The Black Stallion Returns Page 13

  Alec moved forward quickly for he realized the Black might easily break a leg. At sight of him, the stallion shrilled loudly, and brought his forelegs down to the ground. Running to him, Alec shoved his arms through the long, wooden bars. Bending his head, the stallion nuzzled Alec, who rubbed the soft skin.

  Alec looked anxiously down the canyon. The Black’s scream could easily have attracted the attention of the men in the village. He had to work fast! Untying the rope which held the gate closed, he swung it open. The stallion crab-stepped through and pushed him with his head. Alec swung him around alongside the gate, climbed a few bars, and then leaped on the back of the stallion, his fingers grasping the heavy mane.

  For a moment, Alec forgot the dangers before him … forgot everything except the thrill of once again being astride the Black, whose sensitive body quivered at the touch of his knees. It was as though the stallion had missed him as well, for he stood quite still, his head up and ears cocked.

  Fortunately night had fallen fast and Alec knew that it would be difficult for anyone to see them. He gave the Black his head, but kept him to a walk. He rode away from the village, hoping to find another exit from the narrow canyon. If he found none, he decided he would wait in the protective darkness of the night until the moon rose above the mountains … until Raj returned with the warriors of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak and Abd-al-Rahman.

  After Raj left Alec, he moved swiftly and with little caution down the canyon. When he reached the horses, he mounted his, and savagely threw the roan back onto its haunches. His anxious, boyish expression was gone and his eyes smoldered with anger. Then he rode hard, a heavy hand on his mount.

  A sense of new strength and power coursed through his veins. No longer was he Raj, the houseboy of Mr. Coggins of Haribwan, a nameless youth to be pitied. La … no! He was the brother of Abd-al-Rahman, powerful sheikh of the Kharj! And together they would seek vengeance upon Ibn al Khaldun for the murder of their father and mother.

  Night had fallen by the time Raj reached the small plateau from which he and Alec had first seen Ibn al Khaldun. His horse stumbled and grabbed at the bit. Recovering, Raj drove him down the trail to the plain below.

  No fires burned in the camp of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, but Raj knew the men were there … somewhere in the darkness … waiting vigilantly for the coming dawn. The roan responded as Raj gave him his head, and they swept down the plain.

  A short time later he slowed his horse to a walk, for not far ahead was his brother’s stronghold and Abu Ishak’s men must be near even though he could not see them.

  The roan pranced nervously, his body hot under Raj’s long limbs. Suddenly, there was the sharp click of a rifle bolt in the darkness to the left. A voice ordered him to halt.

  Raj explained that it was important that he be taken to Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak at once.

  An unmounted Bedouin appeared, leading his horse. He peered at Raj closely. Recognizing him, he nodded, and motioned him to follow. They moved silently across the plain a short way. Then Raj made out the figures of a small group of men. He and the Bedouin sentry passed them and soon came to another group, which they also passed. Raj realized then that Abu Ishak, to avoid any chance of a surprise attack on the part of Abd-al-Rahman, had scattered his men.

  Finally they stopped and the sentry told Raj to wait. A few minutes later he returned and with him was the tall, slim figure of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, his white beard sharply outlined in the darkness.

  Raj, his voice strained with emotion, informed him in his native tongue of all that he and Alec had learned.

  Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak listened without interruption. When Raj had finished his long story, Abu Ishak remained silent. Then in a cold voice he told Raj to follow and led the way back to his men. There he gave orders to his men to light fires and assemble. Taking his long rifle, he raised it in the air and fired a volley of three shots. Then he lighted a flare and, holding it, mounted his gray stallion. He motioned Raj to follow, and together they rode toward the stronghold of Abd-al-Rahman.

  They stopped halfway and waited, their figures silhouetted against the darkness by the burning flare held in the raised hand of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak.

  The minutes passed … then out of the night came the hoofs of running horses. Suddenly they stopped and were no more. Raj realized that the horsemen, wary of a trap, had brought their mounts to a halt. Then trotting horses moved to the left, others to the right. Coming directly toward them were the prancing but restrained hoofbeats of a walking horse.

