He breathed steadily as he tried hard to concentrate on his opponent. His opponent, Luqman, draped in a white robe and a large white turban wrapped around his helmet, was much bigger, broader and stronger than he. Luqman came from a race of people, the Kusht, who were renowned for their strength. The Kusht race, very dark in complexion, as dark as molasses, were one of the many different races of people who inhabited the Kingdom of Double Horns.

Although the young man did not have the strength of his opponent, he did not let that thought discourage him. He focused hard on Luqman with his deep brown eyes. Sweat escaped his conical iron helmet and trickled down his face. For a while they circled one another eyeing each other intently, waiting for the other to make a move. Waiting for the other to falter. Finally, Luqman gave a great cry and thrust his sword toward the young man's head. The young man quickly raised his sword and blocked (deflected) his opponent�s thrust. There swords remained locked. However, Luqman faltered for a moment and the young man took this opportunity to go on the offensive. His breathing was heavy, his heart raced, and his head pounded, as the ringing clash of steel echoed in the serene quietness of the courtyard.

However, the serene quietness was suddenly disturbed by another sound; the sound of footsteps, rushing towards them.

�Elyasa! Elyasa!� the young man heard his name being called.

Both men stopped and looked in the direction of the young boy who had come running towards them.

�Murad?� Elyasa asked, bewildered, as he put his sword in his sheath.

�Elyasa�.the king�your� father�.� Murad said with difficulty, spouting out each word as he tried to catch his breath.

�Go on.� Elyasa said. Sensing that something was wrong he knelt down and held the boy by the shoulders. � Go on . What�s wrong? Has something happened to him?� He asked eyeing the boy intently.

Tears welled up in Murad�s eyes and then all at once he began to sob uncontrollably. Elyasa tightened his grip on the boy and began to shake him impatiently. �Murad what�s wrong?! Tell me!�

Luqman put his hand upon Elyasa�s shoulder. �Elyasa do not be so hard on the boy. Let him rest. He is clearly shaken and you are not making matters better.�

Elyasa gave a deep heavy sigh and released his clutch from Murad�s shoulders. He looked up at Luqman, his good friend, and sparring partner just moments ago. � You are right Luqman. I am sorry Murad. Now calm down and catch your breath.�

�The king is ill." Murad said, "A high fever has taken him and he is not conscious at all. Osorkon does not believe it is good and bid me to call you right away. Come, hurry, we must go!�

Elyasa, with Luqman close behind him, rushed after Murad into the palace and up many flights of stairs. Finally, out of breath, they reached the king�s personal chamber. Elyasa was first to open the door and many sad and solemn faces greeted him. He walked in and scanned the room that was dimly lit. He stood there for a few moments and examined the faces in the room. In the centre he found his father lying almost motionless on the bed. His younger brother, Jem, was sitting by his father side. Jem�s sad soft brown eyes greeted him. Elyasa could read in his brother�s face that he was eagerly waiting and hoping for his father to wake up. The physician, Osorkon, was holding a wet cloth on his father�s head. Osorkon was a man of many years; he had served at the time of Elyasa�s grandfather. He was a good old man and was given the knowledge of the herbs and healing by the All Knowing. By Osorkon�s side stood Luqman�s father, Salih. Salih was a learned man, a scholar of history, and older than the king by a hand�s span. He was Elyasa�s father�s adviser and close companion. Good friends they were just like he and Luqman.

Elyasa took off his helmet, gave it to Murad and walked up to his father�s bed. He looked upon his father�s face that was pale and sweating excessively.

�How is he?� Elyasa asked the doctor.

Osorkon shook his head and sighed. �He is not well my son. His fever is very high and he has been in this unconscious state for a while. We cannot make him drink the medicine.�

Elyasa placed his hand upon his father�s forehead and was taken aback by the heat. His father was burning with fever. He gazed at his father�s face. He could not believe it. The king was not an old man, he had breathed in this world for only six and fifty years. A very robust and energetic man he was. Now he looked upon his father�s face, his black beard, laced with silver, was beaded with sweat drops. His ear length black hair that also had strands of grey was matted against his cheeks. His face was colourless and his breathing feeble. Elyasa just stood there and gazed upon his father, confounded.

