Ottoman soldiers began streaming from the train, hurrying to bring their guns to bear. Gunshots from the Bedouin by the camels felled two of them before they could get shots off. Lawrence put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. On the ridge to the right more camels and riders than Çetinkaya had ever seen suddenly rose into view. They thundered down the slope, screaming a war-cry, catching the Turkish soldiers by surprise. For some reason they didn’t seem to want to use their rifles – many of them had scimitars and daggers raised high above their heads.
There wouldn’t be a better time to make a move.
Çetinkaya swung round, making a grab for Lawrence’s gun-arm. He seemed to be favouring it slightly; instinct told him there was a wound there. Sure enough, when Çetinkaya took hold of his shoulder, the Englishman doubled over in pain with a fearful yell. Çetinkaya punched him hard in the chin, following with a volley of kicks when the man went down.
‘Bunu nasıl buldunuz?’ he shouted furiously at his victim. He didn’t even care about the sounds of carnage from the battle all around him. ‘Nasıl, bu ukala İngilizce piç seviyorsunuz?’
There was a tap on his shoulder.
Çetinkaya turned. The Doctor was there. ‘You know,’ he said, somehow finding time to quip even while Çetinkaya brought his arm up for a punch, ‘that sort of language is really most unbecoming an officer.’ He prodded a single finger against Çetinkaya’s forehead and everything went black.
Lawrence’s second wave waited in reserve at the brow of the ridge. Jo crouched behind a rock, feeling helpless. She’d been in this situation countless times before and the feeling of uselessness in the pit of her stomach never went away. Always on the sidelines watching as young men she barely knew fought and died around her. But what could she do? She was an agent, not a soldier – and a clumsy, ditzy one at that. It was one reason it had been a relief to leave Earth and join the Doctor on his travels. There was still danger, of course, still deaths – too many deaths – but she didn’t seem to find herself in the middle of full-scale battles as often as she had with UNIT. The risks were ones she could contribute to; not this kind of mindless havoc.
‘This wasn’t what I expected,’ she said. ‘When they said we wouldn’t be using guns I thought… Well, people are ending up just as dead.’
‘That tends to happen in war,’ Najid replied icily. ‘Though Aurens and your friend seem to be doing all right.’
He pointed and she spied the Doctor fighting near the engine, a seemingly-untiring flurry of gangly limbs and implausible manoeuvres as he fended off the Turks with his Venusian aikido. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Lawrence was by his side. He held his pistol but seemed content to rely on punches and holds, his fighting-style less flamboyant than the Doctor’s but undeniably effective.
‘At least that’s something,’ she said.
‘I’m sure it’ll be a comfort to the families of the Arab lads who’ve died.’
‘Najid,’ Abdul-Malik objected, ‘come on now, it’s not her fault.’
A shout went up. ‘Second wave ready!’
All around them, Arabs were drawing weapons and taking up their reins. Abdul-Malik and Najid clambered up into their saddles.
The words of the second cry were lost in the thunder of hooves and the war-cry bellowed out all around. Abdul-Malik made to spur his camel forward.
‘Wait!’ Without quite knowing why, Jo grabbed his saddle. ‘You can’t do this!’
He hesitated. Najid too. Around them, the other riders surged forwards, over the crest of the ridge and down towards the battle.
‘If you go down there, you might die!’ Jo shouted over the din.
‘That’s war,’ said Najid.
‘But what for? You know the British are just using you. Why are you risking your lives?’
‘What else can we do?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know, but this is wrong. You must see!’
Down below, the Doctor was gleefully cracking Turkish heads together.
‘Ya allah,’ said Najid, ‘we’ve got to do something. We just sit here and we’ll be shot for cowards.’
Abdul-Malik glanced down at the fighting. ‘I’m all ears,’ he said, uncertainly.
Najid came to a decision. ‘On your camel!’ he barked to Jo.
‘But…’
‘Get on!’
She did so.
‘Now come on!’ Najid yanked hard on the reins and wheeled his camel round, setting off at a gallop away from the railway. Abdul-Malik was close behind. Jo hesitated, caught between her new friends and the Doctor. If she went with the Arabs, she might never see him again. When he got the TARDIS back, would he look for her?
