Chapter 21 - Forest

Chapter 21 - Forest

M y legs pumped furiously, forcing my small, five-year-old muscles to drive through shifting dirt and a chaotic web of tangled roots.

Oh shit... what have I done..?

I raised a hand and slapped my own cheek as hard as I could.

Why did she take it so personally? No shit, Sherlock! Of course she did! Anyone yelled at like that would take it personally! E-especially an eight-year-old who just wanted to learn magic!

The sharp briers beat fiercely against my arms. The leaves of the bushes grabbed onto the fabric of my shirt, tearing at it, cutting into my skin, but I never stopped running. The pain searing my lungs was nothing compared to the terror clawing its way up my throat.

"Paul, you dumbass…" I spat out the name of my former life with utter bitterness.

Each and every time I blinked, there was her face. The precise moment when the expression on her face almost broke down and her jaw clenched.

I didn't mean any of that. I was just tired. Frustrated, too. But excuses didn't mean a damn thing out here.

A thick, hidden root caught the toe of my shoe. I stumbled hard, my momentum hurling me forward, but I desperately threw my weight sideways, scraping my hip against a tree trunk to catch myself before eating dirt.

When I scrambled back up, my eyes locked onto the ground. I gasped.

"Is that... blood?"

A dark splatter marred the vibrant green fern leaves beside my grey shoes. I skidded to a sudden halt, my soles digging deep furrows into the wet soil. My eyes widened in terror as I dropped to one knee, my trembling hand shoving a frond aside. But there was another large smudge. Then there was a clearly defined streak. Red marks streaked the leaves, some already dried brown, while others were wet and fresh.

That's too much blood for a rabbit or a bird.

"No, no, no..." I whispered, my voice trembling.

There must have been some struggle. But what if she was—

"AHH! LET ME GO!"

Before I could let the thought destroy me, a scream ripped through the canopy. It came from far away, barely audible, but definitely her voice.

"Lyra!"

I bolted. I cleared a massive, rotting log in a desperate leap, rounded a crumbling dirt ridge, and skidded to a halt.

"Hey, do you see any extra-wet stone around here?"

Those were... voices? Clear voices belonging to adults could be heard carried by the wind ahead. I ducked down, moving towards the cover offered by a thickly grown briar bush. My breathing became shallow and through my nose; I made sure that no twig under my feet was stepped on.

I pushed aside the prickly leaves a bit, and my breath hitched.

Six men stood in a wide, sun-dappled clearing. They wore ragged and dirty black garb with woollen scarves wrapped around their faces. They had thick leather boots covered in dark, muddy stains as they loaded three large carcasses of black wolves on to the back of a rickety wooden cart.

Each animal was a grotesque thing, with coarse hair and evidence of a fierce battle. There was blood on them, but their entry wounds were neat and clean, with no sign of panic.

A few feet away from them, Lyra sat bound to a large oak tree. She had her hands tied up behind her with rope. Her face was streaked with dirt. From where I am at, she looked perfectly fine. Her sword lay far away from her on the grass, rusted by neglect.

"Phew... thank goodness that blood wasn't hers." I whispered.

The bigger bandit dumped a large black wolf skin into the back of the wagon with a grunt, swiping at the greasy sweat from his forehead.

"We are glad for your contribution, girlie," he leered, showing off his yellowed teeth. "There is money to be made at the border towns with those pelts and teeth from these black wolves."

Another bandit slouched against the side of one of the wagons, crossing his arms above his leather chest plate.

"Boss," he barked, jerking his head toward the girl. "What do we do with the little miss?”

Another figure came quietly into view from beneath the pine trees. He struck a crude match, and the sulfur ignited in a blaze of fiery orange against the darkening greenery of the forest. Dark hair was brushed back from his forehead; iron gray streaked his temples. A long jagged scar marred his left eyelid. A broadsword hung at his back. His tone was quiet, cool, and bristling with command.

“We take her with us,” he said, snuffing out the match. “If we don’t, she races right back to that village, and they all know something’s up before we’ve even started our raid.”

One of the men let out a dark laugh. "Or we could have a little fun first. She’s got some spirit."

"She’d fetch a high price on the eastern slave blocks, too," another added, missing several front teeth. "The Varellos nobles love young girls."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Lyra roared, her voice shaking.

The leader exhaled a long stream of gray smoke, his cold eyes drifting toward the wagon. "Honestly, it's impressive. A girl your age killing three mature black wolves alone? What do they feed you people in that backwater farmland?"

