Chapter 22 - In Need

Chapter 22 - In Need

--Earlier--

T he sun hung high, casting long, golden streaks through the trees.

Midafternoon warmth soaked the heavy air, buzzing with insects and birdsong. Suddenly, a group of children burst through the treeline, breathless and flushed. Their sandals kicked up clouds of dust as they tumbled toward the nearby village post where two guards stood lazily chatting in the shade.

"H-hey!" one boy cried out, his voice cracking with panic. "Help! Please!"

A little girl near the back tripped over her own feet, crashing hard onto her knees in the dirt. "Lyra and his younger brother—t—they went into the forest!"

One of the guards furrowed his brow, stepping toward them. "What do you mean? Alone?"

The tallest child nodded frantically, his face pale. "Yeah! They went deep! Lyra said she was just going to prove something and then her little brother ran in right after her!"

The second guard straightened up immediately, all traces of laziness vanishing. "How long ago was this?"

The children exchanged glances.

"...A while," the girl mumbled, shame creeping into her voice as tears welled in her eyes. "P-please help them!"

The first guard knelt in front of them, his hands gripping the boy's shoulders. "Which way?"

With trembling fingers, the children pointed toward an overgrown trail—narrow, dense, and rarely used. A path meant for seasoned hunters, not kids.

"Go straight home," the second guard ordered, already turning back toward the watch station. "Now!"

He pulled a brass whistle from his tunic and blew a sharp, piercing note that echoed across the perimeter. Within seconds, another guard came sprinting down the road.

"Alert the head house immediately! Find Reyna and Thorskil!" the guard barked, his voice tight with rising dread. "We have two children unaccounted for in the deep wood!"

***

--Samsworth Household, Fifteen Minutes Later--

Inside the comfort of the Samsworth kitchen, Reyna was kneading a large batch of fresh bread dough, her movements steady and practiced. A series of frantic knocks against the heavy oak front door abruptly shattered the rhythmic, soothing sound of her work.

"Coming!" she called out, wiping the white flour from her hands onto her apron. She hurried across the room and swung the door wide.

"Oh, Carter! Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

A local guard stood on the porch, doubled over and panting heavily. Sweat dripped down his nose, his chest heaving as he fought to draw breath.

"It's... it's the children!"

Reyna's heart dropped into her stomach. Every bit of warmth instantly drained from her face.

"What do you mean? What happened?" she demanded, the question trembling in her throat even as a cold, sickening motherly instinct gave her the answer before he could speak.

"Your daughter," the guard gasped, looking up with apologetic eyes. "And the boy. They crossed the w-western fence. T-they're in the forest right now."

***

--Thorskil--

I headed along the path towards the house, singing softly to myself.

I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how good I had done in bargaining about the sale of our extra cattle in the city of Fritz. The saddlebags on Kelsey’s right were full of supplies, while those on the left were ringing with the weight of copper, silver, and gold coins.

Primarily silver because I had used up a huge portion of the gold for buying something for my son.

A red leather-bound book was resting against my hip, safely secured beneath my belt. It was a newly bought version of Source of Power, a grimoire which my son Kyro kept reading with such passion.

I took a quick glance down at the pristine gold lettering on the spine, letting out a soft, dry chuckle.

A hundred gold coins for a stack of paper... You better be worth it, kid.

As I pulled Kelsey up to the entrance gate, I noticed one of the village guards rushing out from our yard. He skidded to a halt the moment his eyes landed on me and my horse.

"Oh, Carter," I called out, offering a easy smile. "Good afternoon."

"Sir! We—we've got bad news!"

My brow furrowed, my smile faltering as a sudden, sharp chill ran down my spine. "What is it...?"

BAM!

The heavy oak front door burst open, slamming against the house wall.

Reyna marched out onto the porch. She was still wearing her flour-dusted apron, but resting heavily across her shoulder was her massive, iron-headed battle-axe. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes burning with a terrifying, desperate fire.

