Written In The Scars

Chapter 1

Husaam Muneed, Rughad's youngest commander, sat on his black stallion wearing the most malicious expression as his men stood metres away from the enemy. Behind him waved the indigo flag of the country he swore his allegiance to, his men chanting the verses of an old hymn to comfort their tense souls before they rushed into battle. Husaam, however, didn't need a pathetic song to give him courage, for he was ready to bring the end to this war of power.

He glanced over his shoulder and stared down at the soldiers who were shaking with fear.

"These cowards," he spat on the ground.

At his enemy's fall, he would return with his head held high, the blood of Abbas Abdul Rabaani drying upon his glory.

As he glanced at the skies above, an army of grey clouds had joined the battlefield. The gap between the two armies was currently occupied by two men on their horses, who had their swords swinging in the air to attack the other. Both sides were waiting impatiently for the fall of one for this battle to begin. Husaam watched the blurred figures as they continued to strike each other when the sound of steadied galloping drew closer to him.

"Commander Husaam, I have brought you your sword," the soldier announced, bowing his head and holding out his sheathed sword to him. "It has been laced with a high concentration of spicklefruit poison, as you have instructed,"

Husaam snatched his weapon and unsheathed it from its gold-plated scabbard. It had been a gift from the king along with the rest of his armour on the day he was promoted to lead the battalion. The poison, however, had been entrusted to him by another. 

"This will give that cretin what he truly deserves, the excruciating pain being his last memories," He smiled, carefully examining the steel blade, before sliding it back into its cover. At first sight, nothing seemed strange about it, which was perfect. He couldn't care less about playing dirty. Not only was his vengeance driving him forward, but he had a responsibility to carry out his task.

And that was to deliver the final blow.

Husaam nodded to the soldier, signalling for his leave and then slid the weapon into place on his thick leather belt. He then felt for the second sword hidden beneath his tasset, making sure it was secure. Glancing past the cage of his helmet, one of the men ahead fell from his horse and an indigo flag rose. He smiled wickedly.

They had won the first round. A roar of thrill erupted from behind him, the soldiers stomping their feet and hitting their shields with their swords in excitement.

The time had come. It had taken him years to work his way up and today his efforts would be rewarded. Finally, he would avenge his brother's death. Raising his scabbard high, his men stomped their feet harder, forming a whirl of dust at their feet.

"We shall be victorious!" He boomed before pointing his weapon forward. With his signal, his men charged forward, guided by his ebony horse as he strode to face the enemy.

***

"Abbas?" Abdul Hameed called, repeating himself for the third time.

The grey-haired general watched as Abbas, Second Prince of Balqaas, stared out into the enemy lines with furrowed brows, not responding to any of his men, who had gathered to discuss the final battle arrangements. The Prince's dark hair swayed with every passing breeze, and his cocoa-coloured eyes were focused on the dusty plains that surrounded them. They had met the enemy forces of Rughad three days away from the outskirts of Balqaas on the rocky plains of Ghuba.

Abbas Abdul Rabaani was the most wanted bachelor amongst the families of higher class and his handsome looks were the subject of the talk, especially now that he was of marital age. Abdul Hameed had to admit that the admiration of hundreds of women had certainly gotten to the Prince's head over the past two years. Abbas always wore a smile, which only added to his charm and his long list of admirers, which was why the general was concerned.