Die Twice- Shadow's Call

by Honie Jar

  The pair clashed their swords while the men at the table relaxed and watched. The feud was harsh and grim, brittle kicks and punches connected with a sickening noise of crunching bone. This was a rare display of rage portrayed by the typically refined Bijan. For a while it could’ve gone either way then a brother with a crimson hood and cloak rose from the table. “Gentlemen! Keep your eagerness to slaughter each other under control. Or both of you must get out.”

  Both of the men dropped their swords, Bijan exhausted, toppled over. Hashem returned to the table where he once sat.

  Asha, she could see that Bijan’s vision was somewhat impaired from the overflow of blood he had in his eyes, which were red from burst blood vessels.

  The cloaked man proceeded, “We cannot have our two finest men go down like this! We will have to figure out how we can move to a common ground and work together!”

  Bijan took a second to seize his breath. Hashem rose once again from his seat and approached Bijan. On his way, he picked up the saber he had dropped on the floor. While he approached Bijan, he held out his hand as to signify a truce. Bijan returned the gesture, but before their hands met, Hashem took another swing at Bijan, slicing up his forearm. Bijan fell to the floor in pain.

  The cloaked man belted, “I told you to stop! Hashem! Do I need to banish you from the Sacred Band of Çiriş?”

  Bijan desperately rose to his feet beside and glanced around, confused and startled. He whispered to Asha, “Come with me, I will need to see a doctor.”

  Eventually, they arrived at the shadowy room filled with strange instruments and files of brass and glass rings along with the deep oak counters and floating from the beam along with bundles of withered herbs.

  “What is the place?” Asha asked.

  “He is an apothecary and a surgeon, I’m not sure which he’s better at, but I have been seeing him for years. He uses a mixture of treatments, but he is very good at what he does,” explained Bijan, nearly doubled over in pain.

  “You’ve caused quite a mess of yourself this time young man. Can’t you people think of anything better to do than to go around beating each other up?” the doctor mused as he examined Bijan. His eyes peering over his spectacles as he looked at the wound on his arm. While the doctor examined the wound on Bijan’s forearm, the rolled-up sleeve revealed something peculiar that caught Asha’s eye. There, on the forearm was an inked tattoo of an insignia that she recognized from the game she watched Aram play, the Ascendancy of Unity. Was he a member of The Shield? A devout member of the Church of the Sinless? No, he couldn’t be. Bijan had ascended to the second-highest rank in the Clan of Bahram, ensuring that Kazeveh believed in Druheqir, not the Church of the Sinless, with the sole purpose of restoring the High Priest into power. However, there the answer stood right in front of Asha in black ink.

  The tattoo was unmistakably the insignia of The Shield as there was a shield carved on the forearm of Bijan with the clear cross etched inside of it. An eagle holding a serpent in its claws embodied the creed of The Shield as they sought to pluck out the evil that roamed this world and to create a paradise in Kazeveh.

  “I once was a young man,” retorted Bijan.

  “And I have been patching either you or Hashem because you two can’t seem to get along,” replied the doctor. “What was the squabble about this time?”

  “It was a question of honor, good doctor,” said Bijan.

  “I understand,” responded the doctor steadily.

  “Now,” he announced. “This undoubtedly will sting, a little.”

  Once the stitches were in and the wound bandage so that Bijan look like a maimed war veteran, the surgeon smiled with reassurance.

  They returned to the street, Asha confused with what she saw in the doctor’s operating room and not knowing how to bring it up to Bijan, if at all. They headed back to the headquarter of the Sacred Band of Çiris to regroup.

  Bijan broke the awkward silence, “We will join forces with the Band to stop the blockade.”

  “Do we have a plan as of yet?” Asha asked, hoping that there would be a plan in place.

  The pair passed by a pigeon coop. Bijan said, “Yes, there is a plan. You saw that Druheqirian monk come up to me while you were catching your breath?”

  “Yes, I saw that.” Asha recollected that she thought the homely man looked and acted weird and to hear that he was a Druheqirian monk made more sense.

