The Lost Legend of Afghanistan E-Book

Cyrill Delvin

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 612

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

In North-eastern Afghanistan, several groups and political powers fight for control: The allied troops led by the US spare no effort to leave the country at the Hindukush soon and hand over political responsibility to the local people. But whom can they trust? The country is threatened by power struggles between different ethnic groups, tribes, Islamists and foreign secret services. The effort required by the allied forces to avoid the situation spiralling out of control is immense. A planned Loya Jirga, a gathering of influential tribal elders where important political and ethnical questions are discussed could resolve the balance of power. However, the individual leaders are at odds with one another and the gathering is likely to fail before it even begins. At the same time, an Afghan visits the renowned archaeographist Éduard Berniér in Switzerland, with a stone. He asks the scientist for his expert opinion on it. Nawid, a Pashtun boy, found the stone in dramatic circumstances. First, Berniér is tempted to pass on this request to his colourful and heinous rival Penrose. But then, he can be convinced to examine the trove himself. As he is on his way to Delhi and Kabul, he can meet the elder of the Pashtun Hamidzai tribe, who has asked for his opinion. A wild chase criss-crossing North-eastern Afghanistan to find the treasure shrouded in mystery begins. This treasure, mentioned already in Afghan history, holds insights into the fate of Afghan society and thus offers conclusions for the Loya Jirga. However, several parties pursue their interest in the stone, amongst them Penrose, the famous American archaeologist, and the Pakistani secret service. His main concern is the value of the precious stone, theirs the political status quo of their neighbouring country. Berniér and his friends including Nawid, the last successor of the Hamidzai elder, are on a mission where friendship and trust are vital for survival. cyrill-delvin.net

Leseprobe

The Lost Legend

of Afghanistan

A Novel set in Switzerland and Afghanistan

Cyrill Delvin

This is a fictional story. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, locations, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity with persons alive or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

The original German edition was published in 2015

Translated into English by Martina Lammers

»The Lost Legend of Afghanistan«

First English Edition

All Rights Reserved

Published by: epubli GmbH, Berlin, www.epubli.de

Copyright © 2023 Cyrill Delvin

›Democracy starts with the mutual assessment of one’s shared history – thus developing political and cultural dimensions for the present and future.‹

Professor Édouard Berniér

MapNortheast Afghanistan

An IncidentJune 8th, 1400 Hours, Badakhshān Province, Afghanistan

Tirelessly the eagle spiralled upwards above the glimmering mountain flank, ignoring the unusually busy road far below.

»I didn’t know that the Alliance has so many trucks,« Rashad muttered while languidly resting his arms on the steering wheel. »Let’s hope they’ll have some decent goods in Faizābād any time soon. Aah, Faizābād …«

The youthful-looking man in his mid-thirties sighed. An hour ago, the militias at the head of the oncoming convoy had barked at him to move over and wait. He had already counted more than seventeen articulated lorries carrying freight containers escorted by a large number of military vehicles.

Although he would still make it to his father’s place on time, he was nervous. He had not seen him for ages. Not because the Taliban had made it difficult to get to Faizābād these last two years. Much earlier than that Rashad had decided to leave his hometown to escape his intended fate. Voluntarily. Or had he been motivated by an egotistical desire to spread his wings? Back then, he had fled from the stifling provincial constrictions – and from the ideological narrow-mindedness of his family’s patriarch. But essentially it had been Zaina whom he had followed.

The car radio played a tape of the music they shared. It hadn’t even been half a day and he already missed her, the love of his life …

The city had been fought over for two years before the Northern Alliance, aided by the United States, had overthrown the Taliban. The Alliance’s success, fragile as it was, nevertheless inspired some hope. Faizābād had been the last place the Taliban had taken. Now it was the first to be wrested from them. Other cities still endured the Islamist servants’ yoke. Not for the first time. And not all of them longed for freedom.

Fifteen years of silence before the head of the family had called back his lost sheep. All his brothers were dead by then. Killed in action during the merciless struggle for liberation which, to everyone’s amazement, had spread north via the Sālang Pass. It was crystal clear why his father wanted him back. An hour sooner or later wouldn’t make any difference.

»… twenty-one … twenty-two …« Numerous trucks with heavily armed militias between them.

Nawid quickly lost interest in the many vehicles. He had never met his grandfather and had no idea why they had to visit him. Especially since his father also didn’t seem particularly pleased and because his mother had cried when they’d said their goodbyes. Something she never did. But the adults’ intentions were unfathomable for the rather small thirteen-year-old – for now.

He was far more interested in what was happening in the sky. Ignoring his father’s soliloquy, he’d been glued to the old Renault’s windshield for quite a while. His head tilted back; he watched the eagle circling the zenith.

Suddenly, two crows flew towards the large bird and tried, in vain, to engage the king of the skies in a fight. The eagle had no intention of entertaining them and leisurely changed his course. The undaunted crows chased after him until the trio disappeared from the boy’s view behind the large rocks lining the stretch of road where they had been parked for so long.

»Can I follow him?«

»Follow whom?«

»The eagle.«

»What?«

The delicate boy’s wide-open eyes stared at his father. A sure sign that something was bothering him.

»Alright, but don’t wander off to far. I think they’ll soon be waving us on.«

If only we had emigrated to the States back then before the radicals took the Hindu Kush.

As soon as Nawid had walked around the rocks, he saw the eagle again. »He’ll win one way or another,« he grinned and slowly paced along the path leading towards the mountain. His eyes constantly scanning the sky, he didn’t even notice the goatherd who was shielding himself against the scorching midday sun behind one of the rocks.

The young man watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, half amused, half disdainfully, before he decided to continue his snooze. Smug city slicker!

»… twenty-six …« Rashad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The well-armed, fierce looking soldiers of the Alliance made him feel uncomfortable. The fact that his three brothers had fought by their side didn’t make them any more likeable. As the youngest, and now the only son, far away from the rest of his family, he believed that he still had a lot of life to live instead of naively following the call of the Militia. On the other hand, he had already been long enough on this planet to understand that the Taliban had meanwhile developed into a greater evil than the Russians had ever been. This was also noticeable in Mazār-i Šarīf, where people’s freedom was curtailed a little bit more each day. The loss of his brothers inside just a few months in this new war only reinforced his dismissive attitude.

