Persian Warriors – Story 3: Dilawar

"It is time to visit the third."

The master nodded. "Yes… but who is most suitable to visit this child?"

One of the god-like beings sighed. "He is the most difficult of the four. An extremely stubborn and rebellious child."

Another nodded in agreement. "Yes; it will be a challenge to convince him of his duties…"

A third sighed. "So who shall we send?"

The group of immortals thought deeply.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and another being appeared in the room. He looked to each of the minor beings before bowing at the master.

"I believe, my lord, that I am able to solve this issue…"


"Dilawar!"

I growled and closed my eyes, trying to calm down. If I heard that voice one more time…

"Dilawar!"

I stood suddenly, kicking my desk chair back in the process. I stormed over to the door and pulled it open sharply, letting it slam against the wall. "What?!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the whole house.

Well, it wasn't really a house. I actually lived in a two bedroom flat with my mum, which had a small kitchen and a lounge room, as well as a reasonably sized study. It was actually quite a reasonable size for a flat in South London – it helped that my mum was a successful businesswoman, so she earned loads and loads of money and could afford the flat.

My dad, on the other hand, lived in a three bedroom house in West London, with his new wife and step-daughter. I was able to see him every weekend, but with an annoying new step-sister to deal with as well, it was pretty difficult. I never got to spend any time with him anymore.

And as my mum was constantly working, I had nobody at home to keep me company.

So instead I hung out with my friends.

They weren't exactly the best influences.

"The fridge is empty!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned against the wall beside me. "So? It's not my problem!" I answered.

I could hear my mum's exasperated sigh from where I stood all the way at the other end of the corridor and smirked. I was winning this one already.

"This is most definitely your problem, Dilawar," she snapped, stepping out of the kitchen to glare at me.

See, I'm actually half-Persian on my mum's side. She's about five feet, six inches tall, with long straight dark hair and dark eyes to match. Her skin is a very tanned colour, and she's also quite slim. At that moment, she was wearing a pinstriped trouser suit with a pale pink blouse and black heels, and her dark hair was tied back into a ponytail.

I just continued to smirk at her. I had inherited her dark hair, but my eyes were a little closer to brown than hers. My skin was a little lighter than hers as well, and I've been told multiple times that I have my dad's jaw shape and smile. My eyelashes were long and dark, like my mother's.

"Really?" I asked.

"Dilawar, you're seventeen years old. Of course it is!"

"How is it?" I replied cheekily.

She groaned. "Dilawar, I don't have time for this…"

"Time for what?" I was purposefully trying to get a reaction out of her now.

"You know what!" she snapped at me.

"Yes, you do," a voice said from beside me.

I tensed, looking around for the source of the voice. "What the…"

My mum just rolled her eyes at me. "Don't play foolish with me, Dilawar!" She huffed. "You know what?" She threw her hands up in defeat. "I give up. I just don't know what to do with you anymore!"

"Fine." I rolled my eyes at her before turning to go back into the study and slamming the door shut behind me. I didn't want to hear her on another of her rants about how 'troublesome' I am, or how 'perfect' I used to be. Those rants just annoyed me to no end. "Stupid, no good—"

"Dilawar."

I froze. There was that voice again. "Who are you?" I called out, looking around wildly to search for the voice.

There was a sudden flash of light, which caused me to shield my eyes, and a being appeared in front of me. He was about eight feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, with dark hair and a stern look on his face. I didn't even have the guts to look him in the eyes, so I didn't know what colour they were. He was glaring at me darkly. "You need to learn your place, young warrior."

"Who are you?" I replied, glaring back at him.

His glare intensified. "I do not accept that tone, boy. Learn your place, and you will learn who I am."

"I don't do riddles," I replied sarcastically as I began looking around for something. I didn't exactly know what, but when I found it I would be satisfied.

"Learn how to respect, child," he warned. "It may help you in the future."

I rolled my eyes at him. Stupid riddles… "You know what? I don't care." I found my keys and grabbed them before taking my helmet and coat from my bedside. "See you later."

Just as I was walking out, I heard a reply of, "I surely will," which crept me out.

Stupid being or whatever it was.


I sighed as I climbed onto my motorbike and sparked the ignition, smiling at the gentle hum of the engine that I was rewarded with.