  “Right, well there is an ivory bird in the Congregation of the Five Gods’ Temple. You know, the one we passed while we were being chased?”

  “Yes, I remember it,” replied Asha.

  “That ivory bird is their sacred artifact. They believe it is the messenger between the gods. It is called Gracious Messenger. Speaking of messengers, if for any reason we cannot get back, or if something happens, I will need you to send a raven to our headquarters. They will send reinforcements, no questions ask, you hear?”

  “Yes, I can use one of those pigeons at the coop back there?” Asha asked, pointing to the pigeon coop they had just passed.

  “Well, a raven would be ideal, but if all you can manage is a pigeon, those will work. Those are messenger pigeons,” confirmed Bijan. “Anyway, we will use their sacred relic as a bargaining chip to stop the trade blockade. The Sacred Band will assist with what we need and we can use their headquarters as a home base,” explained Bijan. They both returned to the herb shop and headed to the back room where they joined the Sacred Band in the dining hall, a room next to the meeting room where Asha met Hashem.

  8 The Prodigal Father

  “That was a fantastic meal!” Bijan belched. “My compliments to the chef!”

  Questions circled around in Asha’s brain, and she did not know how to ask them. However, she was compelled to pry. “Bijan, what is the deal with your father?” Asha asked.

  A relaxed and unguarded Bijan answered, “I love my father, but I hate him at the same time. I wish we could fight on the same side, but we are unable to. I grew up revering him. Darius. But, now he might as well be a stranger in the street, I wouldn’t know any different.”

  Asha felt comfortable getting closer to Bijan and learning about his relationship with his father. Like any relationship, they were complicated and this was something that Asha could relate to. Asha nodded, not wanting to go any further.

  An hour afterward, after a supper in the dining hall of the headquarters of the Sacred Band of Çiriş, Bijan washed down with a jug of Xinomavro, Bijan appeared as if he’d never been wounded at all. He was old yet fit and appeared that all his lost power had flowed back to him, the adrenaline of the triumph over the Çirian solders led to the swiftness of his healing. “That was an adventurous chase we were on,” he belted to Asha. “So we capture the Gracious Messenger tonight! Offer it to Darius as a bargaining chip and leave in time to get back to headquarters by the morning. Sound good?”

  Asha felt accomplished by that chase as well, and relished in the compliment that Bijan gave her. “Well, I have a great mentor. And, yes. Plan sounds fantastic!” she noted. Asha still wondered about the tattoo she saw in the doctor’s office. Strange that Bijan did not bother to explain it. It was there in plain sight.

  The dining hall was jovial, as the assassins in the Sacred Band of Çiriş were very hospitable. Unfortunate for them, their clan had to go in hiding and were no longer funded by the King of Çiriş, since he had fallen and was banished to exile. However, the Sacred Band had him hiding in a nearby villa, where they kept him, ready to place him back on his throne as soon as they could regain control of Çiriş. Asha learned about this during the dinner.

  The dinner at the Sacred Band’s headquarters, which was the four backrooms of the herb shop was nothing like that of the Clan of Bahram’s. Asha was nearly let down by the dinner that was served. Being close to sea, Çiriş relied heavily on seafood and fish. She and Bijan feasted on mackerel and sardines, but the food was not as well prepared as it was back in Adar. When the High Justicar said that those who are ou
t on assignment miss out, he was not joking.

  Wine flowed, which was different than the House of Palladius Bardus. No wine was offered, but in Çiriş, wine was a staple in their diet along with fish and seafood, as well as olives and different types of oils.

  Much like the Clan of Bahram, the Sacred Band had an update meeting. Hashem took to the front of the room. He was a young leader and recently placed in control of the Sacred Band after his father died. He often yielded his decisions to the elders in the Band who knew more than him, as he did while he was battling Bijan. This did not make him a strong leader, and he would need to learn how to be more confident in his decisions. That was Asha’s assessment of his leadership abilities, she had moved from an unconfident, self-doubting, and self-loathing reincarnation of herself, to a confident, mindful, and focused assassin. She had Bijan to thank for that as he took his time to teach her several skills as they had been on this journey together.

