~ by Adeel Ahmed

Rated PG-13 for violence and language

Author’s Note: These are excerpts from a series of stories by Adeel Ahmed. The world is an alternative history Earth where Mythology and humans with special abilities existed through human history. It combines fantasy, Wuxia and superhero genres into it.

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    “What’s the mission, mother?” queried Khalid sarcastically, his twelve-year-old voice breaking, the burgeoning signs of puberty. He stood face to face with a woman sitting upon a throne, dressed in a loose shirt, long split skirt and Pantaloons, her head covered in a hijab and her face veiled. Only her lovely silver-blue eyes were visible. Standing at her side was a man with purple-black skin, his features fine bone and elf-like.

    “I am not your mother in this room, Murid Khalid. I am the Woman in the Mountain. And you will respect protocol,” said a soft musical voice; how he hated that voice. 

    “I am sick of such titles!” the boy spat. “Murids are those that exalt Allah, yet we appropriate that term for killers! Well, mother, I serve. I know what I am. I am a killer. But please don’t call me Murid,” said Khalid angrily.

    “Do we not exalt Allah too? Do we not see justice done by our brothers?  We respect and honour the one true God. There is no god but God. We recite this like all other Muslims. Do we kill? Yes. But only Allah can judge us. Now listen, Murid. There is a mission for you. A rescue mission.”

    Khalid leaned forward, his face lit with interest. The killing shocked him at first. But these days it never left him shocked. Only sad or angry, depending on his mood. But rescues? They tended to be far more morally upright and required more interesting tactics.

    “Why me, Women in the Mountain?” questioned Khalid dubiously. “I have no experience with such things.”

    “Your powers are ideal for rescue,” she replied. “We believe your talents lie here, on these missions more than any other.”

    “Who am I rescuing? Who hired us? How much are we being paid?” For the first time, he was excited about his income, money earned from honorable means, from an act of true heroism.

 Just like the Mixer would do, something heroic. 

    Khawla did not respond to her son right away, tapping her fingers on the arm of her throne.

    “There is no fee,” Khawla stated. “This is a job done for free.”

    “What?” Khalid exclaimed in disbelief. “We are the Assassins. Our code is that no life or death is without a price. Why would we choose to ever do a job for free?” 

    “An act of compassion and repayment. Children are involved. A man with mental enhancements has been kidnapping Super-Human and Myth Children. Two of those children are of interest. One is the Child of Apollo, a girl with terrifying potential. And the second is a bastard princess,” declared Khawla as she examined Khalid’s face closely.  “Her name is Winona Yagyu.”

    All excitement and happiness left Khalid’s face in that moment, and he lost all feeling in his arms and legs. An uncontrollable sickness overcame him.

    “Kala, please give my son a chair,” instructed Khawla. The warrior did as commanded, placing a chair beneath Khalid as he fell. Kala had impeccable precision.

    “Well then. You’re handling this better than I thought Murid Khalid,” she chortled. “I was afraid your personal relationship with the princess would compromise your ability.”She stood up from her throne grandly. You had best prepare your equipment. Place your weapons in your portals, upon your belt and clothes. We will give you all the required intelligence when you are ready.”

    As she exited the throne room, Khalid heard her laughing. It was musical, like her voice, lovely, mocking music.

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Image Credit: David Liew