Scrolls of the Prophet
Book I
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Bloody Assassins
INAPPROPRIALITY, of course, that was the tell which one could not mention – the young miss would be remembered in a more caring manner. It would be better for her loved ones to be informed of her passing during her frame of sleep’s hold; no horror, no indiscretion. I pulled my vision from the heavens and heaved free the full-lid from the hold of its last hinge. Once taken away from its mount, I palmed the square block and placed it to safety within the inner-flap of my tunic. With little additional thought, I then grabbed up the staff by its rounded mid-section and poked one-end in the ground as I used it to pull myself up.
The night began to ebb into a cast of new morning as I motioned toward the soon-to-come burial mounds. My thoughts fell to reflection as I cased the near area. My learned experience of final ceremonies had been limited at best, and it had really only extended to the one notable harvest-time that I had spent as a burial assistand and digger. “At least they had granted me a flat-sided bucket..!” I murmured in consolation as I put both of my palms to the ground.
The pit excavations had started to progress only slightly, when I spotted the reflective-sparkle of an object which had then caught my eye.
“What the..!” I voiced out in a pit of excitement, then darted over with speed to unearth the surprise. When I dropped to my knees, I acknowledged the sharp-bladed edge which was mostly buried in the granules. With ever-fevered breath, I reached down and fitted my finger-tips behind and around what I perceived to be the blade of a well made dagger.
My mind reeled at that instant from the call of a “nae”, the voice of an unseen horse and rider now approached from the distance; I crouched to the ground and spun my head to observe...“Nothing…,” from the low-toned sound. Instantly, I rose up without caution as the dagger I had grasped tightly was pulled free from the sands. With an understanding that came granted from the gift of experience, I noted that the dagger I'd found was no dagger at all; rather, what I had perceived as a knife showed to be a very wide spear-tip instead, it had a lengthy hammered body, and had arrived with its own engraved designs of crisp, clear, small-details on the handle.
“Fantastic..!” I guffed, but was swiftly drawn away from the spear-tip and into a vision — the steely tip of the blade had slid easily in motion and as it pierced the soft skin it penetrated between bones; the anguished man’s rib-cage had now been cut to asunder, he was swollen and dirty, and had been treated with no care. The vision then abaited as quickly as it had come, and then it faded to obscurity in the morning's pre-dawn.
With the skill of a knife-thrower, I flipped the tip over so that the crest of the blade now pointed outward from my palm. “Much bigger than a dagger..,” I surmised, and quickly grew startled when the same “nae...” came again.
A formidable horse and its oversized rider could be seen in the sunrise; the pair were locked boldly in a harsh, cold display as they arrived near my place and faced me down sternly. I was unnerved by their pose and hastened my view, the overtones misgiving. The rider himself was clad in black-robes and a pair of dark-leggings, and above his tunic in flow was a turban hung low which covered his brow. I was intimidated for sure. His horse was grey-colored and came clad head-to-toe in a red-trimmed attire — a villain on his own — the whites of his eyes parted, and his face grew partially exposed as he sat high in the saddle. He stared at me hard. And while locked in a pause as the waning-day started, I squinted my eyes to greet the new day.
It was not difficult for one such as I to discern what he was; but I had not the slightest idea of just who he was... I held my position and gripped the long blade of iron in the palm of one-hand while I held the shaft of the hardened wood staff firmly in the other.
“Assassin..!” I cried out in a cast of molded fraility that surely matched my fears.
The figure spoke, “Hassani Sabbah Al-Khara...at your service.., young master..,” the bold, clear of his tone was not unfamiliar in its range as the mount he was riding then grunted and stirred. The rider pulled at the reins to steady the beast; and as the animal objected, it only stammered somewhat gravely before it shook its head violently and hard-hoofed the ground. All intentions were clear…
The large figure followed, “Shall one flee from these grounds or shall you die like the others..?” The villian's previous deeds not going omitted — he had killed the three children and stole away their innocence.
