Chapter 1
Arban said, “We are going to attack the Sultanate of Berjouz and ransack the city of Qajaz because Mahyar ordered the execution of the messenger of the Oghul empire.We have to put an end to this unjust treatment.Who is with me?”
“We are!” his army of soldiers cried.
“I said who is with me?” Arban shouted.
“We are!” his army of soldiers cried. The soldiers pounded the desk and raised the fists in excitement.
“We march west before sunrise tomorrow,” Arban said. “Make sure we have everything ready.”
The soldiers nodded and the group dispersed.
Arban sat down in his tent and stared at the map that was in front of him. He had the plan of attack ready to go. All he had to do was wait for the night to pass. He brushed his brown hair out of his eyes and settled back as he thought of what had brought them here.
The Berjouz dynasty has been ruling for 100 years, and their Sultanate was located in a very strategic geographic location. It was between the western side of the world and the eastern side of the world. ..
The Sultan of Berjouz Mahyar the second, was the one that had secured the holy road. He had said numerous times as he ruled the Sultanates that, “The holy road is the gateway to trade and travel. With the road in our control, we can get anything we need and control the other empires to our advantages.”
Mahyar the second was an extremely strict ruler. He did not care much about the peasants; he only cared about the money; he was greedy merciless. No one from his people loved him.
“We will spare no one but the children,” Arban said while holding his unique Oghulian sword that belonged to his father.
Arban sighed as he thought of his father Batu, Batu was the chief of the Oghul tribe.
An image from the past filled Arban’s mind and he saw himself at seven years old holding a bow that belonged to his father. He was aiming around as he watched his father argue with Gan, Gan was the son of the Gyat’s tribe chief, one of the fourteen tribes that spread across the eastern lands, those tribes were always arguing and scuffling. As Arban continued to play with the bow, the argument got heated, Gan started choking and kicking his father. Arban could not keep looking in silence, he shot the arrow right in Gan’s chest then Gan dropped to the ground dead.
Several of the other Giyat tribe were around and began shouting and threatening Batu and his family. That was when Batu decided to move his tribe west, close to the then new Sultanate of Barjouz.
“Sir,” one of the soldiers said, breaking into Arban’s thoughts. “Yes?” Arban said. “It is about time to move out,” the soldier said.
Arban nodded and quickly stood up. He grabbed his helmet and start walking. This helmet was one that he had had specially made. It had three horn looking spikes coming out of the top of it. Arban had made it to represent the three special people in his life. He adjusted it on his head quickly and hurried out of the tent.
He and the others got ready and moved up the holy road. As they marched toward their destination, Arban’s mind filled with the last battle that was with Sultan Mayhar the first of Berjouz. The Sultan of Berjouz didn’t like Batu and his tribe being beside him around the borders, so he went and attacked the Oghul tribe. The Sultan of Berjouz and his men took the Oghul tribe by surprise and killed most of them. Arban’s father and mother had been leading him away from the battle, when the soldiers killed them both in front of Arban. Then they took Arban as a slave. His parents were the reason for two of the horns on his helmet.
Arban’s head was pulled from his memories as the familiar sights made him realize that they were close.
He motioned for the soldiers to be quiet and stay near the trees. The sun was just coming over the horizon, as Arban hissed, “Kill everyone but the children. I will handle the Sultan of Berjouz. Take anything that is valuable that you see.”
The men all nodded and they rushed into the town. Using their swords, arrows and torches, the army broke into houses, shops and began ransacking the town. Screams could be heard all over the town that had been sleeping now moments ago.
“We are under attack!” a man cried.
Thunk!
The man dropped dead by an arrow.
“Mommy! Daddy! Help!” a child cried. Arban stopped what he was doing and hurried to aid the child. “Come with me,” Arban said. The child eyed Arban’s helmet and face suspiciously, but as the sound of scared people are getting louder, the child quickly followed.
Arban led the child to the outskirts of the town, and up a hill to where there was a forest. He led the child into the forest and dug in the sack that was slung across his shoulders. “Stay in here,” Arban said. “You will have other children with you soon and you will all be safe.” The child had tears streaming down her face but nodded. “Whats your name?” Arban asked. “My Name is Afra” said the girl. Arban was shocked as something had hit him in his chest.
Thunk! Thunk! Thud!
The screams were getting louder and Arban heard his men shouting to each other.
Arban glanced at the young girl once more and hurried back out of the forest. He stood on the top of the hill and surveyed the destruction that was going on below. His mind started to fill with a memory that he had long since repressed but he did not have time to think now. There were other children crying and running through the streets. Arban hurried down and brought them to the forest for shelter.
As he had a group of children staring up at him with fearful eyes, Arban said, “We would never hurt children for they are the god’s spirits. You are safe.”
Arban’s eyes drifted back to the first girl that he had saved. He hadn’t been much older than her, eight or nine when he had witnessed his parents being killed and forced into slavery by the Sultanate of Berjouz.
As he walked back out of the forest and stared at the smoldering town below, Arban’s mind raced back to his childhood. The shouts of the men and women mixed with his soldiers were too familiar to him. He suddenly saw himself standing in the middle of the chaos at eight years old and being collected by a soldier. Unlike what Arban was doing for the children, this soldier didn’t really care about his safety. Arban was taken to another village inside the newborn Sultanate and forced to work long hours as a slave in the stables. As if the hard labor wasn’t enough to traumatize a young child, Arban didn’t speak the same language as anyone else in the village. He struggled to understand commands and follow orders so he would not be punished.