A lanky bandit with greasy hair took a slow step toward her, a sickening grin stretching across his face. "Maybe we ought to inspect the merchandise up close." He drew his sword from his hip, the silver blade reflecting Lyra's face.

The scar-faced leader didn't bother looking back. "Load the gear. We move out in an hour."

Lyra’s breath turned sharp and shallow. Her small wrists strained against the thick ropes. "Keep your dirty hands off me!" she barked, a note of raw panic rising in her throat.

The greasy bandit kept creeping closer, his shadow falling over her like a heavy curtain. "Or what, brat? You gonna bite me like those dead mutts?"

"I said stay back!" Her voice cracked, a volatile mix of fury and childlike terror.

"Aw, look at that," the man snickered. "The little killer is getting scared."

Lyra frowned as the gold of her eyes shimmered with tears yet to fall. She shook her head and panted in a wild, erratic pattern.

"Don’t move around too much, and you’ll get sliced open," the bandit whispered, raising his knife. "Bark on trees is tough. I’ll have you out in no time."

An oppressive feeling settled in the pit of her stomach; an awful realization she had tried so hard to escape. She could not physically fight her way out of this situation. Bound, without weapons, and hopelessly overpowered, her prowess was useless.

"P-Papa... M-Mama... Kyro..."

THUNK.

A clump of hard dirt smacked the greasy bandit square in the temple.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

His gaze snapped toward the tree line, but I wasn't waiting for him to figure out where it came from. I was already sprinting at full speed straight toward him.

"Who—?!"

I ducked low to the earth, sliding through the damp grass to bypass his guard, and slammed my open palm directly against his exposed stomach. Mana surged wildly to my hand.

FIREBALL!

A blinding red glow erupted from my palm, detonating at point-blank range.

BOOM!

The force of the blast threw us all back. The bandit slammed hard against a pine tree while Lyra and I tumbled through the dirt.

The rest of the men spun around at the noise. I forced my eyes open, scanning the ground, and spotted the bandit's fallen sword lying right next to me.

"K-Kyro?!" Lyra gasped, her jaw dropping.

I scrambled over to her and grabbed the sword. I dropped to my knees, ready to cut her free with the blade, but my eyes caught the coarse texture of the bindings. Rope was organic. I dropped the iron sword beside her, grabbing the thick fibers directly as my Mana Core flared to life inside my chest.

"What are you doing?! Get me out of here, Kyro!"

"I-I am!"

Energy rushed down my arms and flooded into my fingertips.

Wither!

The organic rope hissed softly as its cellular moisture was violently drained. The thick fibers shriveled, turned a brittle, ash-black charcoal, and crumbled into fine dust in my hands.

Lyra blinked, completely stunned. "Huh?"

But then the recoil got me. All of a sudden, a rush of intense dizziness assaulted my head, and my knees instantly buckled beneath me.

"H-Hey! This isn't the time to sleep!" Lyra caught my shoulders just before my face hit the dirt.

I let out a weak, raspy chuckle, desperately trying to shake the fog out of my head. "S-sorry... overdid it a bit..."

"KYRO, LOOK OUT!"

With a rush of adrenaline, Lyra pulled me hard against her, using all her strength to hold on to me. I found myself pressing my face against her blue shirt as an iron-tipped arrow embedded itself in the pine tree behind me.

I blinked, my vision slowly clearing through the fog. "Ow... what was—?"

Lyra’s golden eyes blazed with terror-filled rage. Her hands gripped the grip of the sword that was cast away, plucking it from the ground with ease.

"It's that bastard leader!"

The scarred leader remained a safe distance away near the fringes of the clearing. The man slowly relaxed the grip on his small bow, a wispy trail of smoke drifting upwards from the cigarette held in his mouth.

"That kid possesses some remarkably dangerous tricks," he muttered coldly to his men. "Interfering brat just made things complicated. Secure both of them."

The five remaining bandits fanned out, drawing their blades and closing in like wolves cornering wounded prey.

Lyra’s face shifted, her terrified expression melting straight into a wide grin. Her knuckles turned white around the hilt of the stolen iron sword. "Heh... beautiful. I was getting bored anyway."

"Geez, what's wrong with you?!" I almost blacked out from shock. She was crying while being tied up to that tree just a few moments ago!

"No!" I yanked hard on her wrist, pulling her back. "You won't last five seconds against five grown men! Run!"

"What?!" She blinked, genuine shock in her eyes. "You want to run ?!"

"Think fast or we both die!" I didn't wait for her permission. I instantly locked my fingers around her sleeve and shoved her forward.