“My guess is young master— that if you flee like a bug...you'll be piked in the back...But if you possess the boldness to stay…well...I shall grant you no reprieve from your judgment by "Palmyra"...and for you...in the end — it'll be death either way..!”
I stood fast; the assassin’s arm rose; and he placed a palm at his side, the dark mount kicked again and then rose up its front legs so they were high off the ground. In the shadows before day, I absorbed my first sight of the big sword of "Palmyra" as it sat scabbord out nicely from the tip to its handle. I had taken view of many steel-weapons before— but never one like this...
“Surely.., boy...you're no child in the making—for one must be to the likings of a man to stand firm upon the ground...and to face death as you do… so grant if you will...a call to your gods...and include me too..!” The assassin then grinned and gestured toward me fitfully, and he wasted no time as he broke free of his at separate ground. The pair lunged forward and toward me as I stood there in shock, both of my feet still planted well-stiffly as they anchored my form; I was robbed of any movement while both man and horse continued to charge, total aggression, violence of scene. I struggled for reason and sucked in with deep breath; then held it for a moment but could not make its release, my entire body was frozen. One needed to react and make fast a decision: "spear-tip or staff..," I readily questioned...
The deadly assassin now showed out unhindered as he and his beast continued their charge… I appeared greatly stupefied, my form lost in shakes while he and his supporter sped up even closer. All my mind could do was fixate on the long-length of his sabre and contemplate in quickness just how soon it would strike.
“Spear-tip or staff…spear-tip or staff..?” There was a hurried confusion which bounced back and forth behind my wide eyes. The debate seemed to go on in a bout of slow motion albeit foreboding as the horse and its rider would soon close their distance. I bobbed my head forward in disregard, and viewed the two implements which I held in my palms, “Spear-tip or shaft..?” I questioned once more while I was left quite unsure of the most appropriate movement, my eyes faltered shut to make the threat disappear. Then, in an instant, rapid hoofs shattered the silence and broke me free of my disillusionment. All I could muster in my response to the terror was to contemplate the right answer… should it be, “Spear-tip or staff..?”
“Staff..!” I cried out and re-opened my eyes as the slick feel of flat metal fell free from my hand. And in that same moment, I witnessed the near thrust of that magnificent sword, it gleamed in the dull-night's reflection as the assassin hung free from his saddle and far to one-side. The three of us were unheeded, all held bold in our statures, and as they came on me my knees became buckled, every thought at a loss; one's demise cast to hand, and I the receiver… In a motion without plan, I dove down at mid-center, my last hopes and desires to overt my beheading—and to avoid a fierce trampling by the big horse's full charge. To my tease and unwitting, the staff’s-end grew embedded; it locked in the sand as I tumbled and rolled barely out of the way. I felt the pressure and jerk from the shear stress of its bend—a move which stopped the two's momentum at their breast of mid-strike. This hastened both the horse and its rider from then engaging me further, and as my body twisted in an uncontrolled spin, I found myself flung into brisk flight while stationed beneath the great beast.
There came an intense whine and grunted loud sigh, as the animal whimpered out loudly from the gift of staff’s-end, it had struck hard against him at the center of chest. The thickness of wood was now gone from my grip; And I spun in two-circles before landing hard on my bottom. All about me was dulled in a thick haze of dust that hadn't yet settled, and when it finally cleared up after maybe two secondss, I padded myself briefly in a quick check for wounds. But to my surprise, it appeared that I'd been granted no scrape, no slit, nor even the remains of a devastating hoof-print; nothing revealed had arrived from the jest of our tuffle—well, except for the runs of loose sand which fell quick to the ground as I straitened out my tunic.
“Holy yak excretions..!” The status of my mindset was overwhelmed at the thought, and I sprang to my knees and peered down the near-field to observe the slow settle from the storm which had been produced by the aggressors' fast tumble.
