searching the wreckage and carnage of the temporary camp, Khaldun found and secured a horse. The chariot the horse was attached to is what had hindered it from running off into the desert. He rode the day and through the night, only stopping long enough to allow the horse to drink when they found water. He didn't see any signs of an army passing through the region but that didn't mean one didn't come through.
The desert was an unforgiving place and one of the hardest terrains in the world to track people in. Winds constantly swept through destroying footprints. Windstorms were an expectation. There wasn't even the option of
knowing
the desert like you could a forest or other land form. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing, except sand. If not for his navigational knowledge, Khaldun would wonder the desert until his death. He reached Memphis in the twilight hours the following day where he was greeted by the city's guards.
"General Khaldun! We received news of a battle. Where are the rest of your troops?"
"Slaughtered," he said with a resigned tone. "I must see Pharaoh immediately."
"Right away General!" the soldier turned to his cohort. "Get the path to the palace cleared!"
The man ran ahead and began to yell to clear the walkway. Khaldun was tired and wanted nothing more at the moment but to lie down and sleep. As much as he wanted to he couldn't. He had a duty still. He was relieved though to see that the city still stood, which meant Rashida was still safe and alive.
As he passed the people of the city many bowed in respect to the commander of the army and many still looked in awe that here he was alive. Rumor spread through the city like a fire that Khaldun and his army was swallowed by the desert.
The rumor began like any other rumor. News filtered in from passing travelers then into the city where the news was spread further by mouth. Eventually the facts were changed; things were added and taken away leaving no two people with the same story.
Khaldun kept his posture up as best as he could. He preferred to not allow the people to see just how tired and beaten he was. The last image the people needed of the commander of the army was a weakened and broken general.
Once he was inside the inner palace gates and the doors closed he slumped in the saddle. He moved his hand over where his wound lay. It throbbed slightly from the ride, but other than that it felt better than it should have. He still didn't have an answer as to why he didn't die from the fatal wound and as long as he was alive he truly didn't care.
"Khaldun!" a voice shouted, breaking him from his thoughts. He recognized the voice instantly. Ako, Rashida's younger brother. He was one of the few that was allowed to not be required to use the title
general
when speaking to him. "Let me help you," he said rushing to the horse's side.
Ako was barely into his teenage years but he was strong for his age. He showed great interest in becoming a warrior training with the soldiers and taking every opportunity to learn what Khaldun had to teach him.
"How is your sister?"
"She is fine and a little worried that the rumors were true."
"Well they are. To an extent at least."
Khaldun now had his arm around Ako's shoulder and began to limp toward the palace when the doors shot open.
"Khaldun!" Rashida yelled as she ran to him. She wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking both the men over. "I was so worried about you."
"I'm glad to see you sought my return. Does this mean you will accept my hand in marriage?"