Those Who Cannot Die - Levi Bible (the rosie project .TXT) 📗

of another town sparkled in the distance. At least the “Red Flash” hadn’t spread this far, Isaac admitted to himself in his mind. The “Red Flash” only struck once a decade.
Isaac and Rose walked toward the town gates, which were shut and locked tightly. Isaac walked over to a side of the wall, sitting down against it. Isaac looked at Rose, expecting her to be as comfortable as he is on the ground. After laying on the ground, Rose woke about an hour later, complaining of pain.
“Oh come on,” Isaac said, disappointed, “I thought you were supposed to be taking care of me. Not the other way around.” At Isaac’s snide comment, Rose shut her mouth. She had never been a mother before, but she knew that she needed to take care of him. She needed to show strength.
The sun broke over the horizon. Isaac stood to look over at the gates, which made creaking noises. Isaac stood to walk toward the gate, cold and unfeeling toward the half-awake woman who started to walk after him.


Chapter 2:
February 18,1250-My Day of Regret
Of that day, the day I met Rose, I remember much. Her beautiful, brunette hair, her hazel eyes. It almost made me realize that unlike me, mortals don’t last forever. The gates opened, and I led Rose through the sprawling, sun-baked town. The people there all seemed as though they were from the desert or travel there often. Their heads were veiled by sweat-soaked white cloth. The skin that was still visible was contrasting tanned brown against the whites of their eyes. Their turbans were reflected the brilliant light of the burning sun.
The massive crowds were overwhelming, people everywhere doing most everything. The noises of the crowds blurred into a mulled roar, each different conversation indecipherable from the others. I felt small, and yet, knew my story, my life, was so much more important than theirs. My goal was more important. Rose tagged behind me, to my annoyance, and to my internal happiness that I lied to myself wasn’t there. I shouldered my way through two more tall, white-garbed people, Rose squeezing in-between them.
Today was the last day I would see these faces. I resolved that I would leave her behind. I couldn’t have her with me anyway; my work was too dangerous. We made our way throughout the town, ducking and weaving through crowds, and finally made our way to what I assumed was the church. The windows boarded shut, the doors dilapidated, and the small murmur of people on the inside. At three stories, the gothic architecture was almost surreal.
If nowhere else, I could leave her at the church. That is what I thought at the time. Little did I know, this small decision, in a small town, over such a small matter, would change my life eternally.