Is this even a war or isn’t it rather life itself? I won’t have my Nawid share that fate. Never! Perhaps we should move after all. But maybe Faizābād is now safer than where we live.

He gravely looked up the side valley without seeing his boy when a pick-up truck turned into where he was parked and came to a halt thirty feet behind the Renault. Rashad’s forehead was covered in beads of perspiration.

The commander got out of the vehicle and gestured for the clumsy militias to climb down from the truck bed.

Rashad’s hands started to shake. What do they want from me?

But the commander waved his people over to a lorry by the side of the road which had stopped too close to the precipice and was now blocking the track for the vehicles behind. The driver directed the soldiers towards the valley side of the untarred road where the juggernaut’s wheels no longer touched the ground. One of the tyres had burst and the vehicle threatened to slip down any minute.

Rashad tightly clutched the steering wheel and watched what was happening while the music was still blaring from the tape deck. Please don’t come back just now, Nawid! Furtively glancing to the right, however, he spotted the boy emerging from the closest boulders. The Allies also don’t need a reason to kill someone, just like those damned Taliban, he thought as he opened the driver’s door.

As soon as Rashad got out of his car, two soldiers with raised guns ran towards him. He had just about enough time to wink at his son to hide behind the rocks.

The scared Nawid saw the two men rushing up to his father, but Rashad’s eyes made it very clear what the boy should do. So Nawid quickly hid behind a rock and cautiously witnessed the scene.

The soldiers hadn’t noticed him. They gruffly ordered Rashad to lift his hands and turn around.

»What do you want?!«

»Nothing,« Rashad replied as calmly as possible. »Just stretching my legs.«

»Get back into your car!« They brandished their weapons.

Meanwhile their commander had approached the Renault. »What have we here? A Hazāra? Travelling alone in a stolen car?«

»I am—«

»Shut up! I guess you killed the owner.«

The malice in the officer’s voice made Rashad blush. Who did those Allies think they were? He was a Pashtun, very obviously so.

»I’m not a—«

»Shut it, you bloody Shiite,« the man insulted him again.» Count yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood. Go on, help the others with the truck!«

For just a second too long, Rashad looked into the commander’s eyes. The man’s forceful blow threw him face down onto the bonnet where he hit his head. Dazed, he saw Nawid peeping out from behind the rock. Rashad picked himself up. His tongue was bleeding when he muttered: »I’ll do whatever you say.«

Accompanied by the three soldiers’ laughter, he staggered towards the truck and helped the others. The sound of the raging river met their ears as if it demanded some sacrificial victims while the driver replaced the burst tyre. Despite his fear, Rashad couldn’t help noticing that there was something wrong with the containers. He had assumed that the convoy had delivered goods to Faizābād. There was hardly anything to deliver to Kunduz in the opposite direction. Not yet. But the containers weren’t empty. They carried some kind of cargo. Something alive.

Animals? Where could they be from…? Now and then he could hear a muted moan or subdued sounds. No actual cries, but rather a squeaking noise. Pigs? That would be even more obscure. People? But nobody inside was talking or knocking on the walls.

He dismissed the thought and helped the others to prevent the trailer from plunging down the side of the mountain. Once the tyre had been replaced, the driver manoeuvred the truck onto the road and the gruff commander ordered his men to get back onto the pick-ups.

Rashad was walking to his car when the officer planted himself in front of him and mocked: »Thanks for your help.«

Rashad had no idea what possessed him to ask the man what was inside the containers.

»Miserable bastards – just like you.«

He was shocked.

The officer’s face visibly lit up at Rashad’s consternation and the thought of his cargo. »Want to join them?« he asked while greedily eyeing the Renault. »Wouldn’t that be a suitable type of transport for someone like you?«

»But they’re suffocating in there!«

»They’re suffocating!« the man grinned. Without turning around, he waved his two bodyguards over and said: »Jamal, Kaden, did you hear that? They’re suffocating in there.«

All three of them erupted in cruel laughter.

Rashad bit his tongue.

»Maybe we should let them have some fresh air?« Jamal smirked nastily.

Without a word, the officer took Kaden’s Kalashnikov.

»I just thought—«

»Shut up!«

At that moment, the commander fired three rounds of ammunition at the two containers. Jamal did the same. This time, the cries from inside were unmistakable. Human blood was seeping through some of the holes.

The incredulous Rashad couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.

The officer handed the weapon back to Kaden and, obviously pleased, ordered: »You two take his car. And you, Hazāra, you can walk.« Then he climbed into his truck.

Rashad was speechless. Not because of his car, but because the other vehicles simply continued on their journey as if nothing had happened. Jamal and Kaden were about to get into the Renault when the engine of the truck in front revved up and sped back towards the numb Rashad. Unable to react, the truck drove over him.

The officer wound the window down and roared at the soldiers. »Didn’t I tell him to go away?«

The militias grinned and finally got into the Renaud. Rashad was lying on his stomach, writhing in agony. He could barely see the rock from behind which Nawid was witnessing everything. The trembling boy was crouched on the ground and looked at him. Rashad’s eyes made it clear to stay where he was. Despite the thirty feet distance, Nawid could see his father’s mortal fear reflected in them. He also saw his parent’s pride in him and his love. But what he observed most was Rashad’s worry about him. He would never forget that look in his father’s eyes.

As soon as his commander disappeared around the next bend, Jamal got out of the car and surveyed the man on the ground, then turned him over onto his back with his foot.

»Please …« gasped Rashad, breathing heavily.

The soldier raised his gun and immediately put it down again when he spotted three manned vehicles he didn’t recognise emerging between the trucks. The armoured vehicle in the middle stopped and an American officer observed the situation. An incident? A private reckoning?

Jamal sheepishly waved him on.

The American evidently didn’t think the scene was worth leaving his air-conditioned vehicle and drove on. As soon as he was out of sight, Jamal raised his weapon again and shot Rashad in the head without blinking an eyelid.

Without knowing why, Nawid’s immediate thought when hearing the shot reverberating through the rocks was: The eagle always wins! This thought overpowered everything else so forcefully that he forgot where he was, who he was, what had happened, what he had seen and what might happen. Did he just imagine it or did he actually hear the huge bird’s battle cry above him?

