aid in its end.

The search party had spotted Hassaniya from a distance and were quickly making their way to her. Falak spread his great wings and thrust himself upward into the sky. The violent wind that rushed from the effect almost blew them away. Hassaniya sat erected, giggling and pointing towards Falak. When she saw the face of the woman who cared for her, she exclaimed a cheerful, “Guzzy!”

Guzeeda made her way to her feet and ran to pick Hassaniya up in her arms, squeezing her tightly. Once the wind subsided, Guzeeda remarked, looking up towards the sky,

“Strange trees!”

Guzeeda continued to hold the young child on their trek back to their mudhouses in the sugarcane plantation. She knew that Hassaniya was Rabu Al-Tinyin. So when she noticed her waving at the skies, though she said nothing aloud, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She prayed that this little child would grow up to avenge her mother and father, the beloved Sultana and Sultan of Morocco.

Chapter 5

Squatting by the water’s edge, Hassaniya trickled water into her small clay bowl to mix with the chebe powder using her fingertips. She wanted to make a nourishing hair masque out of the thick paste of herbs. Once she had gotten it to the right consistency, she applied it liberally to her long and luciously coiled hair. She handled her hair with deliberate care. She didn’t want to break even a single strand. Her ginger hair took on the color of dark mud as she spread the masque on from root to tips. After covering her entire head and letting it sit on her hair to absorb its properties, she tilted her head into the water and rinsed out mud-paste. While her hair was still dripping wet, she massaged olive oil into her scalp which made it easier for her to section for hair into six large sections. Using her reflection on the water as a mirror, she took each section and rubbed a bright yellow shea butter onto her stands, making sure to work it deep into the follicles of her hair shaft. Feeling satisfied that her hair was soft enough, she wrapped the pieces of hair around itself, forming each section into large chunky twists. Her mind drifted and she began humming a graceful melody.

She was unaware of the eyes that secretly watched her. She could always feel the presence of someone, but whenever she would check over her shoulder no one was there. In time, she ignored the feeling and eventually forgot about it all together.

“Hass! ….Hass!” a familiar voice called to her. “You almost done?”

It was Guzeeda.

“Yes, Guzzy, I only have a few more twists.”

“Hurry up, child, you take so much time on your hair. It is getting dark.”

The sun had not yet set when she had finished the last twist. Admiring her reflection, she twirled around giving herself a 360• view. She was a beautiful girl who had blossomed into her feminine curves. She stood out from everyone on the plantation because of her long, waist-length, ginger colored hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. The young men were infatuated with her, but she paid them no mind. Guzzy would always remind her that she was special and had a great purpose. She said that the slave boys would get in the way of that.

“Your time will come,” Guzzy would say.

Hass did not know what Guzzy meant by that, but she believed her.

By the time Hass had made it back to mud house, the sun had set. Fire torches were used for light.

“Hass! Don’t you know how dangerous it is for a pretty girl like you to be out after dark alone?” Guzzy started as Hass came in outside.

What danger?” Hass inquired.

“The locos, that’s who, I say! Men who lurk in the dark shadows just a-waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting and vulnerable young woman- like you!"

Hass thought that Guzzy was being overly concerned, but she kept her opinion to herself. She walked over to a black pot and scooped up some cous-cous for her bowl then sat on the floor to eat. Guzzy brought her a cup of milk and sat across from her. She watched Hassaniya eat each kernel of cous-cous one by one with her fingertips. The light from the fire flickered in her eyes .

“Don’t worry about me Guzzy. I’ll be ok.” Hass spoke gently, looking down into her bowl. “Besides, Mr. Bam Bam has his eyes on you,” she playfully added. “Worry about him!” she laughed.

“Tsk!” Guzzy uttered, expressing her disapproval. She pouted her lips and stood up from the floor, briskly throwing her wide hips to side with each step she took towards the pot. Not that there was a need for it, Guzzy stired the pot of cous cous because she couldn't think of anything else to do. She began to contemplate what Hass had said, but as soon as she found herself entertaining the idea of her and Mr. Bam Bam, she expediently exchanged the thought for another. She shivered it away as if the effect of it had left her cold.

Changing the subject, Guzzy reminded Hass, "Speaking of Mr. Bam Bam, he asked me to patch up some of his trousers, but I cannot do it. I have extra work in the fields and I promised Lydia that I would help her with pottery. I need you to do it- as a favor to me.”