While presented in a view which portrayed little hesitation, both the horse and its rider were disposed in their quest for return to full-mounting; they struggled at first before regaining their feet. While I, on the other hand—though shaken and stirred—stood baffled in place while the assassin’s great sword showed now to be erected near and close to my reach. It shook side-to-side, and then wobbled to not.., its sparkling handle stowed in place blatently between the split of my legs. This opportunity was not overlooked by my spirited wit as I paused but a moment and then reached out for it quickly.
“HALT..!—For one’s aspirations to seek the hold of "Palmyra"...is surely a fool’s errand...you are still but a child and not yet worthy of its grace…One should accept this as being presented in faith...or you soon shall ponder such thoughts from your view-down from the heavens…!” the assassin addressed me in a serious boast. It was as if he possessed some inner knowledge that claimed I could not defeat him. I measured the distance and I saw him unarmed, his previous sword of decimation now stationed so close, well, not too-far off to grab and make ready.
I surveyed my position, and then responded in form, “Beware to you...assassin…for the gods shall on this day...put a smile on the face of the much-lesser-agressor..!” I hopped in one motion to stand up in full, firm, strait and tall, then spat at the ground in a show of cold-spite. My eyes were drawn leaner to the immense section of the sword that in dawn’s early light now seemed to glisten quite brightly. It entered my mind that while armed with such a weapon, no man or assassin could tempt my good fate, especially if I wielded it with little debate...
“So…one believes he can make it..so foolish to try..!” he called over while steaming. And as the dark-cloke he wore became raised over one-shoulder, he pulled out withsome leverage, a large wooden object. This, he lifted-up to be level just below his firm-chin, and after the lock of its draw-string he grappled a single-arrow from its close thigh-strap's rendition.
I was immediately humbled by my previous defiance; the assassin, unhindered, then affixed the long-arrow and prepared for its action. As I foolishly gaped onward at the freshly armed crossbow, my mouth was forced to full-droop without any sign of warning.
“Well played...assassin..,” I muttered in a low-pitted breath. Now, with the progression of all that had happened being shown to weigh heavy and pitted against me, I leaned forward rather briskly—for I had no other choice. Fully dressed in set mind, I made a bolt for the sword and grasped it up quickly so that its long-length of white-handle would not be denied. Unfortunately though, its lapse of contact or capture was no breach or malfunction—for with the touch of the sword I became sullenly distracted.
“The gods smile on me..!” I yelled boastfully, but I had barely got the word's-blade out of the sand when the sharp-point of a spent-arrow struck me dead in the chest. There was a lifting sensation which pulled me up in the air, and I saw the sword turn and spin skyward as my back crashed to the ground. The force from the arrow with its cruel gift in play, had stole away my senses and left me dying where I lay.
“Was it possible..? No.., it surely couln't be..! Have the Gods again smiled on me..?” My mind fell to wonderment and my blue-eyes to shock, as I then gazed up slightly to see the arrow’s brown-shaft as it stuck out from me plainly and rose up quite percurely with each given breath. In a thought of exasperation, I almost reached for the thing, but in a mindset of confusion let the weakness of my arms fall back upon the sand. I knew myself to be doomed and lost from life's keep, my head lowered slowly, the vision of this morning then faded to oblivion as I gave up all hope.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Shame..! The boy had the loins of a lion...that one..,” the assassin gave over with a laughter out-loud, but he somehow couldn't sense the still functioning of my ears as they picked-up the heavy hoof-beats which closed in on my position. "He's nearly upon the sword at my side...," I thought, or atleast the pair sounded quite close as I gave up with my breathing and tried to lie still.
“If I continued to be frozen...perhaps the man would simply pass by...and one will live to recover...and to survive through this battle...live to fight another day...” the dim thoughts arose in my head as I gently wriggled my fingers and jiggled my toes, one could still feel the warmth of his worn out sandals. Then, just at that moment, I recalled the earlier placement of that recently taken oak-cover from the broken box which I had found.
“Raaah..!” I screamed at the assassin as I jumped to my feet. I rose from the sands as fast as my flesh would allow and grasped up the "Palmyra" by its fully jeweled handle. The dark-covered assassin was now caught up in his compulsion of motion to lean down from his saddle and palm the sword up.