  Raj stared into the darkness as the hoofbeats ahead became more pronounced. Then the small head and golden mane of Sagr appeared in the light cast from the flaming torch. On his back sat Abd-al-Rahman, his rifle unslung and ready in his hand. “This man,” thought Raj, “is of my own flesh and blood … my brother.”

  Abd-al-Rahman stopped a few yards away from them and his inquisitive eyes met those of the older sheikh. Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak was the first to speak, and he told Abd-al-Rahman what he had learned from Raj. As Abd-al-Rahman listened his eyes narrowed and his mouth became hard and set, forming a thin line. His gaze shifted to Raj when Abu Ishak told him that the youth with him was his brother, but his face disclosed no emotion.

  When the story was finished, Abd-al-Rahman jerked his chestnut stallion into a rear. Up and down it plunged, as angry as its rider. Abd-al-Rahman swore as Sagr bucketed underneath him. He would first make certain Abu Ishak was telling him the truth, he shouted. He would return to his home and if Ibn al Khaldun was not to be found, he and his warriors would go with them to the canyon of which he had been told! Abd-al-Rahman flung Sagr around and disappeared into the darkness.

  Raj returned with Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak to his men, who were now busily checking their arms and saddling their horses. They did not have long to wait before many lighted torches appeared, one following another, from the stronghold of Abd-al-Rahman.

  “They come forth,” Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak said to Raj. Then, turning to his men, he ordered them to mount.

  As the thunder of pounding hoofs shook the ground beneath and the seemingly endless line of flares pierced the darkness, Raj took the rifle Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak handed him. Tonight the clans of Abd-al-Rahman and Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak would ride together again … this time to avenge the death of his own father and mother. And he would ride beside his brother in battle! It was as his father would have wanted it. The moon was still behind the mountains and by the time it rose they would be at the canyon, as he had told Alec, his friend.

  The canyon narrowed as Alec rode slowly in the night, the walls of stone gradually closing in upon him and his horse. If there was another way out, it was going to be difficult to find. Suddenly the Black shied and Alec felt the giant body tremble. He looked into the darkness but could see nothing. The stallion shied again, his nostrils quivering.

  Alec placed a hand upon the high crest of the Black’s neck, attempting to calm him. Something was up, he thought, although in the blackness of the canyon he could not see any sign of movement. He brought the stallion to a halt, but the big horse would not remain still. His hoofs played nervously on the ground.

  Sensing danger ahead, Alec turned the Black and went back the way he had come. The stallion attempted to break out of the running walk at which Alec held him. Having no reins or bridle, it was difficult for Alec to hold his horse back. He talked to him, pushing his head close to the stallion’s neck.

  The Black broke into a fast trot, his head up and ears pricked. Realizing that they were again nearing the corral, Alec attempted to bring the stallion to a stop, but to no avail. He moved forward on the horse’s back and placed a hand between the pricked ears. He had to stop him or soon it would be too late.

  Suddenly the Black came to an abrupt halt and half-reared. Alec grasped the long mane and held on. The stallion snorted and turned up the canyon. He ran a short way, then stopped again and stood still. His head turned up the canyon, then down. Once again he moved, this time in
the direction of the east wall; he stopped when he could go no farther. He stood there against the high cliff, his giant body trembling.

  Alec was certain there was danger both up and down the canyon, even though he had not seen or heard anything. He stroked the neck of his horse. If they were still perhaps in the darkness they would not be discovered.

  The stallion moved uneasily and occasionally there would be a sharp ring as his hoofs kicked a stone. Minutes passed, then the Black suddenly began pawing the ground with his foreleg. Alec thought he heard the sound of hoofs in the darkness. The stallion broke, ran a few yards to the north, then whirled, swept back, and again stood still.

  Then the sound of hoofs closing in on them was unmistakable. They came from directly ahead, from the north, and from the south. Alec peered in the darkness, certain that the horses were less than fifty yards away.

  Alec hesitated until he saw the mounted figures. There were three of them coming toward him. The Black snorted and reared. When he came down, Alec gave him his head. Bolting, the stallion headed for the men. They would have to break through! Where they would turn after that Alec did not know.

