by Larry Low
On the lower slopes a fuzzy yellow smudge darkened the deep blue sky. The yellow line of disturbed dust dots vanished. From a distance, spectators' eyes watered as they peered across a vast ocean of dazzling sand. Each man was wondering if his particular dromedary had strayed into the wretched realm of the sinister mystery known as Garam Chasm. Perish the thought! Neither man nor beast had ever escaped its evil grip with senses intact. Camels, wiser than most humans, gave the area a wide berth.
On this particular momentous occasion all thought of evil and despair were banished for all attention was fixed on the running of the Coronation Cup, a fifty-mile trial over sand and rock through a spine-chilling mountain pass and down into a sand-choked valley that sloped into the setting sun. The winner of the Cup earned the singular honour of becoming the Keeper of the Royal Camels. This honorific was always bestowed immediately after the race had been run.
The Coronation Cup was a unique event for it was held only on the day of the coronation of a new king. The previous Coronation Cup had been run almost sixty-eight years previously. Kings of this Kingdom were notoriously long-lived.
Whenever a Cup was being run, it was tradition that Phoenix Fantastic would make an appearance, whether by magic or illusion none of the spectators dared question. If it were truly magic, there was little concern that it verged upon the black variety for Phoenix Fantastic had a sterling reputation. If however the witches of the Chasm were involved it was best to leave any speculation unsaid lest speaker and listener alike be left in perpetual torment.
Besides, the heat of the day made talking an effort and most spectators were only interested in viewing the progress of their favourite camel from whatever source of shade they could find. Only mad dogs and lesser mortals would be so foolish as to stand out in the mid-day sun. From whatever perspective, the strangest scene hove into view. It may have occurred from the bending of the rays of the sun above the super-heated ground. It possibly could have been constructed through the wonder of Phoenix Fantastic, who is to say?
On this particular day, in the year that followed the mayhem of Alexander the Great, the heat of summer in the Hindu Kush, turned marshmallows golden in two minutes or would have if marshmallows had indeed been invented at that early date. Witnesses, who were neither dogs nor mad, swore up and down that camels were seen to fly. What was even weirder was that leopards persisted in making constant changes to their spots. A flying camel illusion was one thing but a perpetually inconstant spotted leopard was something else entirely. Phoenix Fantastic may have been able to make camels soar or at least appear to do so but how in tarnation would he have been able to make leopards change their spots?
No sooner had the heat become unbearably unpleasant than a towering thunderhead formed overhead. A torrent of rain fell like an arrow towards earth. The crowd looked up in awe and were transfixed. In a moment or two the rain evaporated just before it would have hit the ground. Spectators bent on their favourites were astonished by the way that the camels touched down like drunken eagles alighting. The race was drawing to a close. The air lost its shimmer.
Abdul Amir was the first to persuade his dromedary to drag itself across the finish line. Without waiting for his charge to kneel, he slid off his camel and collapsed. The ill-mannered animal, looking none the worse for wear, ambled over to the water trough and sucked it dry with a slurp that made young boys green with envy. After a few minutes in the shade sipping hot tea, Abdul was helped to his feet.
For someone who had just won an enormous prize, Abdul seemed to be in a state of unholy calm. He appeared to exhibit a sense that he would never feel the need for excitement again. When King Agahem hung the award around Abdul's neck, Abdul was as serene as the queen. Although the medal that Abdul won was the country's highest honour, Abdul seemed strangely indifferent.
"You shall from this day forth be known as Abdul Keep."
By tradition, the bestowing of the title was the first official duty of the new king. The ceremony was kept mercifully short. A multitude of milling camels had to be watered and fed. Fortunately, unlike racehorses, they were perfectly capable of walking off the heat of the race unassisted.