by T.M. Nielsen
***
Alric’s sword sliced through the Qualsax warrior, and he spun and instantly headed out after another. He hated spilling this much blood, but they had attacked one of the smaller villages in his kingdom, and he couldn’t let it slide.
“Oh, I get the king,” one of the Qualsax said, facing off with Alric.
Alric didn’t answer but brought his sword down on the warrior, who matched his move and their swords hit between them with a spark.
The Qualsax was no longer amused. “Let’s see if the king can fight, then.”
Alric felt his blood pumping as he attacked the warrior. They were evenly matched, and the Qualsax was able to block most of his moves but couldn’t get the chance to counter-attack. He was too busy defending.
When their swords clashed again between them, the Qualsax grinned. “Heard your wife left you. Guess she’s smarter than we first thought.”
Alric roared and lunged, sending his sword through the middle of the warrior. The Qualsax looked at him with wide eyes and then slowly sunk to the ground.
He turned, ready to attack another, but saw only villagers and his knights standing before him.
“Thank you, my Lord,” one woman said, dropping to her knees before him.
The rest of the villagers fell to their knees, thanking him for saving them. He nodded to Finn, who ordered the knights to mount up and go back to the castle. Alric followed, and soon, the ominous force was riding through Valharan land.
