Circle of Reign (4 page)

As Reign reached the borders of her family’s hold, she knew her father would come now. He would come and he would save her. The sound of the pursuer’s footfall was thunderous in her ears, like the cacophony of a thousand men on horseback, but she knew that was the adrenaline. She had been taught from the walking years that adrenaline heightened the senses, propelling the mind to an exaggerated state. The man was so close now. She did not need the senses of a wood-dweller to know this.

A snarl came forth from the man and startled her. He couldn’t be that close. A cold finger brushed against her shoulder but slipped off before it could secure a hold. She gasped a sharp inward breath that hurt her chest, so quick was her intake of musty air as she splashed through a span of murky puddles. Risking a glance down and to the left, Reign glimpsed a marred reflection in an undisturbed puddle of a ghastly white hand nearly upon her, reaching and frantically grasping for her. Her face had drained of blood and was as pale as the outstretched felonious hand that
sought her. A meadow opened around her as she ran and she felt even more vulnerable as the familiar and comforting canopy of branches faded into the starry night.

“Threyihl!” she screamed desperately, calling for her father in ancient Arlethian.

Suddenly, the ground shook behind her and a deep cry of surprise filled her ears. She turned her head and saw her father down on one knee, his back to her. She stopped running.

I knew you would come
, Reign thought triumphantly. It truly was no surprise to her that he had arrived just as she reached the moments of most desperate need. His sword, held by both his hands out in front of him, had half its length driven point first into the earth. He was kneeling with his head bowed as an aura of barely perceptible shimmering air radiated outward from him, as if a protective shield. The rain fell around her father but not on him. As the light refracted through the drops of rain, a faint halo of light shone around him in the night. Reign knew she was seeing her father in this moment the way legends spoke of him, as a near mythical warrior that could alone vanquish hordes of enemies. People of all create whispered that her father had almost singlehandedly vanquished the Orsarians on the Runic Islands, people of demonic influence who had attempted to invade and overthrow the Realm from regions unknown. The Changrual said they had escaped from the Fathomless Abyss to torment mankind for their lack of heed given to the Ancient Heavens. Reign had no doubt the Orsarians had feared her father as she now saw him, pulsing with power. She stood in awe of his presence. Relief washed over her, momentarily dampening her internal raging fire of fear.

Roughly twenty paces back lay her assailant, wrapped in a painful contortion around the base of a moss-covered tree. Reign’s fear evaporated. She knew she was safe now. Her father had come. He feared nothing.

In a silent flash of righteous fury, Thannuel Kerr dropped over one hundred feet from the height of the trees to the wet forest floor. He hit the ground crouched and drove the point of his sword downward, penetrating the soil and simultaneously releasing some of the forest’s strength outward. An invisible shockwave blasted forward from him and threw his daughter’s attacker backwards through the air at impossible speed. Lord Kerr raised himself and stood erect, sword at his side, with only fury and determination filling him. Precipitation found him finally as the hollow ringed clouds moved above and dripped from his brow to his chin, but did not obscure his focus.

Kerr stared at the man who was nearly wrapped around the tree that ceased his backward flight and recognized him as a chase-giver. Shock and bewilderment began to germinate inside him but were instantly recycled, adding to Thannuel’s heightened sensory perception. He did indeed know this kind, a Helsyan of ancient descent. They served the High Duke, whom Thannuel ruled under as a Provincial Lord. Duke Wellyn and he were old friends, although the years had seen them become somewhat estranged.

Such a forceful assault would have killed most anyone, but the chase-giver collected himself with apparent ease, as if awakening from a deep sleep. Thannuel was lost for the reasoning of the circumstances and, though he remained focused and recycled the frictions running through him, understood completely the immediate situation. He could sense Reign had ceased her run and now peered out from behind him at the chase-giver.
She must not witness what now comes
, he prayed silently.