"Closer now..," I dared, as I froze without movement, and to the obedience of his beast, and instantly reached the sword first, my anxious, blurry vision caught up to his anger, and he brandished a look that was awe-struck, confused, and which bore surprised-eyes, as I swung the blade wildly with all the strength I could muster. My palms were locked in place on the smooth-knobs of the handle which was covered in crystals and half-cut fine stones, and I pulled up with force to loose the sword more freely. I swung for the hills, and beyond all the fences, to the heavens I flustered, and struck at the bent-man as he leaned over in position...and hoped to behead him...both of them, should my gift in a reaping possess enough thrust.
The mighty black-horse put its hoofs to the air and reared fully upright as it jumped fast away. I was happy to witness its show in surprise as it took the shallow-hearted assassin to his quick turn away. The two of them made a large circle before they came to a halt, their final end being performed in a bid to come quickly face me and take me on head-to-head.
With energy of palm, I kept the big sword lofted, and for only a moment took the time to move my pinched-eyes away from the horse and its rider. I looked down at the stick which protruded from my chest. While astonished, I tippped my head over to one-side in disagreement and let the wooden-arrow reside as it was. I viewed the assassin as he put two brisk fingers to the cover of the cut on his cheek, and he wiped at the small trickles of blood which ran down his face. The injury was not bad, but certainly significant, and I smiled with grandure as I held my own my space. Held strong for the battle...
“What are you...," he laughed in anger, "a ghost..?” the trivial grumble of his voice sank in my head as he loosed another of the fat-shafted, wooden-arrows from the multi-pack of leather-sheath which he had strapped to one thigh as it ran to his waist.
I stepped toward him teasingly, tauntingly, with the "Sword of Palmyra", and though it was nearly the length of my body while still erected in the air, my form was stowed-away ready to strike as I held it high out before me and pointed at his proximity, he slid the wood-shafted arrow back into its place. Within his command to put reins full to action, the matched black stallion he rode caulfed out with a “nea”, before it took three very high steps forward and then instantly halted.
“So indeed you still live...ghost..!” The man gestured and guffed as he put those same two-fingers to their tap upon the wide group of lined arrows which still remained in the pack. I stood before them frustrated while the small tree of my infliction stuck out from my chest.
“What’s to stop me from further reloading my bow..?” he questioned, and steadied his horse, his palm now closer once again at its feel to grasp up another of the long projectiles and put it to use. His face was no longer hidden by the cover of its wrap with black-cloth, and little effort seemed given to quickly re-cover it. There was a deep look of dissatisfaction which glared out from his eyes—both scary in perception as they gazed out upon the freshly erected arrow which still rested below my young boyish face, and then onto the fantastic sword that I now held up high. The lungs of my body heaved with each breath, and I stood motionless in opposition as we prepared for next strikes.
Loud sounds erupted and cut through the silence as they accompanied the grunts from mens' voices and the rattle of many hoof-beats which came offered out via the stomp of big animals, a large group of contingents then rode into sight as they trampled the ground and arrived from around the far-corner of a nearby dune's-face. “Take care...the great "Sword of Palmyra"...ghost...for there is no tell in one's doubting that we shall soon meet again..!” he voiced over one shoulder.
“Not to worry...assassin...for the next time our eyes meet...It shall truly be me who so gladly returns it with flavor..!” I replied, and then lowered the heavy blade’s tip toward the sands down before me. The assassin and his steed jerked forward in a stunt of aggression, the two of them sparing no time in their spin of full-circle before he kicked the beast madly and they shot off in conviction. They left only a thick raised dust-cloud in their wake as they left from the scene.
Heavily weighted with exasperation, I felt drained of all strength and fell down to one-knee, and while posed in a new angularity of direction I leaned the flat-blade of the sword on the flesh of my thigh. With the weapon now positioned at its center of gravity, it became almost weightless as it sat pinned in my palm.
