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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4. Assassination

As Fyre read the thin spidery writing memories that he had never experienced before suddenly projected themselves into his mind. As his eyes moved over every sentence, every word, every letter new memories of past exploits throughout his life. The cut that spanned the length of his face to forearm branded upon him was there because he had stolen  From the Al kharid guard captain-right under his own nose. Fyre let the overwhelming power of the diary take a hold of him and he closed his eyes, exploring his new memories. He remembered climbing mountains of snow and frosty ice. Fighting Black scaly dragons to save a friend in peril. Sneaking through a danger ridden jungle. Jumping chasms, climbing trees, spying, looting, fighting, blocking, training, shooting, running, jumping...

Fyre sat in the decrepit church reading for hours by candle light. The wax was burned down and hung it stalagmites over the edges of the ornate brace on the cracked and dusty walls. Fyre then suddenly stopped. He re-read that last sentence. He could not remember doing this. Was he lying to himself? This made no sense... He continued to read. He could not remember the actions of the next sentence or the next. The whole  paragraph was unrecognizable as his own feats.

Fyre read about how himself, rose, elder, Brim and synth had taken down the tyrannical dictatorship of the   al kharid guards and the city once more rose back to its former glory before they took over. The cracked and beaten tome talked of a passage way that led into the palace hidden underneath a boulder behind the walls, hidden away in the slums of the city. Fyre pocketed his book and began to walk. He didn't know exactly where he was going his feet seemed to be carrying him. He moved through the twisting and turning alleyways that were slowly becoming more and more crowded as he made his way closer to the bazaar and the Palace. He emerged onto the main street littered with merchants , civilians, pots, camels, stalls and guards. A group of guards walked past the alleyway that fyre was stood in. As the past one of the turned suddenly to look at him...But he was already gone, slipped away into the busy streets. The guard scratched his head and continued to march on. 

Fyre turned off of the busy streets that he had traversed for years and turned into a desolate alleyway. The gloomy shadows cast a sense of unease around the place. A lone, solitary rock sat in the middle of the alleyway. Fyre moved towards it and, not daring to breathe, lifted it. sand and gravel fell into a dark hole around Fyre's feet as the boulder was shifted to the side with a loud grunt. Fyre stared in disbelief at the hole he had found.  The book had lead him here. Fyre, hands shaking removed the book and continued to read on.

"On the eve of the 18th We will delve into the damp and dark passage way,beneath the boulder and make our way into the palace. We'll take out the few guards that we meet patrolling the corridors of which we find ourselves in, and hide the body's in suits of Armour on display. We will move silently towards the Guard captains room. Where we open the black mahogany door and enter a room with a blue marble floor with a huge cracked and shattered fissure, silk curtains blowing gently back in the breeze and golden sunlight cascading around the airy room. The captain spins around and his steely grey eyes slowly close as a thunk from a crossbow bolt hits him squarely in the chest...."

The 18th was tomorrow. Fyre climbed to the rooftops to avoid the clustered streets and made his way back to the church. As he explained what he had found and what he had read to the others Elder simply sat and smiled. He shakily arose out of his chair and his gnarled hands gripped his stick. 

"Well done Fyre..." He stated and walked away. 

Fyre fell asleep on the warm wooden benches and awoke to the golden sunlight blooming over the building tops and through the broken windows.

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