Jamal gestured at Kaden to wait and approached Nawid’s boulder to relieve himself. The terrified boy was unable to think clearly and crawled back. Jamal heard a sound he believed to come from a snake. He noisily stomped around the rock. To his surprise, he found a boy cowering behind it who stared at him with wide open eyes.

»Well, who have we here?«

A smile played around his lips when he took a couple of steps back. »You have to see this, Kaden!«

Kaden left the Renault, stubbed his cigarette out on the bonnet and joined him.

»My, my!« Kaden delightedly exclaimed at the sight of the child crouching on the ground. »What an easy prey, and so pure, isn’t he?« Jamal observed and high fived his comrade.

»A little bača for Major Zayd,« Kaden tried to distract him.

Jamal shot him a piercing look, knowing his fellow soldier only too well. Once Kaden got his hands on him, the boy wouldn’t even make it as far as Lieutenant Burhān, their leader, let alone Major Zayd. The boy was too pretty, the opportunity too tempting, his appetite too great.

»Zayd wouldn’t be interested in a Hazāra kid,« he spurred him on while extending his upturned palm. Much better to score a fag of his colleague than having his day ruined by a whinging brat.

»Okay then.« Kaden gruffly extracted a cigarette from his breast pocket.

»Is that all the time you need?« Jamal mocked and the stout soldier grudgingly handed him another cigarette.

Jamal lit one of them as he strolled back to the Renault. In the meantime, the last truck had passed the place. The smoking soldier sat back behind the steering wheel and turned up the music. No way would he listen to the crying and moaning behind the rock. He bobbed to the rhythm of the music and lit the second cigarette. The music stopped as he took his last drag. Jamal heard nothing but the muffled sound of the river and the occasional car passing by. He stayed where he was for another moment without turning the tape.

Eventually, he impatiently shouted over to the rock: »Get on with it! We’ve got to keep going.« No reply. Idiot! Exasperated, he finally got out of the car. »What are you doing? Move your arse over here …« His only answer was the buzzing of the flies circling the corpse beside the car.

Goats’ Blood1500 Hours

Just two more days before the big animal market in Artin Jelow.

Sindo was on his way there with the herd of goats. They were of course not his owns, but he was responsible for the animals, every one of them. Six weeks earlier, he had left Bakhtingan and had since travelled through the mountains. The lanky young man was looking forward to the market which marked the end of spring and the beginning of summer. Most of all because of the girls. After the austere Taliban had finally been ousted, you could look into the girls’ eyes again. And dream… His dream was the exceptionally beautiful Laleh.

Half asleep, leaning against the cool side of a massive rock, he pondered like that when he heard approaching footsteps. Will I get up or not? He saw the goats further up in the narrow valley pawing at the grass. They were safe. The sun had passed the zenith. One way or the other, he would have to move on soon. So he rather stayed where he was for the time being. The huge convoy of trucks on the road below was already enough of a disturbance.

Soon after, a boy walked past him without noticing anything but the eagle above them. When the child returned a short while later on the same path, he still didn’t notice the goatherd. Half annoyed with the evidently Pashto boy’s ignorance, he was about to call after him when he heard car doors banging and orders being shouted about fifty yards away. Not a good omen! He quickly got up and peeped out from behind the rock. The boy had also been crouching behind a rock close to the road.

Shit, what’s happening? Who was the man being beaten beside the Renault? The salvos being fired a little later were obviously not aimed at him but… the containers?

Sindo couldn’t help himself and scurried a bit closer to witness the man being run over by a Toyota. The young goatherd’s hairs stood on end. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Was that guy a Taliban fighter? Then the boy would be an accomplice. He doesn’t exactly look like a fighter. But the others definitely belonged to the Alliance. If only because American tanks were accompanying the convoy.

Those rude strangers! Alright, they had helped to oust the Taliban from the region, but the stories his uncle had told him didn’t show the self-proclaimed liberators of Afghanistan in the best light. One wrong look and… As had happened to his cousin Mishal, who had been killed at an American checkpoint. Long before that, his uncle Borak had thought just as little of the occupying forces as he did of Allah’s army.

Sindo’s curiosity did, however, outweigh his misgivings. So he crept closer to the road until he was just a rock behind the boy and saw that the trucks had moved on. Then he heard a single shot. Damn it! They’re still there!

A moment later, one and then another soldier appeared. They had discovered the child. And now the man who had been run over was lying dead still beside the car. Why did they shoot him? Was he a Taliban or a spy after all?

Regardless of who he had been, the boy would suffer, the goatherd could tell by the fat soldier’s expression. Besides, he could clearly hear what the men said.

They are going to rape and then kill him, Sindo thought and started to feel uneasy. Don’t get involved. That boy is nothing to you, an inner voice told him. Fuck it, why didn’t I make a run for it…? It would have been a different story had it been about his goats… He would have defended them with the ferocity of an angry lion. But a boy he didn’t know… A Pashtu, and from a city, why should he care. It’s none of my business!

The soldier with the beaked nose went back to the car. The other one put down his weapon and hitched up the trembling boy’s outer garment.

Nawid tried to defend himself; at least bite that vile man. But his body no longer obeyed him. Neither did his mind. He was brutally thrown onto his stomach. Yet still all he could think of was the eagle fighting the two crows.

The obese man pulled down his trousers. Any feeling and the world vanished like a theatre stage behind the final curtain.

His eyes closed, Nawid distinctly saw the crows nosediving to attack the golden eagle. In vain. The eagle kept screeching and tore up the black bird’s plumage with his sharp claws and powerful beak.

The boy noticed the man pushing him to the ground and kneeling over him. The crows finally left the eagle alone. The majestic bird’s triumphant cry went through him like a knife. Nawid involuntarily opened his eyes and slightly raised his head. Just a few feet away, he saw two eyes staring at him in bewilderment.

Nawid neither pleaded nor begged for mercy.

The defenceless boy’s expression shook Sindo to the core. In the name of Allah, you’d help your goat, but a boy’s fate leaves you cold? Without giving it another thought, he emerged from behind the rock where he had been hiding.

