The Exiled King

Chapter 28 - When Legends Fall

Jaron stood back, his watchful eye monitoring the situation. He watched as Taryn cut his way through the demons, then watched as Taryn got too confident and was all of a sudden confronted with death hurtling towards his neck.

A chill ran through Jaron's body as he saw the boy's certain death.

Iside, I beg you, please save him! He thought desperately, hoping his former patron goddess spared enough pity for him to consider saving Taryn.

It was a feeling much like relief that coursed through him when Jaron saw Iside's protective magic around Taryn, glowing and pulsing as if it had life of its own.

Far ahead on the battlefield, Tarbork and the succubus rushed out, rapidly shifting the tide of battle.

As they approached them, Jaron could see the fear in the eyes of the elven soldiers as they realized exactly what was about to happen.

The succubus grabbed the hand of a young man standing next to her, then slit his throat before he could react, dropping his body with a thud. The succubus turned, looking at her commander, then turned and charged straight towards Jaron. Her movements were slow, deliberate, but Jaron knew she would get there soon.

Jaron shifted, drawing up from where he sat, mounted upon his horse.

"A commander's place is with his men on the battlefield," He muttered, spurring his horse on.

A quick glance at Dethemina confirmed that she, too, sprinted into the battlefield, twin swords held in each hand glinting.

The two women met headlong in the middle, weapons flashing as they traded blows. As they did so, Jaron's gaze darted anxiously from the succubus to Dethemina. In the corner of his eye he noted a tall figure rushing forward, and with difficulty, he tore his gaze away from Dethemina and focused on intercepting Tarbork's oncoming blow. He felt a sharp pain lance through his side, and before he could even process the source, Tarbork was upon him, a sword at his throat. His heart lurched, panic seizing him.

Jaron thrust his sword at Tarbork, causing the demon to spring back, allowing Jaron to roll to the side and quickly get to his feet. He watched his opponent warily, keeping an eye on Dethemina at the same time. Dethemina, his sister, was too young to participate in the first Demon war, so she was spared both the horrors and the battle experience. And no mock battles would ever be able to truly simulate the feeling of true battle.

"Why don't you use some of those guardian tricks, huh? Make it a bit harder for me! Make it an interesting fight!" The demon yelled.

Tarbork lunged forward and Jaron nimbly dodged away, his feet moving as if he were dancing with the bloody battlefield as his stage. He ran up, smashing his sword against Tarbork and threw all his weight at the demon. Tarbork wobbled, on the verge of falling and he swiftly retreated, putting a good bit of distance between them.

Immediately, Jaron sprang into action, racing away from Tarbork and towards his sister—and the demons creeping up behind her. He ran up behind one of the demons, stabbing it through the heart before spinning and stabbing another in the leg, making them fall down on the ground with a yelp.

"Fighting for two, I see," Tarbork rumbled, a throaty chuckle leaving his mouth, "It just makes my job easier, little guardian."

Jaron laughed—a sound so distorted he wondered if it was really his own voice.

Finally something I can throw in his face, and it just so happens to be the thing that will probably leave me a cold corpse on this battlefield before this is over? Tragic, He sighed, Tragic... and I'd hoped, too... to live to see the day Sagar is opened. Lived to see paradise.