So Barakahto Wa-Alahd stepped forward and tried to claim his portion of the limelight, “Cleric Bin Amar, while no one doubts your faith, please remember that it was I who called this trial of the traitor Al Khazar.” Then, turning to the prisoner, he said, “Yes Shahim, hear me when I call you traitor. For you could not have escaped the Americans any more than you can escape the bonds that now hold you,” he paused for a meaningful look around the room and then finished his point, “without selling your loyalty in return for your freedom.”

Inside his head, Shahim smiled. Oh dear, my friend, be careful what you say, he thought, and he slowly and steadily pulled his arms apart, the taut ropes parting at his will like they were made of candy floss.

The two guards behind him suddenly realized that the movement of the famous warrior’s arms was not the pointless struggle of a bound man, but in fact the suddenly unimpeded movement of their prisoner’s arms. Their grip tightened on the man as Shahim stepped forward, but he barely even registered their efforts.

His first accuser, Cleric Bin Amar, had struck a brave pose facing away from Shahim, talking to the crowd. That left Barakahto Wa-Alahd to stare wide-eyed at Shahim as he stepped up behind Bin Amar and grabbed him by the back of his neck.

Frozen on the spot by the apparently unconfined prisoner’s sudden freedom, Wa-Alahd did not even have the presence of mind to turn and run as he watched the warrior’s left hand manhandle the other cleric, and in a moment it was too late to run anymore, as the prisoner’s other hand flew out at his own throat to seize him as well.

The two guards pulled and punched at the bared might of Shahim, trying to wrestle his arms back while the two pinned Clerics struggled vainly at the fingers ensnaring their necks. Eventually the guards gave up trying to grapple with the prisoner, his arms just did not give, and they both stepped back and pulled their rifles from their shoulders, pressing the butts of the guns into Shahim’s sides.

The room was alive with shouting and panic, but Shahim’s bass voice boomed out over the hubbub and silenced the crowd. With the two clerics’ necks clasped in each hand, he bellowed, “These men have said that I am a traitor, even though I warned them of the consequences of decrying my loyalty. They have said they do not fear death in God’s name. I tell you now that God has filled me with the strength to test that claim.”

The room was silent but for the shouts of the two struggling clerics. The two guards were transfixed by the sight of the two powerful leaders writhing in this man’s hands. Surely he would not kill the two men. That would be suicide … surely?