After the eyes had vanished from his vision, Nawid lowered his head. He must have been hallucinating. No more thoughts to distract him. Now it dawned on him what was about to happen, but he was still lying down as if paralysed, unable to move. Remembering the image of his dying father made him cry through his closed eyelids. He dug his fingers deep into the clay soil and resigned himself to his fate.

Sindo had planned to sneak up on the fat man, but instead, he noisily ran forward. Kaden, however, was too busy with his clothes to notice anything else. The goatherd approached the unequal couple without being seen and drew his dagger. Kaden’s eyes were closed as he concentrated on his prey, so he didn’t realise that somebody was raising himself up just a step behind him.

»You bastard,« Sindo hissed through his teeth. He pulled the man’s beefy head up by its hair and cut his throat in one clean go. It’s just like the goats’ blood oozing out when I slaughter them, he mused.

A gurgling sound was the last noise Kaden made.

Nawid clenched his teeth when Kaden’s heavy hand erratically slid down his back and something warm gushed over his bare bottom. He still noticed the man falling off him and moaning before he passed out in disgust.

When he came around, he was lying on his back, looking into the same eyes he’d seen earlier.

Sindo shook him vigorously. »We’ve got to get away from here.«

Nawid touched his hip. His trousers were back up. Then he touched his bottom, which was still damp. The slimy liquid on his fingers was deep red. Blood! What did he do to me? He was too shocked to move anymore and closed his eyes again. He knew that the pain wouldn’t come until he saw his injuries.

Sindo shook him again and half pulled him up. »Come on, we have to leave!«

Still dazed, Nawid saw the soldier lying beside him on his back. The man was covered in blood and stared at him through glassy eyes. Nawid was still waiting for the pain to come. He tried to talk, but couldn’t.

»Come on!« Sindo dragged the boy onto his feet and away from the rock. Away from the road. Away from his dead father, towards the mountains.

Nawid stumbled several times until Sindo eventually reached under the boy’s arms to pull rather than lead him. I’m not hurt?

They had only covered a short distance when they heard Jamal shouting from the car and quickly hid behind the nearest rock. The goatherd just about saw the soldier with the beaked nose coming closer.

»Shit!« Jamal cursed as he spotted his dead comrade. »Fucking son of a bitch!« the soldier screamed.

He’s seen us. Terrified, Sindo waited for footsteps to approach and frantically gripped his bloody dagger. But the Alliance soldier didn’t come. Soon after, they heard the car door slam shut and the car driving off at full speed. Sindo peeped warily out from behind the rock. The two corpses were still there, but the gun was gone. »They’ll be back,« he said more to himself than the trembling boy cowering beside him. He knew they didn’t have much time. »I am Sindo,« he introduced himself.

Nawid looked at him totally distraught.

»What’s your name?« the goatherd asked awkwardly. »Was that your father?«

No reply. Yet the boy’s eyes said everything.

Nawid tried to speak, but could only manage to stammer. The lump in his throat was too big.

Sindo once more peeped down at the road. »We’ve got to get on with each other,« he urged after a little while. »They’ll kill us if we don’t get on.«

Nawid babbled something incomprehensible.

»Damn it, are you stupid?!« Sindo erupted. He had never taken a human life before. It had been as easy as slaughtering a goat. And yet so different. »What was I thinking. Now they’re looking for me, not him,« he mumbled and slumped down.

The eagle above them screeched angrily and yielded to the vultures that slowly came closer.

»Thank you …« Nawid whispered at last. But the eagle always wins? »… I am … Nawid …« were the only words he could utter no matter how hard he tried.

Sindo opened his eyes and looked at him. I could just leave him here, he thought. Instead he said: »We’ve got to get away from here.« He shook his head and gazed up the valley where his unconcerned goats were grazing. He would soon have to herd them into the stone corral further up that served as shelter for the night. It would take at least an hour on foot. »Let’s go. You can help me to round up the goats.«

He started to walk along the path without looking back but stopped after a few steps. The boy was still cowering beside the rock. »They’ll be back to search for us,« Sindo said nervously.

Nawid turned his back to him and gazed at the place below. From the distance, his father resembled a carelessly discarded doll.

Sindo went over to him: »There is nothing you can do. He’s dead.«

»Why? I didn’t do anything wrong?«

»Everyone is guilty somehow in this country,« Sindo shivered as he recalled how he had killed a man. He finally took the boy’s hand and pulled him up the path with him.

At this stage, Nawid let himself be led away. He sensed that the tie to his father had been irrevocably severed. And he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think Sindo would harm him. What else could he believe? Walking faster and faster in the setting sun, his thoughts slowly withdrew into the new, dark abyss opening in his soul.

In the meantime, Jamal had overtaken the American escort vehicle and beeped his horn to stop it. »What do you want?« the interpreter snapped at him from the back seat of the armoured car.

»The Taliban ambushed us. They killed Kaden. You have to track them down right away!«

The officer in the passenger seat sceptically scrutinised the wildly gesticulating ally through his mirrored sunglasses.

»How many? Are they armed?« he curtly questioned Jamal via his interpreter.

»I don’t know. They murdered a traffic accident casualty and my comrade. I barely managed to get into the car and … Hurry, before they can hide in the mountains!«

It was obvious that the American didn’t believe him. He was about to order the driver to move on when Burhān, the commander of the prisoner transport, joined them.

»What’s going on here?« he asked.

The tanned American pointed at Jamal who had climbed out of the Renault by now.

Following a muted but intensive discussion, the Afghan officer brutally smacked Jamal’s face. »Artina! You wimp!«

Turning to the American, he said: »A group of Taliban are evidently hiding in the valley near the hardstand. They need to be rounded up to make sure the road is safe. You’ll have to send for your reconnaissance and support troops.«

»I don’t believe a word that soldier said,« the American coldly replied.

»I don’t care what you think. We will find them and I will report your lack of cooperation.«

The American removed his sunglasses and stared piercingly at the quick-tempered Alliance commander before getting out of his vehicle. The highly decorated two-star-general was more than a head taller than the rather short Burhān.

»I’m warning you, Aziz Burhān,« Major General DeWitt said calmly, »the responsibility for this operation rests solely on your shoulders.«

»I am ready to fight for my country, unlike you …«

»Shut up!« DeWitt hissed.

Both men knew only too well to whom and what they were talking about.