‘Jo!’ Abdul-Malik shouted.
With a last, despairing glance towards the carnage by the train, Jo dug her heels into the camel’s flanks and rode away.
Watching through binoculars from atop a rocky outcrop some way away, the Master smiled with quiet satisfaction.
~~~
Twenty Arabs lay dead; more of the Turks. All were young. The Doctor shook his head sadly.
‘There was no need for that violence,’ he snapped at Auda, who was passing on his way to where the Ottoman prisoners had been rounded up. The Arab just shot him a contemptuous, pitying look and kept walking.
‘This was your battle,’ Sharif Ali said grimly. ‘Yours and Lawrence’s. The Arabs have no need for Mada’in Saleh.’
The Doctor rounded on him in righteous fury. ‘The plan was to take the train without anyone getting hurt! This was just senseless brutality, mindless thuggery of the highest order!’
‘Well I suppose that’s what happens when you use barbarians to do your dirty work,’ Ali retorted, and strode away.
Lawrence emerged from the train.
‘Don’t let them get to you,’ he said. ‘They’re just bent out of shape because there’s no loot to be had.’
The Doctor scowled. ‘Men have died, Lawrence. Just because they’re Arabs and Turks doesn’t mean their deaths matter any less.’
‘No, of course not,’ the soldier replied stiffly. ‘But this is a war. People are dying everywhere. Europe is a charnel-house. If this helps end all that the sooner then surely it’s a price worth paying.’
The Doctor regarded him coolly. ‘You don’t have to relish it so much.’
Lawrence returned his stare. ‘You didn’t exactly seem to be having a miserable time of it yourself.’
They said nothing for a long time.
A thought struck the Doctor.
'Have you seen Jo?'
‘Not since earlier. She was riding with some of the junior Arabs. Why?’
‘I haven’t seen her since this morning.’ He looked around anxiously, seeing if he could pick out her bright clothes among the drab whites and browns of the milling Arabs. Nothing.
‘Well she’s not among the dead, so I shouldn’t worry’ Lawrence replied evenly. ‘Ask around. She’s not exactly inconspicuous. Someone’s bound to have noticed where she’s got to. I need to get our strike team on to the train. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe what I have to put up with. Leading Arabs is like herding cats.’
~~~
‘So what’s the plan?’ It wasn’t the first time Abdul-Malik had asked but Najid seemed to have got into one of his enigmatic moods. At least it made a change that for once he had something to be enigmatic about. Normally when he acted all mysterious and evasive he was just either seeking attention or winding people up.
Najid said nothing and hastened his camel with a kick to her flanks. He’d kept up a brutal pace ever since they’d left the railway. At this rate he was going to drive the animal into the ground. Abdul-Malik could feel his own mount flagging. Jo had dropped so far behind he had to squint she was still in the saddle and following them.
‘Najid!’ he shouted. This time when his friend didn’t reply Abdul-Malik drew his pistol and fired off a shot into the sky.
Najid whirled his camel round and cantered back to him. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘You want to let everyone know where we are?’
‘Maybe that would be a better idea than riding at random out into the desert?’ Abdul-Malik shot back. ‘I don’t know – I’m not a Howeitat, but it seems like it. You know, just maybe?’
‘Don’t try and get sarcastic with me, lad,’ Najid growled. ‘You’re too young and you haven’t got the balls.’
‘Well tell me where we’re going then! What’s the hurry all of a sudden?’
‘The hurry? The hurry my friend is this!’ Najid was suddenly brandishing the Englishman’s letter. ‘You want to show the English how civilised we are, don’t you? Well this letter, my friend, is late. We have no idea how late it is, but the chances are it is very late indeed. Do you think they would stand for that from the Royal Mail? Do you think the Kaiser thinks nothing of it when an important dispatch arrives days or more overdue? Poor General Allenby must be beside himself! The things he must be saying about the Arabian post! My boy, I’m afraid the British will never take us seriously again!’
‘Now who’s being sarcastic?’
‘We have something that’s meant for General Allenby,’ Najid said firmly. ‘And we’re going to give it to him. Along with a little token of regret for the delay.’ As he thrust the letter back into his robes, his fingers brushed against his revolver. The implication was clear.
