The Thin Executioner

push your body to extremes you would never before have dreamt possible.”

“What about food and water?” Jebel asked.

“Water is readily available,” the woman said. “Food is scarcer, but there are plants and fruits that grow in the darkness. Most are inedible, but you can eat anything — poison won’t upset your stomach! Eat whenever you see anything that looks like it can be eaten, keep marching, and you’ll be fine.”

The woman kissed Jebel’s cheeks. “We won’t see each other again,” she said, “but I will think of you every day. I hope you have a good, long life. I’m certain you will.” Before Jebel could think of a reply, her form faded, and he was alone in the tunnel with the floating ball of light.

Jebel waited for his senses to stop spinning. When they didn’t, he put his doubts on hold, faced the light, and started walking. The light moved ahead of Jebel, guiding him away from the sacred mountain of Tubaygat and the mysterious, powerful, incredibly lonely woman who dwelt within.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The walking was endless but untaxing. As the woman had predicted, Jebel was able to march for many miles before having to stop. He had no sense of time down there, but by his rough reckoning he could go three or four days and nights without rest. And though he ate every so often, he was never really hungry.

The underworld was more beautiful than he had imagined. Fields of stalactites and stalagmites, waterfalls, unmined seams of sparkling crystals and gold, rock formations to rival even those of Abu Siq. But he seldom paused to appreciate the sights. He was mindful of the woman’s warning that he had to hurry, and while he didn’t care much about the mukhayret anymore, he was determined to save Tel Hesani’s family.

The light burned constantly as it glided ahead of him. Sometimes he talked to it, pretending it was Tel Hesani or one of his friends from Wadi. And even though the fire never responded, it provided him with company, and in the loneliness of the subterranean tunnels and caves he was grateful for that.

The tunnels twisted, dipped, and rose sharply. He often had to climb or pick his way around the rim of a crevice that seemed to drop away into the very heart of the planet. A normal human couldn’t have completed this trek. But Jebel pushed on without slowing, clearing even the harshest of obstacles with ease.

He thought a lot about his quest and Tel Hesani. He also returned to his meeting with Sabbah Eid time after time, replaying their conversation. She had said he should use his power to make the world a better place. But how? Become a soldier and kill all who were vile? Install himself as high lord and free every slave? Use his power to bend others to his will? Wouldn’t he become a tyrant himself if he did that?

Jebel wanted to make the most of his newfound powers, but how could he, when he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them?

After weeks of marching Jebel through the underworld, the light stopped moving at the foot of a wall. Jebel wearily reached up in search of a handhold. As he started to climb, the light didn’t rise with him but stayed on the ground.

Jebel glanced down, surprised. The light had flickered ahead of him all the way until this point, soaring when he climbed, sliding down gracefully into the dark when the path cut away steeply underfoot. Why had it paused now?

Then it struck him — the light had stopped because their journey had come to its end. Jebel looked up, and although he couldn’t see anything, he was sure this wall would lead him to the surface.

“Thank you,” Jebel said to the light. In response it began to dim, and he knew that by the time he reached the top, it would have quenched itself forever.

He climbed eagerly now, digging his fingers in where there weren’t any holes, gouging chunks out of the rock as if it was made of mud. He soon caught a glimpse of daylight, a pinprick in the ceiling of black. Aiming for it, he quickened his pace, his heart expanding as the sliver of light bloomed.

Eventually he crawled out into a small cave. Shaking, holding a hand over his eyes to protect them from the sunshine, he stumbled to the exit and sank to his haunches, breathing in the fresh air as if it was a fragrant perfume.

When his eyes had adjusted, he focused on the sun. It was almost sunset, and the fiery globe was sinking fast. He watched it go down, awestruck, shivering as the earth seemed to eat the sun until there was only a tiny arc left, then nothing.

His face was wet. It felt like rain, but it couldn’t be — the sky was clear. Exploring with his fingers, he was astonished to find that he’d been crying. The simple beauty of the setting sun had reduced him to tears. For most of his life he hadn’t cried, even when truly miserable or in pain. Now here he was, weeping at a sunset!

Jebel should have felt foolish, but he didn’t. Wiping his cheeks clean, chuckling wryly, he stood and surveyed the land. By the fields of lush grass stretching away in all directions, he knew that he had come up somewhere between the as-Sudat and as-Surout, the fertile green belt of Abu Aineh. If he cut southeast, he couldn’t miss Wadi.

Judging his direction by where the sun had set, Jebel ambled from the cave, rested a moment at the bottom of the small hill to enjoy the scent of grass, then set off on the final leg home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jebel returned to Wadi one hot summer evening, much like the day when he had left. If he closed his eyes, he could have pretended the year was a dream. But Jebel didn’t want to pretend. He was fully focused on the reality of the moment and all that was to come.

Making a slight detour, he passed through the place where the mukhayret was traditionally held. Many tents and stalls were being set up. That meant the festival hadn’t taken place yet. Jebel was in time. He said a quick thank-you to the gods, then turned for home, not sure what sort of a reception to expect.

The house hadn’t changed, except it was dustier than Jebel remembered. He could have walked straight in — it was his home — but he felt awkward. After pausing nervously on the front step, he gulped and rapped on the door.

“Enter,” came his father’s voice. Jebel took a deep breath and went in.

Rashed Rum was sitting at the table, washing his dinner down with a mug of water. J’Al was with him but had finished eating and was rubbing the back of his neck, twisting his head from left to right. J’An was in a corner, exercising.

Rashed Rum looked up with a smile, not recognizing the thin, scruffy boy. “Yes?” he said amiably.

“I’m back, Father,” Jebel said, and all movement in the room ceased.

Rashed Rum stared at the skinny boy in the doorway. J’An and J’Al gaped. They couldn’t believe that this was Jebel. They had given him up for dead many months ago. For a moment the executioner thought the boy had wandered into the wrong house. But then he saw traces of his dead wife in the youth’s eyes.

“Jebel!” he roared, with more excitement than Jebel had anticipated. Leaping to his feet, Rashed Rum raced across the room, caught his youngest son in a bear hug, and whirled him around. Jebel laughed, then hugged his father and wept. J’Al and J’An raced forward, delighted to see their long-lost brother.

“Where have you been?” J’Al roared, clapping Jebel on the back.

“Why did you leave without telling us?” J’An shouted. “We were worried sick! You…” He stopped and squinted. “Are you crying?”

Jebel broke free of his father’s embrace and laughed through his tears. “Sorry,” he half-sobbed, half-chuckled. “I didn’t expect such a welcome. I thought… I don’t know. But not this.”