DeWitt promptly instructed his vehicles to turn. They sped off without waiting for the others. The Major General ordered satellite reconnaissance from the US base in Mazār-i Šarīf and two attack helicopters from the air base in Kunduz via radio. He needed to inspect the location without interruptions before all hell would break loose.

Burhān’s initially satisfied expression darkened when he and his men couldn’t catch up with the Americans. When he finally arrived at the hardstand, it was already secured against the side valley by three US soldiers. »Damn it!« Burhān cursed as he ran over to DeWitt who was kneeling beside one of the corpses.

Run over and then shot, the Major General quickly concluded. »Where’s the dead soldier?« he asked as he got up.

»Behind that rock over there.«

Burhān positioned himself between DeWitt and the rock in question.

An ambush? DeWitt silently walked back to the armoured vehicle to view the incoming life satellite images. Those did, indeed, show two dots not far away moving up the valley. The resolution wasn’t sharp enough to make out the details; the movement pattern, however, was unmistakable: two people slowly walking away, without looking for cover, without carrying heavy equipment, and a lot of small animals.

»Analyse where those two came from and when!« he ordered the reconnaissance expert in the back. Ignoring Burhān, who had now caught up with him, DeWitt got into the vehicle and locked the door to assess the situation himself.

»… I’m assuming that they are covering something up,« he reported to General Scott, the commander-in-chief in Kabul.

»Set an example, but avoid any type of risk. Be careful. We can’t trust those irregular troops. You do know that you technically shouldn’t be out there in the sticks – not now that the base in Mazār has become so important to us. The last thing we need is more casualties, most of all dead GIs!«

»Yes Sir, I’ll explore the area with the choppers.«

The two helicopters approached fifteen minutes later. The ‘Bat Two’ scanned the valley. »No trace of hostile subjects or weapons in the immediate surroundings. We spotted a herd of goats and two men further up,« Captain Hensley reported to the Major General before landing to take him on board. The chopper hadn’t yet reached the ground when DeWitt left his vehicle and headed straight for the rock where the dead soldier was supposed to be.

Burhān chased after him. He had to shout to drown out the noise of the choppers’ rotor blades: »Shouldn’t we take off right away?«

»We’ll take off on my orders! Don’t worry, you’re not going to miss anything,« the American replied without turning around. What he found behind the rock confirmed his opinion. The soldier’s throat had obviously been cut. Had this really been a Taliban ambush, there would be far more than just two dead bodies. And, more importantly, evidence of actual combat. But there wasn’t any.

»Those bastards!« Burhān snorted.

DeWitt knelt beside the corpse. He was taken by surprise and didn’t fight back, his pants half down … Hmm … There must have been somebody else here besides the dead guy. A woman? A child? Two small hand imprints were only visible to the trained eye. Was that person lying defencelessly on his or her stomach? The Major General’s instincts hardly ever let him down – one of the main reasons that he and half his crew had survived back then in al-Kuwait. His intuition told him that neither he nor his men were in any danger. He got up and made for the helicopter.

Burhān followed him like a lapdog: »Me and two of my soldiers will fly with you.«

DeWitt abruptly stopped and roared: »Taliban? You’d better make sure that you don’t miss your party up the mountain!«

When the two choppers took off, the American saw Burhān ordering his soldiers to make it up the valley on foot. Ambush my arse! But what does Burhān want? Honour? Revenge?

Human Blood1700 Hours

Sindo and Nawid had been on their way for less than twenty minutes when they heard the sound of heavy vehicles in the valley below. They’re coming! The two youths kept going – the older one hurriedly and nervous; the younger one out of breath and as if in a trance.

Sindo visibly calmed down at the sight of the first group of goats crossing their path. The unsuspecting animal leading the rest of the herd trudged after them. Please let us make it to the hideout before the soldiers spot us, Sindo prayed, or we’re done for.

They silently continued up the mountain for another half hour. Then they heard the choppers flying high above them. We don’t stand a chance against the Americans.

The rocky shelter was now within reach. But it would be no use hiding in a goatherd’s shelter when being pursued by an entire army. Sindo lost all hope and he stopped.

»Are they your goats?« asked Nawid in a strange mixture of breathlessness and apathy after he’d caught up with Sindo.

Sindo shot him an irritated look: »Yes … well, no …« But they’re going to give us away, he suddenly thought. »Do you see the crevice further up? That’s where we’ll hide.«

They had just reached the cave when the noise of the choppers became louder and louder.

»Get inside and crawl as far back as you can!«

»What about you?«

»I’ll tend the goats,« Sindo answered gloomily. What else can I do?

»I’m staying with you,« decided Nawid, who was slowly recovering his speech.

»It’s better you hide inside. Who knows what else is going to happen.« Even though he was terrified, he tried to appear as optimistic as possible. Despite his desperation, he now knew what to do. He had to lure their hunters away from the cave. »Go! I will distract them.«

He dashed up the incline without looking back and called the herd queen. But the animal refused to move. Its night shelter was, after all, the rock enclosure beside the cave, and the sun had already deserted the easterly slopes. Nawid’s clumsy attempt to shoo it away only increased the goat’s obstinacy.

»Get inside, damn it!«, Sindo shouted at the boy.

He was less than three hundred feet further up when the choppers appeared like springboks above the small peak outside the hideout. The noise was deafening. Fully armed infantrymen jumped out of the hovering helicopters right in front of the goatherd.

Sindo turned around to them and raised his shaking hands over his head. His hair was blown back by the wind. One wrong move and I’ll share Mishal’s fate.

The soldiers laid him flat on the ground within seconds. Before the helicopters soared again to take up position, the men searched him for arms and confiscated his dagger. Two of them subsequently pulled him back onto his feet. DeWitt showed him the still bloody weapon.

Sindo stared at it. He hadn’t had time to wipe off the blood.

»I am Major General DeWitt, commander of the American troops here. What happened?«

To Sindo’s surprise, the officer spoke Darī. The goatherd didn’t reply.

»What’s your name?«

Be extremely careful! »Sindo-Kalil Abidi from Bakhtingan,« he said without looking up.

DeWitt scrutinised him sternly. Then he repeated: »What happened?«

»I don’t know,« Sindo dodged the question.

