Free Spider Shepherd 10 - True Colours by Stephen Leather Page B

even in his own community, feared more than liked.
    His two younger brothers worked the fields but Khan’s father had always had greater ambitions for his eldest son. His dream was that Khan would one day become a mullah or imam – a leader of the faith – or a hafiz – devoting himself to memorising the entire Quran. With that in mind, his father had enrolled him in a madrassa across the border in Peshawar. But Khan was more interested fighting than studying, and when he turned nineteen he recrossed the border to join the mujahedin fighting the Russians in the dying days of the war against the Soviets. Most Afghan men were good shots, but Khan was exceptional, a lethal sniper at long range and equally deadly with an AK-47 or an RPG.
    Eventually the Soviets withdrew after their final humiliation at the hands of the mujahedin and Khan returned to the family farm and reconciled with his father. He shared the work in the poppy fields and married the wife his father had chosen for him, the young, doe-eyed daughter of a cousin, named Bahara – ‘the bringer of spring’. For a while, Khan remained aloof from the fighting that again engulfed the country as the rival mujahedin factions plunged Afghanistan into civil war.
    Time after time, rival warlords either stole his opium crop or demanded tribute for leaving it unmolested. So when Mullah Omar, ‘The Commander of the Faithful’, pledged that his new movement would eliminate corruption and the rule of the warlords, and bring peace and order to Afghanistan, Khan was one of the first to enlist in the cause – known as the Taliban.
    He rose rapidly through the ranks and was a commander by the time that the Taliban liberated Kandahar province, and was one of those who hanged the principal warlord from the barrel of one of his own tanks. Herat followed next and within two years Kabul had also fallen to the Taliban, with Mullah Omar taking power and renaming the country ‘the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan’.
    Khan returned home to his wife, but although several years had passed since their marriage, still they had not been blessed with a child. He had almost despaired, believing that Bahara must be barren, but at last she told him she was pregnant, and in time she gave birth to a daughter. Born during the full moon, she was christened Lailuna – bright moonlight. Three years later came a double tragedy. Pregnant again, Bahara died in childbirth and her baby, the son they had both dreamed of, died with her.
    That was why Lailuna was everything to him now, all that he had. She was the sun, the moon, the stars in the winter sky, the blossom on the mulberry trees in spring, and when she sang, her voice was as sweet to him as the song of the mountain nightingale, whose beautiful call was always the first, long-awaited harbinger of summer.
    Khan’s father grumbled that raising children was women’s work and urged him to marry again, but Khan refused. When he was away, he left Lailuna in the care of his sister, but whenever he was at home, his daughter was at his side. Few Afghan girls were educated, least of all in the frontier territories, but Khan defied his father’s opposition to the idea and sent her to a small school in the nearest town. Funded by foreign charities, it was run by an Afghan emigrée who had returned to her native land after living abroad for twenty years. There Lailuna blossomed. If Khan’s Taliban comrades disapproved of his actions in seeking an education for his daughter, they kept their opinions to themselves, for he was a great warrior, feared and respected by all.
    When the Americans invaded the country, Khan again took up arms, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the Taliban against Americans, Britons and the new Afghan army, using the same guerrilla warfare tactics with which the mujahedin had brought the Soviets to their knees.
    But the freedoms that Mullah Omar had promised never materialised. A new breed of Taliban commander emerged, hard-eyed