Returned.
It had been her specialty, after all.
Her golden glare locked him in. There was no escape from this—there was no key.
A small hint of a smile curled at the corner of her mouth. Oh fires, how I have missed this. A growl rose from her scarred lips. “You. Are. Mine.”
He jolted forward. But she lunged at him with her falchion slicing the air. The sound of metal singing rang out as they both turned and swung. Sparks flashed at the force.
Then Nizen moved swiftly and not only dodged her, but shoved her aside like a meaningless toy at his move. He laughed coarsely. “You’re just a plaything to me Sprign filth.” The Mysra spurred her on. “C’mon! C’mon, Treva, Emerald Knight.” Every letter accentuated, mocked. “Let’s see you try to be a fighter.” He spat, “Nothing but a Knight’s little bed sport whore.” He made practiced swipes in the air. “And this time, when this is over, I will drag you by your emerald hair into the nearest hut and ravage you before I end you.”
Marin gasped, forgetting himself.
Relishing in the attention on her, the thrill of the fight, and the death gaze she so longed to see from him, Treva still had her sword in her grip although she had been slammed to the ground. Determined. She quickly glanced up with a maddening smile and glowing glare. She knew her error, and now understood his speed, his strength—she could outmatch it. She assessed and then refocused on the hulking guard, who now looked down on her from an even higher vantage point. An immense wall. His eyes boring into hers. But she read his wicked grin, his stance. Unimaginative in his attack, he was about to deliver her a blow. The same as Miken.
In a flash, she rolled and sprang from the ground—a spritely move that exhibited her WynSprign reflexes and strength. Nizen lost his footing at the failed attempt to kick her. She took advantage of this as he swung closer to her—his fatal misstep causing his center to falter. With a flash of steel, she buried the blade deep in his chest, sending blood sputtering. Her sword pierced his beating heart—a pleasing surprise for her. Oh yes, her own thoughts simmered. Oh, gods yes, I love this...
The falchion was a small sword, and it didn’t take much for the short blade to travel deeply in him and for the hilt to meet his solid chest. Treva’s delicate senses could feel the slight beating of Nizen’s heart deep within on the grip of her sword as it reverberated against her palm, just barely. She remained close to Nizen and felt the utter euphoria of his life leaving his body, and the quantity of oozing black blood, further glorious confirmation.
She smiled through her blood-speckled face in great pleasure at this, at his disbelieving, bulging eyes. The ecstasy of killing him—Nizen. “Ooo,” she purred, exhaling. “Wonderful how I ended up ravaging you instead,” she said under her steamy, lustful breath. She licked her blood-smeared lips, smiling widely as his black blood dripped, giving her a gray, toothy grin. The taste of trillium was strong in him. Years of tainted poison. The taste to her was horrible, but for this moment, for this triumph—
Nizen’s eyes were wild in bewilderment. Incredulous. He couldn’t believe he was just outmatched and this was it—that was the end. It was absurd!
Treva let go of her sword’s moist grip. Nizen grabbed the sword’s bloodied hilt frantically, but immediately fell under his own massive body weight. His body was failing fast. Time was slipping for him and without his permission. He landed with a heavy thud to the dusty ground below as his heart ceased to work.
“Yes...I love it,” Treva whispered under a breath of rapture. It was pure pleasure killing Nizen. A dream. A beautiful vision now true. Her fingers tingled in delight. Oh, it was just as good as…
She heard breathing.
She blinked, zooming back from her death-euphoria.
Slaves had been quietly peeking out from their huts in both fear and curiosity.
Treva paid them no mind, but remembered her mission. Sobered, she turned her head to him. “Miken!” She bent to pull her sword from Nizen’s dead body with effort. She grunted pulling. “Miken! Up!” As she pulled the warm, bloodied grip from the Mysra’s chest.
Miken, slowly and painfully, moved to roll. His face was swollen and bruised from the blunt kick and punches Nizen delivered.
But he was alive!
Treva staggered at freeing the sword from her fallen opponent. She wiped it quickly on his pointless red cape before sheathing it. She walked toward the still mound; the body forgotten. She moved to Miken and extended her arm, trying to aid him in getting off the ground. He groaned—he had been beaten, horrendously.
“Miken. Find your strength. Listen!” She lightly slapped his face to regain his focus. Her breathy tone trailed happy, “Nizen is now dead.” Miken’s eyes barely creased open and the slightest of smiles etched his face. Her stomach lurched a lightly puffed laugh.
He tried to move, but a groan sounded. She felt horrible for Miken, but needed him to get up urgently. They needed to help each other. She looked to other glowing eyes, slaves, now staring out from their huts. “Help him,” she demanded and pleaded at once. Their glowing eyes moved in nodding responses.
She continued to Miken, to all of them, “You must drag Nizen to my old hut.” She looked to the ground. She knew it was ridiculous. Miken had been beaten unconscious. It seemed hopeless, and they had to get Nizen’s body hidden or else the whole plan would unravel. A missing head guard, or now-head monitor, would not go unnoticed for long. She could feel a cold sweat claim her at setting panic. “Oh, gods be damned,” she moaned pitifully.
