Miftahuzzarbil Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Journey Before Dawn
 
When they left their lodging, dawn had not yet broken. Darkness still covered the town, and all the houses were locked tight. The whole city was silent, as though no one lived in it, except for the occasional barking of stray dogs.
 
Old Rafkanagu, Hajarul Mukurus, and Ruziyal were the ones walking the path at that hour, heading toward King Muzuluch’s palace to hear the conclusion of the story of the slave Mozur and Princess Suhaila. They had not slept all night, restless with the eagerness to return to the palace.
 
As they walked and conversed, Hajarul Mukurus turned to Ruziyal and asked, “Do you think, from the tales of King Dujalu up until now, there has ever been a story more delightful than that of the slave Mozur and Princess Suhaila?”
 
Ruziyal smiled. “Come now, Hajarul Mukurus. Have you forgotten the tale of the fisherman Lamlas and the wealthy merchant Kuffuru bin Aljar? Those were greater stories than this one, yet Mozur’s tale stirs the heart differently—especially the way King Muzuluch narrated the encounter between Queen Ashikatul Ashiriya and King Saubatul Azman at the mouth of the cave of Baitul Husuk. One must know how it will end. Will there be war at the cave? Or will they enter to fetch the treasure? Even the cave itself provokes curiosity. And who would not want to know what will happen once Princess Suhaila finishes telling her maid Suzaila’s secret?”
 
Rafkanagu cleared his throat. “Though you didn’t include me in this debate, let me intrude. In truth, the story of Mozur surpasses all others. It is rich with wonder and lessons. It teaches that one should never scorn another, for they may rise tomorrow. Did not the soothsayer Hazaru foretell to Suhaila that Mozur would one day become a king? And see how she despised him—yet fate bound her to bear his child, a son who mirrors him exactly.”
 
“You speak true,” Hajarul Mukurus nodded.
 
So their discussion continued until they reached the palace gates.
 
At the Palace Gates
 
When they arrived, the royal doors had not yet been opened. Guards stood firmly at their posts. Rafkanagu hobbled closer, leaning on his staff, and said:
 
“My sons, open the gates so that we may enter. We are guests of the king, and he himself shares stories with us.”
 
One guard replied respectfully, “Elder, you must wait. The time for opening the gates has not come. Sit and wait here if you will, or return to your lodging and come back later.”
 
Rafkanagu sighed. “We have come this far. We will not return. Let us wait.”
 
They sat until the time arrived. Then the gates were opened, and they entered, sitting together in one corner.
 
It was not until three hours later that King Muzuluch appeared. At once, everyone stood until he seated himself on the throne. Courtiers lined up to greet him, until it was Ruziyal’s turn. The king glanced at their weary faces and burst into laughter.
 
“You, my guests! What deprived you of sleep last night?”
 
Startled, they exchanged glances, unable to answer. The king laughed again. “I know what kept you awake—it was nothing but your eagerness to hear the ending of the story of Mozur and Princess Suhaila! Very well, prepare yourselves, for I shall continue the tale. If time permits, you shall hear its full conclusion.”
 
The Clash of Ashikatul Ashiriya and Saubatul Azman
 
King Muzuluch cleared his throat and began:
 
After Queen Ashikatul Ashiriya and King Saubatul Azman confronted one another, the queen laughed and said:
 
“O my former husband, know this—none of your schemes against me shall succeed. You cannot separate me from my daughter, my brother, nor from my treasures. By any means necessary, I shall see your end, for I have no enemy greater than you upon this earth. The riches you have long coveted you may see with your eyes today—but you shall never touch them.”
 
At this, King Saubatul Azman smiled. “Ashikatul Ashiriya, know that the girl you boast of as your daughter is not of your blood. Had she truly been your flesh, she would not have fled to me. And the brother you claim? He has abandoned your house to seek wealth elsewhere, not rulership, for fear of your ambition for the throne. So you should not quarrel with me over daughter and brother, but only over your wealth.”
 
