This was not the way for a prince to die. Prince Zakee struggled to stand at the edge of the cliff, his bloody hands barely holding the rusted scimitar. His muscles had given up long ago; hate and anger barely kept him on his bare feet. His black hair was matted to his forehead by sweat and blood, dungeon filth smeared across his young face and ragged clothes. Behind and below him the wind hissed through the leaves of the forest canopy, while before him the urgent voices of his pursuers grew louder. Three days of flight and pursuit had finally ended. There was no way out. “Damn you, Bahati!” he growled. “Damn you to Shaitan!” His pursuers emerged warily from the foliage, their shields covering their leather clad bodies, their assegais pointed at him. A grim smile came to the young prince’s face. They were being careful this time, the deaths of their comrades fresh on their minds. He summoned the last dregs of his strength and charged, knocking the closest warrior’s assegai aside with the scimitar and pulling his shield away with his free hand. He stabbed the man’s throat, turned and ran before the others could close the gap. The edge of the cliff rushed closer and closer with each step, but Zakee did not slow. He would not be a sacrifice. He closed his eyes, whispered a prayer, and jumped. -From the Jade Obelisk, Changas Safari
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 01:48:07 +0000
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