Noshirwan urged his Rath to a standstill. He stood there, tall and erect in his place; facing the advancing barbarians.
For an Aryan to flee before enemies would be unthinkable. Noshirwan was a Ratheshtar, a warrior. Courage ran as blood in his veins.
"Be brave, Yasmin. Act as a true daughter of the Aryans."
The aged warrior lifted his powerful bow and an ancient hymn reverberated on his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment.
The hymn was to Verethraghna, the Aryan Divinity of war who was the embodiment of Victory over evil. Verethraghna, in later centuries to be known as Behram Yazad; was always invoked by the Aryan warrior before battle was joined.
Then, with a hiss; the first arrow of the battle flew from Noshirwan's bow.
The arrow flew fast and true, like a thunderbolt from heaven. Such was the force of the arm that had dispatched it that it cut like a scythe through the mass of barbarians, piercing the strongest of the horsed riders right in his throat.
Screaming, the rider plunged from his neighing horse to the ground; his breath drawn out violently from him.
The barbarians had almost reached the chariot. Screaming fiercely, they surrounded the Rath and then attacked the lone fighter. Yasmin crouched down behind her father as Noshirwan dropped his bow and picked up his heavy shield and his powerful iron mace or Vadhare, with the great Aryan horned bull head at the striking end.
Yasmin gasped in naked fright and horror as she saw the barbarians, the sworn enemies of her Aryan race for the first time.
Half naked and dark-skinned, they wore raw animal hides and necklaces of animal and human bones. Whooping and screaming, riding barebacked on their horses; their ugly swine featured faces were a truly frightening sight to the young Aryan girl.
Noshirwan swung his powerful Vadhare violently. The force of his swing was powerful enough to unseat two of the enemy from their horses. The next tremendous swing broke the skull of another.
Wary by now, the barbarian band urged their horses backwards; retreating before the swinging mace. They were beginning to feel they should have left this powerful warrior alone.
They were almost about to give up, and back their horses away in retreat when one of the party noticed the frightened figure behind Noshirwan's legs.
His face breaking out into an excited smile, the barbarian shouted out to the others what he had seen.
Yasmin, the fairest of the Aryan race was now the prize of the battle.
On one side of the battle was her own father, who was willing to sacrifice his very life to protect her maidenhood. And on the other side were the cruel barbarians, full of lust and desire.
The barbarians attacked with renewed vigour. They had seen the prize.
Noshirwan was extending his hand to draw his sword when a spear pierced the right side of his chest.
Yasmin screamed as Noshirwan's arms dropped and he slumped.
The faithful horses of Noshirwan's Rath went berserk when they saw their master wounded and they charged at the barbarians, their hoofs flying. Yasmin caught the reins as the Rath tore through the encircling barbarians.
She urged the horses on, faster and faster. The barbarians, taken aback at the sudden charge watched their prize fleeing from them.
Then, with a savage shout; they urged their horses after her.
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