Flower of Bulann

Chapter 45 - season 3 finale

Rassan cracked his horse's reins again, the dark pursuers must still be upon his tail, that was almost a given.

As the last of the Mulhan clan, Rassan was acutely aware his life would be the rebellions first target.

It seemed almost absurd at how much the Mulhan clan had fallen during his time away.

Assassinations had been rife, with two of his elder brothers falling within three months of his return.

Suspecting him, his younger brothers had fled... and he had been cast into a jail cell to await trail.

In the end, that had saved him... for the uprising had spread to the capital.

With the violence in full swing, the castle was attacked and his brothers killed in the ensuing melee.

His father had already been killed, beaten to death in his bedroom by an unknown assassin.

Rassan had been mistaken for any other prisoner, escaping with this horse.

It hadn't been long until the ringleaders had noticed his absence, calls for his head ringing out as he fled his burning home.

Rassan noticed a fire burning ahead of him, a man standing beside the road in white robes and wearing a straw hat. In his right hand was a lone pole around six feet in length.

The man spoke in a strange language as Rassan slowed his horse, the words sounded like spoken silk.

"I do not understand your words," Rassan said hurriedly. "They may very well kill you too, the clan states have ever been wary of foreigners."

The man looked up, a broad smile upon his face, cast sinister by the firelight.

"Ah, you speak my father's tongue," he said, Rassan noting that his features were handsome... and reminded him of someone... but who?

"I would like to speak with you further, but you said there are evil men upon your trail? I must first remove them," he stated with a confidence that bordered upon arrogance.

Their surroundings, for a single moment, were serene.

A heavy breeze broke the silence, rustling the long stemmed grass and bringing the sound of thunderous hooves.

The men reined in before them, the clouds breaking to shine moonlight upon the five riders.

Rassan did not doubt this man's competence with that staff... but against five mounted men, his odds were almost zero.

"Hand over the traitor and you may live," growled the largest of them. "We have no quarrel with you."

The young man looked at Rassan, the moonlight catching his wicked smile.

Before any man could react there was an audible clicking noise... then the man was amongst the rebels.

Now protruding from the staff was a scythe blade, the weapon arcing almost beautifully as it painted the night with crimson splashes.

In less than a minute, the riders were dead, most were headless, their bodies slumped in the saddles.

Rassan had rarely felt fearful in his life... and never the pure terror that clamped his hands to the horse's reins and paralysed him in place.

The young man walked over to him, the scythe blade having retracted back into the staff.

"I was hoping you might tell me of the location of someone," he asked, his innocent expression marred by the spatters of blood upon it and his clothing.

"Whom are you looking for?" Rassan asked bravely, for he only wished now for it not to be himself.

"A man named... Vior, Vior Faden," the Young man answered cheerfully.

Rassan nodded, finally realising the resemblance was to that of his friend and rival... but would telling this man bring harm upon Vior?

"What do you want from Vior?" Rassan asked. "For he is a friend to whom I owe my life, I will not betray him... even if this life of mine has to end."

The man laughed, tapping his staff upon the ground.

"He is my younger brother, I wish to see him," he said finally, sweeping the straw hat away to reveal tied up long white hair.

"I am Hide Faden, they call me the white dragon."