by Honie Jar
Two strangers stood there, grins across their faces. One, with a face like a stepped-on peach, held a frozen hand over her mouth and the other, a dagger to her throat.
The blood froze in Asha's veins.
A tense moment for Asha and she did not move, only looking at Bijan with wide eyes, who was frozen as well.
"Let's show her we mean business," sneered the guard as another walked up to her.
Down the hallway, a large crash radiated, almost the size of an explosion. The guards took cover, the one letting go of Asha the other making sure he stayed alive. Asha fell to the ground, grasping for air as she kneeled next to the blood of the priest. They both ran in the opposite direction of the blast, leaving Bijan and Asha alone.
Bijan held tight the bird, replacing it under his cloak. In the midst of the chaos, the homely monk appeared. The very one that Bijan met in the alleyway.
“Hitus, it is you!” Bijan greeted the overweight monk.
“Yes, I set the explosive in case you guys got into a pickle. I’m not the best at these, so it did not go off with as much power as I had hoped, but it did the trick.”
While Bijan addressed Hitus, more guards came to where they were. Without hesitation, Bijan passed the Gracious Messenger to Hitus, who slipped it under his robe.
“Seems you are out matched!” one of the guards belted at the trio.
Looking confused, Bijan said, “There are two of you, and three of us. How do you figure this?”
Within a second, hordes upon hordes of the Çiriş Military descended into the temple. Hundreds came from all corners of the temple, surrounding Bijan, Hitus, and Asha.
“Guess the got the Band,” Bijan muttered to Asha as they were surrounded.
“It’s not everyday that we are able to arrest a ranking member of The Shield,” announced the lead guard. “Darius is going to love this! It is his son no less! I might get a raise!”
Asha heard this, and looked at Bijan with discontent. Did she hear him right? Betrayal set into Asha, that she lit the wick of her flaming explosive with the friction from her belt, releasing the Fiery Rage on the ground. As it sparked, and flamed in the middle of the military, she fled to the main exit, taking a clergy’s entrance on the side, leaving Bijan and Hitus to fend for themselves.
As she exited, an update came across her vision. It read:
Skill attained: Pyrotechnics
Skill attained: Escape
Skill attained: Evasion
Yet, all of these updates meant nothing to her. While she made it to the street, the guards overflowing out of the main entrance and into the street, she overheard the guards arrest Bijan and let Hitus go since he was a holy man and pleaded that he was there to stop Bijan as his religious counsel and get him to repent for his actions.
Rage and anger were the only things Asha felt. She felt these feelings before in her previous life. She knew them well. Betrayal was a familiar foe.
9 The Sealed Vow
And just like that Asha was alone. She knew this feeling before the day she witnessed her father murdered her mother in the front yard. She did not like this feeling, the feeling of abandonment, being alone, with no one to turn to.
Yet there was something different about this feeling. She had herself. For the first time, she could rely on herself, her decision, and her actions. She did not need Aram to come and rescue her. She had come miles since she reincarnated into this world, and now she was going to take matters into her own hands.
The pangs of her innards told her there was something wrong, something wrong about Bijan. This feeling gnawed at her. Was he really a ranking member of The Shield? The very enemy of the Clan of Bahram. This notion tortured her as she felt lied to and betrayed.
She went over the evidence that stacked against Bijan in her head. The guard who took Bijan into his custody said that they had just pinched the ranking member of the Shield. Then there was that unmistakable tattoo. The tattoo she saw when Bijan got the stitches after Hasheem gave him a piece of his mind. The evidence was pointing toward Bijan being a member of The Shield and him being a member of the Clan of Bahram was only a cover. Did he join the Clan so he could learn the secrets of a rival adversary? How did this rivalry work when the Ascendancy of Unity would be reunited?
All of these things rolling around in Asha’s mind only brought up more questions. What was she going to do now? Would she return to Adar without her mentor? That would cause an uproar among the Clan, that was for sure. Anxiety filled her body with these questions, and she hoped the answer would come to her.
Hiding in the crowd, she walked among them, always hiding in plain sight. Distraught from the decisions that laid before her, she didn’t know which direction to go nor where to turn. The streets were bustling once again, much like the day before. Merchants were sealing their deals and sending the goods on their way to various lands. Vessels brought supplies to the ships in the blockade. In the distance Asha could see a good-size caravan carrying the goods to distant lands. The drivers whipped the exhausted animals, who appeared to be on the verge of collapse.
She passed rose gardens. The bushes were carefully pruned, and the plump buds on the branches were on the verge of opening. Further down, the rose bushes had pink white and crimson flowers already on them.
Walking further, she came across the cypress grove and heard the purling of water from all sides. Somewhere far off, the water gushed like rapids fumbling to a waterfall. Lifting her head, she made out the small castle on the hill. It was reflecting the white plaster that everything else was made of in Çiriş. The water she heard was coming from the castle from up above. The Palace of Çiriş, but now where Darius ruled.
Looking at the pond where the water filled to from the hillside of the looming castle, she saw a reflection. She bent down to look at the reflection more closely, since it was not a reflection of her, which she was expecting.