After a while, the king broke from his trance and began to moan and turn restlessly. Osorkon immediately ordered Jem to hold up the king�s head. The doctor put the bowl to the king�s mouth and he slowly drank the medication, though most of it fell on the sheets. Jem then carefully put the head down and the king�s eyes fluttered and opened with difficulty. He looked up at his sons and everyone else in the room for a while. A weak smile broke out on his face.

The king drew in a deep breath and spoke: �My dear friends..� His voice was feeble but audible enough for everyone to hear. �My end is near. Do forgive me if I have done any wrong or injustice.� He paused for a moment and then found enough breath to continue. �I wish to hold you all as witnesses. I proclaim my eldest son Elyasa as my heir and wish for all of you to support him and swear your allegiance to him.� Once again he paused. Tears welled up in Elyasa�s eyes and he shook his head, as he could not bear to lose his father. He did not know what to say or think. Omarian looked up at his youngest son who inherited his mother�s immense beauty. An aura of innocence always glowed in Jem�s face. Omarian made an effort to raise his hand to touch that face that gleamed with an angelic radiance. Jem grabbed his father�s trembling hand and put it between his.

�My dear beloved son. You are truly a prized gift to me. Do not cry.� Omarian could not withhold his own tears upon seeing Jem cry. He then slowly turned his face to Elyasa. �Elyasa my dear beloved son. I pass on to you this responsibility of looking after the Kingdom of Double Horns. Govern justly my son�Omarian paused. Elyasa at this point with tears tricking down his cheeks grabbed his father�s other hand. The king shut his eyes and remained silent for a long time. The room was silent. Nothing was heard except for Omarian�s feeble breathing. The king managed to open his eyes again and speak once more, �Rule justly for this land and its inhabitants are a trust from The One, The Eternal, The Trustee. You will be held accountable for it. My dear beloved sons and my dear friends remember and heed the One in Whose Hands is your souls, The Bestower of Life and The Renderer of Death for...� then he gasped for breath, this time with more difficulty. His eyes dilated and his pupils moved upward as he watched his soul rise up from within him. Then he was still. In a tranquil sleep. Never to wake or breathe in this world again.

Jem, with tears streaming down his face, shut his father�s eyelids and wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on his father�s temple. All wept quietly in that room. Tears overflowing for that kind departed soul.

Elyasa, finding his grief hard to bear, buried his face on his father�s chest and began to weep. Then he began to sob and shake feverishly. Jem, seeing how his brother trembled, walked over to him and put his hand on his head, �Elyasa.� He called softly in his ear but Elyasa did not look up.

Luqman�s father whose face was streaked with tears motioned to the others in the room, �Let us leave them alone for a while.� All, slowly with heads bowed and eyes misty, left the two brothers with their beloved father, alone.

After the door was shut, Jem knelt down to his brother and stroked his head gently �Elyasa� he called his brother�s name again.

Elyasa hearing his brother call his name slowly lifted his face from his father�s chest, his black hair fell over and concealed his grief stricken face, still shaking uncontrollably, he fell to the floor. Jem held him and Elyasa rested his forehead on his brother�s shoulder. Jem stroked his hair gently to calm him down. For a while they remained so.

Elyasa kept weeping. He had much difficulty accepting that his father was gone. His father, the one that raised them. He had fond memories of his mother but they were few. Barely did he remember her for she had died fifteen years before, when he was four, after giving birth to Jem. Despite being king, his father always took the time to spend with his sons. He treated them equally, loved them equally. It was his way. His father�s utmost fear was not to deal justly and fairly. That was what made him so loved a father, a friend and most of all king. For the people of Double Horns loved their king dearly and those who did not love him nevertheless respected him. Now his father was gone and left him to fill this role. It suddenly dawned on him that not only was he forced to accept his father�s departure but he also had to accept the heavy responsibility his father left him. How was he to live up to his father and great grand fathers before him?

When he stopped trembling he lifted his face from his brother�s shoulder and gradually stood up. Jem looked up at him, with those wide innocent eyes of his, but did not say a word. Elyasa brushed aside his black hair from his face. He walked up to his father, kissed him on his brow and then turned to Jem. �Jem, tell them to come now and prepare him for burial.� he managed to say with a voice, full of sorrow, barely recognisable. He slowly walked out of the room not looking back, and left Jem sitting on the floor alone.