  The horsemen moved in on them from three sides. Alec swung the Black around to the south. In a few seconds the stallion, now gathering himself, would be in full gallop.

  One of the riders bore down on them, his spurs deep in the girth of his mount. He drove the Black back toward the wall of the canyon, the others closing in from behind. Coming to an abrupt stop, the stallion twirled and headed north. Before he could gather speed, Alec heard the swish of a rope and saw the long, whirling loop fall over the head of his horse. He reached for it, but by the time his hands were on it, it had tightened. A few seconds later, the stallion was flung back on his haunches, throwing Alec to the ground.

  He lay stunned for a few minutes, then he was jerked to his feet. Dazed, he looked around. The Black was held securely between the mounts of two men. The other horseman was standing in front of him, and Alec looked into the leering face of Ibn al Khaldun, who said softly, “Once again we meet, my young friend. Although I did not expect the pleasure so soon … nor here.” His thick neck turned as he jerked his head over his shoulder. “Still, it is most unfortunate that you had to choose this time to visit me.” He smiled, disclosing the toothless gums, then continued. “For now I must do away with you as well as the horse you call the Black. Most unfortunate … for you … that you, too, now stand in my way. It is a pity that one so young had to be so inquisitive.” He sighed and his powerful chest rose and fell.

  Alec was silent. This man was mad. He could not kill him! Or could he? Ibn al Khaldun was capable of anything, he knew. If he thought Alec stood in his way, he would murder him as easily as he had the others.

  Ibn al Khaldun had him by the arm and his thick fingers dug deep as he said, “You followed me from the meeting with Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, that much is obvious. Yes, I saw you there. But did you come alone? Perhaps your young friend accompanied you? The one who sat beside you on the roan. It is best that you speak now.”

  “You mean Abd-al-Rahman’s brother?” Alec asked tauntingly, raising his head to meet the beady stare of the Bedouin. “No, I came alone.” He grimaced in pain as Ibn al Khaldun’s fingers tightened on his arm.

  “Ê … yes, you know.” The Bedouin smiled. “But in knowing you have answered my question. You overheard me talking to my men. You have seen too much, my young friend. And do you wish me to believe that in such a short time in our land you have learned Arabic so well you understood what I told my men? Obvious, is it not, that you were accompanied by another … by your young Bedouin friend?” Ibn al Khaldun smiled as he slowly twisted Alec’s arm. “There are many other things still to be learned,” he added, “if you will not tell me where he is hiding. Let me show you how simple it is for one who is strong enough to tear another’s arm from its socket. This was shown to me when I was just a little older than you. It is the reason I have but one arm. Speak, my young friend, for we shall find him regardless, and it is not pleasant to lose an arm this way.” His grip tightened and sharp, stabbing pains contorted Alec’s face. Ibn al Khaldun’s fingers loosened slightly. “It is odd,” he said, “that once before I have sought information concerning the young brother of Abd-al-Rahman by this, shall we say, severe and, unfortunately, painful method. She was the nurse of the newborn son, whom we found alone in the desert many days after we had disposed of his father and mother. She, like you, would not tell us where she had left her young charge. Unfortunately, she died too soon for she was an old woman and could not stand much pain.”

  Ibn al Khaldun paused, then continued, “You are wondering how I recognized the brother of Abd-al-Rahman on the plain, are you not? I will tell you, although it will serve no purpose other than to show you that I am not without mercy.” He paused again, and then went on, “In Haribwan several years ago, I saw a youth who resembled Abd-al-Rahman. And upon making inquiries I learned that which I had guessed to be true. This youth was his brother, for he had been found in the desert a few weeks after the time we had made our raid and, also, he bore the birthmark with which I, alone, was familiar … a small mole behind the lobe of the left ear. I decided that if he did not return to the desert I would leave him alone … for it was not necessary to do away with him so long as he was not recognized by those who knew his brother. But now that he is back, he will die … and we shall find him, my young friend, for he cannot escape us in this canyon.”

