VI:I

The Easterner’s Wrath

Days had passed since Ali was released. He traveled northward along the main roads, no longer afraid of people seeing him—the enemy had found him and released him, and so there was no danger to his exposure.

During that time he had cleansed himself and applied his aromatic spice perfume: burning to the initial touch but absolutely sensual. He had traded some of his valuable rings for more proper traveling attire—though he kept his overly baggy purple pants, velvet tunic, and large turban (and, of course, his fanciful, outsized red feather protruding from the folds of his turban!), he now wore a black leather vest, fancy black boiled-leather boots, and thick furs to keep warm. Rakaan had equal splendor himself, with a freshly oiled black saddle, golden twine in his reigns, and royal purple cotton coverings upon his back—he had the look of a true stallion of Eastra.

The two easterners had made quite a show of things on the road, as a traveler of Ali’s nature was unusual in such times. (Though, truth be told, stranger things have increased the frequency of their visits as of late.) More often than not, people gave Ali and Rakaan a wide berth, sometimes whispering a prayer under their breath as they passed. Times are dark, indeed, Ali thought, that a man of the sun should be shunned. The days of Ali-sha Hana, the Great Link of our two lands, is truly over. Though the treatment of his people had improved during King Daniel’s reign (a relationship which was ameliorated by Daniel’s frequent invitation of Eastern traders and caravans to the popular tourneys), uneasy times and troubled relationships amongst their own populace had replaced that confidence with suspicion. The small, snow-covered towns that Ali passed during his journey were filled with people whose fears were hidden just below the surface and, from what he gathered from the local merchants, an extraordinary amount of troop movement. The banners of nearly all of Southern Conrath had been called, but no one appeared to know for what purpose.

Ali had the feeling that further north, blood was being spilled by the brothers of Westra.

The road Ali traveled now lead through some broken wood and trees. The early winter had extracted a heavy toll on these forests, and he felt that nature had given itself over to decay. Highly angled, cracking branches filled the skyline and made Ali felt like his road took him through a thornbush. Animals were scarce; hardly a traveler or merchantman on the road, and the wind had the chill of death upon it.

And so, when the bandits had finally sprung themselves upon him, Ali had ample time to prepare for the stillness of nature had not cloaked their movements.

“Well, thar, black ‘un. We’ll be taking yer precious things and gold now. Kindly hand them overs.”

They had taken a standard encircling pattern about Ali, and had not made their positions hidden from his eyes. A lone traveler against their number was a rather small threat, and so they all decided to have some fun.

Ali remained impassive and did not speak, nor did he reach for his belongings.

“Are ye’ daft, ya’ Eastran? Hands over yer’ golds and shit, or we shall prick yer’ pretty skin with swords, and stick ya’s good with them arrows, yonder!” the brigand gestured with his hand.

And still, Ali remained quiet. Though, he had allowed himself a small grin.

The bandit looked to his companions and scowled before he spat on the ground. “Wells, I kin see that yer be achin’ for a thrashing. We was gunna’ have some fun and gives ya’ a chance to beg fer yer life before we sticked ya’, but you jest about ruined all that. Take his life, mates!”

There were some satisfied grunts from the others before arrows were set loose at Ali’s head. However, quicker than a flash, Ali’s large curved sword, Ifrit, had taken to the air and blocked all the missiles. Ali then circled Ifrit about his wrist before coming back to the ready position. Rakaan neighed quietly but remained calm from the sudden excitement.

The bandits were stunned for a moment, but the leader would not be cowed. “Dat’s a neat trick, black ‘un. But yer gods won’t save you from all of our blades! Take him!”

At once, the banditry struck upon him. Ifrit acted immediately. The large blade cut right through the first offender with ease before parrying a second blow. A third one nearly stabbed Ali, but he had deftly leapt from the saddle and cartwheeled on the bandit’s head with one hand—on the way down to the ground, Ifrit circled behind Ali’s back before returning with an upward slash through the bandit’s back, ending his life. Ali sidestepped a forth offender, parrying the blade aside, the reposting with a downward swing that took the bandit’s arm off. His screams and bloodletting were short lived before Ali whirled around his heels and cut off his head with a final swipe; the body crumpled to the ground in a great heap. Then, very quickly, Ali kicked up the short, jagged sword of his victim, caught it with his left hand, than threw it at another assailant. The blade whirled about twice before sticking itself into the bandit’s chest.

Three others than descended upon Ali—Ifrit was a flashing circle, making great cutting sounds in the air, easily breaking their iron weapons. He ended one of the bandits, and cruelly stabbed the second, before the third one fled his Ifrit. Then more arrows; with grace and speed, Ali deflected the incoming missiles then caught one last projectile with his hand. He tossed it to the ground as the crossbow-bearing bandits thought better of the matter and took flight from the scene.

The boss of them was the last one there. Ali smiled at him and gestured him to come forward to meet his blade. However, the bandit turned and fled through the trees. Ali stabbed Ifrit in the ground, took out a long, smooth blowpipe, and blew a small poisoned dart at the back of the assailant’s neck. Within seconds, a sharp pain filled the head of the victim before he convulsed mightily and fell to the ground. There he lay, powerful spasms shaking his body and breaking bones; within half an hour, he would be dead.

Ali took Ifrit back in hand before sliding it into its sheath by Rakaan’s side.

“Well, that was unexpected, wasn’t it?” Ali said with a smile before he patted Rakaan’s nose. Rakaan nodded his head in agreement. Ali then leapt into the saddle with the grace of a panther before urging Rakaan to trot forward, away from the gruesome scene.