»Where is the other one?«

The goatherd shrugged his shoulders without making eye contact. One wrong look …

DeWitt sensed Sindo’s fear or was the young man only acting? He had to be careful. »Where is the other one?« he repeated more forcefully.

»Who …?«

»Don’t lie!«

Without taking his eyes off the Afghan, DeWitt ordered his soldiers to disperse in two groups of four. Sindo worriedly squinted towards the rock crevice beside which the herd of goats was gathered around the enclosure. The Major General had anticipated Sindo’s reaction and accordingly ordered the two groups of soldiers via radio to secure the opening.

»Careful!« he commanded while moving towards the rock.

The GIs approached from the side so that they wouldn’t present a target. At this stage, the animals had enough and they leisurely started to follow their herd leader munching the sparse greens up the valley.

DeWitt approached the crevice and two of his soldiers dragged Sindo behind him. Taking cover close to it, he ordered his men, in a way that Sindo understood, to prepare to clear out the cave with a hand grenade and to storm it.

»What happened? I won’t ask you again.«

Sindo wondered if he should deny everything. Don’t say anything wrong.

The officer raised his hand, unsure that the Afghan would give in.

»Don’t …,« Sindo finally whispered. Shaking, he looked at the American. He alone had to answer for what he’d done.

DeWitt took off his sunglasses. The young Sindo was blessed with distinctly delicate features and dark Mongol eyes. A Turkoman? A Hazāra? Hard to tell. He lowered his arm. There was no time for ethnological studies.

»… there’s a boy in there. His father was killed by the soldiers.«

DeWitt possessed enough insight into human nature to recognise the truth in the Afghan’s expression. But the young man hadn’t told him the whole truth. He knew because he was also experienced enough to discern the treachery with which the Afghan was lying. So he simply asked: »And?«

»The soldier wanted to rape him and … I … I killed him!« Tears welled up in his eyes and he wasn’t sure if he was crying because of what he’d done or because of what would happen to him. But he certainly did not want to appear weak to the American and therefore lowered his head.

The officer issued some commands in English and stepped closer to the cave, always careful to take cover. On his signal, the GIs followed him with Sindo. Now standing beside the crevice, he ordered him to call the boy.

»Come on out, Nawid,« Sindo shouted hesitantly.

No reply.

Then more determined: »You have to show yourself!«

Still nothing.

The first of the militias were now coming closer from down the valley.

Burhān would kill the two Afghans. He wouldn’t find it hard to provoke a suitable situation. And this had to be avoided at all costs. Not so much because of possible further victims than for strategic reasons. They couldn’t, after all, allow themselves to be arbitrarily made fools of. Otherwise, this war and therefore their mission wouldn’t end as soon as planned. And he would have to spend more years in the Hindu Kush.

»I’m going in,« DeWitt spontaneously informed Colonel Mc Collin. »Keep an eye on the advancing militias!«

»You can’t go in there, Sir,« the Colonel replied and added after a slight hesitation: »I’ll get him out of there.«

»And what are you going to say to him?«

»I shall leave the talking to you, but not alone in that cave. We’ve got no idea what or who is hiding inside it!«

Mc Collin was right, but the Major General was anxious to quickly de-escalate the situation. Leaning over to his officer, he whispered: »George, I don’t want to expose that boy to the militia. I won’t permit another massacre!«

»I understand,« the Colonel gave in and issued some orders.

DeWitt grabbed his gun and torch and entered through the small crevice to find himself in an unexpectedly large cave where he saw a spread-out blanket and a bundle beside a fire pit. It smelled of cold smoke. The place appeared to be used as a shelter. Only by goatherds?

At a first glance, the Major General couldn’t detect any signs of danger. The back part of the cave narrowed like its entrance. DeWitt cautiously walked over to the back and illuminated it with his torch. The white of two eyes flashed in the beam of light.

Come out with your hands over your head!« The American kept his weapon directed at the pair of eyes. »I’m not going to hurt you.«

Nawid couldn’t make out the man’s face. His gun seemed threatening, yet his words didn’t. What should he do? Unable to think clearly, he finally took a small step forward and raised his hands. After nothing happened, he took another step and then another. Until he stood nearly in the middle of the cave.

DeWitt kept a close eye on him while he inspected the back of the shelter. There was nobody else hiding here. He studied the dried blood on Nawid’s clothes. He’s not injured or he wouldn’t be able to stand like that. The officer lowered his weapon once he faced the boy again.

»I am Major General DeWitt, commander of the American troops. Was that your dad on the parking spot?« There was no need to wait for an answer. The boy’s expression was unmistakable.»Why was he killed?«

Nawid’s eyes started to water. »I …«

»Another six hundred feet, Sir!« the Colonel shouted into the cave.

They had to leave. »We take you with us if you want, and get you home. What do you say?«

Nawid just stood there, his hands still up in the air. The thought of his mother made him sob.

»Sir?«

»Come!« DeWitt wanted to grab the boy, but the terrified child stepped back.

»Sir!«

»Do you want to stay here?«

Nawid went even further back into the dark cave.

»Okay so …« It’s actually better if Burhān doesn’t see him. The Major General left through the small gap in the crevice.

»And?« Mc Collin quizzed him.

»We’ll meet the militia and our convoy will escort them to Mazār-i Šarīf, as planned. Have the choppers wait for us in the parking lot. And not a word about the youngsters,« he ordered his soldiers before addressing Sindo: »You stay here and look after the kid. Hide up there and don’t let anybody see you. Then disappear!«

The goatherd scarpered as fast as he could.

Nawid regretted his decision as soon as the American had left. What if the other men come back? He eventually went to the exit, but there was nobody there anymore. Not even Sindo or the goats. All he could see was the militias turning a corner less than forty feet away. In the grip of panic again, he slipped back into the cave.

It will all be over soon. They’ll come and kill me.

He started hyperventilating and squeezed himself as far as possible into the furthest crevice. Beads of perspiration on his forehead, he began to shiver uncontrollably. Not for the first time that day, he lost control of his thoughts and his body. His world slowly started to fade from his grasp, but he didn’t faint. He persevered without any sense of time, spellbound like a mouse facing a snake until he was roused by a shot.

The soldiers killed Sindo.

Then another shot. Had it been aimed at him? Was he dead now?