See, my motorbike was a gift from a friend a year or so ago. As soon as I had been old enough, I'd taken lessons and got my license about half a year ago. Ever since, I've been using my bike to get to all sorts of places.

My bike was a deep green, with random stripes of silver in certain places for the design. It was a beautiful bike – I loved it dearly. As I am also studying a course in mechanics at college, (today was my day off) I was able to upgrade my bike to a level that suited me.

It was totally sweet.

I swung my leg over the bike before sitting down on it, revving the engine a few times before speeding out of the flats' private car park. I sped down the road towards the garage that I usually hung out at when I was bored or lonely. I took many different shortcuts, weaving in and out of little streets and alleyways, before I finally reached the main road, speeding past the bus stop. Whilst I sped past, I spared a glance at the people standing there.

As usual, the two girls stood there in their school uniform. I didn't recognise the uniform, of course, but I'd seen the girls there multiple times. I slowed down a little, taking a good look at them.

One of them was slightly taller than the other, probably by an inch or so, and they both had dark curly hair and slim figures. The one that was slightly taller was a little bit rounder – no, she had a fuller body – than the other one, and her skin was slightly darker too.

What intrigued me the most was that both of them seemed to be alert, keeping an eye out for something in particular. I didn't know what they were looking for, and I didn't exactly want to know, so I sped on towards my destination.

I nearly pulled on the brake when the taller girl glanced at me, catching my eye. She was a beautiful girl – not too show-y, but not too plain. She was perfect.

I had to force myself to turn my concentration back onto the road when a car honked at me.

In fact, the sudden honk scare me so much that I ended up veering off the road and into a nearby bosh, earning myself some scratches and bruises. I groaned.

"Have you learnt your lesson yet, warrior?"

I frowned. That stupid voice was back… "What lesson?" I asked. I earned some strange looks from various people walking past, who all probably thought I was talking to myself.

There was a pause before the reply came. "Keep your eyes on the road."

I snorted. So this guy was some sort of comedian, eh?

"No, I am not a comedian."

I suddenly stopped laughing, my eyes growing wide. He could read my thoughts. He could read my thoughts. My private thoughts. The stuff that no one else was meant to hear or see, or even know about.

I hated this guy with a passion.

"Get out of my head!" I growled, reaching up and gripping my hair tightly.

The voice chuckled. "Not until you learn your lesson, child."

"What lesson?!" I yelled.

"Obedience."

I stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating this, before giving a harsh bark of laughter. "There's no way that you're going to win this, whatever-you-are." I got up, pulling my bike upright before wheeling it back out onto the main road. "Just leave me in peace so that I can get on with me life."

"I am afraid I cannot do that." There was a flash of bright light again, and the same being from before appeared in front of me, eying me sternly.

I folded my arms. "What do you mean you cannot?" I demanded. "All you have to do is leave me alone!"

"Are you foolish?" he asked suddenly.

I frowned. That insult hurt quite a bit. "What?"

"I said, 'Are you foolish?'" he repeated.

This time, I frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly.

"Ever since I began talking to you, I have done nothing but call you boy, or child, or warrior, and not once have you questioned me on my use of language. Any child would have questioned me immediately, just as your comrades have already questioned their guides." He tilted his head to the side. "Why have you not questioned me?"

I thought about it. Why haven't I questioned him? Is there a specific reason why? Maybe… maybe I just don't want to be involved with him…

"I do not believe that," he said, talking about my last thought.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Okay, seriously, who are you, and why are you here?"

He stood up straight, his form glowing a little. "I am Sraōša, or Sraosha, and I am the Amesha Spenta of Obedience and a messenger to the great Ahura Mazda. Some may also call me the 'Voice of Conscience'. As for why I am here," he gave me what seemed like a very rare small smile, "I am here to inform you of your duty, and to prepare you for what is to come, as the other warriors have been prepared."

I blinked. Warriors…? "What do you mean by warriors?" I asked finally, allowing myself to be curious and not angry.

"The world as we know it is on the verge of being overtaken by evil through the works of monsters and demons," he explained to me. "We, the Amesha Spentas, are able to take care of the demons, for it is what we are meant to do." His eyes darkened. "It is the monsters attacking civilians that we are worried about. Four suitable warriors have been chosen to fight these monsters and protect civilisation as we know it; you are one of them."

