by Honie Jar
“I miss the mornings I would spend with my father and we would feed our horses. If you ever want a change, let me know and I’ll be the stable hand.”
“Not changing stations any time soon,” replied the assassin with a chuckle. “If I ever get the urge to kill again, then perhaps, but I don’t see it.” The assassin who was stationed to keep the horses was a tall and muscular man. He wore a simple tunic and pants. Not a hood and cape like Bijan and Asha. He glanced over at Asha but did not say a word. Instead, he redirected his attention back to Bijan.
“Good seeing you, brother,” said Bijan.
“Good seeing you.” The assassin continued, “I understand you are headed for Çiriş this morning.”
“Correct.”
“And you are expected to return before sunrise?”
“Correct. This one will take us all through the night. I wish it would not be the case, however, the political situation in Çiriş is far more complex than it has ever been, and I am convinced we will need to pay some people of to get what we need.”
“Well, you are the expert. I trust you have a plan.”
“You are giving me too much credit,” responded Bijan.
Asha realized that she would not be spoken to in this type of interaction. She had not earned the status of being an assassin, and if she was not successful in this assignment, there would be no point in an introduction since she would be beheaded the following day.
“I have your steads ready.”
“Thank you,” responded Bijan.
“I prepared the two strongest and largest of the bunch, since you would spend all day traveling and probably couldn’t feed them while you were away.”
“Feed them, probably not. But there is a river where we can water them on the way. We will make sure to water them on the way there and the way back.”
“Very good. They should be fine with that.”
The hand brought out the two horses from the stalls, holding each of the reigns in each of his hands. The majestic creatures, which were both at least twenty-two hands high followed the hand, explicitly obedient to even the slightest of suggestions.
Bijan took his horse’s reigns from the assassin’s hand, putting the lead rein back over the horse. He gathered a handful of the horses mane in his hand and hoisted himself onto the back of the gigantic beast that was nothing fiercer than a kitten.
The hand brought Asha’s horse over for her, and tied the lead rein to the saddle, holding the riddle of the horse while Asha put her foot in the stirrup.
Without saying a word to her, as she shifted her weight to hoist her body on to the back of her horse, he supported her with his free hand, ensuring she got up on the horse her first try. With the support of the hand, Asha found herself atop of the mighty beast. The hand did not say a word to her as she found her balance and relished in the view from the back of the equine.
“Nicely done,” commended Bijan. “You seem to have some natural ability with horses.”
“No, I’ve never ridden one,” answered Asha.
“In any case, hopefully you’re as good at riding as you are mounting,” he mused. “We ride to the east. Çiriş is the territory that borders the sea. They have several ports, and that is where the main trade route comes from. This ride should take us several hours, but it will allow us to arrive in Çiriş with ample time to structure our attack.”
“Attack?” Asha challenged.
“Right, attack. What did you think we were going to Çiriş to do? To braid their hair and stroke their hands?”
“Well, no,” Asha responded, seeming as though she was foolish. Yet did not want to attack anyone in reality.
“You will get used to all of this. Plus, this assignment will allow me to show you how to use your weapons.” Bijan took a moment to guide his horse out of the stables, leaning back, his hips seated on the saddle. He walked the horse out of the stable and Asha’s followed without her having to instruct it.
When both of the horses walked out of the stables, Bijan kicked his heels on the sides of his stead and shouted, “Yeah!” Immediately the beast entered a gallop with Asha’s following right behind, without her giving it any instruction. The two horses galloping at full speed, Asha kept with the rhythm of her horse, a foreign concept to her, but her body adjusted to the movement naturally.
The pair were off to Çiriş.
6 The Jewel of the Sea
“Whoa!” Bijan shouted, pulling the reins of his horse back, slowing the beast down to a stop. Without any realization, Asha’s horse did the same thing. Following suit and matching Bijan’s horse step by step.