The people sat in rows, the man in front reciting a sermon about God. The men on the right sat attentive, their bibles out and reading intently. The people on the left were drunken, and acting as though they were there for something else. The church itself was in a truly decrepit state. The stained glass lay shattered across the whole room, the statues of important deities lay in disrepair. Not many people cared about religion in this town, Isaac thought. The large path in between the benches the people sat was covered with a shabby dull red carpet, torn and ripped in a way that one step you were on the carpet, the next was on the dull, brown floor.
Rose shuddered behind him, looking at all the shady people. Isaac had experience with drunken men, having been one himself. Two men looked at Isaac, followed by Rose, and stood in their way.
“What business have you here?” the one on the left, wearing a turban that covered his face on purpose. His hand on the hilt of his blade, he looked at Rose with scornful black eyes. Isaac motioned for them to move, but they didn’t. “I repeat, what do you want?” Isaac looked up to the man, scanning every aspect of the man. He had several wounds through training, particularly around his wrists and knees. This was obvious from his slightly limp stance, as well as the way he held his sword. All weaknesses he could exploit if need be.
“I need a place to stay,” Isaac stated dully, not paying much attention to the other guard, as he had no weapon drawn. Footsteps could be heard behind Isaac, the whole church had evacuated. Isaac raised an eyebrow. The halls no longer echoed with the minister’s voice. Isaac wasn’t that terrifying, was he?
The guard drew his blade, Isaac in response stood ready to disarm. Over a thousand years of training in combat, Isaac’s only disadvantage was his height and strength of body. The guard had many more disadvantages. He swung his blade from the right, his wrist was angled oddly, giving Isaac his chance.
Ducking under the blade, Isaac grabbed the guard’s wrist. He twisted it clockwise, then counter-clockwise, and repeated the process, harder each time, until the guard let go screaming in pain. Grabbing the sword, Isaac spun around the guard, trapping the guard’s good leg and stunning him. Isaac then used the momentum he had created and slammed the blunt side of the blade into the back of the guard’s weak knee, forcing him to his knees. Isaac then grabbed him by the back of the neck, lifting the poor, pain-weakened guard up, and threw him into the ground face first. The guard rolled in pain, his belly facing up again. Putting the blade to the guard’s throat, the man looked wide-eyed at Isaac, his face covered in rivulets of blood, his left eye steadily watering. The guard would pose no more danger, so Isaac backed away from the agonized man.
Isaac looked toward the other guard now, who had his blade out as well. Examining the guard, he noticed that this guard had nowhere near as many weaknesses as the one he had just incapacitated. But the man still had wounds from the past.
This guard had been whipped in the past, his posture showed that. Maybe a traumatic injury as a child caused the weakness in his ankle. Isaac, however, focused on disarming the man. He had no desire to kill. Not yet. His analysis was complete when the man attacked. His elbow wasn’t locked with the blade, his attack range shortened. Isaac ducked and weaved through the flurry of incorrect chances. Isaac was appalled at how badly the man fought. He almost wasn’t worth defeating. After ducking under a left horizontal slash, Isaac grabbed the elbow, twisting the elbow left. Hard. He kept going, until he heard a crack, and the guard dropped his weapon.
Isaac used the guard’s weight, tossing him across into a row of seats. Isaac had forgotten about Rose until now, looking at her face. It was filled with terror, as she gazed behind Isaac. Wait, behind me? Isaac thought, looking down and seeing a large shadow. A large mass landed on Isaac, holding him down by the throat.
“You little bastard!” he exclaimed, his face covered by steel. “You will pay!” Isaac sighed. He had hoped not to use magic anytime soon. He lifted the man off of him, his hand glowing with the blue magical energy that emanated from his soul. The man’s eyes grew. Isaac tossed the man into one of the boarded-up windows, which splintered and cracked under his immense weight. The cries of people ensued, the people never suspecting a little boy to defeat trained guards.
Isaac walked over to Rose, who he expected to run in fear. To his surprise, she didn’t. She gulped, and started walking towards Isaac. This woman was getting on Isaac’s nerves. She should have run. Run at her first chance; run when they had first met. But she didn’t. Isaac toyed the thought of killing her, and being done with it, but decided against. What had she truly done to him? She posed no threat. However, Isaac needed to get away. Get away before he had become attached.
Run, dammit! Isaac found himself thinking. Come on, you have to! If you don’t, you will only cause us both pain. He was desperate to scream it, but something stopped him. Something he feared. The pain of loss. He needed to get away, and fast.
This church had been a failure of a place to drop her off, so he left the building. The crowds of people now centered around the heavily injured body of the third guard. Rose made motions to go see him, and Isaac hoped she would, but she stuck with him. The buildings of the next slum he had found were even worse than the church. Isaac looked around at the shady people, each one drinking or looking at Rose, save for a home full of courtesans, who all eyed Isaac fondly. Isaac considered leaving Rose with them, but decided against it. She shouldn’t sell her body on the streets like those rats. Darn it! Why do I even care? Isaac thought, punching himself. It wasn’t for a few minutes that Isaac realized that he had lost his shadow.
Isaac spun and backtracked. This definitely was not the place to lose her. As much as Isaac hated himself for caring, he did. Looking around, he saw many people. But no Rose. Isaac realized he had made a mistake, leading Rose through here. There were rapists, slavers, courtesans, anything and everything to taint a soul.
Courtesans then surrounded Isaac, all more than likely hoping for Isaac to give in to his desire. Little did they know, Isaac had long since grown past this desire. They would not cease surrounding him, however.
“Hey there, kid…wanna come back to my place?”, “I could show you a great time, kid!”, “Lets spend some alone time, just you…and me.” Were among the things the courtesans said, still trying to get Isaac to give in. More annoying than anything, in Isaac’s opinion. He shoved through the courtesans, looking for Rose. Men stood, others watched. Three men drew daggers, walking towards Isaac.
“C’mon, kid…wanna piece of me…?” he muttered, his pupils different sizes. The other men merely followed him. Isaac sighed.
“Get out of my way.” Isaac said in a commanding voice. All three men pounced, Isaac easily stepping out of the way. Isaac analyzed all three, taking mental notes of how dumb they were to get drunk before a fight. The leader came after Isaac, trying to punch him with his left hand. Isaac grabbed the fist, pulling the man closer. He grabbed the knife, stabbing the man from his waistline and pulling the knife to his arm on the same side, careful not to damage any major organs, but incapacitating the man nonetheless.
Gripping the bloodied knife, Isaac looked at the others, whose faces showed the fear from their soul. Dropping their weapons, they ran. Isaac cleaned the knife on the man on the ground, and grabbed its sheath.
Isaac belted the sheath on to his tunic, inserting the small weapon. A knife was better than nothing, he thought. Isaac looked around for Rose again. If she wasn’t here now, then she either ran or was never here. It would be so much easier if it was the former…but I can’t take that chance…merda…
Isaac walked back through the city, looking around for Rose. He was getting nowhere, and it was beginning to frustrate him. He had made it to town square, filled with people from everywhere, traders, travelers, locals. No Rose, however. He walked to the fountain in the center of the square, the place deserted save for one man. A man Isaac recognized. The man