Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 9

9.

Junior

Akbar crouched behind the dune watched the town which was built around the oasis there, and thrived on when the train made it stop there. He was dressed in his dark shades and held the rifle in his right hand. He looked from there to the far right and saw Salleh had reached the small hill there overlooking the town. The brother of his will take to shoot at anyone that threatens the advancing army of his. He had reinforcements from the other villages and then stood at forty warriors. He had divided them into three groups; two of fifteen in the numbers and himself led the smaller group of ten. They will conduct a pincer move on the town forcing them to retreat to the dunes behind. He had cautioned the town settlers many times that they are living on the sacred land but the lure of wealth from the visitors desist their plans to move away. He had to ask the Council for the advice and was told that the move to terminate the town of its inhabitants. He had counted a population of a hundred and mostly are women and children but the words of the Council were not to be ignored.

“Ikram, you will take the right side and command the Station. Destroy the communication lines and watched for trains.” Ikram, the lieutenant of Akbar took off with his assigned warriors.

“Badrul, take the left and covered the town shops. I want them awaken and running. Do not go near. There are some who are armed.” Akbar will not repeat the failure of the day before.

“Leader, we have sights of horses and mules leaving the town during the night. We counted two tracks and they travelled in the general directions to the valley.” That was Ali, his trusted scout and old friend from the days of his father.

“Take young Said, and each of you take a trail. I want to know where they go and if they are near the valley, send the hawk to me.” Akbar told the scout. Said was the son of Ali and had learned the art from his father. He then looked to the horizon and saw the sun was coming up then. The train shall be here when the sun past the horizon and then they will attack when the train leaves. He then heard the call for prayers and he withdrew from the dune to the wadi below. He will do his daily prayers before he goes into battle.

It was also then the mother of the teenager woke up to freshen up. She was still a devout follower of the faith and the call for the early dawn prayer had awakened her. Her son was not of the faith but had followed his father’s. He won’t be awakened then. She did her prayers and then while folding up the prayer mat, she looked at the sleeping lad. He looked so much like his father but this journey will be his final test of his readiness to hold the mantle as the demon hunter. His father would had taken him here but fate have drove him to die earlier in the hands of the demon he was battling then. The mother had then taken the journey with the son with the concealed scroll to be opened by the son only when they reached their destination.

Hasnah then took off to the outside and breathe in the morning air. It was fresh and the skies looked great with no signs of any storms. She heard the sound of the relief train and was glad. It must had made its way through the night to arrive so early. She turned to go back and get ready for the next few hours of train ride but stopped when she saw the lady standing there waiting for her.

“Its been a long time, Madame.” Hasnah replied.

“Twenty years maybe more. I saw you when you took the train but did not see you come into the Dining car. Your son however was a regular.” Madame Deauville replied. She was dressed in the simple tunic and wide skirt with the shawl over her shoulders. “How are you, the daughter of Master Osis?”

“I am well. How are you?”

“Better I hope. I have stayed on as you can see to …. Oversee what your father had told me to. It’s not a sad land but a dangerous one if the innocent does not know its path.” The other lady replied. “Your father was insistent and I was to comply.”

“You still harbour affection for him after all these years. And even though you wanted to kill then.” Hasnah looked at the lady where ten feet separates them.

“The past was then, and for now, I lived on in his dream.” Madame Deauville. “I was …. Obligated then by loyalty to serve and he was my nemesis. And regretted it since then.”

“If you must know, my father did not survive the ordeal. He did consent the man I was to wed.” Hasnah told the Madame. “Love and trust kept us alive. And from love, we have learned to live on.”

“Love is a lovely antidote to pain. Did he … sanctioned it?”

“Yes, but he was not to coach us in the Arts but we prevailed. And I am back to complete the final task.” Hasnah replied. “Even if it meant death for me.”

“You know then. You are …. Brave and wise I guess. I am however …. Old and lonely but I wished you the best of the helps you could get from the Gods to help you.” Madame Deauville then looked at Hasnah. “Does he know?”

“He knows that his life was different from the others. He had been with his father for many years and learned many things. He has accepted the death of his father and will one day on mine. He learned from young that life is a journey and it held an end where we move on. He will be fine.”

“As I recall he is like the father, brave and wise.” Madame Deauville smiled. “I had my chance and fumbled it.”

“One’s loss is mine to gain.” Hasnah smiled. “I won’t deny you were an unexpected bitch then.”

“Your mannerism had improved with your age. I must go. I have guests in my home.” With that Madame Deauville left the warrior lady to her own. The French lady stepped into her home and saw the wounded master was at the fireplace brewing the pot of tea. He did not acknowledge her entry while he watched the fire. He was controlling the flames to ensure the tea was not overdone.

“Taro-san, how is your wound?” The French lady checked the larder for food. It was mostly empty for she was hardly there. She spent her time on the train with her sight on the passengers. It was her task to singled out the hunters from the hunted or the innocents.

“I am fine, Madame.” Taro-san replied in French. “It had been some years since we met.”

“Yes, many years have pass but I remember you well. Is that Yukio whom I met in Okinawa?”

