The vast desert was illuminated by the dim light of the crescent moon in the sky. A cloud passed over it occasionally throwing the land into darkness. A lone rider rode over the sands, the horse running as swiftly as the wind. The passing wind blew his red hair backwards and sand constantly hit his face. He had a scarf covering his mouth and nose to avoid inhaling the sand and was peering ahead with squinted eyes. Over on the horizon, Raganad finally came into view.
He urged his horse to run faster. Raganad increased in size as he came nearer to the village. On the wall encircling it, he could see several men and women walking about with a torch on their hands. The wall watchers were out patrolling.
The wall watchers seemed well organized in their vigil. Either she had failed in her mission to kill the Chief of this village or some other competent had taken command. He had seen Lahamrab and the chaos it had been flung into after she had killed their Chief. There was no sign of chaos here, only caution.
Either way she failed, he thought in amazement. Her mission was to create chaos so the army could overrun and easily conquer the village and she had failed. Whoever it was that had thwarted her mission, he had to see them.
They had heard his horse. They had gathered on one spot on the wall, trying to peer out at the dark desert. Behind them, the sky was glowing red. The sun was about to rise.
They had not yet seen him. If he could reach the wall before they saw him, he could slip past–
One of them yelled. He had been seen. He heard more shouting as they quickly extinguished their torches. Useless really. He could see their silhouettes against the reddening sky behind them. One of them held her bow up and strung her arrow.
He jumped to a crouching position on the horse’s back. The archer steadied her bow.
With a shout, he whipped the horse’s bridle. He jumped at the same time the horse came to a stop. The inertia and his own jump flung him farther than he could have on his own.
The archer hurriedly adjusted her bow in order to fire at him. His jump had surprised her. It had surprised everyone around her. Just what was this man thinking? He had jumped high but he could never hope to clear the wall. Even if he did, the resulting fall would kill or severely maim him. She aimed her bow at the position she predicted the man to reach before inevitably falling back down. He was a dead man.
She pulled the arrow back and fired.
Red flame erupted from the man’s hands and feet. The arrow missed him as he was propelled forward by the fire. He passed high over the wall and fell to the other side, using the fire to slow himself down before hitting the ground.
“It’s the assassin!” one of the wall watchers yelled. The red haired, fire manipulating assassin had returned. One of the watchers blew a horn to signal the whole village.
The man cursed upon hearing the horn. They thought he was the assassin; he would be hunted by everyone in the village now. He had to get to whoever was in charge quick. The army would arrive in the village in less than an hour.
He ran through the empty streets towards the centre of the village where the Chief’s house would be. He would get there in – he heard a sound coming from a building behind him. He whirled around, unsheathing his dagger at the same time to block a blow from a blade. The blade was attached to a cuff on his attacker’s wrist and it curved inwards towards the attacker’s elbow. Another similar blade was attached to his attacker’s other wrist.
The attacker spun and attacked him repeatedly while he blocked every blow with his dagger. The attacker was strong, he could tell from the force of the blows, and was skilled in fighting. Was this the one who had defeated her?
The attacker raised his arm, leaving his side open. A restrained punch to his ribs sent his attacker reeling back, wheezing for breath.
“I’m not here to fight,” he said. “You need to take me to your Chief now!”
“The Chief is dead!” his attacker screamed and rushed forward.
The man effortlessly caught the attacker’s kick and used the momentum to swing and throw his attacker away.
“He’s dead? Then who’s organizing the village? What happened to the assassin?”
“You want to know what happened to your friend? Here, I’ll show you.” The attacker rushed forward again. He swung his fist at the red haired man who dodged it with ease. The man somersaulted a few feet backwards.
“She is not my friend,” the man stressed. “I came here to stop her and talk to whoever is in charge.”
“I’m the one in charge right now,” said Almecho through gritted teeth. Despite two failed attempts at rushing the red haired man, he was too blinded by fury to realize that his third attempt would fail which it did. The man ducked under his swing and, grabbing him by his pants, threw him over. Almecho landed on the ground with a thud, groaning with pain.
The man was immediately on him. He had his knee on Almecho’s chest and his dagger at Almecho’s throat.
“If you are in charge, I want you to listen very carefully. I am not here to fight. I’m here to–”
The man withdrew the knife from Almecho’s neck to deflect an arrow speeding towards him. Almecho took the opportunity to grab the man’s clothes and toss him away.
The Twelve immediately jumped down to surround the red haired man. The pointed his spears at him.
“If you’re not here to fight then prove it,” Almecho demanded.
“Very well,” the man said and threw his dagger on the ground. “My name is Xalo and I am a knight from the Eastern lands. I’m here to warn you about the army heading to your village this very moment.”
“We know about the army.”
“You know? Then Arnold made it after all.”
“You know Arnold?”
“Yes. I’m the one who sent him here. Where is he? Is he alright?”
“Why should we believe you?”
Xalo sighed. In a sudden move, he slammed his fist onto the ground enveloping himself in a blaze of fire. The Twelve backed away instinctively, avoiding the heat and shielding their eyes from the sudden brilliant light in the relatively dark path.
