I can still remember. I stand here, my sword arches in a graceful movement, and I think back to when I didn't have any of this; when I wasn't Kres Ami, prince and heir of one of the most sacred tribes in Egypt.
I move without pause, parry-thrust-roll-duck-block, in an endless, deadly, dance. A small mistake and I'm bleeding freely from my arm. I switch hands and decapitate my opponent. The battle rages; the metallic stench of blood, and sweat, and death hits my senses like a wall.
A glance to my left shows my father holding his own against a sizable force. My father. As a child I never thought I would be able to say that; or think it, as the case may be.
You're probably confused. I've already said that I haven't always been me. That's true. Growing up, I lived with my uncle and his family. We didn't really get along. My parents were killed in some kind of car accident- my relitives never went into specifics, but they and my parents never got along.
When he died, you could say my uncle got stuck with me. I was only a little over a year old, so I don't remember my birth family. Well, my relatives despised my parents, and they took it out on me. It wasn't really too bad; mostly chores and a little beating if I did something wrong. It all changed when I was six.
My uncle Vernon told me they were going on vacation, and he wouldn't pay for someone to watch me while they were gone, so I had to go with them. I remember how excited I had been, having never been outside the boring town of Surry, England. So, even if I had to stay locked away in a hotel room, I would get to see more than ever before.
We got there, and it was amazing. The harsh, arid, desert air felt like heaven on my face, and I couldn't seem to take everything in. We went out to see the pyramids the last full day we were there. I had gotten to go with them all so I didn't, "Mess up the nice room."
At the time, I hadn't recognized the malicious look on his face, but looking back, I can't believe I missed it. On the way back, we drove though the open desert. A bag blew out the car, and my uncle sent me out after it. As soon as I was clear of the door, my cousin pulled it shut and they drove off.
At first I couldn't believe that even my mean uncle would leave me there alone. By the time I realized he wasn't coming back, it had started to get dark, the air cooling around me. I tried to follow the tire tracks, but the ever shifting sands covered them up fast.
I wandered around for three days. By the third, I was delirious from heat and hunger and thirst. By the third day, I had lost hope. The first time I laid eyes on my father, I had thought it was only another hallucination. When he found me, I was buried slightly in the warm sands, the wind covering me after I fell and couldn't find it in me to get back up.
My skin was burnt red, blistering from the constant unrelenting heat. My lips, by that point, were cracked and cover with dried blood. I don't really remember what happened to me after that. I woke up a few days later in a tent-type building, made to be invisible in the endless dunes.
I found the man whom had found me sitting beside my bed, waiting for me to awaken. The following days I found through others that the man, Majue Ami, was the leader of their hidden tribe.
My body had soon healed itself, completely renewed and restored. Mentally, on the other hand, I was a bit of a mess. The tribe's shaman told me basically that my psyche was scared from the experience, and that it would take a long time for me to heal, if I ever could.
Time passed, and soon I had spent two years there, studying with the other children, learning to ride and fight. It was then that Majue came to me; inquiring as to weather I would like to be a part of his family, his son. And thus I became Kres Ami.
I became a great warrior, loved and respected by all my people. My life was perfect, and I couldn't imagine anything else.
If I ever see my uncle again, I think I'll have to thank him. It sounds weird, but if he hadn't hated me so much and so completely, I wouldn't be where I am today. And now, standing here, looking at my father, I can honestly say I have no regrets about what my life has come to.
Revised Feb 2, 2008