When I turned to one-side, I watched with curiosity as several heavily armored riders now emerged from the hill of sand out beside me. The cool morning winds yearned at my soul as the newly arrived sweat-beads ran down from my forehead. I observed the group as they advanced and galloped in sequence, faces held stern while atop their large horses. They then slowed in approach as they carefully dodged the arrangement of lifeless-splayed bodies which were scattered about.
“Who goes there..? Identify yourself..!” the leadman demanded, as he eyed me quite fiercely.
“For the love of the gods..!” I gasped, and then raised up "Palmyra" to prepare for engagement yet again. Slowly, I pushed myself forward and steadied my feet. The five horsemen then encircled my position and came to a stop that had pinned them equally spaced all around me, they closed in slowly, each showed out to be well versed with their mixed blades at the ready. Relief washed over me when the crossed-lines which they bore where shown thick-red in color—the standards of "Sir Tancred..", had been emblazoned on every cloak, horse and shield. Seeing the crest of the Great Master's house was a comfort indeed, and I willfully lowered my sword and lowered my head, for these were the knight-men of valor who guarded the famed "king’s highway of travel"...
“The assassin has left us...but if you follow him quickly, you might catch him still..,” I called out in vein, and then pointed toward the fresh signs of hoofprints which trailed off in the opposite angularity to that of our stance, and then disappeared beyond an opposed plate of sand dunes.
“How do we know that you are not the bandit who's in responsibility here..?” the apparent leader challenged me, his palm rested firmly on the bronze handle of his unimpresssive "Roman"-styled, straight-blade. He was the largest of the group of knights who stood readied for battle.
Before I could respond, another knight spoke boldly as he sounded out in my defense. “I know of this...young master...captain..he’s a friend of "Sir Tancred’s"...and under his care...and although...I don’t exactly recall the boy wielding such a sizable weapon...we should give him some clearance and bid for his cover...”
The knight’s voice held conviction; and I recognized him as being the big man from the fire on that past recalled night—the one who had stood next to the others as they mocked at another for making too much noise when all sought to sleep...
“Very well then..,” came from the thick-bearded leader, who then shifted his palm away from his sword as he gripped on his reins to steady his animal. “Milo...you stay here and see to this mess..,” he spoke at the rest, “On my lead lads..!” With a sharp issued kick to his horse’s side-flanks, all but one of them sped away in their charge to catch the assassin.
The last knight who remained, a tan-faced younger man in repore, dismounted from his tall-brown steed and stood just before me, his posture quite formidable.
“I am..."Sir Thomas Elwin Milowinski"...but my friends call me...‘Milo’...And just whom might you be...young master...if one may be so bold..?-And moreoverly important..,” he gestured at the arrow which jutted out from my chest, “what’s the story with that..?”, he pointed out and jested.
I could really only tell him of what little I knew about what had earlier transpired, and after my full story had been given, my tell fully expressed, there was no other way to finish off the tale than to offer out to him with with the slander of; "bloody assassins..!”
...Select Next Scroll...
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Thank you valued Rider's Vault Members..!
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CURRENT VOLUME List:
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Scrolls of the Prophet...historical/biblical/adventure/coming of age
- Awakening
- Gathering
- Binding
- Bloodline
- Prophecy
- Phoenicia
- Future Dig
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Scrolls of the Past...historical/adventure/coming of age
- Amen Rey (Egyptian)
- House of the Fawn - (Greek)
- Spice Road - (Persian)
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Dominatrix...sci-fi/thriller/action/space adventure/coming of age/assassin
- Domina
- Bisal
- Alaran
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Terraformation..sci-fi/action/adventure/alien love story/space travel
- Terra-Form
- Terra-Rise
- Terra-Site
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Quest of the Seeker..thriller/murder mystery/afterlife/coming of age
- The Key
- The Clown
- The Seeker
**Hint: The Seeker is the Grim Reeper's brother...:)
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The Cleaner..action/thriller/coming of age/assassin
- The Child
- The Woman
- The Teacher
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Ready The Yeti..children's series/adventure/life lessons
- I Am Ready
- I Am Sassy
- I am Abominable
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