  Hashem updated the room with the plan to acquire the Gracious Messenger and use it as a bargaining chip to stop the blockade. Bijan had come up with the plan, since the Clan of Bahram was well-adept at the Art of Craftiness, however, Hashem did not give Bijan credit. Instead he took it for himself. This did not surprise Asha as she was learning what type of man and assassin Heshem was.

  Without another word Bijan was off, mounting the adjacent rough temple wall as smooth as a dragon serpent would. He hesitated at the top, suggesting almost to tether among the large red shingles, disappeared, and was off significantly. By the time Asha had joined him on the rooftop, her mentor was twenty yards ahead. He set off in a quest, his pain appeared to be forgotten in the adrenaline-fueled excitement of the hunt. The hunt that would put this entire trade blockade behind them and would start to poke holes in the reign of the King of Kazeveh. The hunt for the Gracious Messenger, held at the Temple of the Congregation of the Five Gods.

  Asha and Bijan had passed it the elaborate, ornate, and enormous temple during the chase. The Band went along the other side of the temple, and they would meet inside to lift the sacred bird.

  “We are almost there,” announced Bijan as he and Asha alternated who led as they jumped from roof top to roof top, Asha catching up to her mentor. They landed on the roof of the temple.

  “Here, we must descend into the belly of the beast to fulfill our mission. Ready?” Bijan asked.

  Asha nodded with her wide eyes, petrified as they neared the completion of their mission. Soon, they would present Darius with the stolen bird and offer it for a truce and a halt to the blockade.

  Victory was in their grasp and Asha could taste the feeling of accomplishment soon on her. A foreign feeling to her, but being accompanied by such skill and achievement that was embodied by Bijan helped her see herself in a different way.

  Together, the peered downward from the rooftop of the temple, planning their attack. “I’ll go this way,” motioned Bijan. “You descend from the opposite direction. The guards won’t know what to think.”

  Asha nodded and scurried off to descend down to the ground floor from the opposite side of Bijan. Surveying the interior of the temple, sitting on her haunches, she couldn’t see a damn thing in there, she mused. There might be a dozen of Darius's men standing in the shadows. Yet, she took a leap of faith and dove down, her cape as a parachute, praying for a soft landing.

  Across her field of vision, she read:

  Skill attained: Descent

  Pretty nifty! She was gaining skills. Another message came across her vision:

  New Level Attained!

  Asha Ayari: Level 3

  Awesome! A new level as well. She expected to see the new updates in her Attributes and Abilities, but she some how missed it since she was controlling where she landed by angling her body.

  Holding tight tot he corners of her cape, she came down like a feather landing on the ground in the shadow of a poorly lit wall.

  Now, where was the damn bird? She looked up instead-the roof terrace sported a doorway into the upper floor. Creeping forward, she seized a tapestry that went from the ceiling down to the main floor dominated the main room with the high, vaulted ceilings. Probably not in the main room, she figured.

  Once through, she discovered herself on the upper level of the extensive temple and for a time cautious oof accepting it, feeling suddenly defeated. For these were the ruins of the famous Temple of the Five Gods, claimed to have been erected before the advent of time.

  The arched doorway leading into the smaller prayer room on the upper floor was just as precarious as the main room. Inhaling in a heavy sigh, she eased herself inside, one palm hovered near the handle of her scimitar, the alternate spreading for stability should she require to roll or draw clear of any ambush. For a flash, she was blinded by the blackness, her skull snapping in every angle and her braided tail smacking like a whip. Her heart thundered against her ribs.

  The image was nevertheless of her coming into her own, her perception now laced with an air of confidence she never had before. She entered the passageway with a level of tenacity. Edging out, Asha had made it through the exit to the second prayer room to glance around, she saw nobody to the left, nobody to the right and suddenly, directly in front of her, two guards!

  She reached for her scimitar repeatedly, merely to realize the patrols she saw were in fact archaic statues of soldiers on display in the temple. Ancient warriors of the Congregation of the Five Gods.