“Behold!” Bijan shouted takin his arm and displaying the view they could see from the side of the mountain. “This is Çiriş!”
Asha could barely lift her eyes over the neck of the horse, but when she did, they were met with one of the most brilliant and picturesque sights she had ever seen. Located in the heart of the Kazevian sea, a peninsula jutted out, so all the land was surrounded by water except for the mountain range that led into Çiriş.
The beaches that ran along the edge of the sapphire blue water had what appeared to be fine, black, sand as the coloring of the mineral grains were deep and dark. There were no structures on the side of the mountain, but instead all the white cement buildings were on the sea level, close to the piers and beaches. The round-roofed domes that capped the buildings were painted colors of white, blue, and gold. They complimented and contrasted with the surrounding seas made this view pleasing to the eye. Arches flowed from one building to another and served as a pathway for the people who walked from one building to the next suspended in the sky.
On the horizon, Asha heard a shriek coming from the seas. She could barely make it out, but looked at the waves where a cormorant dove into the water, emerging from the waves with a shiny mackerel in its snout that glistened in the sun’s rays. Asha could make out the shimmer in the bird’s beak. Right above it, and running downward toward there appeared a spotted eagle. The cormorant shrieked again in panic, released its partly-chewed prize then descended under the waves for cover. The eagle clod at the abandoned fish body merely for the crumb. With a mighty shriek of dismaying, the great fowl pivoted around and floated in toward the waterfront, gliding with a delicate trip across the coast, coming to a stop beside the seashore. Perched, watching for its next meal. The sight was beautiful, and the picturesque place of Çiris was breathtaking.
“We will work our way down the far side of the mountain, not to be seen by anyone. Without question, there are surveyors watching the movement of this hillside, and waiting for an attack,” explained Bijan.
He eased the reins and led the horse toward the north side of the mountain away from the direct view of the port city. As they transverse down the hillside on their magnificent steads, Bijan asked Asha, “Why did you want to be considered for recruitment by the Clan of Bahram?”
Taken aback by the question, because Asha did not know how the logistics of her coming to the Clan were worked out, she was not certain how to answer. She gave an answer that was based on her upbringing in her previous life and what she thought would make sense for her in this life. “I was an orphan my entire life,” she started.
“Orphan?” Bijan interrupted. “How were you orphaned?”
“That part I am not entirely certain about because I was young when it happened. I do remember some things, but I was so young, I’m not really sure.”
“Well?”
“I remember my mother. She was young, loving, and very affectionate. She would make sure I was taken care of and braided my hair. I always looked cute, at least that is what my neighbors always told me when we went over to their house to visit,” recollected Asha as she recounted a story, she never told anyone else. Partly, because in the community she grew up in, everyone already knew the story.
“That sounds like a lovely childhood,” responded Bijan. “So then why did you seek out our Clan?”
Asha didn’t realize tha
t the story was that she sought them out until now. However, she decided to go along with the story and make it based on the story of her previous life. She continued, “I became an orphan when I watched my father murder my mother. I lived in a tight-knit community, so when my grandparents passed, I was sent to live with friends of the family,” explained Asha.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear,” replied Bijan in a tone that indicated he gave his condolences for the situation.
Recounting this story became more than what Asha could bear and she was overcome with emotion. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes while she rode the horse, moving with its every step, following behind Bijan’s, descending to Çiriş from the mountain side.
Briefly, her mind wandered, remembering her mother and how she took care of her. When Asha was with her mother, she never worried about food, clothes, or love. She was the person Asha longed to see when she killed herself.
Then Asha thought of her father, and how he chased her into the front yard during an argument and strangled her while he sat on her body while she laid on the wet grass. The neighbors rushed from their houses to assist Asha’s mother, but by the time they got there, it was already too late. Asha watched from the front window, too scared to go out. That night, it did not take long for the ambulance to arrive, followed by an army of police cruisers. That was the last time Asha saw either one of her parents. She blamed her dad for everything and never visited him in jail or went to any of the court dates. She was young then, and her grandparents shielded her from the murderer.