  With his free right hand, Alec swung and buried his fist in Ibn al Khaldun’s fat stomach. The Bedouin winced and with lips drawn back twisted Alec’s arm until his legs collapsed under him. He felt his strength going. The fall from the Black had weakened him. Bending, Ibn al Khaldun applied more pressure until everything began blotting out. Alec looked into the beady pig-eyes. Smiling, Ibn al Khaldun said hoarsely, “You will talk now, my young friend, or by Allah, I shall make you a present of your own arm!”

  Alec was silent. He heard Ibn al Khaldun’s voice, felt him breathing heavily on his neck. Everything was swimming about. His eyes, sunk deep in their sockets, rolled back. Vaguely, he made out the head of the Black, his long neck spotted with curds of white foam. Then he could see nothing.

  He was suspended. It was light, then dark. Circles of revolving light sped through the heavens. He looked for the moon. Raj had said that when the moon rose above the mountains he would return with many men. He was being hunted. Somewhere in the darkness was Ibn al Khaldun. The Black knew and pulled at his bit. He wanted his head. Give it to him. He must get on. Time was passing, and things were happening. He struggled to get up, but was pushed back. The desert … the burning sand scorching his feet. Water! He had to have water. Raj had water … water from the chambers of the camel’s stomach. He drank and it was good.

  Alec opened his eyes. Overhead was the star-studded sky. Turning his head, he saw a figure holding a water canteen; behind him were two others and between them … the Black. Suddenly it all came back to him. Ibn al Khaldun! His arm … he turned his eyes to look for it. It was there but he could not raise it.

  Ibn al Khaldun bent down and spoke to him. “It is a pity you cannot stand much pain,” he whispered. “Yes, you still have your arm. I have wasted enough time on you and have thought of a better, a more appropriate way for you to die … one which will leave no evidence of, shall we say, foul play?” He grasped Alec by the arm and roughly pulled him to his feet.

  At first Alec could not stand by himself, and leaned heavily upon Ibn al Khaldun. Then, slowly, strength began returning to his limbs. He was dragged over to the mounted Bedouins and there boosted onto the back of the Black. The stallion shook his head furiously, trying to free it from the grip of the mounted horsemen, but their hands were strong and the rope tight.

  Ibn al Khaldun mounted his horse, then said, “This love you have for Shêtân has brought you many thousands of miles; now it is only fitting that you should accompany him in death.”

  Alec gra
sped the Black’s mane with his good hand; the other arm hung limply at his side. His head was clearing in the cool night air. Silently, he looked at Ibn al Khaldun’s evil face. What did he intend to do?

  “You are wondering, aren’t you?” Ibn al Khaldun asked. “It is simple and you are fortunate, for death will be quick. It is a pity that I can’t take longer, but it will, I suppose, take a little time to find your friend in the canyon, and all must be done before morning for we have other work then.” He paused and grinned. “Just a short distance up the canyon there is a cliff with a perpendicular drop of three hundred feet or so to the rocks below. You and your Black shall be driven over it. It is a pleasant way to die, is it not? The two of you inseparable even in death?”

  He turned to his men, spoke tersely in Arabic, and then led the way up the canyon.

  They moved slowly, for the mounts of the Bedouins were terrified of the Black, and only the sharp spurs dug deep in their girths kept them going.

  Alec’s body was tense, his head cool. Astride the Black, confidence and new strength were flowing back into his tired body. There had to be some way out. He and the Black were not going to die as Ibn al Khaldun planned! His injured arm tingled as the blood again began circulating through it. Moving it slightly, he smiled grimly. Ibn al Khaldun would pay and pay well. He turned in his saddle toward the mountains in the rear. There was a slight glow and he knew that soon the moon would rise above them. If only he had more time!

  Alec rubbed his legs gently but firmly along the stallion’s girth. Snorting, the Black reared, pulling the startled Bedouins out of their saddles, their mounts screaming. Ibn al Khaldun, swearing and shouting to his men, drove his horse in on the Black. His mount shrilled painfully as the stallion’s forelegs tore into him.