But there was more. Yet another shot, and another. More and more. There was no end to them. And with each one Nawid saw his father die again. The power of imagination pushed the boy further and further into the recess. He had no idea when the horror finally stopped and he began to plummet into an abysmal hole.

DeWitt met Burhān and his militias somewhere below the cave. The Major General was prepared for anything. Colonel Mc Collin brought up the rear and directed his GIs to strategically favourable positions without being noticed by the militias.

»There’s no Taliban ambush here! The goatherd heard shots from the road, but didn’t see any fighters.«

»You really expect me to believe that?« Burhān remarked defiantly.

»Believe what you will,« DeWitt retorted. »We’re still alive, haven’t been attacked and have to follow our orders. Your General’s instructions. They are to safely escort the prisoners to Mazār-i Šarīf; not to play babysitter for your own people. Do I make myself clear?!«

The Afghan officer’s face turned crimson.

»Do we understand each other?« DeWitt insisted.

»Yes,« the Pashtun hissed angrily and turned on his heel. But not without intently scrutinising the mountain crest. Wasn’t there someone peeping out from behind one of the rocks? The goatherd? While making his way down, he furiously thought about his loyal bodyguard’s murderers. I’ll deal with that bastard and his gang. I swear to Allah! As soon as that mangy son of a bitch is back in his air-conditioned stable in Mazār.

When he and his men reached the scattered herd, he pulled his gun and shot two of the goats. The spurting blood only increased his rage. In his mind’s eye, this was the human blood he so desperately wanted to spill.

DeWitt read Burhān’s behaviour and sly grin like an open book: the militia would come back to take revenge.

Sindo was watching the departing soldiers from above. As soon as they were out of sight, he made his way back to the cave. Then he heard two shots. Terrified, he took cover. When he had heard nothing else a while later, he decided to sneak up to the crest to make sure the men were gone before he could leave with Nawid. And the goats!

From the peak, he could see the soldiers marching down to the road, which was lying in the shade by now. He also saw two of the militias carrying something on their shoulders. Goats? My goats? he wondered.

They shot two of my goats, those scumbags! That’s what I get for helping someone. He was about to storm down the mountain when he spotted the rest of the herd in the mountainside above him. They’d obviously fled there. High over the cliffs, a golden eagle was flying away in the last rays of the sun. The loss of two goats would cost him more than his wages. Cursing, he climbed up the steep slope to get the herd queen.

The more strenuous the climb, the calmer he felt. He had saved a boy without being killed for his deed. Should he have seen to the child first? Sindo rubbed his forehead. The seventeen-year-old wasn’t used to making so many decisions at the same time. And this war made everything even more difficult. Today was the first time he had killed a human being.

Once they’d reached the hardstand, the Americans loaded the two corpses into the helicopters. Jamal, who was still standing beside the Renault, was severely bleeding from his by now crookedly protruding nose and a large cut on the back of his head. DeWitt would never see him again. It was dusk when the choppers and their crew returned to base and the mountains finally prepared for the night.

The Green Eagle2130 Hours

Twilight had nearly turned to night by the time Sindo got back with his herd. »You can come out now. The soldiers are gone!« he shouted into the cave.

Nothing.

»We can’t stay here. We’ve got to move on …« He went inside. »Where are you, Nawid?«

It was pitch black, but even without his torch Sindo realised that the boy wasn’t there. What if he went down to the road? Did he have to search for the child now? No, he told himself. Two goats are enough. Not to mention the soldier he had killed …

The goatherd stared into the dark for a while. Never before had this cave felt creepy. But today everything was different. The place seemed threatening – and more daunting than usual.

»Hello?« he whispered almost devoutly.

Dead silence.

Eventually, he pulled himself together, tethered the herd queen to the stone enclosure and started out towards the dark gorge. He must have walked down to the road.

The further he got away from the shelter, the more uneasy he felt. Isn’t he at all scared or is he just plain stupid?

Was the goatherd disappointed? Was his conscience nagging him? He had, after all, killed a human being to save the boy. But the hardstand was empty. A car would drive past every now and then, but Sindo kept hidden. He called Nawid again. In vain. He isn’t here. Somebody must have taken him. Is that my fault? I did help him. He must be even more traumatised than the goats.

On his way back to the cave he thought about his own father. A father he couldn’t remember. The Taliban had killed him shortly before his birth. Not those who were here now, but the Taliban who had regarded the Muğāhidīn as American traitors and had hanged them by the dozen. At least that’s what his uncle Borak had told him who had taken the orphaned Sindo in although he’d never wanted to be his father. Sindo knew nothing about his mother. The women never talked about her. He didn’t even know if she was still alive … if she had cried when she’d had to send him to Bakhtingan?

Sindo stared at the swallow’s nest in the barren rock. He would soon meet his uncle at the market. And then he’d have to account for the lost goats. It wouldn’t be easy. Although his uncle didn’t treat him badly, business always came first.

At that moment, the evening star staged its radiant departure behind the mountain peaks. Why does it always have to follow the sun? Would it not rather be the morning star sometimes?

He had so looked forward to the market – to Laleh.

Lost in his thoughts, he lit a fire as usual when he got back to the cave. It would turn cold tonight. The place had been used as a shelter by the goatherds since time immemorial. Parvaiz, his old master, had shown him all the pastures, paths and shelters. Yet he had never met another goatherd in the, admittedly, few years he had come here. Old man Parvaiz had also taught him how to butcher the animals.

The fire cast its shadows deep into the cave. Suddenly, he saw the haunting vision of the twitching soldier. Not only the convulsions but also the gurgling, dying noises came back to life. The scene was just the same, but different. Shouldn’t he be getting away from here as fast as he could? With or without the boy, the soldiers would be thirsting for revenge. Ashamed of his gormlessness, he sighed into the flames.

And then he saw Nawid standing at the wall. Or was the flickering glow of the flames deluding him into imagining something that wasn’t there? The boy was not standing there at all, yet something was wrong. It took some time before Sindo understood. He hadn’t been hallucinating. The cave had always had just a single opening at the front. Now there was suddenly a hole at the back of it. Not very big. He would barely be able to crawl through it, but a hole nevertheless. And he was sure that it hadn’t been there before!

