Prince of Knights Chp3

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As-salamu alaykum here is another chapter. Insha'Allah you guys will like it. Check the pic on the side >>

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~*~*Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars~*~* Khalil Gibran

Faris was preoccupied with thoughts while he rode his horse towards their tribe, Al Borkan. He glanced at his father, Sheikh Mubarak, who, he knew was content from the whirl of events. Faris had traveled to that tribe to annihilate but what that old man had suggested, surely changed fates. One thing he could not comprehend was who will be 'her' spouse. Faris turned to look at Nasser, his younger sibling, who appeared physically much older than him, rode on Faris's left, was lost in thoughts as well.  

Faris glanced briefly over his broad shoulder, his tribe followed him. Gratification rushed forth him like a storm within him. Al Borkan, who were well known for their dominance and wealth. They were among the most courageous tribes. Sheikh Mubarak made it his responsibility that children from age five learned the words of Allah and raised their first sword. The Borkan tribe's expertise and preparedness with sword combat were known throughout the Arab world. 

He looked ahead and his thoughts for a mere second lingered on the girl who had darted; to Sheikh Faisal and the notorious knight, Badr. Faris recollected what Badr had called her, Raghad. By Allah, she was beautiful, so beautiful that a man so religious like Faris gazed at her and so beautiful that it tempted him to even think about her. Faris shook his head, hurled a curse at satan and requested forgiveness from Allah. Surely he would slaughter any man who even glimpsed at his precious sisters. He must not think about that woman.  

Their horses rode, rapidly. The hoofs that thudded on the ground resulted; a thundering voice. The ants when caught such a strident terror hid in their holes, even their queen closed her wings and waited patiently for the Borkan's to proceed so her realm would hunt for the insects the Borkan horses butchered. Clever of her! 

Faris muffled his headdress around his neck against the wind that blew around them. His sharp eyes observed the sand dunes as they passed them. Soon their glorious tribe came in view. At once they reduced speed and rode past four tribesmen who stood guard. He smiled at how dissimilar their tribe was from Al Rashideens. His eyes traveled from the Mud houses to more mud houses. 

Houses made of mud were situated everywhere in his tribe. Faris, himself helped stand those mud bricks years ago to construct more secure houses for his tribe. Indeed his tribe treasured their life in tents but being surrounded by clay and sand walls, that were burnt to make them impenetrable, gave a pleasant and genial feeling. The doors his man carved flawlessly, took half-moon to build. Small square holes in the walls were now sealed with wooden windows. A handful of families even desired to have double stories, small mud stairs that also led to the roof. 

When Faris caught sight of such splendid view it caused his chest to bloat with contentment. He sent another prayer to his Lord, his Maker for being so merciful that He granted them with such beauty. Sheikh Mubarak halted his horse a few feet away from his house, the largest one among the others. Faris gripped the reins of his father's horse and led both his and the other horse towards the stable, that was created from dry palm fronds.

"I am certain you did not anticipate that," Nasser vocalized in his deep voice from left, as Faris bound the reins. 

"Yes, I did not, now I want to discover what father is thinking," Faris replied, turned his back on the horse and tramped towards his father's house. The house that had the most rooms and stairs which led to the roof.

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