assassins in the wind

Fyre Hunter wakes up in a dark room, with swords pointed at his throat and no recollection of his life, who is he? How did he get into this situation? How can he get out? And how can he remember? By following the clues, he must uncover the truth and remember his life. The discovery of an ancient beaten diary holds all the answers that he needs, but as he reads on will he want to know how it ends?

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1. Awakening

The first thing that fyre became aware of was that his face was squashed against the cold sandy floor. The second was that his face was cut and that his hands and legs were tied to a chair that had toppled over. He tried to move and the ropes dug into his wrists. He feebly flicked his eyelids open. He was in an airy room, the silken curtains blew in the gentle breeze and the orange light of the sunset poured in casting a golden glow to the marble like floor. A dark silhouette emerged from the balcony and slowly turned to face him. Fyre's heartbeat increased with each step the man took towards him, the deafening thump pulsating through his body, resonating in his ears. The man knelt down and pulled his head up to face him. His cold grey eyes looked through fyre's, he could see the scarlet slash that ran down from his forehead to his neck in the reflection of the mans steely gaze. 

"well, well, well...are you ready to give us some answers?"Asked the man.

"who are you...?"

The man threw fyre's head down to the ground. He spat blood out of his mouth. The turbaned man stamped on fyre's chest and he began to wheeze, gasping for the air that had just rushed from his lungs.

"I wont Ask again. Tell us where the diary is... Or die."

"W-What diary? where a-am i? I- I don't know what your talking about, I don't rember...anything... I dont remember..."

"pah!" The man spit on the floor in front of Fyre in disgust. He walked the distance of the room, pacing back and forth gently stroking the short silvery beard that hid a few of the scars that littered his face. He stopped and walked over to Fyre, lifted his head again and softly whispered in his ear:

"Well friend, you best start to remember because the next time i come up here... I wont be as nice as i was now" stroking the hilt of his lethal looking scimitar. Fyre got the message- either remember or this man, who he had never seen before would kill him for something he didn't even know he had done and probably would not know the reasoning behind.

"You understand?" demanded the man.

"I-I Think so." stammered Fyre.

"NO!!" He screamed smashing the blade of his sword into the marble floor In anger, tiny fragments of purple shattered into the air reflecting the orange sun sparkling as they twirled in the air. "Do...You...Understand...?" he asked again. 

"yes..." said fyre in resignation. The man dropped him, and walked off towards the ornate wooden door, opened it, passed two more Guards like him who looked in with anger at fyre as the door swung shut behind him. Fyre shuffled his body so that he was above the splinter like crack the gaurd had made when he struck the floor, and began to   scrape the woven bonds that tied his hands across the rough jagged fissure. They began to fray, the pressure loosening and then the dirty ropes fell onto the sandy floor. Fyre pushed himself onto his back and began to untie his legs. All this felt familiar as if he had done this before. It seemed strange having the feeling that you had once escaped from a chair you were tied to after loosing your memory and waking to find yourself being assaulted by a man in a turban who enjoyed using knives to carve patterns in peoples faces. These men who had him, obviously did not expect him to have the strength to escape as it was not that difficult to climb out of the open balcony and drop to the ground. Fyre ran through the busy streets, a mess of pots and market stalls. Snake charmers sat enticing snakes to dance like a puppet. And loud merchants tried to sell their wares to the public, a sea of robes swarming around the streets sand lining the stone around their feet. The red and blue fabric of curtains and cloths strung over walls and doors as decoration ruffled in the gentle breeze as fyre slipped further and further away from the palace and deeper into the ally ways and streets dotted with palm trees. He passed under arches and bridges until the city suddenly ended. There was suddenly a huge expanse of sandy dunes that dominated the horizon like the rippling waves of the ocean. A solitary cactus was the only thing that lay in the sea of sand around a hundred meters away.

There was something about that cactus. Something familiar. The same feeling the Fyre had had when he was escaping from the chair. He had been there before. The noise from the streets died down in seconds so that the shouting of merchants wanting to be heard and the chatter of the civilians was replaced with The warm breeze and the sand moving around fyre's feet. As he stumbled towards the cactus he began to think what was under it. He didn't know why he thought this. The idea just appeared in his head. "what was under that cactus? There must be something..." it made sense to bury something under that one cactus because if they were to bury anything at all in the desert they would need a guide point. Fyre began to scoop the sand out from around the cactus and dug down. Creating a small crater around the base of the cactus. He had been digging for around half an hour and was beginning to loose hope when suddenly, his fingers brushed the top of something hard... His heart skipped a beat. Fyre dug around this object and pulled with all his strength. The dusty old book was relinquished from the sand. He blew the remaining sand from the cover. He took a deep breath read the title. It said only two words. Fyre Hunter...

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