Ostara and the Sands of Doom (an Ostara holiday tale)

[nachtjaeger]

{editor's note: Okay, gang, I don't believe a single word of this one, but it's a rollicking good tale anyway.}

Joyous Solstice, quicksanders all.

This time of year, I remember one very interesting trip I made as a bodyguard. Where to start? Right. . . I had traveled about as far East as I ever had, the better to dodge thief-catchers. I was in the fabled Oasis city, Iram of the Thousand Pillars, the major hub on the spice routes through the Great Desert. Unfortunately, it seemed like every one of those pillars had a city guard hiding behind it, and I was forced to fall back on honest work. Anyway, things were getting a little too hot for me in Iram, literally and figuratively (I'm a Northern girl, after all.) So I started looking for work as a bodyguard. About that time the most outlandish caravan I ever saw came into Iram. Three richly dressed men, riding on three of the finest Camels I'd ever seen, and their train of pack animals. The locals assumed they were three Kings. Only in a city as over-policed as Iram could they get away with that without immediately being robbed and stripped. So after they watered their camels and bribed the customs officials, I introduced myself, explained I was headed West (which I heard them mention) and offered my services as a bodyguard.

Well, their eyes got as big as saucers when they saw me. They whispered to themselves for a bit, and I heard one of them (the tall, black and gorgeous one) call me "Dib-janood al-abyad." I didn't know what it meant then, but he said it in a tone of voice that indicated great respect. Looking to see that no one was watching, they each bowed to me- not a low bow, but as to an equal. (Women are little better than cattle that far East, but these three seemed to have brains.) I agreed to meet them for dinner to discuss it.

I went to their inn that evening. That far East, I kept myself wrapped up in one of those black robes with the head scarf. I kept my head down (not easy for me) and appeared to be either a beggar woman or a houri- and therefore invisible. I enjoyed a very nice dinner of lamb, tahini, and honeycakes, followed by mead and the finest tabak I had ever smoked, made even better by a water-pipe. They agreed to take me on as bodyguard and guide. They also liked my suggestion that they change their clothes and harness, to look like not-too-rich folks, and to keep their weapons in sight and ready. So where Three Kings had ridden into Iram, three none-too-prosperous merchants and their servant rode out again. As we rode, they were in a heck of a hurry- that's why they didn't have a whole retinue of servants and guards with them. They kept checking the calendar against the stars, and getting worried. I also figured out that these three "Kings" weren't Kings at all- they were Sachar (or Sahhar- I can't get my tongue around that Eastern "h")- what we call Wizards. They had names, of course, but I keep my clients confidentiality. I got to know them by their nicknames, which I was honored by being allowed to use. The eldest of the group was called -al-Khadim (but spelled with a Q) or "Ancient one." The not-so-old but very mystical was called al-Hakim, "Wise one." The one I had my eye on, huge and dark with the muscles and eyes of a warrior, was nicknamed al-Jabar, "The Giant." Once we were out of the city, I shed my black cloak for a very thin white overdress that kept the Sun off my armor and skin. I did wear a native style headdress that kept the sun off my neck, with a veil to pull up during sandstorms. As usual, my camel happened to be the meanest and worst-mannered in the desert- but he was a trained war-beast, strong, surefooted, and he would freeze like a statue if I drew my bow, unless he was at a gallop.

We came to a point where the caravan trail made a large loop to the North before coming back to the same general direction. My charges seemed obsessed with being at their destination by Solstice Night. We needed a shortcut desperately. So I decided to trust them, and as they pondered over their map scrolls and drew maps in the dust, I pulled out my Big Blue Map. My Big Blue Map is almost as if somebody took every map they could find, pieced them together, used the best pieces from each, and then "drew" the whole thing. Except mine isn't drawn in ink; it's covered in blue ink except where the lines are. Their wizardly eyes bugged out at it. The ancient one explained that in the age of legends, there had been a way to use sunlight, wax and dye to make many copies of a map or chart without copying it by hand. Okay, if he said so. Anyway, we looked at our current location and course on the map. There was the loop in the caravan track, and a place name on the empty space in the middle. The place-names for this section of my Big Blue Map meant nothing to me, being derived from the local tongues. "It's called 'Rahm-al-Mawt.' Jabar, can you translate that for me?" He looked grim. "In ancient Easterling, It means "the sands of death." Wonderful. I pretty much knew what we were up against at that point. I'd been in desert quicksand once or twice while trying to find water, and legend had it that sometimes the dry sands of the deep desert could become quick. That I didn't believe. But then, I'd been wrong before. My wizard charges decided to risk it- their mission (whatever it was) was worth gambling their lives.

