Part 5

By the time Salih finished his business with the merchant, the sun had long set. The sky was now draped in the dark cloak of night, stars shining like a thousand eyes watching the earth below. The moon peeked out shyly from behind drifting clouds.

But there was no sign of satisfaction on Salih’s face anymore. Instead, his cheeks burned red with anger, his eyes blazing with fury. Seated on his horse, he spat curses at the merchant who had caused his delay.

“Son of the devil! Made me this late! Now it’s night already!”

Such “sweet” words floated through the air as Salih rode on, whipping his horse to move as fast as it could—as though chased by some unseen demon. His mind held only one thought: reach his destination as quickly as possible.

In that silent darkness, where only the pounding hooves and Salih’s muttered curses broke the stillness, something suddenly caught his eye.

By the roadside ahead—like a shadow carved from the night—stood a figure. In the moonlight, its shape was unclear, but it was certainly a man.

The question rose sharp in Salih’s mind: Why would anyone stand here, on this lonely road, at this hour of the night? What could his purpose be?

The questions spun in his head, but he had little time to think. For now he could see more clearly—it was a young man, about his own age. The stranger raised a hand, signaling him to stop. There was an urgency, almost a plea, in that gesture.

Salih’s heart tightened. He was torn. “Do I stop, or not?” On one side, the urgency to return quickly. On the other, this mysterious traveler’s appeal.

Against his own will—as though compelled by some unseen force—Salih pulled the reins and stopped. The horse halted, panting heavily, as if it too longed for a moment of rest.

The traveler came closer. Under the moonlight, his face carried an innocent look, though his eyes glimmered with a quiet mystery. In a gentle voice he asked:

“Brother, I need to go to the city. Will you take me along?”

The simple question struck Salih like a thunderbolt. His mind erupted in chaos. Terrifying thoughts swirled inside his head.

First came regret: “Stopping was a mistake. Yes, a terrible mistake.”

Then darker thoughts followed. What if… this boy was no boy at all, but a ghost—someone who had died two hundred years ago? The idea pierced his mind like an arrow. He imagined the traveler’s true form: a skeletal body, burning eyes, a grin with bared teeth.

What if he devoured me right here on the road? The thought made Salih shiver. In his mind’s eye he saw the boy suddenly transform into a ghoul and lunge at him.

Fear shook him to the core. His hands trembled, his throat went dry. He made up his mind: “No. Absolutely not. I won’t take him. I’ll refuse.”

That was his firm decision. He would take no risks.

And yet—when Salih finally spoke, the words betrayed him. With a forced smile, pretending everything was normal, he said:

“All right, come along.”

The moment Salih said those words, it felt as though he had dug his own grave. But now, there was no turning back.

The mysterious young man—who had been standing silently by the roadside as if in patient waiting—smiled gratefully at Salih’s agreement. Slowly, he walked toward the horse. There was something regal in his stride, a princely air, as though he belonged to another world. Under the moonlight, his features grew clearer—and one could not deny that nature had been generous with him.

He climbed onto the horse behind Salih, sitting with calm ease.

And thus began a strange journey—one man riding in fear, the other an unknown youth, both speeding together down a road cloaked in night. Where the path would end, what awaited them—only the darkness knew.

The moon watched from above, casting its silver gaze over the uncanny sight, while the night air carried with it a scent of unspoken dread.

On that silent road, wrapped in the black veil of night and broken only by patches of moonlight, an eerie stillness reigned. Suddenly, the stillness was shattered—the sharp pounding of hooves rang out, like a storm racing across the earth.

The stranger—whose name and identity were still veiled in mystery—turned his sharp eyes toward Salih. Shadows fell across his face in the moonlight. In his gaze, clouds of suspicion began to gather.

Arrows of doubt pierced his heart. Who rides this fast, and why? His brow furrowed in troubled thought. The wind tossed his black hair into his face, while darker and darker suspicions gnawed at his mind.

“Bandits?” The word rose up from the depths of his heart. Could Salih be rushing to join a raid? In his imagination, horrifying images flashed—hidden gangs of thieves, bloodied swords, screams in the night. A shiver ran through him at the thought.

The horse thundered forward at great speed. Was this a road to robbery?

Yet, when he spoke, his tone carried the politeness of a respectful guest. He said softly:

“Brother, please… slow down a little.”