Me? Protect? Mosters? My head was drowned in thoughts as I attempted to comprehend what was happening. I was a chosen warrior… What made me stand out from anyone else around me? All I did was cause mischief. My neighbours weren't so fond of me, my friends got annoyed or irritated with me often… heck, my own family didn't think I was even that great. My parents got divorced without even giving me a second glance, and they expected me to be fine with it.

Sraōša watched me analytically. "Are you alright, Dilawar?" he asked, addressing me by my first name.

I stared at him before shaking my head. "No… I just… I…" I closed my eyes tightly. "I have to go," I managed to mutter before climbing onto my bike and speeding off, leaving the Amesha Spenta standing there on the curb.


It didn't take me too long to reach the garage, and as soon as I got there I climbed off my bike and put on an apron, getting ready to work. My head still swam in thoughts, trying to process everything that was happening to me.

The garage was large and was split into various rooms. One of the rooms was the main room, where the vehicles were fixed and tuned to make sure that the customers were satisfied. Another room was the resting room, which had a few bunks in it for the workers to sleep in – some of them actually lived here at the garage, so they needed a place to stay. A third room was the kitchen, which had a small stove, a fridge, a freezer, a sink, and a couple of counters so that the workers could cook. The room I was in, the fourth room, was the 'Chill Room', where everyone relaxed or merely played with the tools, building things and taking them apart for fun. Considering quite a few of the workers here had been labelled as ADHD, it was an ideal room to have.

In this room, I was literally surrounded by worktables and tools. The worktables were all wooden, standing in various areas of the room, and had various shapes and sizes of wood on top of them, some with holes drilled into them, others with nails hammered in. Tools lay across the tables where they had been left lazily, some even still plugged in. Other, more dangerous, tools hung on the walls, such as the saws and long knives.

One of these dangerous tools was a four foot long iron sword that had words carved into it – the words were in an ancient or foreign language which I couldn't read (trust me, I'd tried before) – and it was also designed with intricate patterns. It was cool… but I wasn't allowed to touch it. Apparently, long ago, the owner of the garage had been approached by a guy, and he had been told to keep the sword until its rightful owner arrives to claim it. The rightful owner was the only one who could read the etchings on the sword, and it's said that the rightful owner would work at the garage until the day he claims it.

It was a long and weird story, but it was quite interesting.

I walked over to one of the work benches, picking up a hammer and twisting it absentmindedly in my hands as if it was a weapon. I smiled to myself. The ease at which I was able to move it was pretty awesome, and after a only few days of this increased strength, I was already adapting.

It was funny – the increased strength and power had come so suddenly. I'd woken up one morning and accidentally ripped the door off the fridge, as well as break down the bathroom door and pull the taps off the sinks. My mum hadn't been too pleased, but now it meant that I could do pretty much anything that required strength…

I turned towards the door when I heard it open, putting down the hammer, and smiled. A man, clearly in his late forties, was standing at the door to the 'Chill Room', wearing an apron that was covered in oil and grime. He grinned at me.

"Dilawar! I thought you were in here!" He chortled. "Come on! It's time to get to work!"

I grinned and saluted him. "Yes sir!" I chanted before following him out to the main garage.

Today, all we had to do was fix up a few cars that had been left at the garage for repairs. They were all fairly new cars, which meant it was easy to get the supplies needed to make them seem like brand new. Not a difficult job.

I grabbed a wrench and headed over to the nearest car, pulling open the bonnet and taking a look inside. "Right… let's see…"

It was about fifteen minutes later when the doors to the garage opened, and I could hear two sets of footprints enter the garage. I quickly finished tightening a bolt before standing, grabbing a towel to wipe the grime and grease off my fingers as I turned to see who it was.

Two girls stood at the door, looking around. They were the same girls from the bus stop, and seemed to be interested in the tools in the garage.

"Can I help you?" I asked as I walked over to them.

The taller, prettier one looked over at me sharply, narrowing her eyes slightly. She called something out in another language, which I presumed was to the other girl, who responded by walking over and standing beside her. They both stared at me.

I looked between them, spinning the wrench in my hand.

The taller girl suddenly commanded something and pointed something at me. The other pulled out a bow and arrow from seemingly nowhere and aimed straight at me.

I jumped back. "Woah, woah, woah!" I dropped the wrench and held up my hands in surrender. "What the…"

"Who are you," she commanded.

My eyes were wide. What the…