But how did that happen? Was it somehow connected with Nawid? The goatherd stared at it with his mouth wide open; mesmerised. It must have something to do with the boy! He eventually got up, picked up a blazing branch from the fire and walked towards the crevice at the back where the black void jeeringly gaped at him.

Shall I put my hand through it?Never!Crawl through it?

He discarded that idea as well. Not because he was scared, although he did feel a little uneasy. But he wasn’t very accustomed to being inside, was more used to being outside. Perhaps he could see more clearly in daylight. The more he pondered, the more agitated he got. Now he was only a step away from the gap and still couldn’t make out what was behind it. He finally pushed the flaming branch through it to expel the darkness from the hole.

Terrified, he dropped the burning wood and backed off when he heard two screams. One was his own. He knew that beyond a doubt. A blood-spattered corpse was lying crouched in the recess.

The corpse also screamed. The burning wood had landed on its left hand, which instinctively grabbed it, before violently casting it aside. The fire died and silence reigned again.

»Is that you?« It had to be the boy. Who else could it be? Sindo wasn’t sure and took another step back.

»Sindo …?« The goatherd heard his name being called. It took a while for Nawid to find his way back from the abysmal twilight sleep he had entered some time ago. The last thing he remembered was his father – don’t wander too far away … and the way he had stared at him from under the car. Two sweet eyes that died as soon as the shot was fired. Or had there been several shots? He wondered if his father was still lying there. But I didn’t walk too far away …

»Nawid? Are you okay?«

»I don’t know.« The burn on his left hand hurt so much that he nearly cried. Yet something else hurt more. He gritted his teeth and was about to get up as the last dying embers revealed something else beside him, something shiny green.

Kaleidoscope-like, red, orange and fascinating green lights danced inside his tearful eyes. How strange. Strange but beautiful. The spectacle lasted for only seconds and ended when the very last sparks on the ground became extinct.

Whatever was that? Had he been dreaming again? His right hand explored the area around him. There was the branch, now only warm. And beside it something cold and smooth. It felt like glass, but without sharp edges. It fitted well into his small hand and weighed more than an ordinary stone. A lump of metal?

»Are you hurt?« Sindo asked when Nawid didn’t seem to move.

»No, I’ll be fine.« He pocketed the strange object and crawled out of the hole.

Sindo eyed him bewildered in the sparse light of the fire: »How on earth did you manage to make that hole?«

»Me? I didn’t make that. It was already there …«, Nawid replied. Or maybe I did,he wondered. »I … fell into it.«

»You fell into it? But the cave was always the way it is and one doesn’t just fall into the rock.«

Nawid wrecked his brain: »When I heard the shots, I pressed myself very tightly against the wall and then I fell backwards.«

Sindo shook his head. Thinking of the shots and his two lost goats took him back into the cold night. Now was not the time to ponder about that hole. More than likely there would simply be a few loose rocks in the wall he hadn’t noticed before.

»Who fired the shots?« Nawid asked him.

»The militias killed two of my goats,« Sindo grumbled. »We’ve got to get out of here. They’re going to look for us.«

»Where will we go?«

»Away from here. Up into the mountains.«

Nawid seemed distressed. Had he hoped to go home to his mother? But something else worried him even more and he just had to know.

»Is my dad still down there?«

»No, the Americans took the bodies away,« Sindo told him without looking up. While packing his scarce belongings and quenching the fire, he made a daring decision. They would go across the old smugglers’ trail to a plateau on the other side of the mountains where they could pass the day undetected. He’d worry about the descent from there through the steep rock face into the neighbouring valley later.

Parvaiz had told him about this route. The Muğāhidīn used it to avoid the Russians. So did bandits who plundered camel trains and Pashtuns fighting the English. So it would work for them as well.

Outside the shelter, the goatherd gazed at the starlit sky. It wasn’t yet midnight and cold. He wrapped a blanket around himself and handed Nawid one of his old goatskins. Although he couldn’t count properly, he quickly established that all his goats were here. All except Starla and Siria!

»Stay close behind me and be careful. We are going to a plateau where the soldiers won’t easily find us.«

Then they headed off past the place where the Americans had cornered Sindo in the late afternoon.

Sindo missed Parvaiz, the goatherd from Bakhtingan. He had spent a lot of time with him and the old man had taught him everything he needed to know. He missed the stories Parvaiz told him in the evenings, his calm and contentment. He had been more of a father to him than his own uncle who kept reminding him that he was indebted to him and had to work for his keep.

Even on his deathbed, Parvaiz daydreamed about women and the approaching spring. His last words, however, had seemed somehow strange: »Allah created all human beings as equal. But there are some who seriously believe they are more equal than others. Beware of people like that and find those who see their equal in others.«

I wonder what he meant by that. Better, yes, but more equal than others, how could that possibly work? Sindo had always thought of Parvaiz as a wise man although he, just like himself, had never seen the inside of a classroom.

The goats showed their unease about the night-time march in their own way. The herd queen and her rivals thronged around the goatherd; the less ambitious and the younger animals kept close to the boy.

For Nawid this was the first time being out and about at night on difficult terrain. He’d grown up in the city and attended school there. Not one where the Allah worshippers went, but a real school. And he enjoyed studying. To him playing outside was more of a necessary diversion than a joyful experience.

He was exhausted, starving and thirsty and constantly tripped and hit the ground. At least the physical exertion distracted him from the mental images that had haunted him in the cave. Even the unusual shadows and rock contours created by the quarter moon didn’t daunt him. This was mostly thanks to the animals whose lively and playful ways calmed him. Only his burnt hand, even more painful through his constant stumbling, bothered him. Whenever he put it into his pocket and held the stone, the pain eased considerably. Not knowing what cooled down his hand, he imagined that the stone must have magic powers. Why else would it have sparkled so miraculously in the cave?

Sindo kept looking back to make sure his herd and Nawid were alright. During the steadily steeper climb, he realised that his actions had now made him responsible for the child. Regardless whether he was Pashtun, a city boy or a whiney brat, he would be alone and lost without him. Are we equals, just like Parvaiz said? He had to look after him, at least until he could send him home.

The terrain became more steeply sloped the closer they got to the pass. The path had stopped a long time ago and Sindo took Nawid’s hand whenever they had to navigate precarious passages. The trampling of the herd and the clatter of the loose stones flying into the valley were the only sounds interrupting the silence of the night.