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘You can always go back to the train, boy. Me, I have business in Cairo. Revolutions are the locomotives of history!’
With that, he spurred the camel on and thundered off once more.
‘How does he even know Cairo’s in that direction?’ Abdul-Malik wondered aloud as Jo finally caught up.
‘Trouble?’ she asked brightly. ‘I don’t suppose he said where we’re going?’
‘Cairo.’
‘Oh. Right.’ She considered this. ‘I was hoping it might be somewhere… closer.’
‘I think he means to assassinate General Allenby.’
‘You’re not serious!’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘We’ve got to stop him!’
‘Obviously. But h- No, wait, hang on. Why do we?’
‘What?’
Abdul-Malik thought about it. ‘Allenby’s our enemy! His orders are to enslave us. Make us no better than the Negroes. Maybe we should kill him?’
Jo was appalled. ‘You can’t just go around killing people! Anyway, that’s hardly going to change anything. There’s loads more generals just like him. You’d just be throwing your lives away!’
‘But for a while it’d disrupt the British. When the Arabs hear what we’ve done and why they’ll rise up in rebellion!’
‘You’re already in rebellion against the Turks! You’re very brave, Abdul, and I’m sure you’re very good fighters, but do you really think the Arabs can beat the Ottoman Empire and the British one at the same time?’
‘I…’ He tailed off. She was right. His flight of fantasy blew away like sands in a wind.
Actually, on the subject of wind…
Abdul-Malik inclined his head and loosened his keffiyeh, feeling the touch of the breeze on his skin. Desert winds were cherished and beloved of those who traversed the sands; if you spent any time in the wastes you soon learned to distinguish their peculiar flavours and properties.
‘Oh no,’ he murmured.
Jo caught the new note of concern in his voice. ‘What is it?’
‘The breeze has changed. I know this kind. There’s a storm on its way, Jo. It’s coming in fast!’
‘But- We’re miles from the others! If we’re caught out here in a storm…’
He nodded. ‘It won’t be good.’
The most important thing now was to catch up with Najid, persuade him to break off his desperate ride and find shelter. Abdul-Malik knew it was hopeless even before he reached his friend. The storm closed in with terrifying, unnatural swiftness. Its gusting winds seemed to swirl in around them from every direction and none. Clouds rolled into a sky which had moments earlier been an unblemished field of blue. This was no ordinary habub.
Najid knew it. He reined in his camel and allowed Abdul-Malik and Jo to catch up with him. The undisguised fear on his face did nothing to allay Abdul-Malik’s concerns.
‘We’re not going to find shelter in time,’ Najid said without preamble, his eyes wide and fixed on the sky.
‘We have to do something!’ Jo shouted over the roar of the gale.
‘Do what, girl? What would your English practicality have us do? This – this is beyond what even the Bedouin can weather. No natural storm closes in so fast and so fierce.’
The winds carried with them dust and sands. Jo had to pull her headscarf across her face to keep the stinging grains from her eyes and skin. The camels shied and rumbled their discomfort.
Something in the swirling maelstrom caught Najid’s eye. ‘There!’ he called excitedly. ‘You see it?’
Abdul-Malik saw nothing, but couldn’t spare the energy to say so over the onslaught. Najid didn’t seem to care. He leapt down from his camel and stood in the eye of the storm, whirling and darting as he tried to glimpse whatever had captivated him. His lips were moving in some whispered prayer.
‘I…’ said Jo suddenly, then shook her head. ‘No. Just for a second I thought I saw something. Something alive in the storm.’
‘There’s nothing,’ Abdul-Malik replied firmly. ‘There can’t be anything. Nothing can live in this.’ It was true. They were going to die. Nothing could stop that now.
‘You saw it,’ Najid called out. ‘Don’t doubt it, girl. You know you saw it!’
And as much as he wished he could deny it, Abdul-Malik saw them too. Dozens of them, spinning and dancing ethereally in the midst of the chaos. Not human, not weather. Something different. Something elemental.
‘You know what they are,’ Najid shouted as the spectres closed in. The triumph had gone from his voice, as if he realised what it meant for them.
A sudden silence fell in the instant before the beings fell upon them
‘The djinn have us.’
END OF PART TWO
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