The queen replied, still smiling, “A brother is half of one’s body; even if he flees, you must still love him, for your own hand cannot be cut away. As for my daughter whom you claim is not mine—what proof have you?”
 
Saubatul Azman laughed and revealed the secret of her childbirth, how the child was switched by her handmaiden. He swore by his deity that it was true.
 
Tears filled Ashikatul Ashiriya’s eyes. “You wronged me by placing another woman’s child in my arms, making me nurse her as my own. By the greatness of Kisra’s city, I shall make you taste torment for this!”
 
Before Saubatul Azman could act, her soldiers clashed with his and bound them all in chains. Princess Suhaila was brought before the queen.
 
“O Suhaila,” she said bitterly, “I raised you as my daughter. You suckled at my breast. I cared for you from infancy to maturity. And now you repay me with betrayal? You should have defended me, if only for the favors I bestowed. You deserve a punishment equal to your treachery.”
 
The queen ordered Suhaila bound. Then she called her brother Haiman, laid her hand on his shoulder, and smiled.
 
“O my brother, you are my blood. Whatever you have done, I forgive you. I even offer you my throne. Come, sit in my place.”
 
Haiman wept bitterly with regret and begged her forgiveness. She embraced him—then suddenly drew a dagger and stabbed him in the chest. He collapsed in agony, struggling for breath.
 
All were stunned. Miqdad, his comrade, screamed and wept behind his chains. The queen knelt by her dying brother, weeping.
 
“Forgive me, brother. I killed you with my own hand, for your life threatened my reign. I love power above all things. Had you lived, one day you would have torn the throne from me. Now I am left without kin in this world.”
 
Haiman breathed his last. His corpse was dragged to the gate of Baitul Husuk. Saubatul Azman, Miqdad, and Suhaila were chained and brought there too.
 
The queen placed her brother’s finger in one socket at the gate, and her own finger in another. Suddenly, smoke and lightning filled the air, and the great iron doors of the cave slowly began to open. Within stood lines upon lines of jinn warriors, still as statues yet filled with dreadful power.
 
Inside, the cave glittered with treasures beyond imagination—gold, rubies, pearls, and jewels piled endlessly. With shouts of awe, the people rushed like madmen to gather riches, until the queen’s voice restored order.
 
They filled bags until they could carry no more. The queen rejoiced, forgetting that the gate could never be reopened without her brother’s finger—yet she had killed him.
 
The Awakening of the Jinn Guards
 
For three whole days, the people plundered treasures. Then Ashikatul Ashiriya had her enemies bound to great pillars within the cave. She laughed.
 
“My enemies, you shall remain here, to die of hunger and thirst. This is my farewell—and my wish for you: a gentle death.”
 
Her laughter echoed as she ordered the masses to depart. Like ants, they streamed toward the gate. But when they arrived, the gate was shut. Only then did the queen remember—her brother’s finger was required.
 
Panic spread. She thrust her own finger into the socket, hoping it would open. Instead, the cave rumbled with a deafening roar. The jinn warriors who had stood like statues opened their eyes—thousands upon thousands of them.
 
The people trembled in fear, but it was too late. The queen tried again, a second time, and the jinn stirred. A third time—and suddenly the cave came alive. The jinn leapt forward, weapons raised, and began to slaughter the people mercilessly.
 
Screams filled the cave. Men and women fled in terror, trampling one another. Blood flowed like rivers. Miqdad, Suhaila, and Saubatul Azman, still bound, watched helplessly as the massacre unfolded.
 
Ashikatul Ashiriya herself crawled into a hidden passage, some of her courtiers following—thinking it a way of escape. But they only rushed into a greater doom.
 
The cave turned into a slaughterhouse. The jinn cut down warriors as if they were blades of grass. Swords and spears had no effect on their bodies. Fighters dropped their weapons and fled, only to be seized by single hands and torn apart.
 
That day, millions perished. The cave floor was soaked in blood, as if the earth itself had drunk its fill.