“Yes, the grand daughter you left behind.” Tara-san replied. “She is unlike her mother or her father. She is like you. The lady adventurer. Why did you asked for her to be here?”

“For one, I am her grandmother. And …”

“As her grandfather I cannot leave her alone. Not with you but its ordained by fate. You were an influence over my son. And your daughter over him to travel the lands. And now her.”

“Taro-san, Shoji was a good samurai. He had learned hard from you. It was unfortunate that he was sacrificed in the task of rescuing your daughter. My daughter with their marriage. She had courage and that courage exist in their child.”

The blade drawn out closed their distance when the tip of the blade reached Madame Deauville bosom. The blade was a rare one made by the ancient swordsman. The blade was not straight like the European model and not the scimitar but it held a slight curve from the hilt to the tip. The curve was aligned for a smooth withdrawal by the wielder. The blade was etched with the ancient motifs the displayed the dragon crawling on its feet with the tail tailing behind which ended at the hilt. The blade was polished to the fine sharp edge from the half of the blade to the tip on the inner side of the blade. It was designed to slash or thrust straight into the belly. The blood that stained the blade will flow off it when the blade is lowered to the ground. The blade was exactly three feet in length and the hilt another foot. The wielder held the hilt with the two hand-grip for the force to slash the other’s limb or cut in deep.

“Taro-san, you have drawn the katana. It’s the rule that you will need to draw blood or forfeit a life before it’s returned to the scabbard.” Madame Deauville reached up with her right hand to grip the blade tip. She pricked her index finger on the tip. The drop of blood trickled down the tip and then it fell to the ground.

Taro-san drew back the sword. He looked at her.

“I am getting old and the young one needed a custodian. You have to do it from now to complete the circle.” Taro-san then returned back to the house. His wound still hurts but the burden on his heart was over. He went to the train.

“I guess I have to be a grandmother for now.” Madame Deauville smiled. “What does a grandmother do with her granddaughter? I am sure she won’t be as bad as me.”

Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 8

8.

Senior

The ride into the desert took over a day and night for Abraham and the Master of the Arts, accompanied by the daughter, and six others who were the guards. They have taken the trail of the fugitive Sheikh Omar but lost it in the dunes where the sand storms had blown away the prints. The Master was not keen on the Sheikh but he learned that the Sheikh had taken the trail towards the same destination like himself; the Hidden City.

The Hidden City was not known to even the few learned and experts in the history of Ancient Egypt.  However, it was known to the few who have learned the dark arts and one of them was Master Osis. Among those few that had known of the city had pledged to keep it secret only among themselves. He was told that he cannot passed on the discovery to even his children unless they have proven themselves in the dark arts or have become the demon hunter.

Hasnah Isis have not proven to be one yet. She may be however a companion to one.

Among his few disciples, none have better at their skills over Hasnah.

Master Osis have considered himself a failure. He held no successor. He had hoped the Sheikh will lead him to one but that was a foolish wish then with the other having shown himself to the servant of the unspeakable. Master Osis will surrender himself to fate and vanquish the demon or die himself without a successor.

“Tell me, father. To where are we travelling? I have not ventured so far from the City before. I mean not into the direction here.” Hasnah having her travelling clothes on; the dark tunic and pants with the riding boots, and her head covered with the cloth only her eyes to be seen. She leaned back on saddle and looked to her left. It was the family guest. He was riding with his head bent forward and the wide brimmed hat protect his head and face. He had on a scarf wrapped around his nose to the neck. He was still wearing his hooks on the greaves and those wooden stakes on the chest.

“Northerner fool” Hasnah muttered out. She had on her scimitar and the bow with the quiver and the small daggers. That to her were the real weapons to fight the demons. She looked to around her forming a cordon was the other guards. They were trained by her father and rivalled her in the fighting arts. She knew that one day she will have to succeed her father.

And she was concerned. She was not ready. And neither are the other six.

“Hasnah, come close to me. The storm comes soon.” Hasnah looked to the horizon and saw the coming storm. It was a huge one. She then dismounted and took out the rope. She needed that to secure the horse to her father’s horse and the others will also do so. The guest was helped by the guards and then they rode on in a singular line until the order was given to dismount and walked with the horses.

The storm came like the swarm of locusts and instead of small insects, the storm was made of little pebbles of sand. Like the locusts, nothing in its way was safe. Even the hard boulder of rocks will be chipped away to be like one of its pebbles and with time perhaps to dust. The storm changed the landscape from one picturesque beauty to a new layout but each was an art by itself.

Many living beings could survive the storm if they are exposed without the proper attire. Somehow Man and the horses with the assistance of its handler learned to survive in the storm, not once but many times. It was the ingenuity of Man to cover the horse’s eyes with the wet cloth and then taught them to ride in a singular line led by the handler. It helped and for the Man, it mattered not where they were headed but as long as they cleared the storm. That could take minutes to hours and the later may mean disaster.

Disaster came then and it was part of the storm.

The first was the rear guard.

