Immortal Ballad *ON HOLD*

Hasani's story (Prologue)

When Hasani asked what he meant, Plunfg repeated the statement and said, "Ife, your wife, or have you forgotten her already?" No one knew him, not this far south of Upper Egypt.

"How did you know?" Hasani asked. "How did you know of Ife?"

"That's not your real question is it, my lord?"

"Why are you calling me Lord? I am no one."

"Now now sir, you know that is not true. You are Hasani Bomani, the Senator that was kidnapped a few months ago. Your wife was killed by her own hand while you miraculously survived." The old man stopped. Hasani figured his stop was for dramatic purposes. He is most likely a con-artist, he thought. "Have you ever wondered why? Why were you spared?" The old man looked into his eyes and signaled Hasani to follow him into his home.

"Of course I have wondered. Non-stop since i woke up to her lying next to me on that altar. We were supposed to have died together!" Hasani's anger exploded.

The old man didn't flinch, he merely sat down in front of Hasani. The home was ordinary. It had no real furniture only the bare necessities. A chair, table,chest and many jars. The jars, Hasani could see, contained more than just food. Worms and maggots surrounded some jars as well as flies. Hasani sat and waited. "Give me your hand." Hasani extended his hand towards the old man. "Now I see. Do you know what you are?" Hinfer became excited. Hasani nodded and took his hand back, "Your-you, my lord, are an Immortal."

TRAVELER

For the next 500 years, Hasani was a nomad. He had watched his family die of old age, murders, and betrayals. From his daughter to his granddaughter to his great granddaughter, he watched them all grow up and die. Hasani was always there, in the background during the funeral. Now, he felt that after half a century he should move on.

For many years Hasani traveled. From Egypt to India to Asia and then Russia. Everywhere he went he'd stay enough to learn their language and culture. His life as an Immortal did have benefits. He could learn faster than ever before. He could also somehow hear what another person was thinking.

His nomad days had come to an end. To support himself, Hasani began to do odd jobs and earn money, something he'd never had to do back in Egypt. Even when traveling, Hasani bored easily. He began to reflect on his early life. What could have possibly made the Gods do this to him?

People around him changed and died. Yet he still remained the same. His appearance never changed. Even if he hurt himself, the wound wouldn't last more than one hour. This, he learned, was bad. If someone hurt him enough to kill him and he stood, they would suspect something. Back in India, he'd witness a woman burned alive because she claimed her god spoke to her. Hasani would most likely not die of a fire like that, but he began to take precautions.

THE MEETING

Until finally in 1250, he finally decided to get back into politics. He moved from Serbia to England and changed his name to Marckus Edwards. He also adapted the new reining language, English. For years, Marckus had wondered about this new language. At first upper class people spoke it. But now that French was no longer favored by the crown, English became the norm for all status.

Over the years Marckus had acquired a large sum of money from doing odd jobs. The money he had, helped to establish him in the society. Slowly, but surely, he began to appear at events and his name began to be recognized. It took him a while to adapt to his new English name. People, mainly women, swarmed around him. Most were single but some dragged their husband along to meet him. The men would eventually join in the conversation when Marckus said something that they disagreed with.

During one evening, he felt a chill. Someone, he didn't know who, was watching him. Marckus looked around, trying to find who it was when a voice asked him, "Where are you from?" He turned and saw a woman.