Chapter 17
She turned her blood-smeared face to Lanico, and smiled
She was about to give up when unexpectedly Miken moved to sit up. His gaze was unwavering on her. Her heart fluttered in profound relief and she flung her arms around him. He made two weary, gentle, pats against her.
Backing up she said, “Miken, you’ve got to trust me. Hide him there—in my old hut.” She jerked her head in its direction.
“He’s dead,” Miken’s voice rasped and a slight huff escaped.
Her eyes gushed at the faint smile he gave. “Yes, he is.”
He gave a stiff nod and lumbered to stand. She offered a hand but he brushed it away—kindly. His strength was a marvel. Flicking his gaze down at the dead guard the smile on his face faded. He brought his eyes back to her. “With help I can…we can drag him.”
“I know you can. You’re the strongest WynSprign I know,” she said, most pleased at his miraculous power. She touched his face gently and tried to avoid looking as overly concerned as she actually felt. “If he’s found…” She turned and found Marin’s purple glow in the distance. He was crouching low to the ground, in shock. Likely at the horror he had witnessed. She knew he never seen someone beaten like that, so mercilessly, nor had he seen his mother...kill…or have a sick, twisted delight in such a task. She’d have to address that concern later. She gulped and continued, “If he’s found, all of our chances, our plans at freedom will be destroyed. I cannot stay long enough to help, please...you must…” Looking around at the others she ordered, “Cover fallen blood and tracks.” More nodding came.
She whispered under her breath to Miken, placing her hand on the crook of his arm, “I must away, for now, Miken. Till later. I promise.” She turned to Marin and walked briskly back to him. Her breath was visible in the crisp night air. Marin remained crouching. She could hear the soft footsteps behind her as Miken and the other slaves worked to relocate Nizen as instructed.
Till later. She’d let that line linger. I promise. It was hope for them. She would return.
She bent low, grabbed Marin firmly by the arm, and raised him up, forcefully. Her strength was not realized by him yet. She was strong. Very strong. Even after that fight!
His eyes roamed over the corpse that she left in her wake. How many others had she killed in her life? It seemed so effortless for her. Her moves, so-so deft.
“Let’s go!” she ordered, trying to break him from his trance. She tugged him alon
g with her through the dizzying maze of huts. The trees were not far. After a few moments, they ran past her old hut and Anah’s to view the small hill clearing and the woods beyond. She knew that the others and Nizen’s corpse would soon be in this area.
Content with the situation resolved behind her she said, “Follow my movements exactly.” Another ordered whisper. It was the dance, the position that he had practiced over and over.
He already knew it well enough by now, but rather than remind her of this, he kept his mouth shut. It was only her love and care for him that made her repeat something so vital. They needed to be mindful of the land mines and poison barbs that littered their path. Every step a dance of balancing against awaiting death.
Under the cover of darkness, and kept from view of the tower, they quickened through the trench and cleared the hill into the woods beyond. Grasses thrashed at their booted strides. Their breathing, loud enough, too loud perhaps.
Once there, they came face-to-face with glaring, azure-lambent eyes and the pointy end of dazzling metallic silver. Lanico and his Reluctant Leader at the ready.
“Tre, is that you?” Lanico asked in confused shock as he noticed the golden glow of her eyes bounding near—a set of eyes he hadn’t realized were missing. He lowered the Reluctant Leader and relaxed his stance.
She only panted an annoyed, “Yes.”
Lanico then noticed Marin’s purple glow bouncing just behind her. “Marin?” Even more bafflement there.
“Yes,” he echoed, “It’s me.” His response also breathless.
Lanico’s face fluttered through quick emotions in a matter of seconds. He looked at Treva in wild astonishment, surprise, and then—then a lightning flash of anger lashed in his eyes.
She noticed. She knew him well. But...
“Well?” she panted still working for breath. She bent and supporting her hands on her knees she said, “You didn’t actually think I was going to leave my son in there, did ya?” She turned her blood-smeared face to Lanico and smiled.
That look she gave him; a rumble of anger set in his gut.
✽✽✽
Pissed.
Oh, he was pissed.
Really. Pissed.
They had walked away from their positions near the trench, and back to the “shouting grounds” a farther walk away.
“You could have jeopardized the whole mission!” The General Prince growled at his Knighted Second Lieutenant. “Could have been shredded to tatters!” He stomped only a few feet from her. Fighting, working to bite the demand to rail at her for her carelessness. The glow of his eyes narrowed on hers. Anger gnawed at his insides and sent a hot rush to his face. His fists were tight enough to squeeze coal into diamonds as he stood before her.
She stood erect, a Soldier’s posture. Her mouth was tight, pursed, and her face was equally glaring. Her eyes fixed to the distance as he fumed—an old military expectation from countless rants from her superior, her commander. Though it had been many years and though they now had a different relationship, this was only one more of his tirades at her. Only one more to add to the lengthy list.
“What if—what if he’d call for others? Did you think of that? You could have been surrounded, tortured, killed. The whole mission—” He threw his hands up in the air flabbergasted at the overwhelming possibilities that could have been. The entire mission annihilated!
