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My life as a 12th century assasin
The detailed journal of long lost assasin Flame. He was one of the deadliest known men in the 12th century, a true legend. But he is also waiting to kill those he works for, to revenge the death of his friends and family.
January 15

Finally we reached Egypt. All the people have been taken to a safe place. I am going to take the girl with me, as she is an orphan. Apparently her parents were killed in the attack. Poor thing. It reminds me of the night my father and mother were killed in the attack of the Imushin Gang.

It was near midnight that they swarmed into our village in northern China. I was only 5 years old. They attacked the village shrine, putting it to flames. My father and his students raced off to fight them. I remember him telling me "Protect your Mother, Chang" as he grabbed his katana and ran out of our hut. They were making fast work of the Imushin, Beating them back out of the village. But what they didn't know was that the larger of the gang was entering from the walls on the opposite side of where all the fighters where. I remember hearing the screams of the women being silenced with the snap of the neck, or the slash of their blades.

3 men in the gang burst into out hut. I grabbed the pot and ran at them. What else could I do? They grabbed me by the hair, lifted me up to stare at me in the eye. I took my fingers and rammed at his eye. I dug into his eye, pulled with all my might, and yanked it out of the socket. He fell to the ground, screaming, blood spewing out his face like a waterfall. The man next to him rammed his sword into my stomach. I lurched forward, falling to the ground limp. I found out later in life that the Imushin gang had their sword hilts honed to a point, and they would dip the tips in a poison that paralyzes your arms and legs.

I lay there, helpless as the other 2 attacked my mother. I watched her as she screamed in terror, then pain, as they stabbed her body repeatedly. After stabbing her for a minute, they stopped, out of breath. I could not focus on my mother, my my eyes were drowning in my tears. The 2 men laughed amongst themselves as they gloried over their handiwork. They turned away from her, kicked me in the side, and left. the poison left my soon hours after they were gone. I raised myself to my knees, my body still trembling with my inner pain. I crawled to my mothers limp, cold body. I held her in my lap, screaming to the world that I would avenge my mother's death.

The next morning I finally left my hut. I was walking out the village when I saw a spear standing erect in the bloody ground. And jammed on the head of the spear, was the head of my father. I did not cry. I had no more tears. I could only turn away and walk on to what I thought would be the walk of my death. How was a 5 year old to live in a deserted place of death.

We will rest in Egypt for 1 week to regain our strength. Then I will continue with the girl to South Africa.





 
 
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