The guard felt the sensation of something moving beneath his jacket. He knew it was unusual but ignored it. He walked on and felt the sensation moved onto his neck. He knew then it was too late. A scream would not matter. It will not be heard by anyone and not even the pebbles will care then. He pulled the cover from his face and then released the rope that held the horse. He won’t be getting the horse to die with him. He did not have to worry on it. The horse sank to the ground as the limbs gave way. The horse was dead before the handler.

It worked its way up from the one rear to the fifth and the fourth before the Master sensed the threat. He stopped and then pulled the rope from his daughter with his right hand while his left hand held on fast to the reins of his horse. His daughter stepped up to him and without any questions, she secured her horse to her father’s. The Master then stepped out of the line and traced the horse from the mane to the tail. That led to the rope and then to the guest’s horse. He then reached out and felt the sleeve of the guest. He trailed it and touched the face. It was perhaps instinct or inbuilt sensory perception the guest also took caution.

The Master raised his arms and then called on the spell of dis-cloak and the storm subsided there in a widening circle like a tunnel in the wind. The so named tunnel widen in its radius until the entourage was seen without the veil of sands. It was then the Master of Arts saw the killings. Four of his guards have died with two horses. That left him with two guards, the guest and the daughter.

“Show yourself, demon.” Master Osis called out while he drew out the scimitar from his belt. The remaining guards and his daughter have done so and waited the demon. It came but unlike of a living being, it appeared from the twirling sand.

“Itep the Wind Demon. Why am I not surprised to have you here?” The demon formed then into a form like the living but it was on four limps and bared its fangs on the snorted face and a mane on its neck. It resembled that of the desert hyena. Unlike its look alike, it does not feed on carcasses but the living.

“Demon?” Abraham lowered the cloth covering his face. Hasnah had sprang into action with the drawn scimitar but her father stopped her.

“Itep is mine. The demon killed many of my friends and today the demon gets terminated. The servant of Itep will cease to exist.”

“Father, you must not….”

“I care not. The Unspeakable need not be coveted here in secrecy. I will call on the deceitful name even it means the death of myself.” Master Osis looked at the demon. “Why shy when you are at doorsteps of your Master?”

The demon charged at the Master who had then slashed the demon across the head and its form disappear to formed in retreat. The demon turned to look at the Master.

“So, the demon averts termination with its art of sliding. I am not the arts to counter that.” Master Osis called on the spell of displacement to place a barrier on the area around him. “Within the barrier, you cannot move between time.”

The demon shook the mane and the snarled at the Master. It sensed the barrier on its movement and then took on the charge at the Master. The demon leapt and with its forward claws it tried to rake the other. The Master of the Arts have sidestepped and thrust with the scimitar into the underbelly of the demon. The scimitar struck there but it was protected by the demon’s skin which the scimitar could not pierce.

“Alas, metal against the demon’s flesh have failed. I have to fight you then with my hands and be done with you.” Master Osis voiced up and then dropped the scimitar.

“Hold! Master Osis, the works of the hard metal may not work on the magic of its protection but mine would.” Abraham tossed two of the wooden stakes over. “Its made of the witch circle oak tree from the ancient age. Thrust it into its softer flesh.”

Master Osis held the two stakes over to him. He then glared at the demon which had then retreated sensing the new danger in the hands of the Master. The Master of the Arts taunted it but it remained far from reach with its encirclement.

“Itep the Demon. You are a pathetic fool.” Master Osis rushed at the demon which had then leaped at the Master. The Master twisted his right hand holding the wooden stake and ran it below into the neck. The stake was engraved with the words of the demon dispel characters burnt its way into the heart. The demon shrieked and it fell. The Master of the Arts attacked on with the second stake which he buried into the right eye. The demon pulled away and then shrieked out in pain before it dispelled like the pebbles in the storm. Only the two wooden stakes have remained behind on the sandy ground.

The Master found himself standing there with nothing in front of him. He looked at the guest and smiled.

“Welcome to the border of the Hidden City. Here we may die.” Master of the Arts told his guest. The sand storm had then died down. “The Demon Master awaits us but to meet him, we will be prepared to meet his underlings. One had been slayed by us, but dozen more awaits us at the City.”

Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 7

7.

Junior

“I told you if you tear your pants, I will not patch them no more.” Abraham sat there without his pants. He has the grace of the shorts he wore beneath his pants. They are still on the train while the tracks were repaired. The train was late and had attracted the next Station Master to send the spare locomotive to check on the train. It found the stranded train and alerted the Station. The relief train came loaded with troops and then the repair crew.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it will take about two days to repair the tracks and your stay here will be on the management. A caravan with luxurious fittings is coming to take you to the nearest town with the army protecting you.”

So, there was enough time to take for Abraham’s mother to patch the torn area. He couldn’t walk around without the pants then. He was concerned on the lady he saved. Her name was Lady Yukio Katana Jurio. She was the daughter of one named Lord Astana Jurio, the so named Lord of the Dark Ones.

“Why are you in this land?” Abraham had asked then before he lost his pants. They had sat there watching the wounded guard slept to recover from the wound. He was sleeping with some medicine given by Abraham.

“I come to see the pyramids. I have longed to see it.” Lady Yukio told him while she patted the lynx which was Hasnah’s pet. It had escaped the cage and wandered over to Yukio’s carriage. “Why are you here?”

