Appearing back into the night, the ground shifts next to me. I duck, immediately, as a sword flies over my head and narrowly misses taking my life. They found me. A knife is in my hand in a second, torn from my boot, and I slice against the back of the human's knee by reaching around his large frame.
He releases a cry of pain and grabs at the back of my armor on the way down. There's not much of an effort to lift me; my body thrashes in the air and as he goes down, the human uses all his strength to vault me. I brace against the impact of the ground; slamming shoulder first into the hard surface.
They'll be awake before long. Each and every one of them I don't have time to lay here and wait for my victims to find me, this needs to finish. Growling against the pain in my ribs, I force myself to stand and approach the man with a split knee. He groans, gripping onto the wound and blood forms a second layer of skin from his fingertips to his wrist.
There's fear in his eyes as I stand over him and drive my sword into his heart. The blade crunches through flesh, muscle, and bone. As quickly as he took his first breath, his last has arrived. I don't bother giving him a proper farewell; instead, I run my hands over my aching ribs and find an ache waiting for me. When I landed, something cracked and while I was certain it was my shoulder, my arm is completely mobile. That can't be the same for when I twist to the side. Dammit.
The rest of the humans are rustling. Some are already staring at me as I rip the sword from the chest of a dead man and don't bother flicking the blood off the blade. Someone releases a warning cry into the night for the rest of the sleeping humans. I find a knife strapped to my chest, flip it in my grip, and throw it at the man two tents over.
The slam of the blade into his skull echoes through the trees. Like a teetering tower, he falls backward and takes out the tent with him; fabric tearing and wood cracking against his weight. I realize exactly who I'm dealing with—all these humans are men. There isn't a single woman or child, they never planned to tend to the farm grounds, all they wanted was to take out the king.
They left their families at home and risked their lives to come here. If they have any family at all, these humans might be twisted enough to avoid such pleasantries.
Now that the rest of the humans are alerted of my arrival, I don't make the deaths swift and clean. I don't keep them quiet as I unleash my blade upon them and meet their attacks with not only my sword but the supply of hidden weapons strapped to my body. I lose myself in that raging calm, forgetting the world around me and the screaming around every tent.
I injured some, others are dead. Those that remain alive after my attacks scream warnings to the others, their last breaths won't be a waste of wheezing and gasping air.
There are the brave few that try coming after me. They swing high and I duck low to bring my sword around wide. Size is my advantage as is my mobility to get down while they swing for the head. Never aim for the head, the king taught me. You don't have to kill immediately, cause suffering.
I take that into play, slashing for abdomens and legs until most of the humans are dead or trying to get away. Blood clogs my throat, fills my lungs, and plugs my nose. My entire body is covered in it; as are the tents and bodies littering the area. The mist casts a veil over the settlement they've created on land belonging to the king. They stole and planned to do so much more.
Breathing heavy, ribs aching, I flick the last stream of blood off my sword. That's the last of them. Not a single human remains, the rest of the village is silent, and the entire world is holding its breath in mourning.
Collectively, for all these victims to hear, I whisper, "May you find safe harbor."
I get out the last word and turn in preparation to head back to the castle. A blade slams into my thigh and sinks deep—ripped out a second later. Clenching my teeth to avoid screaming, I drop to a knee and find Kyre standing over me. The nervousness he displayed earlier in the throne room is gone, and the rage of a human who just lost everything clouds his features.
CITEȘTI
Aligning the Forgotten ✓
Fantezie[Book 3 of the Grounding the Storm series] Renit's worst nightmare has come true. Roux isn't at his side, and he's banished from his throne and his crown, leaving him nameless and on the run. While trying to escape his father's cruel reign, he has t...