It happened about an hour before sunset when we were halfway across the loop. We were riding along, with my camel in the lead, when he decided to stop and stand still. No amount of kicking would get him to move again. I was putting my eleven-foot-pole together to probe the sand in front of him when I heard a camel bawl behind me. One of the water camels had bogged down in the powdery sand to his belly. I slid off my camel to go rescue him, and plunged into the still-hot sand up to my thighs. Mmm-tasty, but I didn't have time to play right then. I lay on my back, wrenched my legs out, and belly crawled over to the stuck camel. If this whole erg was a quicksand trap, we were well and truly done for. I was racking my brain as I crawled, spreading my weight out. I had Jabar throw me a blanket from the packs (it gets cold at night in the desert) and I spread it on the sand to help support my weight. It worked- I could stand up on the blanket as I worked to calm the terrified camel and stop his thrashing around. By this time a couple other camels were starting to sink in the sand, including the one carrying Jabar's weight. Spread the weight- Yes! Carpets! Each tent had a floor-sized carpet that went with it, plus more carpets! I abandoned the mired camel and concentrated on saving our lives. We got the carpets out, laid them end-to-end, and got the rest of the camels up onto them. By this time, the stuck camel was up to his neck. He was done for. That's when I remembered he was carrying a good chunk of our water. Without that, we were just as dead as if we'd all drowned in the sands, except death would be very slow. I jumped into the sand, and started unloading waterskins, digging them out of the powdery, shifting mass that was trying to swallow me along with the camel. I was standing on the camel's rump when he gave one last desperate struggle and his back end went deeper, leaving me neck deep in the hot sand. I looked for help, and Jabar was there, but instead of a rope he was holding his staff. "Ostara! Cover your eyes! Do not open them no matter what!!" I did as I was told. I heard him chanting in a language I didn't understand, and suddenly I felt a wind around me and the camel. It got stronger and stronger, swirling. Pretty soon the whirlwind was sucking the sand away from the Camel and I. Next thing I knew the wind was lifting me up. It got hard to breathe, and I passed out.

I woke up in a tent, with the smells of lamp oil and burning camel dung (hey, firewood is hard to come by in the desert.) An exhausted looking Jabar was there watching over me when I woke up. I blinked my eyes, and asked him- "That whirlwind- was that. . .?" "Yes," he replied wearily. "A Djinn, a wind-spirit of the desert. They are strong, hard to control- but this one, I was strong enough for- just barely."

So that's the story, Quicksanders. I managed to get the wizards to a nowhere town called Madina-al-Daoud by Solstice Night. Did I mention that was the year of the Great Comet? Yep, you got it. And some of you might realize that Madina-al-Daoud is called Beth-el-ehemu in the local lingo. Yeah. I was there. And you-know-who wasn't born in a stable. Yes, the inns were all full, but Iosef bin Yakoub had relatives in town- it was his home town, after all. The beds were all full, so a bunch of the relatives had camped out in the main room of the homestead alongside their animals. But the part about the Manger is true; when the little guy wasn't being snuggled by one relative or another, he did sleep in a manger, on a bed of clean fresh straw covered by a folded blanket.

So, whether you follow the Old Religion or the New, Joyous Solstice.

{editor's note: "Dib-janood al-abyad" translates literally to "wolf-female warrior-the-white." Basically she was called "the white she-wolf who is warrior."}

[Viridian]

Nice and fitting. Good story!

[Lomax]

Ostara has led a busy life, it seems. Didn't she once meet a fat guy with a bunch of reindeer?

[nachtjaeger]

Now that you mention it, yes she did: viewtopic.php?f=14&t=1494

Ostara has led a busy life, it seems. Didn't she once meet a fat guy with a bunch of reindeer?

[joedeep130535]

I do like Ostara Would she swap a sink with me for a "transfusion"? I can think of some awful puns about blood being thicker than water!!!

[nachtjaeger]

Well, he has got a sense of humor. Is he cute? Or at least not a troll? Oh, and tell him that a man who would make a pun would steal a horse.

I do like Ostara Would she swap a sink with me for a "transfusion"? I can think of some awful puns about blood being thicker than water!!!

[joedeep130535]

he has a snse of humour,he's not cute but not a troll (I hope) & he doesn't need any more horses!! Oh & at this time of year he's almost always "thinking of sinking"lol

[Lomax]

I can think of some awful puns about blood being thicker than water!!!

The specific gravity of blood is 1.06 - so it is thicker than water, but only marginally.

[joedeep130535]

Don't think Ostara would respond to a glass of water -Might wash her hands of me lol