“I came with my mother to deliver my father’s last request. He died last year.” That soon settled their introductions and Abraham noticed the tear in his pants. It was embarrassing and he excused himself.

“I need to find my mother.” Abraham had walked past the car and saw the Legionnaires were on their routine marching on the sands. At the next cars he saw the Adventurers were putting on bandages to the Major who had his right pinkie finger suffered a wood splinter removal. He was squirming during the bandaging.

“Stay still, Major.” The Lieutenant sounded out the commanding voice.

“I would if you don’t step on my toes.” With an apology the Lieutenant stepped back. By then Abraham had left the car and reached the next car. He came upon five revolvers aimed at him.

“Boy, you are in a rush.” The one who spoke was named the Boss. “In my ranch, they end up dead or worse lynched by the others.”

“Five guns on my son?” That voice belonged to Abraham’s mother who had went to look for him. “I think it’s an overkill.”

“Hold your triggers, boys. That boy has a mother.” It was how Abraham ended up losing his pants. That was not the most embarrassing his moment.

“Girls, watch how the stitches are done.” Abraham’s mother pulled at the thread with the needle while the bunch of rowdy men looked at her stitching.  “It’s all about getting the stitches at the right places. They should not pull at the fabric and leave an ugly mark there.”

The mother kept on explaining while Abraham sat there cross legged and reading the book given to him; Ancient Mysteries of Egypt. He had half the day to read without getting his hormones raging. The rowdies were no help when they are all gathered inside the cabin, and their stench was over whelming his breathing space. They were standing with their back to him, and with their unwashed body was not enticing when they leaned down to look at the sewing.

At the other cabin, the French team were busy with their discussion and then the leader voiced up.

“We have to meet Ahmer at the next stop. He will be local guide.” The man who spoke was elderly and think looking with the deep sunken eyes and receding hair line. He was called Professor Emile by the others. He held the magnifying glass over the map on the table. He had also placed the compass there alongside with the precious round metal case.

“The case contains the key to the vault.” The Professor explained. “It will show us the treasure we sought. One that rivalled the Solomon’s cache.”

“Professor, why do we have the Legionnaires with us? Are we under the protection of French Empire?”

“Yes and no, Pierre. They are under the command of General Antoine of the French Legionnaires at Algiers. They are assigned to protect us. This is bad lands and the attack by the bandits proved that.” The Professor replied. “Nothing should stop us from recovering the treasure. It will restore France to the glory days of Napoleon.”

The same seems to be on the five rougher gentlemen. The one named the Boss had retrieved his gun belt from the luggage bag. He wore a double holster with twenty bullets slotted on the belt. His handguns were the Navy 44 with the longer barrel. He had tucked in the ‘bowie knife’ into his right boots for the close fight. The others have donned their gun belt with the single holster holding the .45 Colt Peacemaker and twenty bullets. Each of those four men were mean ranchers help and knew their gun fight skills. One of them named Brady Right had an eight feet length whip on the belt.  

“Boys, this is our final stop ahead. We get down and then we find the local guide. He is formerly the Legionnaire and claims to know the whereabouts of the Hidden City. We find him, takes us there and we get the treasures. Then he dies there.”

“His name, Boss? I don’t; like to kill someone I don’t know his name.”

“He is Farood El-Harun. His father was the curator of the Citadel in Cairo before he went missing. The father’s name was Sheikh Omar El-Harun who went missing and was hunted by the Guild.”

“Who is the Guild?”

“A self-proclaimed group of Ancient Arts students once led by the aging Master of the Arts, Ali Mina Osis.”

“Boss, how do you know so much of this stuff?” Brady asked.

“I am half Spanish. My father side and my grandfather were once an experienced treasure hunter who used to work on this land. He was named Ortega Manuel Dian. I was named Ortega like him but I had it changed to Oliver when I came to Florida. His wealth had sustained my family for three generations.”

“Then it’s the Hidden City we will come exploring.” Brady hollered out and was cautioned by the Boss.

“Sorry, Boss. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

The next mistake was everyone assumed the caravan to be luxurious but it was not. It was rather a number of wagons pulled by the camels who kept on drooling on anyone who came near to its mouth. The journey on the caravan was short and they soon arrived at the small town of Nubiah but it held a number of accommodation abode for it was near to the River of Niles and some smaller burial sites for the tourists. It was off season when the caravan arrived and the guests were given the places to rest.

The next train was to leave at dawn tomorrow.

“We will attack after the train leave. Those who stayed back are considered dangerous.” Akbar told his brother. “There will be others joining us tonight.”  

It was not all that was keen to join the train.

“Boys, this is Farood. He has for us the horses and mules. We leave before dawn.”

“Members of the team, this is Ahmer. He will take over as guide for us. We have horses for us tonight. We leave in an hour.” Professor Emile told the expedition group. “It’s cooler to travel by night in the desert. Viva La France.”

It was the same for one named Major Chips. He was briefing his team of Adventurers. He was the most prepared team of the lot; the Lieutenant was already loading the crates on the horses they had on the cargo car. He had checked the weapons; the Enfield rifles and the Webley. He also checked the Vickers they brought along and with the crate of bullets. There was nothing the Intelligence Section missed for the team; they nicknamed the ‘Retired and Terrifying Seniors’ or RATS.

