The Writing On The Wall (Original Epic Story)

A man is defined
By the loyalty he swears
And the company he keeps

Drazen’s right leg dashed against a stone as he absent-mindedly chanted his father’s mantra. “…the loyalty he swears…” He murmured, thinking of his planned conversation with Shae when he arrived home. He passed by a farmer whose cart smelt of roasted pork. No, not pork, roasted chicken. Salima had told him that his sense of smell was pathetic. Pathetic. That was a word that seemed to describe his very life. He bumped into another farmer. The father simply muttered and kept on moving. Being the first son of the High Commander had its privilege. Drazen tried to sniff the air for what the second farmer might be carrying. Cheese and butter. It was then he occurred to him, the market was still on.

He dodged another farmer and took the next exit out of the Appian way. He then began a familar path that headed home. He looked at his dusty feet and sighed. If only he hadn't been stupid to wager a bet with Salima, he would still have his horse. What would his horse think of him? He had given up his horse for what? A chance to prove that his sense of smell wasn’t pathetic. Pathetic. Certainly that was what his horse thought of him too. He walked through the large gate and into the courtyard of his father’s large castle where everyone seemed too busy to even notice him.

“Drazen”, he head a someone whisper his name. He looked around and saw no one. However, there was something shinning in his eyes. Someone was using a mirror to reflect the sun’s ray into his eye. Only one person did that to him. That same person wouldn't dare to call his name in public. He looked around, hoping to find Shae hiding somewhere.

Just then an old woman passed by him and dragged him back. He was momentarily stunned. Who dared to handle him in such way. The old woman muttered to him to follow him and she walked away quickly. He wondered if he should follow her or not. What was he scared of, he asked himself. He turned around and followed her. Certainly his talk with Shae could wait.

The old woman walked rather too fast for her age. He couldn’t see any part of her body as she was covered head to toe in a large piece of clothing. Was this some kind of a trap? He grabbed the hilt of his blood sword. “A man’s greatest weapon is his heart and not his sword,” his father words floated into his head. He left the hilt and continued to follow. He dashed his leg again against another stone. Pathetic, he muttered to himself.

The old woman walked through a narrow alley and he followed, wondering where she was leading him to. He wanted the assuring feel of his blood sword but restrained himself. What was an old woman going to do to him? She then ducked into a low door and Drazen stopped outside. There was only a faint light inside. Who was there? What was going on? His better instinct told him to leave. Yet, he just stood there, watching. The old woman sensed his hesitation and walked back to the door. She then grabbed his hand and pulled him in. Drazen’s skin came alive at her touch. Pathetic pervert, he chided himself, getting aroused by the touch of an old woman.

The room was smelt of scented oils and Persian perfume. The perfume reminded him of Salima. Salima, what would she think of him if he saw him here? He tried to shake off the guilty feeling. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, was he? The old woman probably needed his help with something.

She dragged him to a low bed and motioned to sit. He looked at the bed, and then around the room. There were pink candles on a table by the wall. He had heard of those candles. They gave off more perfume than light. He noticed that a large portion of the room was dark, and the old woman had retreated into the dark area. He was about to sit when he noticed his sword drag by his side. He couldn’t sit on such a low bed with the sword still latched to his side. Should he take off his sword? “A soldier and his blood sword are one”, Salima voice floated into his head. How did Salima know so much and why was she always in his head?

The old woman reappeared from the dark. She was wearing an extremely tight fitting cloth. It was so fitted it looked like she was… naked? Drazen moved closer to get a better view. The woman interpreted it as a signal and jumped on him. He held on to her out of shock. As he struggled to find his balance, he felt the brand on her back. His father’s slave brand. He had just hugged his father’s slave. His mind raced so fast he thought he was going to fall. It was then it occurred to him, he had just hugged Shae.

“My baby, I've missed you.” Shae moaned as she recoiled from his embrace. She pushed him to the edge of the bed and began to unbuckle his sword. Half his mind wanted to take her hands off. “Shae, I don’t think… by the gods…” His voice trailed off as he felt something moist touch his lower member. His brain took a immediate vacation as he reached out to pull her closer. With each contact, he moaned in the adulation of her touch.

Suddenly, he heard movements outside. He jerked himself free and walked to the door. Shae was right behind him and pulled him into an embrace from behind.

“It’s nothing, Dra, I chose this spot carefully.”

What did she mean? He thought to himself. What was he even doing here? What if someone found out?

“No one will ever find us here,” She assured him, as if she was reading his mind. She pulled him slowly to the edge of the bed and knelt down to fully unbuckle his sword. He looked at her as she unbuckled the sword. When she was done, she threw the sword with reckless abandon on the floor. Drazen felt a sharp pain as the sword hit the floor. The blood sword was not just any sword. He winced in pain just as she pushed him, making him fall back on the bed.

“I’ve missed you”, she began trying to find his lips in the dark. Just as he turned his head, she felt the scar on his face. She had missed it earlier because she didn’t get the chance to fully observe him in public. It didn’t matter to her though. She was content with being his mistress.

Drazen knew Shae had located the love scar. He remembered when he first learnt of his betrothal to Salima by his father’s decree. He had gone to see Salima hoping to find her detestable only to find her warm and beautiful. Her rich laughter and wild spirit had won him over. She treated him like her child. Strangely, he enjoyed her care. Perhaps, if his mother had lived after the birth of his younger brother, he would have felt different.

Shae traced her hand down his body looking for his lower member. Just as she made contact, he held her hand. He liked Shae and enjoyed all of the times he had shared with her but earlier that day, he had promised himself to have a honest conversation with her. He didn’t want any of this to continue.

Shae served as an household maid after his father found it impossible to attended to him and his younger brother shortly after the death of his mother. A few nights spent together fuelled by youthful passions had turned into something controllable.

He had declared to his younger brother, Jon, that he had genuinely fallen in love with Salima. Jon, always the skeptic, had asked him to ask Salima to carve the love scar on him. So he rode all the way to the Cirri castle, dragged Salima into the woods and swore his love to her. In return, he walked half the way home. Pathetic.

“A man is defined by the loyalty he swears…,” his father's words floated into his head as he pushed Shae abruptly, got off the bed and stretched out his right hand. Instantly, the hilt of his sword blazed red in the dark. He picked it up, buckled it and starred at Shae.

Shae was no fool. The writing on the wall was clear. It was over.

This is my entry for the #3 Minnowhelper Writing Contest!!!! organised by @minnowhelper.

To learn more about Drazen, Salima and the BloodSword, kindly check out this story - Error Nemore (Original Short Story).

Thanks for reading

Blessings

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