LEGEND OF THE WHITE WORM
...Our most unlikely story begins as a story of a slave.
...Our most unlikely story begins as a story of a slave.
Far, far away, in the land of the ancient forests and rolling hills, lived a small semi-nomadic tribe of farmers and hunters. Sometimes, the evil raiders would come from the southeast, up the river, for the tribute; those who could not hide had to pay in furs and people. Preferably, young women. Those who tried to resist were hunted down and their lands ravaged.
Our hero was born in these forests. His birth name was Kuksha - meaning a bird that we now call siberian jay; his father made a living by collecting wild honey and hunting while his mother tended to the livestock - a couple of skinny cows and a few chickens.
In an instant, everything he knew was gone.
The tribe's dwellings came into the path of a Khazar raiding party. Most adults were slaughtered or ran into the forest. Some, including children considered strong enough to survive travel, were tied up as captives and taken back, to the lands of the dreaded Khagan.
He was among those who survived. The trip down the river, then the endless nightmare of moving as a part of a "slave train", then the dusty labyrinth of a Khazar town and the slave market.
A passing trader from the south bought him. The boy was suffering from severe sunburns, so the new owner jokingly nicknamed his servant al-Ahmar - "the Red One".
Kuksha, who now was Ahmar, traveled further south with his master Parviz. Down the Volga and along the shores of the Caspian, into the land of Persia, ruled by the Caliph, and then, into the magnificent city of Baghdad itself.
In three years, the boy learned to be a good and obedient servant. Now he knew some Persian and Arabic, and - at least superficially - accepted Islam. His milky white skin was white no more, as the sun of Mesopotamia tanned it. He was now ten years old. He barely remembered the parents and their forest hut.
But Parviz's fortunes came to an end as several shipments of precious goods were lost to bandit attacks and storms on the sea. To repay the massive debt, he had to sell the opulent city house and get rid of most of the servants.
Ahmar ended up on the streets of Baghdad. Luckily, an old man who once stayed as a guest in the Parviz's house, recognized the little beggar and took him along.
Thus Ahmar followed the man who called himself Talib ibn al-Masri, a travelling scholar, historian and alchemist. Ibn al-Masri soon recognized that his new servant was resourceful, smart, and learned fast; the scholar taught Ahmar to read and write Arabic as they travelled northwest, to the ancient Jerusalem and beyond, to Egypt, where Ahmar gazed in awe at the ruins of the pharaohs. Our hero, now 12 years old, became a dutiful scribe as ibn al-Masri charted the upper reaches of the Nile in the land of the Ethiopians. From Sennar, they set out on a caravan path into the vast unknown Africa.
The dark-skinned nomads carried rumors of a great mysterious kingdom rich in gold somewhere in the depths of the continent, at the river which rivals Nile; and, drawn towards that goal, the old scholar went further and further west, from one oasis to another, past the great lake Chad, along with his baggage train of many camels loaded with books and curiosities, and, of course, his trusty teenage scribe.
But at the shores of the great river he sought, the health failed the bold explorer. Ibn al-Masri fell ill with some sort of nasty fever and soon died, leaving his 15-year old scribe to fend for himself among the natives of this strange land.
* * *
They shunned him because of his pale skin. They said, he looks like a corpse worm. Some of them tried to kill him, others thought he has magic power. Some of those tried to kill him too to make amulets and ritual potions from his body.
But he, the White Worm, he bested them all. The magic power, the spirit power, yes, he has it. He studied their beliefs like he studied the Quran under Ibn al-Masri, and twisted their superstitions against them. The name that was meant to insult, now carried fear of the supernatural.
When the White Worm walks, spirits walk with him. When the White Worm talks, death howls on the wind. Strong shaman, White Worm, is.
Years passed by. Maybe, it's been a decade of his life among black people in the jungle, maybe more. He adopted their customs and their way of thinking. He is a respected shaman who defeated many others, cunning and treacherous. The tribes of Gurma all know of his power, and even the High Chief Zoumana sends people to talk to him.
To the north, lie the great cities of Gao, Djenne and Timbuktu. It's the distorted tales about them that lured Ibn al-Masri here in search of the mythical land of gold.
Perhaps, it is time for his pupil to see the riches of Timbuktu for himself...
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