Abraham and his mother stayed back for the train. They don’t have any horses or guides.

And Madame Deauville decided to take a holiday. She has a house there on the outskirt. She was playing hostess to the Oriental lady and her wounded guard.

Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 6

6.

Senior

Hasnah Isis stepped out of the scented warm bath tub and reached for the towel. It was then she saw herself in the mirror. She saw before her the beautiful woman there. She was already considered as old for marriage given her ability shoo her admirers which came to no less than six in the numbers. The fifth one was a braver one with his two personal guards; eunuch as told to her by the suitor.

“To protect you, soon to be beloved wife.”

All she took was two minutes to send the two guards curled to the side with their ego of protecting her defeated. She then looked at the suitor who was concerned on his own ego which she held not interest at all. She rubbed the towel over her body and then wished it was the hands of the guest on her then. She was unsure why she was attracted to the guest whose room was three doors away from her’. She knew that the guest was not of their land and yet he held an unusual instinct that appealed to her. She heard the lynx, the native of the Niles also named the caracal. The wild cat bred was brownish in shade and fed on small preys like birds and small mammals. The Lynx was also said to be the Goddess of Judgment, Mafdet. The lynx in the fables fought Apep which was the enemy of Ra.

“Yes, Didi.” Hasnah heard the wildcat meowed. “I heed thee. I know its not of me but I am telling you that this guest is different.”

The towel rubbed against her chest heaving her to a personal level which she feels at times and her right hand instinctively trailed to the lower part of her body using the surface of the towel as a conduit to feel her womanhood. She felt the urge there and rubbed herself with gentle touches. Her thoughts went to the image of the guest and his beard that caressed her skin. She thought of the beard that trailed down her neck to her breasts tickling and yet arousing her body with its roughness. Her right hands clasped onto to the towel tightly to form a hard form that rubbed against her body. She felt her legs wobbled and sat down on the bath tub edge to hold her body. The image of the guest had her sight only of his thick hair while his lips was on her breasts which she had no sight of. She felt his kissed and nibbles there with every movement driving her arousal higher. She held herself across the chest with her left hand rubbing the towel there, to simulate with her thoughts. It all happened so fast and intense that she almost slipped off the bathtub.

‘Meow’ The lynx rubbed against her left legs and then moved on. Hasnah drew in a series of deep breaths before she proceeded to walk to the cupboard where her clothes were laid. She felt the wetness on her but that was her happy reminder of her womanhood.

Knock!

Hasnah slipped on the plain knee length tunic before the loose pants. She moved barefooted towards the door but it was opened before she reached it. She stopped her walk and waited. A figure stepped in and it was her servant, Amilah. Her personal maid who attended to her personal needs was not there to work for the mistress but rather onto her. Amilah was dressed in her servant attire of half tunic and loose pants held a dagger in the right hand. She was followed by one other who was a man servant in the loose pants and held a scimitar. It was forbidden for a man to enter Hasnah’s chamber except her father.

Didi leapt at the maid on the chest with the claws on the paws making slashes on the lady. Both of them fell onto the flooring. The other servant had moved forward with the scimitar raised to strike at the lynx when Hasnah rushed forward and with a jump and her right leg went out in a swinging kick at the servant’s face. She landed on her feet and looked at the maid. That was taken care off by Didi who was making hit and clawed on the maid. The maid was hurt, with her chest and face clawed but she was still standing up. Here expression was blank and looked to be in some possessed form. So was the kicked at servant who had recovered. She jumped at him with the legs doing then the scissors hold onto the neck and then she tumbled him sideways heard the crack of the neck. It would had ended the fight but the servant stood up with his head slanted to the left. His expression was lifeless and approached Hasnah

“Stop!” The Master of the Arts had intervened on hearing the commotion from his daughter’s chamber. He had rushed over in his sleeping clothes and wielded the scimitar. He thrust the blade of the scimitar into the servant’s back and sliced at the heart. He then pulled the blade and approached the maid who was on her back then tying to fight the lynx off her face. He thrust the blade once more into the heart and then twisted the end.

“Father!’ Hasnah called out while Didi retreated to the corner.

“Stay your pace, daughter. Our fortress had been breached. We need to find the demons or their followers.” Master Osis called out. “I need you to put on your weapons. We may have a fight here.”

Hasnah donned the belt with the sword but ignored the bow and arrows. She grabbed the other belt which held the mini daggers which was for throwing at the attackers. She had them touched with adder venom. Her father had left for his own chamber but outside she saw the guest was awakened.

“I heard the alarm. Your father told me to wait her for you.” Abraham was dressed in a white tunic and pants with the boots on. He had on his greaves with the hooks and a beltful of wooden stakes. The later she doubts will be effective in a fight.

“Is it Apep’s followers?” Abraham tried to start a conversation.

“No, they are my suitors and I need to show them you as my…… new suitor.” That came out like a stupid excuse but Hasnah turned away to smile.