"Ugh, I hate you!" she hissed, but she pivoted, her boots churning up the soil as we bolted into the dense, uncharted thicket of the western woods.

A chorus of angry curses echoed from behind us. The pounding noise of heavy boots hitting the ground came closer way too fast. Stinging cuts appeared on our face due to the whips of sharp branches, and our clothes were torn by thorns. My immature lungs, that belonged to my five-year-old body, begged for air; but if I slowed down, I would die.

Phhwww—THUNK!

Two iron-tipped arrows slammed violently into the mossy trunk right between our heads, sending splinters flying into my hair.

"Move, move, MOVE!" I yelled, violently ducking beneath a massive, low-hanging oak branch.

All of a sudden, a figure loomed above us, descending from the branches of trees. It was a bandit wielding a large axe swinging in an unstoppable arc. Stopping our momentum would have put us right into the path of the blade. Without hesitation, Lyra used pure instinct to pivot her whole upper body and deflect with the sword that she had taken.

CLANG!

There was a flash of bright blue Aura around Lyra as the force of the collision made the axe’s handle break apart, raining down sparks upon the forest below.

"They're gaining!" Lyra panted, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"We're smaller!" I gasped back, my vision blurring around the edges. "Use it!"

We swerved sharply to the left and dove into an extremely close-packed group of very old trees. We slid smoothly into very tight physical openings between the tree trunks—openings much too tight for full-grown adults to fit. Behind us, there were resounding impacts and groans as the bandits crashed into the trees, having lost their momentum.

There were only five bandits shouting after us. The leader with the scar across his face was gone; he had disappeared into the very dark shadows of the forest to move around us. But we were running too fast for me to notice that he was gone.

Another bandit suddenly emerged from the fog on our right side, wielding a hunting knife. Lyra blocked the lunge automatically with a metallic scream and cut the knife from his grasp, then pushed my shoulder forward. "Keep your feet moving, Kyro!" as she followed just right behind me.

I quickly searched the surroundings in the dense fog with racing heart.

"There!" I pointed down a steep, moss-covered incline lined with slick, jagged roots.

At the bottom, half-hidden by brambles, lay the massive, hollowed trunk of a fallen ancient oak, sitting open like a dark, decaying tunnel.

We didn't hesitate. We threw ourselves down the slope, sliding out of control.

"GET BACK HERE!" a bandit roared, lunging blindly from the top of the ridge. His outstretched fingers scraped past the tips of Lyra's sky-blue hair by a millimeter as gravity yanked us straight down into the black abyss of the log.

There was an overwhelming smell of dampness and rot in the inside. As we fell down into the black tunnel while trying to maintain our balance, the tree barks scratched harshly against my body.

SPLASH!

We plunged into the water just outside the log, as if we were two stones being dropped. It was freezing cold, and dark, as well as very deep, much deeper than I would have imagined any river could be in the middle of the woods.

I kicked violently, breaking the surface, coughing out mouthfuls of bitter, stagnant water as I wiped my eyes. "Lyra?!"

Beside me, the water churned wildly.

"K-Kyro! I can't—!" Her head went under, her hands thrashing uselessly against the surface, bubbles bursting around her face.

She didn't know how to swim.

"I've got you!" I lunged through the freezing current, wrapping my arm firmly around her shoulder and dragging her chest up against mine. I swam us through the water, dragging her heavy, soaked form onto the muddy bank.

C-c'mon! The swimming training I had in high school was coming in handy.

Lyra continued to thrash around. "Damnit, Lyra! Stop moving or you'll drag me down with you!"

We collapsed entirely onto the wet, squelching shore, violently coughing up silt and shivering from the acute hypothermia, but our bodies were stable.

"We... we actually managed to create distance..." I wheezed between ragged breaths, my vision spinning. I slowly picked myself up as Lyra still lay, coughing next to me. "Come on, we better move before they-"

"How foolish," a cold, calm voice resonated from the shadows directly behind us.

I began to turn my head, but a fist as solid as solid granite slammed with terrifying velocity directly into my exposed ribcage.

WHUMP.

"EUGHH!"

All I could see was a white flash, while my stomach folded over itself with the impact. This threw me back into the mud, straight into the frigid pond. I was consumed by the water, while bubbles escaped from my mouth like crazy.

All I could feel was pain. My diaphragm couldn’t move at all, and it was not allowing air to enter my lungs. All my arms could do was hold onto my broken chest.

H-help! I-I can't breath..!

