Ibrahim sat silent for a moment, as if weighing up how to explain the near inexplicable. When he started to speak it was with the slow measured tones of someone being very careful not to give the wrong impression.


“As the legend of the Beh’hude hints brother, it’s as if the warriors who are of its ranks were carved from the same block. As if their souls were forged together to one purpose, to one aim …”


He paused to let what he had said sink in. Then, the old Brutor began again, his voice taking on a trance-like tone.


“In the time that was before the time that is, in the realm of our ancestors and the blood of our line, existed a brotherhood, a brotherhood of bonds forged of steel, stoic as the implacable might of granite.


“By choice they came together united to face a common foe and by choice they swore that from then on their purpose would be one, for all eternity, from this life-time to the next.”


Marcia gasped, realization crossing her face.


“They took an oath to reincarnate as eternal champions of freedom?”


“Aye sister,” Ibrahim nodded, “And it is said that thru the eternity of the aeons that great Oath has played itself out and those warriors return among us again and again always bound to fight the same fight.”