  Going down to her right, she lightly twisted the handle of the second door. It opened quietly to display a view of the target. A finger of moonlight gleamed in and through a slender skylight in the roof, where dust mites drifted idly in the gilt, bright, illuminating the sculptured ivory bird decorated with lapis lazuli crystals of the most fascinating blue as its eyes. Opals, sardonics, emeralds, strands of amethyst beads adorned its base. As she saw the prize, she heard Bijan behind her, “Glad to see you made it!”

  Nearly started, she nodded in response. Shaken and too scared to speak.

  “The Band is outside. They will provide us cover as we get the bird back to their headquarters,” he explained. Asha nodded once again.

  Asha, turned her attention to the guard who watched the Gracious Messenger. She was mute and still, examined him for a minute, taking notice of his posture, the decline of the shoulders. Good. He was distressed and preoccupied. Silencing him would be simple.

  Slowly, Asha pulled herself to the ground where she collapsed for a flash, surveying her breathing and waiting. Noting every step of the guard carefully before stepping up behind him, uncoiling and strengthening her fists. His left a tiger claw; her right, her trusty dagger, ready to strike and suppress the patrol.

  With inhuman speed she flew at the opposition the dagger with that in her right hand and striking with the left as fast as a malignant cobra.

  For second they remained in a grim embrace, Asha feeling the delight of the man's final muffled shout but required her palm. Then the guard was struggling and again she dropped him smoothly to the floor, crouching to wipe his eyes closed. He had been hurt severely for his deficiency as a sentry, she uncoiled from the carcass and carried off, reaching for Bijan as they crept beneath the arch that had been so inadequately defended.

  Instantly, Bijan grabbed the precious Bird, securing it in his cloak. “Let’s get out of here!”

  In that instant, the two headed down the main staircase back to the ground floor. Met by more guards in the stairway, Asha struck, relinquishing from her holster a dagger, her favorite of the weapons she was gifted by Bijan and Dana. She held the dagger in her hand and with one instant, Asha rammed it into the guard’s spine, reaching with her right hand to smother the man scream.

  “Nicely done,” cheered Bijan, holding a bulge in his cloak where he kept the bird. The pair continued down the stairs to the main prayer room where they found an altar.

  There, a holy man kneeled, reciting the sacred words of the Congregation of the Five Gods, unaware of death's closeness. Shifting his lo
ad to his front foot and buckling at the knees lightly, Bijan set his dagger, bracing to attack.

  "No!" yelled Asha from behind him. "There must be another way. This one need not pass. He is a holy man." Bijan ignored Asha and in one fluid move he passed the Gracious Messenger off to her as he gripped the priest's arm with his good hand; with his left, he dug the edge of the knife into the rear of the man's collar, splitting between the cranium and the first vertebra of the spine. Severing his cord.

  The priest had no moment to wail; death was practically instant. Almost. His body jerked and twitched, but Bijan embraced him tight, seeing his victim's soul drain as he gripped one finger on the father's cardioid artery until gradually the body softened and Bijan released him, allowing him to crumble silently to the floor, where he laid in the expanding pool of blood blotted by the prayer rug.

  It was effective, silent.

  Bijan returned his dagger to its holder, not looking Asha in the eye. “We must go! Now!” Bijan shouted.

  Instantly, Asha was met with a guard in her face. Reaching for her dagger, she was slow to remove it.

  However, Asha had the skills to handle herself. She tossed the sacred bird to Bijan who caught it with the reflexes of a cat, as she endeavored to get herself free.

  This guard was sharper and more cunning than Asha had assumed. He shut her down mid attack, seemly with such efficiency that Asha stopped dead in her steps, powerless to proceed and abruptly, horrifyingly paralyzed.

  In that hour, Asha understood that she had carried out a disastrous mistake. In that minute she realized that it was not her pride; it was her, all of a sudden she no longer seemed like Asha. She suffered like a fragile and decrepit child. Worse, the foster child she once was. She struggled and discovered she could hardly turn her opponent holding her in his grasp with ease. She got a painful jab of dishonor from Bijan seeing her brought down. Her enemy's grip was at her larynx, compressing and she gasping for a breath as the guard punished her for her inability to trust herself. A nerve in her for head pulsed.