“Right,” muttered Asha. “After that, my life was never the same. That’s why I wanted to join the Clan of Bahram. The Clan brings the light into the darkness. That is what I want to do with my life?”
Moving down the side of the mountain, following a path that transverses between boulders and rocks, Bijan turned his head to look at Asha behind him. He asked, “How did that change you?”
“Well, I was without parents. One day I had two, the next day I had none,” she answered.
“No, how did that change you?” Bijan repeated.
Asha never thought about how that incidence, the very one that set her life’s trajectory actually changed who she was. All she accepted was that she was dealt a horrible lot in life and from that moment her life was barely worth living. She had aspirations to attend college, have a family, get a job. However, all of that stopped when she no longer had parents. She found herself to be a victim of her circumstance and never recovered from it.
Asha came up with an answer that she felt was summarized how this situation changed her. Being in a different life helped her analyze the incidents of her previous life and by seeing things from a different perspective. She answered, “I wish that event made me stronger, as if I was not going to let the world take anymore from me. I wish it made me more resilient and made me a fighter. But instead, it made me the opposite. I did not fight for anything. I allowed things to happen to me and I went along with things when I knew they were wrong.”
“Why did you allow things to happen to you?” Bijan asked, probing further. If only Asha did this very introspection when she was in the thick of it all, she would have the life she wanted.
“I did not believe I deserved any better,” replied Asha, surprised at her answer.
Bijan then asked, “How did you feel when all of this happened?”
Asha took a moment to wonder about that. For so long she had grown accustomed to life happening to her rather than her realizing how to react. With as much reflection and introspection she could muster, she answered, “I did not realize at the time, but I too died that day. It just took me a decade and a half to leave.” Asha referred to the point where she took her own life, but she knew Bijan would understand that statement to mean that she contacted the Clan for recruitment.
“You have came to the point that many of us have. In this life, we are not learning how to live, but we are learning how to die. Once you get to that point, are you truly free,” Bijan said, his eyes wandered to the corners of his eyes as his voice trailed off. He paused for a moment, and then said, “Well, in any case, I am glad that you decided that you did and requested admittance to our Clan. How did you find out about us? We received your request from a raven. Usually those who contact us have a family member in the Clan, and we reach out to them.” The horses had reached the bottom of the mountainside, and Bijan dismounted his horse.
Asha realized that she did not have an answer for this. So, she decided to be vague. “I heard of the Clan from my uncle. He had a friend in the Clan who confided in him one day. When I had nowhere else to go, he suggested I reach out to you.”
“Glad he did,” answered Bijan, appearing as though he accepted the response. Asha dismounted her horse as well. Bijan continued, “Let’s tie our horses over here. They should be out of view from anyone passing by or monitoring the hillside.”
Bijan took his and Asha’s horse, leading them around a boulder. He tied them to a branch, out of sight. Asha asked, “So this is Çiriş?”
“Correct. The Sacred Band of Çiriş is a clan in the Ascendancy of Unity, but as you’ve heard we are a fractured alliance. We are here to help the fallen King of Çiriş get back to power and earn back the trust of the Sacred Band,” explained Bijan.
“I see,” responded Asha. “And the King of Kazeveh has a person in power here?”
“He does,” replied Bijan as he lowered his eyes to the ground. “This leader, if you will, I have a past with.”
“Oh?” Asha asked. Hoping to learn about the mysterious man who she swore her life to and to follow blindly.
“His name is Darius,” answered Bijan, once again lowering his eyes.
“And he runs Çiriş?” Asha asked, wondering what the backstory was with Darius.
“Yes. Darius oversees the King’s bidding here in Çiriş. Mainly the port, where in a few days a blocked with ships will guard the harbor, not allowing any merchant vessels in.”