Hass’s face contorted into to a deep frown. Just as she was about to rebute, Guzzy interrupted her,

“Hassaniya Zuhayr Caliph! Please do not make to to order you as if I am a queen and you the servant and not the other way around-” Guzzy realized that she had spoken too much and had hoped that Hass did not make much of what she let slip from her mouth. However, she did make much of it. Though she only answered, “Yes, I will do it,” without questioning Guzzy, what she had said resonated with her and she pondered on it all night.

Chapter 6

Mr. Bam Bam was wide awake at the brink of dawn. The sun had not yet risen and he was up grinding coacoa beans using a mortar and pestle. An itch tickled his chin of coarse, black beard hair and dandruff from his scratching fell into his beans. He continued to grind until he had a very fine powder. Beads of sweat were clinging brown to his skin. He cut a square piece of tightly woven cheesecloth and poured into it his ground coacoa powder. He tied it and placed it inside of a large clay mug. He snatched a black kettle of boiling water from the fire pit and poured it into the mug. After filling it to his desire, he added honey and rum.

Mr. Bam Bam had been on the sugarcane plantation for over 40 years. He was sold into slavery when he was 16 after getting caught stealing from the Captain of a pirate ship, but not before he was branded with thirty lashes on his back. He had been the cabin boy for the Captain for four years. He was taken many times against his will by the Captain. The night he stole the pearl necklace was the night he had planned to run away, but he got caught.

Using one hand to sip his hot drink, the other hand rummaged through a sack of old clothes that he kept. When he found the ones that needed tending, he laid them out, and then stepped outside to watch the sun rise.

******

Hass had done her work in the cane fields for the day. She could not wait to entertain herself by watching ber reflection dance on the water. Time always passed away quickly when she would.

Out of nowhere, her promise to patch up Mr. Bam Bam's trousers surfaced to the forefront of her mind. With a sudden gasp of, she ran back to the mudhouses and made her way to his house.

He was standing in the door way holding a steaming mug. When he saw her walking up in her long sleeve brown dress and head lowered, he started to feel uneasy. His body shifted but he didn’t speak.

“I apologize for not being here sooner,” Hass said softly.

“Where’s Guzzy?” Mr. Bam Ban’s deep voice shook Hass. He was emotionless.

Hass lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Guzzy asked me to patch up your trousers as a favor to her.”

Mr. Bam Bam didn’t say anything but he moved his body aside so that she could enter. Stepping into his abode, Hass saw the clothes that he had laid out. She looked up at him and felt uncomfortable by the way he stared at her. She hurried and turned her eyes from him. Still watching the girl in fascination, he almost tripped over his own feet while ampling over to the torn clothes. He handed them to her and she took them, keeping her eyes to the floor. For a strange reason, the way he looked at her brought familiar feelings.

“Where’s your thread?” Hass asked. He pointed over to a wooden shelf that he had built himself. She scurried over to the shelf looking for the thread but didn’t see it. Frowning, she turned to ask him where exactly and there he was standing directly in front of her. He was so close that she could feel and smell his breath. The scent of rum filled her nostrils. The light of the fire flickered on his skin which made the sweat on his skin shine. He reached up to touch her face but he stopped himself.

“Did you go dancing, today?”

Hass’s eyes widened in shock and she knew then that it was Mr. Bam Bam’s presence she had felt all the times she went out to the water. Though she didn't have to ask, she did anyway;

“How did you know that I danced?”

His face turned upward into a stiff smile and he answered,

“I love to watch you dance, and I love to hear you sing. It was your singing that lured me to you. I was heading out to the water one day for fish, and I heard an entrancing melody that charmed me." Mr. Bam Bam laughed and added, "I was hooked like a fish.”

He proceeded to fondle the ends of her twists that reached her bust. She grabbed her hair from his hand and tried to back away from him but she was somewhat pinned between him and the wooden shelf.

“I must go Mr. Bam Bam. All of a sudden, I am not feeling well. I will take your trousers with me and Guzzy and I will finish them and send them to you tomorrow.” Mixed sensations of fear and lust were boiling inside of the pit of her stomach. She did not like the feelings. Mr. Bam Bam was a man she respected but now she feared him.

“Stay and have a drink with me.” Mr. Bam Bam insisted.

To be continued..

End of Part 1.