+ The horseman was completely immobile, as was the boy. It +didn’t even occur to the boy to flee. In his heart, he felt a strange +sense of joy: he was about to die in pursuit of his Personal Legend. +And for Fatima. The omens had been true, after all. Here he was, +face-to-face with his enemy, but there was no need to be concerned +about dying—the Soul of the World awaited him, and he would soon +be a part of it. And, tomorrow, his enemy would also be a part of +that Soul. +The stranger continued to hold the sword at the boy’s forehead. +“Why did you read the flight of the birds?” +“I read only what the birds wanted to tell me. They wanted to +save the oasis. Tomorrow all of you will die, because there are more +men at the oasis than you have.” +The sword remained where it was. “Who are you to change what +Allah has willed?” +“Allah created the armies, and he also created the hawks. Allah +taught me the language of the birds. Everything has been written by +the same hand,” the boy said, remembering the camel driver’s +words. +The stranger withdrew the sword from the boy’s forehead, and +the boy felt immensely relieved. But he still couldn’t flee. +“Be careful with your prognostications,” said the stranger. +“When something is written, there is no way to change it.” +“All I saw was an army,” said the boy. “I didn’t see the outcome +of the battle.” +The stranger seemed satisfied with the answer. But he kept the +sword in his hand. “What is a stranger doing in a strange land?” +“I am following my Personal Legend. It’s not something you +would understand.” +The stranger placed his sword in its scabbard, and the boy +relaxed. +“I had to test your courage,” the stranger said. “Courage is the +quality most essential to understanding the Language of the World.” +The boy was surprised. The stranger was speaking of things that +very few people knew about. +“You must not let up, even after having come so far,” he +continued. “You must love the desert, but never trust it completely. +Because the desert tests all men: it challenges every step, and kills +those who become distracted.” +What he said reminded the boy of the old king. +“If the warriors come here, and your head is still on your +shoulders at sunset, come and find me,” said the stranger. +The same hand that had brandished the sword now held a whip. +The horse reared again, raising a cloud of dust. +“Where do you live?” shouted the boy, as the horseman rode +away. +The hand with the whip pointed to the south. +The boy had met the alchemist. +NEXT MORNING, THERE WERE TWO THOUSAND ARMED men scattered +throughout the palm trees at Al-Fayoum. Before the sun had +reached its high point, five hundred tribesmen appeared on the +horizon. The mounted troops entered the oasis from the north; it +appeared to be a peaceful expedition, but they all carried arms +hidden in their robes. When they reached the white tent at the +center of Al-Fayoum, they withdrew their scimitars and rifles. And +they attacked an empty tent. +The men of the oasis surrounded the horsemen from the desert +and within half an hour all but one of the intruders were dead. The +children had been kept at the other side of a grove of palm trees, +and saw nothing of what had happened. The women had remained +in their tents, praying for the safekeeping of their husbands, and +saw nothing of the battle, either. Were it not for the bodies there on +the ground, it would have appeared to be a normal day at the oasis. +The only tribesman spared was the commander of the battalion. +That afternoon, he was brought before the tribal chieftains, who +asked him why he had violated the Tradition. The commander said +that his men had been starving and thirsty, exhausted from many +days of battle, and had decided to take the oasis so as to be able to +return to the war. +
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