“I can … understand that. You are not engaged then.” Another stupid statement from the ignorant Northerner. Hasnah was to reply when she saw her father had returned with two guards. He approached the two and told them of the new threat.

“The enemies have invaded our fortress. We need to move to the Grand Hall for the fight. The others will all wait there for us.” Master Osis then ran off to the alert the others. Abraham and Hasnah took for the Grand Hall where they had earlier met with the Sheikh. They arrived there to see the bloodbath that had taken place. There were about a dozen dead bodies and they were a mixed. The only consolation was the Sheikh was there with three guards on his side.

“I am glad that you are to meet me here.  It helped me to find you.” Sheikh Omar lurched forward with the sword at Abraham but he had stepped aside and used his metal hooks to deflect the sword. Hasnah moved into action with her sword. She slashed down with the sword on the Sheikh’s hand but the later had pulled back.

“Kill them.” The three guards rushed forward to cover for their leader. They spread out to protect the leader. Abraham who was careless ever since he met Hasnah there. He braced himself for the attack. He levelled his left greaves and released the hook. The hook released with a controlled length of wire of five feet. He used that to swing the hook and caught the first guard on the left forearm. He pulled hard on the hook with guard screaming hard. The guard was disabled with that wound that almost took off the arm and had dropped the sword.

Abraham moved in and grabbed the dropped sword. It was a Roman gladius. He was unfamiliar with that weapon.

Darned he was a demon hunter and not a killer of Man.

His decision was made for him when he saw the Grand Hall was filled with the other loyal guards led by Master Osis.  The Sheikh saw the situation and then ran towards the far wall which was unguarded. He reached for the hidden lever which opened the secret doorway. He stepped in and the doorway closed. His three guards brought him time to escape.

“He was a friend.” Master Omar cursed at his departing friend. “He may run but can’t hide. I will not stop at here. I will find them at their hideout. We will find the Hidden City and terminate the Unspeakable One.”

Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 5

5.

Junior

Abraham rushed from the Dining car to the private car, and found the doorway locked. He looked to the side and saw two horses were unmounted there. It could only mean the riders were in there and the petite was in danger. He stepped back and then jumped up to grab the ridge before he climbed up. He walked along the top and then on instinct he moved his right feet. It was a good move for the sharpened blade appeared from below; cutting the wooden panel that was part of the ceiling. He saw the gleaming blade was about a foot higher and then on instinct, he stepped back three steps to avoid the protruding blade that was trailing his steps. He had reached the edge and fell over. He did a body turn and landed on his feet but used the momentum to push himself against the locked door. He impacted and broke through to land on his face. He then looked up and saw the gleaming blade had followed him there levelled at his face.

“Stop, Taro-san. He is …” Abraham looked up and saw the figure wielding the blade was actually the man he saw earlier in the Dining car. The blade was part of the lengthy sword with the double handed hilt and the wielder was just as grim like the blade.

“I came to help….” It was the Abraham saw the two dead riders lying in death poses with the blood profusely flowing from the chest and neck. “I think you are okay.”

“Arigato-gozimas, Sir. My guard will protect me.” The lady replied. “We are safe here.”

Abraham nodded and then slowly stood up. The blade did not move an inch from his nose and moved with alongside his posture.

“I will go now.” Abraham replied.

“No, please stay. Taro-san is hurt. He may need …. medicine.” It was then Abraham saw the wound on the sword wielding figure’s lower abdomen. “He is hurt.”

The sword wielder then fell to his knees with the right hand using the sword to balance himself. Abraham had seen many types of wounds including those by the bullets. He had also treated them as taught by his father. He rushed forward and assisted the man to the nearby seat. He pulled away the sword and left it on the flooring. He peeled away at the layers of cloth and looked at the wound. Two things helped the man; the weak powder in the rifle and the double thick layers dampened the impact. The bullet did penetrate the flesh but it stopped short of the organs but the impact pierced some arteries and the bleeding was bad. He applied pressure in the wound while figuring out the next move.

“Barricade the door. I need to work on him.” Abraham told the lady. “The bullet had to come out.”

“I ….” The lady looked at him but Abraham had saw the candle and reached for it. He then asked if she have the fire stick. She still stood there looking at him.

“Fire…. Light this.” Abraham looked at her and tried to explain his need. She then motioned to the table and he saw the fire stick. He grabbed it and lighted the candle. He heard the shots outside and there appeared to a stand-off between the bandits and the passengers. He took out his dagger and placed it above the flame. He needed to get it hot like what his father told him before. While he was doing it, he looked at the lady.

“Close door…. please.”

“I can’t. It’s the work of the servants.” The lady replied. “I am Lady and do not do such tasks.”

Abraham sighed. He had met one like her before on his hunting trips. She claimed to be a Princess and will not lift a finger to help. It worked for a while until they were cornered by the mobs. She had then grabbed the sword and defended herself. His father had a hand in telling her something which apparently frightened her.

Abraham was to stand up for the barricade when the wounded man pushed himself up and then toppled the cupboard to block the doorway. With that effort, his wound burst opened and more blood spurted out. Abraham helped him down and then grabbed the dagger. He told the man to brace himself.