While on her knees, she clearly saw that the figure on the surface of the pond was Ibrahim. “Ibrahim!” Asha shouted.
“Greetings, Asha. You have done very well thus far, better than I hoped and have vastly exceeded my expectations.” Asha could clearly hear the reflection as it spoke from the surface of the water.
Pride filled Asha, something she was not used to. A rare occurrence was when she was told that she did a good job, but here those words were, and they felt wonderful.
Asha took her quibble up with the very deity who brought her here. “Ibrahim, I am at an impasse,” she said.
“You seem to be doing just fine,” he squashed Asha’s need for concern almost instantly.
“But my mentor was taken by Darius and the Çirian soldiers, and I believe my mentor might have been a trader for The Shield,” exclaimed Asha in a single breath, hoping the reflection would not vanish.
The reflection, glanced down and answered, “Seems as though you have not gotten as far as I thought.”
Confused by the riddle, Asha asked, “But, you said that I had exceeded your expectations. What has changed?”
“Asha, I thought I gave you enough Intelligence to figure this out. Given that you’re slightly above average on this, perhaps I should have not given you so much Agility and made your Intelligence more powerful. I’ll know for next time,” mused the reflection in the pond.
Asha, not enjoying the mockery, tried to figure out what the deity was insinuating. She thought about it some more and muttered to herself, “What was once taught is not true…”
“See, I knew you had it in you!” Ibrahim rejoiced as he continued the phrase, “What was once taught is old. It was the initiate’s old way of life. It was poisoned with bias, prejudice, and malice. What was once taught must be forgotten.”
Asha finished the quote that she remembered from her initiation ceremony, “As the initiate passes through the First Degree, their old educational constructs are left behind as they seal a vow of blind allegiance to the mentor who chose them.” Shivers went down her spine as she recited the final line
.
Ibrahim, from the pond calmly said, “My work here is done. Keep up the good work.” With a glistening of light reflecting on the surface of the pond, he was gone.
Asha moved from the pond, consumed by feelings of inadequacy and guilt. To think that she was going to allow the capture of her mentor to go undetected by the other Clan members. She repeated the quote from her initiation one last time, “What was once taught is not true. What was once taught is old. It was the initiate’s old way of life. It was poisoned with bias, prejudice, and malice. What was once taught must be forgotten. As the initiate passes through the First Degree, their old educational constructs are left behind as they seal a vow of blind allegiance to the mentor who chose them.”
She walked, back the way she came, back to the street where the crowds of people littered the passage ways. She knew what she was going to do.
Roaming around aimlessly among the crowd, she came across the pigeon coop. An idea came to her and she rushed over to the vendor with the pigeon coop. Asha asked the vendor, “Do you have any homing pigeons from Adar?”
“Yes, I have one,” answered the vendor.
Excited, Asha replied, “I’d like to buy that one.”
“That will be for silver,” said the vendor.
Asha took out one of the gold coins that Ibrahim had given her and paid for the pigeon. The vendor took it out of its cage, and in both hands holding tightly around its neck, handed it over to Asha.
Asha found a vacant corridor off of the main street, there while holding the bird in place, she scratched a. note with a charcoal and a scrap of paper she found on the street, and tied it to the birds leg. She then released the bird helping it take flight between the two buildings. She watched for a moment until she could not see the pigeon anymore. It was heading in the right direction. This might just work!
Asha returned to the headquarters of the Sacred Band of Çiriş, through the herb shop and into the back rooms exactly as Bijan showed her.
As she opened the door, expecting to receive a welcome and a plan, she was met right away with Hashem. “Turns out your mentor is a trader,” he shouted, not allowing her to pass, his curved saber drawn. She knew he knew how to use it and that he was not above taking a petty strike at her.
She raised her hands, indicating that she did not want to battle him. He released his saber, bringing the point down to the ground. “I realize that your mentor was a trader, not you, but you are not welcomed here. We have to stop the blockade with out the help of the Clan of Bahram. I told the Band that we should go at it without them, but they insisted on the assistance. It pleased the elders to see that the High Justicar provided Bijan Hakimi, but now we see why…” Hashem sneered.
Without any further confrontation, Asha backed up, not turning her back on the man. She headed back out of the herb shop and to the street, returning to the feeling she had when she was an orphan, being passed from one foster home to the next. Told that she was too much of a burden, they wanted to take care of her, but the family just could not.
Returning to the street, Asha realized she had no where to go, once again. She had no where to sleep, to wait and see if the Clan of Bahram would come for her and Bijan as she requested in the note. Nowhere.
As the afternoon dwindled into the evening she stood, silent and still. Watching and waiting. She did not know for what, but she did not want to expand her energy any more, so she stood, saving her money to use when she needed it.
As the markets packed up, and the vendors closed their stalls, Asha was left in the cold. As Asha walked, her shoulders stooped and her fists in her sack, she peered over her shoulder to find out if she was being followed. Reassured, she proceeded forward, leaving behind the garden behind and going in the slum.