His master was so angry that Arban didn’t speak his language, that he made Arban start getting up two hours earlier each day to study. Arban was tutored by his master in the early morning hours before starting the days task. He was usually so tired that he could barely focus, but his master would punish him severally if he didn’t do well on his lessons. Arban began to pick up the language but didn’t let on to his master how much he really knew.
He had been a slave for over two years when suddenly, he noticed a wagon, much like the one he had come on, pulling into the farm next door. A young girl the same age as him was led out. She looked happy and he heard her say, “Is this really our new farm, Daddy?” The man, that Arban assumed was her dad nodded and began showing her and the rest of the family around. Arban waited until his master was not looking before sneaking over to the fence that divided the properties.
He said, “Hi, I am Arban. I have been working at this farm for a few years now. I am glad to have someone else my age around.”
“I’m Afra. Working?” the girl asked. Arban nodded and said, “In the stables all day long. I am still learning your language.” “You speak very well,” the girl said. “Where are you from?” Arban shook his head and said, “I was enslaved here after my tribes and family where slaughtered; I came from the eastern lands.” The girl smiled and said, “Let’s meet each evening right here. I have two wooden blades in my pack that we can play with. Don’t tell my father though”.
Arban nodded and said, “That would be great. I need a friend.” He glanced around and said, “I have to be getting back before I am missed.” He and the girl waved bye and he hurried back to the stables. That had been how he started secretly meeting with Afra, to play together. She would tell him about their culture and friends. “I want to have a group of friends like you,” Arban said. “I will let you meet them,” Afra promised.
A few weeks later, Afra kept her promise and Arban got to meet her friends. They all were nice and had dreams of being something powerful one day. Arban said, “We should make a rule for our group. No one should underestimate our power.” “Yes,” the others agreed. “One day I want to be a powerful knight,” said Arban. “Me too,” cheered the others.
Arban admired Afra and couldn’t wait each day to meet her and her friends. For the first time since his parents were killed, Arban felt as if he had a family. A family of friends. Arban looked forward to seeing them each evening and worked harder each day because of it. Arban also started studying the language harder so that he was able to communicate better with his friends.
Thunk! Thud!
Arban was pulled from his thoughts for a moment as his soldiers continued ransacking the village.
“Aleah! Where are you?” a woman cried.
“I’m wounded please help me,” a man screamed.
“My house! No don’t hurt my house,” another couple cried.
Arban smiled at the battle that his soldiers were executing perfectly. His mind drifted back to his memories.
After months of learning, he was mastering the language and having a hard time hiding his knowledge from his master. But his improved communication allowed Arban to be able to explain to his friends what happened to him. Arban didn’t think he was telling the story that loud, but he must have been talking louder than normal. Suddenly his master’s shadow was over him and his master’s hand grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him up.
“You disobedient boy!” his master shouted as he drug Arban away.
Once they were inside the barn, his master grabbed his knife from his pocket and hit Arban on the head with it.
His master shouted, “You see what happens to disobedient boys? You will stay here.” His master drug Arban to the back stall in the stable and pushed him through the door. As Arban fell onto the hay, his master locked him up. “You will learn to obey me!” his master shouted. “Two days without food and human contact should straighten you out!”
With that his master left the stables. Arban sat in the stall and cried.
He wondered what happened to his friends and Afra. He wondered if his master was going to fix the hole in the fence so that they couldn’t play anymore.
Night was just falling, when Arban heard movement in the stable. Arban stood up but could not see over the door. The sound was getting closer and Arban began to tremble. He didn’t want his master to hurt him again.
Arban dug in the straw for a weapon, thinking, this time I will defend myself!
As Arban found the strongest sticks he could, the stall door opened. Arban spun around and saw Afra and her friends standing in the stables. “Come on, we are here to rescue you, Arban,” said Afra with a smile.
Arban smiled too until he saw his masters shadow behind them.
“What are you doing?” his master bellowed.
Arban was frozen with fear as he watched his master lumber down the aisle.
“Come on run,” Afra said grabbing Arban’s hand.
Arban was terrifying and couldn’t help but cry as he ran. Once they were outside the stable, Afra said, “Go that way!” With that she released his hand and shoved him to the left that he went behind some bushes and trees.” Arban got behind a big tree and collapsed to the ground still sobbing. His master had followed the others to the right.
As Arban peaked around the tree, his master shouted, “Aha! Got you! You know what I do to little sneaks?” His master had Afra by the arm and was leading her back to the stable. Her friends were all fighting his master but his master was winning. Arban saw his master shut the barn door and lock it and hear his friends screaming inside. With an evil glare in his eye, his master light the barn on fire and burned it and the children inside.
Arban wiped his face to hide the emotions that his memories caused. “Sir, we have children here,” a soldier said coming up the hill in front of Arban.
Arban nodded and glanced down at the three young children who were obviously siblings. “I will take care of them,” Arban said, holding out his hands to the children.
Arban couldn’t forget the scene from his past as he led the children to the forest and gave them some jerky too.
He walked from the forest and touched his helmet. The third horn had been to honor Afra and the group of children that rescued him.
“I will never hurt a child,” Arban muttered as he returned to watching the battle below.
