53. The Ice King
1884 Words
Out of all of the guards, all the Saints, and all the servants King Tor has killed, there was no princess.
Most of his soldiers died that day, and the king did not get what he was set to take.
The princess had disappeared, while in the night, in front of all his guards, a lightning struck and killed half of his army.
He never knew how.
But he knew who it was.
She was left behind to buy time for the fugitives and she managed to accomplish her mission.
A little Saint girl.
Only the thought of his prize, made him smile wickedly.
She was all dressed in a white, shiny knee-long shirt. She was wearing all white, and even her boots were all shining in the night, like a little star. Her hair was long, braided in a complicated, beautiful, and unreal hairstyle, which he found as impressive as her attitude toward him. Her hair was black as the night, her eyes were deep blue like two drops of aquamarine gems.
So... innocent.
She was skinny, but her body was moving like she was dancing in the air.
Unreal, scary, yet gracious like a ghost.
A blade was shining in her right hand, and that amused King Tor.
Again... another one, another woman, to hold a weapon in her arm? That was hilarious.
Boring too, to only watch her slicing his guards, one by one, gaining his interest and attention.
With impossible controlling moves, mastering that blade like a pro, she had managed to almost defeat his last skillful soldiers, forged in the battles of the kingdoms.
She, a little girl!!!
Anger rose inside him boiling, and he decided to stop the killing and take charge.
The shadow traitor, the Assassin who wed a Warchild was gone.
Somewhere, he did not know how or when he was just gone. Like magic.
The Saints took them and covered them both in their light and they had just vanished somehow, leaving her... behind.
She... she was... small. But fierce.
Strangely, when she raised her sword against him, it seemed familiar to him in the fighting style displayed by this little girl. Something like the style of the traitor he had fought, the one who had slipped through his fingers earlier.
Their style was almost.. the same.
She... started to fight him!
At first, he was amused, but then, he realized she meant it. She was seriously attacking him!
She went for the kill. And she had touched him!
Her blade got too close to his throat, and only chance and his automatic muscle memory, from years of training, only that had helped him to escape with life from her attack.
She really meant it! So he fought her too.
His blade was heavy on her, blowing hit after hit, yet she did not tremble.
She stood her ground, hard breathing, indeed, but she stood her ground.
He stroked, she blocked, she stroked, she touched him cutting his cheek, again!!! building his anger even more.
How was that even possible??
It was incredible, the way she could move with that blade in her hands, and her entire body was a weapon against him!
She swung her sword in his direction and he defended the blow, and with the other hand, he struck her with the scabbard which he lightly removed from his belt. His raw force spoke.
The blow threw her back about 5 steps because he was stronger, but that still didn't stop her!
She attacked him fiercely, and he defended and stoke again, and again, and again, and her attacks were lightning-fast as he tried to defend himself with his scabbard and attack with the edge of his sword.
It was hard work with this one, he had to admit. He was intrigued. Even more impressed.
First, the Warchild b***h, then this Saint female? What was it with today?
Was there something in the wind, perhaps??
Have faith decided to be entertained by him? Did the Gods want a show? Were they bored too?
He managed to defend her strike again while he grabbed her by the neck and pushed her hard into the wall of the outpost, which broke around the corners, from his blow to her body, yet she managed to escape and swung her sword at him again, trying to regain her breath. She was tough.
He attacked her, and she defended, but his strength again threw her against the wall, and he thought he would crush her body right there.
Yet, she managed to hit him in the head with her elbow, and that hurt!
So impressive!!
He was so furious that she was slipping like that through his fingers, that he somehow managed to just throw her body again with one strong foot kick right into the wall and broke another corner, while her body hit the ground countless times.
And yet... she did not once quit.
It just was not enough?
They were both bleeding, but she would still stand her ground.
Was she not afraid to die? Good, so he did not stop either.
She did not once give up, yet he knew very well his strength and he could see the impact of his raw force on her tiny little body.
Her sword was set to kill him and his was too, set to kill.