Meanwhile, Salih—whose face still carried a trace of the day’s feast, though fear of the night weighed heavy in his heart—also felt suspicion sprouting within him. He cast a sharp glance at his mysterious companion. What secrets might that innocent face be hiding?

He had been riding faster than usual. Now he thought: The boy asked me to slow down…

Suddenly, a thought flashed like lightning through his mind. That meant—he couldn’t be a ghost.

What a discovery! Relief surged in his chest, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. But in the very next breath, the smile died—snuffed out by an even darker suspicion.

If not a ghost, then surely… a bandit.

His mind conjured bloody visions—steel clashing, weapons gleaming, death striking without mercy.

Almost by instinct, as though his hand moved on its own, Salih reached for the dagger at his waist while riding. His fingers brushed the metal hilt—the last hope of his life.

But the sharp-eyed youth noticed the movement. He saw Salih’s hand drop to his belt.

In an instant, his handsome face drained of color, as though every drop of blood had been sucked away. Terror struck his heart. A desperate thought screamed inside him: He’s making sure the dagger is there.

From the depths of his soul rose a silent cry: “O Ar-Ra’oof!” His voice trembled in helpless prayer. “Save me tonight from this dreadful robber.”

The young man’s whole body began to tremble with fear. His lips had gone dry and stiff, yet he gathered the last of his courage—as though making a final attempt at life—and said to Salih,
“Brother, please let me down here.”

The words struck Salih like lightning. His eyes widened in terror and suspicion. A dreadful thought suddenly took hold of him: surely the youth’s men were waiting ahead.

In his mind flashed a horrifying image—bandits lurking in the darkness, their swords gleaming, cruel smiles stretched across their faces, eyes burning with bloodlust. That’s why he wants me to stop, Salih thought.

His heartbeat doubled, sweat poured down his forehead though the night wind was cold. In blind panic, as if in a final bid to survive, he drove his horse harder and harder.

The horse thundered forward like the wind itself, hooves striking the stones until they splintered. Dust rose behind them like storm clouds, cloaking the night in a smoky haze. The stillness of the road shattered under the roar of the galloping beast, as though some demon were racing through the darkness.

Thus the journey continued—two young men, each convinced the other was a threat, racing together toward an unknown fate where greater danger might be waiting.

But as Salih urged his horse on, the stranger grew certain: Salih must be a bandit.

His face turned to stone with fear. In the silver light of the moon, his trembling pink lips quivered in helpless terror, and his eyes bulged wide with horror.

The thought struck him: He’s taking me straight to his gang.

In his mind rose visions of dread—being dragged into a dark cave, chained to the wall, tortured without mercy, and finally… the thought froze his whole body like ice.

His hands and legs shook uncontrollably. His fingers trembled like dry leaves in the wind. Even his legs—swaying on the horse’s back just moments ago—now shuddered violently. With all the strength left in his throat, as if shouting for his very life, he cried out,
“Brother, what are you doing? My home is here—let me down!”

But Salih, consumed by fear, barely heard the words. He only caught the desperate cry and stopped the horse. Curiosity flickered across his face. In his politest tone he asked,
“Did you say something?”

The youth wasted not a second—knowing his life depended on this one moment. In a single leap, he sprang from the horse. What a leap it was! Like a deer escaping the hunter’s arrow, his body lifted through the air before landing firmly on the ground.

Standing on his feet, his voice rang with both relief and urgency:
“Brother, I’ll go from here.”

And with that—chased, it seemed, by a thousand demons—he broke into a run. What a run! His long legs flew like a falcon diving from the sky, his hair streaming in the wind, leaving behind only a cloud of dust.

And Salih? Watching the whole scene unfold, his suspicions only deepened. He thought: Of course—he’s gone to call his men.

Yes, exactly! A terrified man fleeing for his life looked to him like an accomplice rushing off to summon bandits. Brilliant logic!

Salih’s heartbeat surged faster. Sweat gleamed on his handsome face in the moonlight. In sheer terror, convinced a bandit horde was already on his trail, he spurred his horse without daring to look back.

The horse raced like it was possessed by the devil itself. Its hooves struck the ground with thunderous force. Dust swirled up like a sandstorm as Salih sped toward his destination—leaving behind the young man, who still ran the opposite way, believing he had escaped a dreadful robber.

Two men, fleeing in opposite directions—one on horseback, the other on foot.