"THORS!"

I nearly jumped off my saddle. "Rey?! What's—what are you doing with—?"

"The children!" she screamed, her voice cracking with raw panic.

My breath hitched. I snapped my head back to the guard, the air leaving my lungs all at once.

"Carter... what happened?"

After some explaining, I nodded. I told Reyna to go along, and I'll follow behind shortly.

It was only when her sandals struck the porch steps that my composed mask broke down. I dashed inside, my boots pounding on the wooden steps as I climbed up to the second story where our bedroom was located.

Inside, the room was quiet and bathed in warm afternoon sunlight.

I approached with an eerie fluidity, heading for the large wooden weapon stand placed on the shelves. I was instantly drawn to the sword placed in the middle. The blade itself and its sheath were as black as pitch. It was the legendary sword strong enough to slice armies in a single swing.

Excalibur of Destruction.

My breathing stopped. My hand reached out for the hilt, shaking a little. To wield that weapon here was to release a destructive power that I promised myself would forever remain buried, destroying everything in its path.

In those terrible moments, images of Kyro’s youthful face and Lyra’s determined eyes flashed before me.

My fingers brushed the cold black hilt, but I forced myself to stop. I took a sharp, jagged breath and shifted my grip to the side, pulling down a simpler, heavy iron-forged longsword instead.

That one would do.

Sheathing the steel at my waist with a sharp click, I turned and bolted back down the stairs to hunt down whoever dared lay a hand on my children.

***

--Saul, Moments Later--

Meanwhile, deep within the forest, the village guards pushed through the tangled underbrush as fast as their heavy boots and leather armor allowed. But I was already moving far ahead of them.

I had not uttered a single syllable when the panicked children brought the alarm to the village center. In fact, the millisecond the name of Lyra and the mention of her little brother left the boy's trembling lips, my body had reacted long before my conscious mind could even process the terror. I had seized my primary sword, smoothly slid a concealed steel dagger into my right boot, and vanished into the dense, overgrown foliage before the guards had even finished asking which direction they went.

I ran at an insane pace that did not cease, yet I made no noise as I navigated the forest. I did not know precisely what had happened, but a gut feeling in the very marrow of my bones told me that we were losing time. My eyes scanned the damp earth quickly, searching for any ray of hope.

There.

The footprints of two small and frenzied feet pressed into the ground. One set belonged to a young girl, while the other was that of a boy of five. My chest constricted into a tight knot of pain, yet I refused to stop running. The footprints brought me through a narrow gap between old trees and into a trampled clearing.

A wooden wagon stood right in the middle. The sharp, metallic stench of blood hung heavy in the air alongside the smell of wet fur. Three big black wolves lay on the flatbed of the wagon, bleeding into the wood.

I came to a dead standstill, narrowing my eyes.

An iron arrowhead was embedded inches deep into the solid bark of a nearby tree. It was a clear kill shot that had just barely missed its target. I turned slightly, following the line of sight. More arrows stuck aggressively out of the bark further down, forming a trail going deeper into the woods.

The children were running for their lives, and someone was actively trying to hunt them.

"Tch."

I followed the trail downward. The forest darkened significantly as I descended into the thick, treacherous lowlands. The air grew suffocating and damp, reeking of stagnant moisture and rotting wood. Moss clung to everything like a heavy shroud. I was entering the deep swamp.

And then, I heard it. The heavy, careless crunch of leather boots in the mud. The sickening sound of arrogant laughter echoing through the dense mist.

There they are.

With utmost stealth, I crept into the shade where I pressed my back tightly against the tree trunk of a gigantic weeping willow. I watched their actions carefully through the dangling moss. They were counted one by one. Six bandits with weapons—the five sluggishly wading through the marsh and their leader arrogantly walking slightly ahead with a scar on his left eyelid.

Silently, my sword was drawn out of its sheath. I drew a long breath, held firmly onto the hilt of the sword, and sprang forth into their midst.

[End]