“I can help.” The lady crouched down and held the other in her arms. The wounded man struggled to free himself but she told him off and he leaned back with his grim expression unchanged. Abraham reached in with the dagger and soldered the bleeding arteries as taught by his father until he found the bullet. He plucked at it and then drew it out. By then the wounded man was unconscious and Abraham proceeded to look for materials he can use as bandages.

“Use this.” The lady handed him the section of the cloth she cut away from her thick layers. He grabbed it and smelled the scent on it. He applied the bandage and secured it with long strips of cloth. With that done, Abraham looked to the lady and smiled.

“He will live.”

Living was on the mind of the passengers including the Adventurer Club of Birmingham members. They were confronting the two dark robed gentlemen who were in league with the bandits. The two dark robed men were armed with the small scimitars drew from their hidden space under the robe.

“I say, old chaps. We got here a pair of roughers who thinks they can fight us.” Major Chips sprung the new topic of their conversation then. They normally talked on their long across the county walks with stops to admire the churches or the villages before popping in for the essential ale or whatever they called beer there. That was their first trip overseas to see the pyramids and nubile tanned skin ladies. They have with them was their walking cane then.

“Nothing like the Geordies we took on last summer at …. where was that, Peter? I can’t recall now.” The one standing next to Major Chips was ex-military and retired a Sergeant Major. He was having problems remembering things but his pugilist skills were impeccable with his left paw.

“It was near to Dundee, Malcolm. And it was not the summer but autumn. Bloody time to go there then. Cold than my nuts during winter.” Peter replied. He was a retired Lieutenant from the Artillery and spent his better days hauling howitzers up and down the Frontier. He used to tell his men; you don’t fire them until you can see their runny nose clearly.  

“Quit the yapping, fellas. They are not keen on your talks. We are confronted by the enemies.” Trust the last one to address their issue well. His name was Barry and he was a Scouser from Liverpool and ex-infantry. “I said we stopped being an arl arse.”

“Charge!” Trust the leader of the group, Major Chips took the lead at the two hooded gentlemen.

It was somehow inspiring the others.

“Fire on my command.” Sergeant Gunter stepped off the train onto the sands while giving commands to his platoon. “Legio Patria Nostra!’

His platoon had then dismounted and held their rifles to the shoulder while shouting “We promise! To serve! With honour! And loyalty!” The rifles will roar in unison as if they were in Camaron, Veracruz once more.

“Aim and fire again!” The Foreign Legionnaires once more proved the bravery to the enemies.

“Withdraw before we lose more warriors.” The leader of the bandits then called out. He was named Akbar the Dark; the tall and dark leader of the then reduced numbers of warrior from forty to twenty-nine left. He rode a white Arabian breed and held the Mauser rifle. He signalled the others and then his brother, Salleh who commanded the three snipers.  He walked to his horse hidden in the wadi there ever calmly while his warriors carried the dead and wounded. He left behind seven warriors not including the two in the train. The duo had given him the signal that the intruders are on the train and he came riding with his warriors to stop them. The unspeakable must never be unearthed and allowed to roam openly.

Such was the law laid by the Masters generations ago.

“Akbar, why are we retreating? If we let them go on, they will soon travel by caravan to the Hidden City?” Salleh asked of him.

“We lost good warriors there. The scouts did not warn us of the armed men. The Legion we knew but what of the others.” Akbar replied. “Your warriors did well to keep them at bay.”

“So, tell me. Do we leave then?” Salleh was young and eager to prove his warrior self.

“For now. The train will resume and then it will rest at the next town. There we will strike once more. And if need be from there until we kill them all. That is my word as your brother.”

 “And mine to you will be to protect you with my life.” Salleh replied.

“Swear not such oath, brother. I will not have your death on my conscience.”

Team of Seven Heroes Short Tales 4 Chapter 4

4.

Senior

The Guild Hall was huge with the rounded ceiling that reached to the skies with the motifs and caricatures of the universe on it. The four of them were seated beneath the rounded ceiling with the surrounding walls lined with racks of assorted designs and in between the racks were the status of the departed fighters and leaders of the Guild. There were six past leaders and only one worthy fighter to have its place.

“The dead demon you killed is believed to be named Apep, the one who was known as Lord of Chaos. However, we believed that to be untrue on the demon’ name. The demon you killed was one of the demons from the Underworld. It may had been called up from there by the cult members of one other named Imhotep the High Priest. They await his return here but his soul had contaminated the followers.”

“But we killed the demon…” The lady snapped in.

“Kill is not enough, my daughter. You have to terminate the demon so that it will not rise once more. What you may had done was kill its current shell but the soul lived on.” The Master of the Arts told the lady then unhooded the cloak and showed a radiant face with the blue eyes, and her hair was cropped short unlike most local ladies. They were seated there with Abraham and one other was an associate of the Master; Sheikh Omar El-Harun.

“Which is why I have invited Abraham Van Helsing to be with us. He is a hunter of the demons. I have known him for sometime when I travelled north” Master Osis introduced then introduced the others.

“Sheikh Omar El-Harun, Master of the Ancient Knowledge; a scholar and yet he pursued a path to eradicate the demons that have purged the land here. He assisted me much in the understanding the demons and how to terminate them.”