“Throw your spears!” Almecho screamed. But before any of the Twelve could do so, Xalo burst out of the cylinder of fire. He ran straight to Almecho and grabbed him by the throat with his left hand. His right hand, he held threateningly above Almecho’s face.
“Call them off or I will burn your face right now,” Xalo hissed.
“You! You’re just like her,” Almecho said in gasps, straining his neck to breath.
“I am nothing like her.” Xalo locked and maintained a steady gaze with Almecho.
Almecho finally relented. He waved the Twelve to stand down. Seeing them throw their spears down he loosened his grip on Almecho’s neck but did not quite let him go.
“Now, listen very carefully. I assume that you know Lahamrab was destroyed?”
Almecho nodded.
“They will do the same here. They are from the Rachhas kingdom and they do not hold back. The army consists of the dark Iteys and vile men who will kill your men and rape your women and children. And they arrive in less than an hour. I want you to order everyone to vacate the village now.”
“It has already been vacated.”
Xalo blinked in surprise. He looked around. The place was completely quiet and empty save for him, Almecho, and the twelve fighters behind them.
“My father, before he died, advised me to vacate the village after listening to Arnold’s message. The last of the people left just moments before you entered the village.”
“So only your watchers and these twelve fighters remain?”
“Them and a few more guards. We were preparing to leave when you showed up.”
“And thinking I was with the assassin you attacked.”
“She killed my friend and my father in a single night. Wouldn’t you?”
Xalo removed his hand from Almecho’s neck. “You are the Chief’s son?”
“Yes.”
“I … I am sorry … for your loss.”
Almecho glared at him as he massaged his neck. “Do you know who she is?” he asked.
“No, except that her name is Alaiza and she is an assassin for Lord Rachhas. Can you still fight?”
“What for? You don’t expect us to stay and engage this Lord Rachhas’ army, do you?”
“Actually, I do.”
Almecho stared at Xalo dumbfounded. “You just said they razed Lahamrab which was bigger and stronger than us. You expect me to fight an army which succeeded in doing that and lose my life here?”
“You will once you hear what I have to say.” Xalo walked calmly to where he had tossed his dagger earlier and picked it up. He sheathed it within his belt on his waist. “They split up their army after their assault on Lahamrab. About two-thirds of it is headed to Sherman through the mountains and the rest one-third is headed here. Because of their reduced size, they can travel faster. So, even if you were to leave now, they would inevitably catch up with you out in the desert. You will have a lot of casualties if you are forced to skirmish with them out there.”
“You want me to stay and hold off the oncoming army here,” Almecho said, realization dawning on him.
“Yes. They will be coming here hoping to catch you place off guard. You can ambush them; I will help you.”
Almecho looked at this red haired man who claimed himself to be a knight. He had no idea on whether he should trust this man or not. His skin was tanned like the assassin’s, he had the same red hair, and he had the same ability to manipulate fire like the assassin. Yet, while the assassin despite being weaker had repeatedly attacked Almecho, this self-proclaimed knight had bested him and the Twelve in combat by himself but had not killed any of them even when he had the chance.
“You were there at Lahamrab?” Almecho asked.
“Yes,” Xalo answered. His voice lowered. “When I arrived the attack had already begun. I did what I could to inflict damage on their numbers while also rescuing a group of survivors. Arnold was among them. I was leading them to Rowshnab when we were attacked by a scout group. I fended them off while Arnold rode off to rush here to warn you of the attack. I saw him getting attacked and assumed he was dead. That is why I rushed here myself after taking care of the scout group.”
“Where are the survivors now?”
“Headed to Rowshnab. I’ve instructed them to tell those fishermen to fortify themselves in case some portion of the army decides to head over there. However, if we stop the one-third of the army headed here, they will have nothing to worry about,” Xalo answered.
Almecho started walking towards the wall where he and Seth had been to yesterday. It seemed like such a long time ago. Behind him, the sun had crept over the horizon and was glowing orange. Xalo walked behind him silently, followed by the Twelve who still had their spears pointed at the red haired knight. Their hands trembled now though after seeing what Xalo could do.
“Almecho!” there was a shout.
Almecho turned around and was stunned to see Amelia run towards him holding a bag by her side.
“Amelia? What are you doing here?”
Amelia stopped a few paces away when she saw Xalo and the Twelve pointing their spears at him.
“It’s okay. He’s not the assassin,” Almecho said. Amelia proceeded forward slowly, keeping her distance from Xalo. “Why are you here? You should be with the rest of the villagers.”
“I heard the horn and I thought she was back. I rushed here because I thought you might need my help.” Amelia turned to Xalo. “Who’s he?”
“My name is Xalo. I came here to help your village,” Xalo answered.
“Xalo? You’re the one who Arnold was talking about last night?”
“Arnold was?” Almecho asked.
“Yes. He kept saying how he was saved by this man called Xalo. A terrifying warrior with red hair.”
“He was exaggerating. Anyways, do you believe me now?” Xalo asked Almecho.
The latter nodded thoughtfully. He still had doubts but right now he had no choice but to trust this stranger who claimed to have come to help.
“Are you sure that we can stop the army here?” Almecho asked.
“I am,” Xalo answered calmly. “Raganad will not fall.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because Raganad has me. And this time, I arrived here before them.”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