“But it wasn’t!” Treva brazenly cut in. Currently, she was his only Knight and what was he going to do? Dispatch her? Not exactly. And she wasn’t going to tolerate being railed at like some new recruit any longer. She held her stare at him, “That’s it!” she yelled in their connection and Lanico’s head snapped back at that startling force of it. She continued in her voice, “Nizen is dead and he’s the only guard that was near the area. Our plan takes place early in the morning—he won’t be missed. And their resources, their guards and warriors have been much reduced.” She breathed, also fighting to contain her own voice from a shout, “Remember the throngs of them we took down at the Great Mist? It was as if the entire hoard of them had arrived—and as it turns out, it was almost that. We significantly reduced their numbers.” She noticed his jaw feather a muscle as she spoke out of turn, but continued anyway because she didn’t give a shit. “Marin is safe, I’m safe, no one was alerted, and his body—” she considered for a moment, trusting Miken took care of it, “his body was also taken care of and will not be found.”
“I have no choice but to trust you.” It wasn’t a compliment. She’d put him into that position. Lanico’s icy glare tore from hers. He turned and strode off. He just couldn’t argue with her. He fumed. His steps pounded off. He needed to get away from her and cool down.
His Knight, his subordinate. No. His equal, but...he didn’t know what in the fires she was to him right now.
Treva remained there standing. Her ragged breath was still visible in the moonlight.
Chapter 18
Of both victory and loss
Enough time passed, allowing both of them to calm down. Treva explained the details surrounding Nizen’s death, and Lanico’s anger subdued—slightly. Then, and only then, were they able to walk back to the group of uncomfortable young warriors peppered among the trees, who had been waiting and very likely overhearing. They had to move forward and review the next steps of the plan. He had to ensure that their plans weren’t impacted by Treva’s breach.
The Emerald Knight chose not to mention the inclusion of other slaves, but she determined she’d save his worries and keep that little hiccup to herself. Telling him that detail would only serve to complicate the matter and further unravel his frayed nerves. Besides, she trusted the WynSprigns. She gave him a few minutes to glower and cool off though before they reconvened to have their group discussion.
Once gathered, and sitting closely together, the maps were then splayed out atop the trampled grasses.
“Gish will first take out the tower guards-” Treva started, but Gish cut in to update her.
“Guard. Not guards,” he corrected. “I was pleased to find they had only a single guard stationed. Likely because there aren’t as many to spare for such duties anymore.”
Treva grew a satisfied smile at that. “Yes Gish, that is a good discovery indeed. Excellent.” She cleared her throat and continued, “After Gish has taken out the tower guard, we will enter the encampment in calculated waves before sunrise. Remember, the WynSprigns will still be asleep. Marin and Anah will rouse them at Gish’s signal from the tower. The encampment is so vast that I strongly believe there will be some that will wake and still arrive at the mines for work regardless of our efforts.” Treva pointed to the map. The Purple Hall Mine was the largest of all the trillium mines and therefore, held the majority of slaves. The purple hue of her hand was stark against the yellowed parchment. “As the WynSprign slaves wake and arrive for their work, you’ll be there to greet them.” She pointed to Marin and Gish. “You two are to rendezvous while Anah remains guiding them out at the trench. Any other Mysra approaching the mine we will take out.” She then focused on her canteen, taking a swift tug from it. “Felena and Freck will have already made their way toward the center of the encampment by then, to alert those slaves there. They will take out any Mysra guard attackers encountered.”
“Then, we-” Lanico motioned to Treva while still glancing around at them all, “will have made our way to the castle and wait for the castle guards to be called down to leave. Once in, we will fight off any castle guards.” Lanico then glanced at his Knighted Second Lieutenant, “Treva, you mentioned the entrance on the side that had our old sparring circle?”
She nodded, also choosing not to elaborate her exact plan to breach the castle just as Lanico wouldn’t elaborate his expectation to kill Grude. Lanico read her stare. “It’s a way—save for you, I don’t believe Izra would have wanted anyone to know about it.” She’d share that detail with him. “Later.”
He understood, it was a sensitive secret that somehow involved his de
ceased General Lieutenant and oathed-brother.
Not as engaged as everyone else, Marin wandered off to the side. His purple stare now fixed over the sleepy encampment far beyond the ridge.
“It shouldn’t be too challenging once in the castle,” Lanico pondered, dashing a quick glance to his son, then back to the map.
“But we’d have to get the Mysra guards to leave Grude at the castle. The fewer guards in the castle, the better,” Treva added.
Gish chimed in unexpectedly, “We should make a diversion at the Purple Hall Mine. That’s their most precious trillium resource even if my father isn’t using as much with the reduced Mysra population. Trust when I say, he still wants that reserve all for himself,” He knew his father, Grude’s love—addiction—well. Thankfully, the continued lack of slaves only made further mining in the southern range a dream now. Driven by his hatred of the cruelty inflicted upon the innocent slaves and also by his own experienced abuse, Gish would see Lanico’s triumph through.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 17
