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| Khosahn, Silsila of Alamut |
| Khosahn. Would that I could remember my surname, but it has been so long since my thoughts were taken from me that I have given up hope of ever regaining them. I retain them in spots� But the gaps haunt me. What wisdom, what secrets would I know now if only my memories hadn�t been stolen? I cannot dwell on them, I can only tell what I know to be true� and hope that one day I will be allowed to know myself as I was meant to be. So� the beginning as I know it? Through the holes, I know I was poor. Myself, my two brothers, and my mother. A father? Hah! Not many where I was had fathers� only stories of how �strong� he was. Too strong to stay with a woman who was nothing more than a trinket in a forsaken village. But, I let my anger take me� Poverty, I remember as much. Hunger leaves scars� Yet it can drive us. What matter that we had to learn to steal? So long as food was provided� So long as mother didn�t cry for having nothing but three children and no husband. So, we stole. I know we killed, as well, but such happens when you are careless and awaken the holder of the house you raid� I know I hated it, but who were THEY to think they deserved food and we did not?!? How DARE they think to hoard what we need?!? After time� it became just another obstacle. One that we became good at overcoming. Food was no longer a concern. But we could infiltrate, the three of us, together� So we aimed for riches. A ride stolen in a merchant wagon, a night in a palace evading guards, looting all we could find� The jewels! The glamour! The stories! It was like being a hero of old, making fools of the rich� Yes, the bodies were still there, but what hero survives anadventure with no bloodshed? We began to practice, taking pride in killing silently, even planning who to kill before we made our forays. How were we to know that we were becoming more than mere thieves� I am not sure how it happened, but we progressed. It was no longer a quest for food� We knew decadent that those we targeted� That night. I don�t remember much of it� Whatever it was that we had decided to rob, it fooled us. It killed us. Not my body, perhaps� but my mind, absolutely. I remember� my brothers, hooks protruding from their chests as they hung on the wall. Eyes of fire, taunting me even as my blade protruded from it�s chest. The cold of night, bound, the beating� I awoke to my name� �Khosahn�. I was speaking it� Speaking to a stranger who had asked me who I was and I answered before I was even aware of him. I had been found in his field, nearly dead, and hadn�t been awake for a good tenday. When I could move, I was even more� frightened. The mountains beyond his pastures� I had never seen. They were in the wrong place, none of the peaks matched� I had been taken. More than that, my memories were nearly nonexistent. I had to wrestle with which question was more important� Where was I, or WHO was I? Fieldwork, and brigands. There was always work, and with the work came those that preyed on it. Every so often, I would feel such rage, and flashes of insight� These men dared to take what I created! What I paid for in sleepless nights and a pained body! And so, one night, after seeing my benefactor and his wife beaten, after being wounded myself, I decided that it would end. I would repay the kindness shown to me by this man by visiting death upon those that would spoil his lifes work. How I found them� I am still unclear. I remember each and every cut of the sickle I had taken, however� Each throat left empty of air and full of blood. And memories returned� Of the last nights. Of killing before. Of what I was becoming. In shame, I knew that I was no longer the field hand, nor the helpless victim I was found to be. I was a murderer. How could I return after that? Even worse, with the memories, I saw those pits of hell that stood in the eyes of the� �thing�� that killed my brethren. But I was heady, for with the murder of the bandits, I had found riches. I no longer needed to work for what I needed� I had the means to pay handsomely for all the necessary foods and rooms to live. And, I could gain more� I set out westward, remembering the tales of the farmer, of empires and knowledge kept in the cities to the west. A true city! Oh, how I would long to see one! To feel the vibrance of life surround me! To� to� feel the pleasure of the hunt. To make my life more real in the taking of another. I know I hired my services out, and successfully, but not how many times. Does an accomplished killer need to keep track of his victims? They were numerous. And never had I failed, until� The noble general. Who hired me, and for why, I no longer remember. But it was as before� I should have suspected it in the circumstances. A great General, friend of kings, that slept in day to wage war at night. A small kingdom on the verge of being destroyed, begging for a savior, begging ME to slay the master of armies arrayed against them. Was it arrogance? Boredom? I no longer know, nor care. What matters is the mission itself. I made it to the man easy enough. Daylight made it even more challenging, but I knew the bodies would not be found until well after I was gone. The general, asleep in the most lightless of tents I had ever seen� no matter. I was accustomed to working in darkness. My blade, coming down fast into the gap of his ribs� and stopping. The cold hand, suddenly a vice against my throat� And the terror. Here he was, or one like him, HERE, leagues upon leagues from the being that had destroyed my old life! And I was in it�s grasp� I knew I would die. Or worse� I threw my arms out, in fear, and by some blessing of fate, I knocked over the not yet cold lantern. The smell of spilled oil� And the necessary spark. That is all that gave me the chance to live. Flames burst on the carpets, and I could see what held me� It was a man. A man with teeth like a wolf. The fire frightened it though, and it released me, but the flames were behind me and it stood before me� I was cornered. My dagger lay under it�s feet. But� the crossbow was within easy reach of the thing that claimed it, bolt cocked for ease of assault, and my natural reflexes drew me to it. Barely rolling from under it�s slashing claws, I came up with the crossbow, and, somehow, my aim was true when I lifted the huge weapon and fired. The bolt slammed into it�s chest, through ribs and meat into it�s heart, if it had one, and the force of the impact spun the thing around, suddenly not moving, to land in the flames. I had succeeded, but that thought was far from my mind. They were everywhere! WHAT were they? They wanted to destroy all, sow chaos and fear and destruction� And people let them LEAD!!! MADNESS!!!!! No one tried to stop me as I fled. The fire of his great tent seemed to draw his army like a beacon, and I was allowed to slip away from the camp. Stories flooded my mind� Knowledge, cities to the west. THEY would know, in their great Libraries, what these were. How I could find them. Fight them. Kill them. I had been driven away and shamed by one, but I was able to destroy another. With knowledge� With knowledge I would make them fear me. |
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