Chapter 1

Preface: I began creating a new character for Dungeons and Dragons, and in that creative space I developed this backstory for him which I will be turning into a more complete short story, possibly even novella.

After the fall of the Umayyad Caliphate of Córdoba and then the Almohad Caliphate of the Maghreb, during the Ta’ifa dynasties that remained the last strongholds of Muslim rule before La Reconquista, our hero was born to a family of academics and scholars who all contributed to the Islamic Golden Age of math, science, philosophy, art, poetry, and astronomy beginning with its inception during the rule of Huran al-Rashid in Baghdad when The Ancestor of our hero ran through the desert sands, stopping only to sleep, to the famed House of Wisdom to take his place in the vast, wealthy, pool of learning and advancement, growing to become a famed intellectual and passing that heritage down. 

Born from these scholars who later migrated over the course of centuries across North Africa to eventually settle in what is now called España, but we remember its true name al-Andalus. A name that is still spoken today, a name that is revered to this day, a name that when spoken by even the most heretical, the most skeptical, still conjures visions of awe and splendor and magnificence. Along the way, setting up schools, community centers, observatories, and all sorts of educational programs to lift the masses out of the darkness and into the light of wisdom and knowledge.

The eventual destruction of the House of Wisdom in Baghdad by the Mongol Invasion reverberated throughout the civilized world like a lighthouse that’s gone dark. Its tidal wave-like effects reaching as far as Granada where our hero was born. The weakening of our Academies, and the revolt of Christian Spain toppling the Umayyads and later the Almohads, threw al-Andalus into instability; chaos, war, and ignorance becoming the new normal into which our hero grew up. The civilized world was being destroyed from every angle and darkness began to reclaim what it had lost. In an effort to save as much knowledge, as many textbooks, tomes, poems, art, any artifact he could gather from Granada and the surrounding cities, our hero began working with smugglers to secure shipping routes to bring these priceless items to Tangier, across the strait of Gibraltar, so that they may be temporarily safe.

Knowing he was from the famed al-Zaidi family, the smugglers asked for little payment, happy to work with him to preserve evidence of the glory of their people and accomplishments. They gave him the nickname, which he uses to this day, al-Hisab, calculator, for his mathematical proficiency which was very useful in their accounting as well as gathering interest payments from various clients, also useful in calculating the stars to aid in their nightly travels away from the observant, judgmental eyes of the Mamluks who would quickly sell them to slavers to make quick gold, instead of jailing them. These men were obviously not pious, after all their work was in thievery and usury both of which are haram, and because if they were then they would know that al-Hisab also meant “reckoning” as in Judgment Day reckoning. Al-Zaidi found this both comical and puzzling, both a joke and a premonition from the Most High. 

One day in Tangier, news quickly ran through the city that the last stronghold in al-Andalus had fallen, La Reconquista was complete, and return was not an option. The land he and his family helped build into a marvel of culture, architecture, music, dance, poetry, philosophy, language, math, and science was off limits and forever lost. Its status as a mere memory in the collective mind of humanity begins. Al-Hisab returns to his quarters on the docks and weeps.

After weeks of crying and mediating, he internalizes the realization that his family and their contributions have lasted far longer than any King or Sultan, Imam or Pope. Borders change and Caliphates take many names but scientific principles remain unphased and unbothered by human folly and human arrogance. Just as his ancestors trekked the sands, so can he begin his pilgrimage to their ancestral homeland of Mecca, where even his family name has its linguistic roots. He says goodbye to the smugglers and departs. 

Our hero makes it to al-Misr, known to others as Egypt, ruled by the Mamluks who had overthrown their Sultans effectively ending the Ayyubid Caliphate and installing their own military power. Surprisingly, they invested heavily in scientific and artistic development which proved to be very fruitful for Egypt and the Levant. These are cultured warriors, like the Macedonians or Arabians of old. However, our hero is still far from Lower Egypt, he is still deep in the Sahara of Upper Egypt many, many kilometers west from Thebes and the Valley of the Kings, a site he hopes to see before finally arriving at Mecca.

Out in the Sahara, far from the date palms and sycamores that line the lush flood plains along the Nile, the hot air is thick with the ancient magic of the Pharaohs even millennia after their deaths. Through meditation and saying his Salah, his 5 daily prayers, he retains his focus and his sanity.

And then the dust storm came. One so big and powerful and destructive that its event and its legend was never recorded in history because every human being caught in the storm perished, not one survived to tell about it. Al-Zaidi was caught in the storm, with no time to prepare before it came, like one of the plagues, in the middle of the night it arrived to slaughter and satisfy its bloodlust. Caught in this vortex of spinning sands, spinning so fast that they sliced him into millions of pieces of flayed skin, of lightning so bright and powerful that it melted the hazel, almond eyes and in the split second that the flash melted his eyes he saw a glimpse of his near future; a cloud lake with mist rolling along its banks where the faint reflection of a city of black domes and deep violet spires rising above the twins suns overhead. As soon as the vision ended, before he could even comprehend the total darkness that is blindness, the pressure of the storm burst him into nothingness leaving only his blood to stain the sands red for eternity and, for those unfortunate enough to find these rare red sands scattered throughout the Sahara, be cursed with the knowledge of the will of Hastur.

In the empty chasm of what lies beyond life he hears a slow, calm voice say, “take this Yellow Sign and you will have your body and your world back”. Without argument, and acting solely out of fear, Al-Hisab Al-Zaidi takes the sign and has it tattooed on the middle of his back. Once the ink dried, he awoke in Upper Egypt, in the same tent, with all his belongings intact and accounted for. The only difference now is the addition of a yellow spell book laying adjacent to his pack.