Without taking his eyes from the chase-giver, Kerr said to Reign, “Flee for the hold. Wake Aiden. Do not hesitate.” There was no fear in his voice, only the timbre of command. Reign did hesitate, however, understandably not wanting to leave the safety of her father’s side. Kerr spoke again, more insistently this time, turning his head slightly toward her but not allowing the chase-giver to escape his sight. “Child, will you not obey your father? Do as I have said.”

Reign started to run again.

Kerr watched the chase-giver’s eyes follow his daughter as she ran toward the magnificent hold his family had maintained for untold generations nestled in the southeast outlying of Calyn. The stare bespoke a sadistic craving, a hunger that could only be sated with the butchery of his daughter.

“Leave my hold and woods now,” the chase-giver heard Lord Kerr say. “I command it as Provincial Lord of the West and of Arlethia. You have no place here.” Though the chase-giver could tell Lord Kerr recognized what he was, he could sense no fear from him.
Odd
, he thought.
What man does not fear my kind? And my Charge, a lord’s child?

“I am Charged with the girl,” came his simple reply. “My Liege has given her to me. She is
mine
. I cannot cease.”

“She is under the age of innocence. You have no claim on her!” Thannuel thundered. “You
will
leave.”

“My Dahlrak does not recognize your imposed laws of innocence. You know my kind, Arlethian. You know what you have done by your interruption,” the Helsyan sneered as his predatory smile re-formed on his face.

As Kerr now stood between the chase-giver and his quarry, he instantly became part of the
Dahlrak
, part of the Charge. Helsyan and Arlethian had never been allies and so having this opportunity was nothing but increased pleasure to the chase-giver. The dull pain that had erupted through his body as he was flung unexpectedly backward by Kerr’s sudden appearance was quickly receding as the power of his expanded
Dahlrak
began to take hold. His lips parted tightly around his clenched teeth and he began to seethe and salivate heavily.

There was only one person the chase-giver could be referring to as having Charged this monster with his daughter. But it made no sense.

Why? What had Reign done?

No further words were spoken. Kerr knew they would simply be wasted. He had a fleeting thought of recognition that he should be afraid, but fear would find no purchase within him as that friction would be quickly recycled. He decided in this moment, without compunction, that his calling of fatherhood was not only more important than his lordship, but also more powerful in its ability to cause meaningful action. Kerr was not under any spell of false hope. He knew what he faced this night, even if he did not know why. He would not, for he could not, back down.

He readied himself.

The chase-giver attacked with speed and determination. He smiled with arrogant defiance as Kerr parried his blows, as if he were engaged in a simple game, a mere exercise. Kerr fought fiercely, without any sign of trepidation. Suddenly, from a far corner in the back of his mind, a warning sounded forth. Vibrations born of iron horseshoes thumping on the earth came to the forefront of his mind just as the second attacker, who had been absent until now, rushed onto the scene and attempted to flank Kerr. Thannuel bounded up and away from the chase-giver, narrowly avoiding the slower though lethal blows of the Khansian Guard’s sword. He berated himself severely for becoming distracted to a degree that made him lose track of all threats around him. Ricocheting off several trees, the wood-dweller appeared to almost fly as he gained altitude above his attackers. He landed vertically against a large Triarch and drew in more strength, all that the tree would lend him. His sword hummed more intensely as the power that was gathering within him reached a climax and was then channeled through the specialized ore from which his sword was forged.

When he could contain no more, Thannuel sprang from his position and thrust himself downward directly at the Khansian
Guard. The man raised his shield and knelt down to shelter as much of his body as possible against the attack, but it mattered little.

“
Vrathia
!” Kerr yelled a split second before the point of his dark blade made contact. The Khan’s shield exploded into a swarm of wooden splinters and metal shards. The sword found home in the man’s chest. His cry was cut short and replaced by an ear-splitting crunch as Kerr shot weaponized wrath through his body, pulverizing bone to powder and reducing organs to mere fluid. The Khan jerked on the ground, sprawling in the mud in silent freakish movements, bending and pulling his body in ways nature never intended before finally falling still and dead.