She defended against one of his strokes, but he being taller, managed to push her on her knees on the ground, stopping the blow with her blade, while trying to push it down and away from her neck.
While he was trying to push it down on her, both swords crossed were touching her left shoulder and she was struggling really hard down on her knees to hold the position.
He pushed his blade into hers with all his might, yet she did not give in.
He even pressed the crossed swords with his knee against her, and that alone brought her down even lower, closer to the ground, with her own blade cutting hard into her shoulder.
And he was still pressing against her blade, and pressing even more.
The cut was deep enough and blood started to wet her shirt, yet she held the grip of her sword, gasping in pain and gritting her teeth but trying to resist.
But his body was a killing machine, and he knew that, while hers, it was just like a delicate flower.
With the thorns that pierced him. He must give her that...
Now she was bleeding profusely, for the blade had already cut her shoulder blade, because she could no longer cope with the grip of the swords he was pushing with all his might into her body.
It was a dead end for her at that point. There was no way out and she knew it.
She was out of breath already, feeling an unbearable pain and bleeding too much.
She was already staggering and about to collapse.
He knew the signs, for he had been in the clutches of death so many times.
The moment she lost her balance, his sword was already at her neck, and his looks triumphant.
Her eyes locked into his for a second, giving him the satisfaction of the triumph.
The back of the handle just hit her in the head leaving her unconscious, falling on the ground at his feet.
Unconscious angel in his hands.
He grabbed her inert body and threw it over his shoulder like a hunting prize and walked away.
He brought her into his castle and had a doctor check on her wound. She woke up right when they were burning her cuts and she again passed out unconscious.
She fought hard for her life. He admired that in her.
She had been fighting the fevers for almost two weeks. Chained into his bed.
With him sleeping in his room, right next to her.
She was chained, so he had nothing to fear from her. Or at least, this was what the soldiers were whispering around the corners.
The moment she woke up, those big blue eyes stroked him with that intense interior force that only a summoner owns.
He even asked himself once... did she have the power to command his soul?
He did not want to hurt her and he was not a soft man. He had never been.
Yet, her eyes were searching, and they were stirring something into his soul.
He felt weak in front of her and he could not have that.
She said no words for days. He made sure she was starved, she was deprived of water, of any luxury any female could desire.
She was thrown in the dungeon in chains and when he remembered she was there, and he was the one who had ordered the guards not to feed her, he felt... worried and... sorry about his cruelty.
That was strange, as it did not happen before. But she looked so... vulnerable that was waking in him the need to protect her.
Was she starving? Would she eat with him? Would she talk?
He ordered the guards to bring her to his room. They brought her and he looked at her standing in front of him, with her eyes on the ground, pale and thin like a ghost. Barely holding on. Barely standing.
-Sit! The king made a sign with his hand, showing her a place where she could sit at the table. Or you could starve, whatever!
As the guards withdrew next to the walls, the king started to eat, apparently not really caring about the guest with chained hands.
He broke into pieces the chicken from his plate and one piece he almost threw it on a plate, on the table towards her, while he put the others in his mouth like he was a starving man. He ate with no manners, that was his table anyway and he did not care.
He raised his eyes in time to catch her gaze was horrified, she was looking at him and not in a good way, watching him eat and not liking it.
-Eahh, you look just like my mother scolding me at the table... he whispered to himself, so used to be on his own that he did not realize that she could hear him. Which she did.
-Then you have learned nothing all this time from her? Poor mother!
Her voice was a heavenly melody but her words cut through his brain like the blade in her shoulder.
He almost threw himself at her, jumping from his seat and his hands open like claws ready to break her neck.
He stopped just in time, sending only a warning to her.
-You... DO NOT... SPEAK... unasked in front of me... or I'll just break your neck! You can just eat, or get back to the cell... which one do you choose?
He asked her mockingly, looking at her and thinking that perhaps, he was giving her a reasonable choice? Was that it??
She did not lose her temper in front of him. She lowered her eyes and her face changed into no expression.
She learned better from Kaion. She learned some things about this world.
She showed no fear when she answered:
-I wish to eat.
- Writer