“My daughter whom I believe have introduced herself to Abraham. An embarrassing action of her which she has tainted the family name. I do apologise, Abraham but in our land, the ladies are to be ….”

“To be at home and obey the father but I am the daughter of Master Osis…” The lady voiced out in defiance.

“And you may not be if I were to marry you off soon. Then you will be the obeying your husband and not a care of mine.” Master Osis cautioned the daughter.

“And you won’t until you can find one that could manage your daughter and not tarnished the family name.” The lady replied once more in defiance.

“May the God teach me how to suffered with his daughter of mine.” Master Osis looked to the Sheikh. “Perhaps the ancient scrolls could show me the light to my problem.”

“On your daughter, I have none nor of sons that could I offered.” Sheikh Omar replied. “I hold her close to my heart like my own daughter and her antics are reserved for you. With me, she is a pretty lady with affection of a daughter towards me.”

The lady then took the cue to serve more tea to the Sheikh and the guest but ignoring the father. His stern expression made her change her mind and served the tea.

“Master Osis, I hold no answer to the appearance of the demon but its not Apep. It’s a conjured demon of the likes that only one could bring from the underworld to serve its purpose.”

“You speak of the unspeakable one. Why would he do that now when before this, all there was of him was his followers doing his acts of murder and pillage.” Master Osis looked to the Sheikh.

“You speak wisely on that. The followers were doing that but they did more than pillaging. They have taken some of the ancient scrolls from the Citadel archive. Long hidden there and forgotten but access allowed to the few like myself.”

“The ancient scrolls? I thought they were destroyed by the Romans for they feared the magic it could perform.” Master Osis cut in. “I never knew it still exist.”

“It was never destroyed. It was the useless scrolls that were delivered to the fires. The ancient scrolls could not be burned by fire made by Man but by the flames of the Underworld. It survived through the circles of time and then it was hidden for centuries. Only the selected scholars are allowed access to it. That was also done under the watchful eyes of the Desert Guardians. They are to take your life if you are seen to be a threat or influenced by the scrolls.” Sheikh Omar explained. “The scrolls do have its own life and it may taint the innocent or the unwary ones. The Guardians knew the sighs and their punishment is a merciful one compared to the one when you served the demons from the scrolls.”

“Like the one we killed.” Abraham had been listening then spoke up. “Terminated?”

“Yes, you killed the shell of the demon but it lives on. It’s probably in another form now.” Sheikh Omar replied. “The shell you killed is one named Master Isiah of the Persian descent. He was with us at the Citadel for some years and was an ardent student of the scrolls. He was given the needed caution and even the protecting talisman and spells should he be intruded. I guess he had failed and serve the release demon.”

“A body elongated like the serpent and move like one.” The lady decided to add her weight to the discussion.

“True, one that resembled Apep but not of the Lord of Chaos. It’s a manifestation of another. The serpent is a servant of the powerful demons as depicted in many readings of the different faiths. The serpent by itself is evil but it held a servitude to the powerful demons. Its form that could move rapidly and squeezed in tight enclosures had its use by the demons to do the evil acts.”

“Or to influenced others.” Abraham relate to his own faith on the role of the serpent. “I have disliked those creatures.”

“Pray tell us, that this demon is not of the unspeakable one.” Master Osis cut in. “Our forefathers have hardly survived their last battle with it. They could only banish the unspeakable back to the Underworld.”

“And from there, the unspeakable had remained for an eternity but as you have said, killed but not terminated. It lives on there, and of recent times, its influence can be seen to grow wider and stronger. Even the rumours spoke of the circle of Sheikhs are intruded upon and some have professed loyalty towards it.”

“Pardon the stupidity in me but who is the unspeakable one?” Abraham asked.

“You are what you claim to be. If we said unspeakable then that it’s the name we can used.” The lady hit back at the Northerner. “It could be the sands that colluded your mind.”

“Hasnah Isis, your manners tarnished the family. Apologises to Abraham now.” Master Osis displayed his anger at the errant daughter.

“No, Master Osis. The apology should come from me to …. Hasnah Isis.” Abraham replied. “I am the fool here not to understand the discussion.”

“Then perhaps I could help. I will have my servants sent over some reading materials which may tell you more but need not hear from us or anyone of the demon.” Sheikh Omar cut in. He then looked at Abraham. “Where is your abode on your city?”

“Huh? Oh, Its in the local rest house next to the Guild.” Abraham replied. “I hold a room above at the rear.”

The Master of the Arts cursed quietly at his daughter when he saw the gleam in her eyes. He regretted not marrying her at the age of fifteen to the distance nephew of his whose father was an oil trader. The young lad was scared of his wits when Hasnah appeared over his bed dressed in white and wield a dagger at the groin. She had told him if he was willing to be castrated. The young lad left that early dawn without taking back the gift he brought for the engagement. That was also the end of the family ties with the other cousin and others soon took their distance.

“Maybe she will be married far away.” Master Osis muttered to himself.

“I will get more tea, father.” The lady took to her task much to the surprise of the father. It was unlike her but maybe the sands got into her mind too.