WINNER OF READERS CHOICE AWARDS 2020 (Historical Fiction)
Stone hearts.
Silver to gold.
And the fierce need to prove oneself.
Highest ranks: #1 in Arabia || #3 in History || #51 in Assassin || #90 in Spiritual
A/N: A BELATED EID MUBARAK EVERYBODY! I'm sorry for the wait!!! It's just been incredibly busy and I've been distancing myself from distractions- one of the biggest ones being my dreamland with all my wonderful characters. But I thought this was way overdue, so hope you enjoy this chapter and leave your thoughts in the comments ❤️☺️ ALSO these are just pictures to help you visualise better, but they aren't actually what it would have all looked like. (Unedited)
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We think we can read people. We think their eyes say it all. It is a false perception. The eyes are veiled from reality, everything is built on belief. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
A M A A N, ربيعالثاني T H E B O R D E R T R I B E
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"Stranger, speak your name"
Amaan gazed up at the horsemen. Wrapped in blue shrouds and white turbans, the ebony of their skin looked like cool and calm respite in the brilliance of the midday sun. Their eyes, dark and wise, judged him silently. The silver of their spears and swords glinted dangerously. They were the mighty soldiers of the Border Tribes that guarded the Inumidian Kingdom.
Amaan felt his heart clench at his return back home. His travels must have rendered him unrecognisable, for if they knew who he was, they would have shown him the respect he was due. Or had been due at one time.
Now he was a stranger. To himself, and to his people.
"My name is-" he inhaled shakily, "I am Idegir of Kirthan"
The men exchanged looks, seeming unamused. One of them wordlessly rode off, while the others returned to glare at Amaan.
"Here is yet another Idegir of Kirthan" the leader snorted, "we shall see how many of you we collect"
Amaan said nothing. Did these men want a bribe? He wondered what warranted such a response. The back of his neck prickled, as though sensing a battle.
The horseman who had rode off returned a few moments later with another man accompanying him. The man had covered most of his face with his shroud, but Amaan's heart beat faster as he dismounted and landed unevenly on his feet. A knobbly stick emerged from the folds of his shroud to support him.
"Idegir?" Amaan whispered, hardly daring to utter the name.
The shroud slipped, revealing the face that had haunted Amaan's dreams every moon since he had become isolated.
It was Idegir, his friend, his companion, his best warrior. The lines of his handsome face seemed to have deepened with an unknown hardship, his proud cheeks now gaunt. But the man still had that twinkle in his light brown eyes - so endearing to the ladies that Amaan had often teased him about his charm.