The variation in the air was practically instant. Where before her boots hit heavy on the hard stones of the streets, now they plunged into the odor of the route, rattling a smell of decaying vegetables and body waste. The sinking mud was thick with it and the air wreaked of it. She stretched her shawl over her mouth and nose to block the vilest of it out.
A ferocious looking dog trotted at her heel for a few paces, ribs visible at his shrinking belly. It appealed to her with its greedy, crimson-marked eyes but she could simply relate to the beast, she could not afford to help it. She was in no position to render aid. She had one task to do, rescue Bijan.
Elsewhere, a mother perched on the porch bearing the shreds of close joined closely with cords, a baby clung to her nipple as she waited and watched Asha with her glassy, lifeless eyes. She might be the parent of a hustler, standing by for her daughter to get home with the profits and heaven forbid the if the girl came back bare-handed. Or she might direct a party of robbers and catchers, instantly to come out with their day's wages. Or perhaps, she ran a night shelter.
While many of these men were incapable or reluctant to work, many more had professions. They were dog fighters, and bird breeders. They sold watches and jewels people hocked to pay their debts. They were cost mongers, road keepers, stolen art dealers. Their children came into the slums with them, boosting the overcrowding and adding to the stink. The night here had been long established to suffocate and swallow up entire families. Or that was the story. One thing that circulated about the slums more rapidly than illness was scandal. So as long as the slum residents were concerned, they intended to slumber with the windows shut.
Living in the slums, the chances of dying were considerable. Disease and brutality were prevalent here. Children risked being smothered when men rolled over in their slumber. Cause of death would be suffocation. It was more frequent on weekends when the last of the rum had been drained at the pubs and bars. Parents felt their course home with their hands and blurred vision, finding their way into the thick night, upon the slippery stone walks, through the gates and into the hot stinking place where they at last they settled down their heads to lay.
Bad choice! She should not have wandered into the slums of Çiriş. She found a path that went along the sea, and traveled back to the main part of the town, escaping the stench that filled her nostrils, in hopes the salt air would replace the smell of human waste.
A few paces down the shoreline, Asha wandered near a seaside cottage. A man was working in his front yard. “Good evening, M’dam,” he said while he paused from working to acknowledge Asha.
“Evening,” responded Asha, not wanting to make eye contact after she witnessed the destitute of the slums.
“There is a storm on the horizon. You should get inside,” suggested the man.
Asha took a moment to examine the sky, and her eyes were instantly met with the dark clouds that filled the sky, making the mid-day appear to be night time.
“Ah! I see. Yes, there are clouds coming together. I believe you’re correct, a storm is imminent,” she responded.
“You best be getting yourself home. I’m not sure how much longer you have.”
Dejected, because Asha did not have anywhere to go, put her head down.
“M’dam, what is the matter?” asked the man, looking concerned for Asha. He had a trusting manner about him and a sweet and sincere disposition.
“I—I haven’t anywhere to go,” answered Asha, accepting defeat. Perhaps this whole assassin thing was too much for her.
The man rose from where he worked to comfort Asha. He went over to her and put his arms around her, easing her as she wept. “You will remain here tonight and have a complete dinner with freshly caught mackerel, newly melted butter with loaves of bread, yogurt, honey and pistachios and supple crates of liquor. And thus, a pleasant bed and a proper lie down. Tomorrow you can be on your way."
Despite the promised warm bed she slept, she only shut her eyes for a few minutes before waking. Troubled by the task that she replayed over and over again in her head. She stared at the head of her scimitar, propped near the bed illuminated by the shaft of moonlight, for what felt like hours before deciding to rise while it was still dark.
She
was grateful for the man for feeding her and providing her a shelter as the storm passed. Now that it was long gone, she had business to attend to. She needed to save Bijan.
Leaving the seaside cottage like a thief in the night, she head herself back to the Temple of the Congregation of the Five Gods. If she could get the Gracious Messenger, then she could trade in that artifact for Bijan’s safe return. She ran to the square with renewed strength.
A flash came across her vision, she did not expect it since she was not certain what sort of update it would inform her of. Across her field of vision read:
Skill attained: Charisma
Skill attained: Connection and Contacts
Ah! As a result of allowing the nice man to have compassion for her and willing to help her, she attained two new skills. Fabulous.
While she ran passed the Palace of Çiriş, where she saw the reflection of Ibrahim, she felt someone pull her into an alleyway that was below the castle, but into the hillside.
“Ahhh!” Asha screamed as the tug of her arm startled her and seemed to come out from nowhere.
Certain she was going to meet her make her, Asha closed her eyes. “Asha, relax,” a female voice soothed.
Asha opened her eyes, still not trusting the voice. “Who are you?” Asha asked looking at two beauties who stood before her, dressed in the most elaborate and exquisite of clothes.
“My name is Leila and this is Armin,” said the girl in the turquoise outfit.
“Pleased to meet you,” the other girl interrupted.
Asha, still confused by what was going on she looked at the two with a blank stare. It took Asha a moment, but the names rang a bell as she whispered, “You two are members of the Clan of Bahram!” Excitement filled Asha as she realized that she was not alone.