“Right. I got that from the meeting,” interjected Asha. Going out on a limb, she asked, “What is your history with Darius?”
“Oh Darius? He’s my father,” answered Bijan in a nonchalant manner. “Let’s begin our walk into town. Remember, hide among the crowd. Always in plain sight.” The pair begin walking to the port city of Çiriş.
Confused by the revelation that the leader of this city is her mentor’s dad, Asha asked, “Is this a conflict of interest?”
“Well, I despise my father, so the interests are on the same side, are they not?” responded Bijan in a near cavalier manner that matched the first revelation and with the rhetorical question. Asha did not feel it was appropriate to continue the conversation as they were met with people walking around.
They headed south, following a sun beaten path that hug the seaside bluffs for a moment, before veering inland. The sunlight became intense as noon neared, and they cut across the grassland dotted with citris-filled air which with the whiff of oregano and lemongrass groves produced a beautiful aroma. The tall meadow pelted thier calves, butterflies flitter to sail along side them in their direction, beaming colors of maroon, amber and violet from beneath their wings. Circadias warbled in the hot weather and for a moment, Asha forgot why they were there. The sense of urgency for uniting the Ascendancy of Unity did not seem as important, nor the notion that she was a first-degree initiate, attempting to enter one of the most heartless clans in Kazeveh. The poor, coastal town was in unwilled warden of cottages in smooth white painted homes surrounding a constructed mound of marble villas. As they drew nearer into the center of the town, wealthy men went on and supped liquor on the roof and terraces. Horses and bare chested, skillful laborers sweat in the cramped streets and bustled offering market, lugging all the prunes and pine timbers toward the berths. There, carry boats scrambled for a spot at the pier where the supplies were to be transported to the Çirian vessels and a stockpile to the storage warehouses. Bells rang from the temple, a worship place for the Congregation of the
Five Gods, while whips cracked among the labor animals, a soft melody lifted in the air as did a pale curve of aromatic soot from the Church of the Sinless.
Being on the ground floor of Çiriş was even more impactful than seeing it from the mountain. The white buildings were the perfect contrast to the deep blue sea water that spanned in every view. Now Asha could see the banners that were fixed to each of the structures in the same color palette as the buildings, blue, white, and gold.
“So, here we are,” announced Bijan. “Now, the center of town has a mosque. That mosque used to be a place of worship for Druheqir, however with the new King, it has been closed up. Priests and monks still sneak in their to light incense, some of the scent can be smelled from the smoke stacks, but other than that, the temple of the Congregation of the Five Gods are the only sacred places in use. Oh, and The Shield also have a church here for their religion, Church of the Sinless. They are permitted to worship here since Darius used to be a member of that clan. The Shield have a few hundred soldiers here in Çiris.”
“I see,” stated Asha, taking in all of it. From the game, she was familiar with The Shield and that they were aiding the new King so they could keep their Holy Land in Khora and hoped it would still be regarded as a sacred place. She glanced toward the mosque that peered over several buildings with its crimson arches. Puffs of scented smoke billowed from the flues, a sign that monks were there, still worshiping Dalios and practicing Druheqir.
The air filled with sea salt that penetrated Asha’s nose, as scent she had only experienced once or twice in her previous life. The salt dust appeared in fluffy vapors, condensing on and calming Asha's skin. A quarrel of goats wheeled and squealed on the street, guided by their Shepard and hurling past Bijan and Asha.
On the surf, a pelican descended into the sea is in a burst of sparkling drops. Farther east, out near the foggy horizon Çirian triremes proceeded in an unending caravan. They were like snakes, slithering across the deep, dark blue waters and in the Çirian Gulf to assist the blockade of the hauls that drifted toward the entrance of the natural harbor of Çiris. The bright sails undulated as if it was blown by Zesus himself. Every so often the gale removed the net of cables wrapped up in the wood of the ship, which resulted in the hoarse clamors of the many soldiers on board.