The bandit leader stepped smoothly out from beneath the weeping willows, casually cracking his knuckles. His hand-rolled cigarette was still clenched under his smirk, completely dry.

"You kids honestly almost impressed me out there," he murmured, looking down at the water.

Lyra staggered unsteadily back to her feet on the muddy bank. She was completely soaked, panting heavily, her small frame shivering violently from exhaustion. "Y-you-!"

She launched at him with all of her strength in a final burst of adrenaline, attacking with her iron sword and igniting her Aura to a bright, blinding shine for the very last time. However, he merely sidestepped her with chilling precision, easily dodging past her defenses and smashing his knee into her stomach.

CRACK.

Her brilliant blue Aura shattered instantly into a thousand dissipating fragments, like fragile glass catching a hammer. She choked violently, coughing up a mixture of saliva and bile as her body completely crumpled to its knees, her iron sword falling limply into the thick mud beside her.

The swamp around us fell completely silent, save for the soft, rhythmic ripples of the disturbed water... and the slow, heavy approach of leather boots crunching against the wet earth. The leader exhaled a long plume of gray smoke, his eyes entirely calm, almost amused as he watched Lyra struggle to maintain consciousness on her hands and knees.

"That was a good attempt to escape," he said, his voice low, casual, and entirely devoid of empathy, "but unfortunately... you're out of luck."

A pitiful groan escaped my lips as I tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up by making my unwilling body obey. I felt my arms and legs to be extremely heavy, leaden objects and my chest was squeezed so tightly that each tiny breath I could suck into my lungs made me feel as if I was being consumed by flames.

My hands scrabbled ineffectually through the thick mud around the pond.

L-Lyra... That was all I could think.

She was trembling violently, soaked to the bone and severely bruised, trying desperately to hoist her torso up from the dirt, but her internal aura veins were entirely burnt out. Her blue aura was completely gone. She had nothing left to give. The leader calmly reached down, his fingers calloused and brutal as he grabbed a massive handful of her long, sky-blue hair.

"You are one remarkably fiery little brat," he muttered, violently pulling her upward by her scalp until she was forced to look at him.

Lyra gasped, her teeth clenched in rage and pain.

"From what I've seen... you're already an Intermediate-level swordsman. Impressive for a kid who hasn't even hit ten." He tilted her face toward him, his cigarette trailing smoke past her cheek. "Your village must be hiding some serious talent."

Behind him, the heavy crunch of boots echoed through the clearing. The remaining five bandits had finally caught up, fanning out along the bank to surround us.

"They're literally just children, Boss," one muttered, spitting a glob of phlegm into the dirt. "Let's just slit their throats and get the wagon moving."

"No," the leader countered sharply, his cold eyes narrowing. "If a mere brat can execute martial arts at an Intermediate standard, that settlement must be hiding high-tier warriors. We haven't just stumbled across a simple raiding target... we may have just struck a goldmine."

One of them smiled, his yellow teeth sparkling in the dim light. "They say that the more developed a community is, the bigger the booty."

Y-you bastards... I gritted my teeth, my fingers digging deeper into the mud.

He yanked Lyra higher by her hair, lifting her small frame completely off her feet. She kicked her legs wildly, a guttural growl of pure defiance tearing from her throat while a stubborn, golden fire still burned in her eyes.

With all the strength I had left in me, I dragged myself out of the water. With each desperate gasp of air that I took, I was spitting out a lungful of foul water.

I need to move.. and save Lyra! I clutched the dirt as I stared at Lyra's form. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if Lyra dies here.

"LET HER GO!"

"Over there! S-someone's coming!" one of the bandits suddenly yelled.

The leader slowly turned his head toward the southern brush, his expression unbothered.

One of the thugs stepped forward, drawing his blade. "I'll handle it."

He didn't make it three steps before a flash of cold steel carved through the mist.

SHHK—!

The bandit's eyes went wide. A clean, blinding slash opened across both of his knees, dropping him like a sack of stones. Before he could even scream, a brutal kick caught his face, snapping his head back and silencing him instantly.

A deafening silence blanketed the swamp.

Heavy and slow footsteps resounded from within the weeping willows. From the mists emerged a powerful man. He wore a ripped leather travel jacket with a rip at the shoulder and carried a steel sword that dripped fresh drops of blood.

It was Saul.

His piercing, black gaze locked directly onto the bandit leader's face. His expression was completely unreadable. It was devoid of anger, devoid of hesitation, and brimming with lethality.

"Put the girl down," he commanded, his voice dead flat. "Now."

[End]