THE SWORD OF DESTINY

Maybe they are just lazy

Ryland Drakaraeth insouciantly walked his horse along the streets of a mining village. Lifeless stiffs were strewn all over the place, adding an obscure atmosphere to the morning air. Nearby, some Drak’ar warriors were collecting spoils – gold and silver trinkets from the corpses. After an easy battle – more of a one sided slaughter, Ryland had successfully annexed the settlement. It actually came as a surprise to him that the realm poorly guarded this village, rich in gold. At the village’s center, they had found two chests full of gold and silver buried underneath some wheat. The only defense they encountered were a mere ten inadequately trained men, and to the Drak’ar warriors, the fight they put up was more like a child’s play. Ryland Drakaraeth was beginning to think that the men of the Iron Kingdom were outright lazy, that maybe Skarnok was right when he said that they would still defeat them even if they came with a large army.

Under Khan Rolo’s command, each Valkyry had led five hundred men to attack nearby settlements. Surprisingly, Ryland had successfully convinced the great Khan to side with his notion about continuing the offense until the larger horde arrived. Though Skarnok was more than dissuaded that their chieftain preferred the advice of a mere pup to his, the strongest Valkyry, he could not refuse to comply. However, to appease his frustration, Ryland was given fifty men and directed to be the first to set off, as this was his idea. This was an extremely wise decision from Khan Rolo, as it would keep his two hotheaded warriors from each other’s throats. Ryland was more than happy to obey.

“The women here are really strange…” Ryland said as he casually assessed a group of captives rounded up at the center of the village. His eyes scrutinized them as a healer would to a newly discovered herb.

“They are too….”

“Clean” one of the Drak’ar warriors laughed, obviously referring to the white robes most of them wore

“I was going to say timid, but that too” Ryland replied with a smile. And as he did, he approached one of them. She was a slightly plump woman, seemingly young and in her prime years. She had long brown hair, carefully laced in a bizarre outlandish way, quite different from the way the Drak’ar knotted theirs. Moreover, it was still beautiful in a pristine way. He reached for her hair, slowly, to indicate that he was not intent on harming her, but she instantly flinched and coiled further from him.

“Should we kill them?” another warrior inquired

“Why? They can cook and mend to our horses,” Ryland replied

“What if they decide to poison us?” he shot again

“I don’t know. Kill them or spare them…just do what you feel like.” Ryland’s eyes were still fixated on the woman in front of him.

He took a step forward, closing the distance between him and her, and then crouched so that they were on the same level. Using his right index finger, he lifted the woman’s chin, to easily assess her face.

“Does the Iron Kingdom have any ….” Ryland hesitated, as if trying to think of a better word “….fighting warriors?” he added after a few seconds

“She won’t understand you. They don’t speak our tongue.” A warrior stated

Sighing helplessly, Ryland let go of the woman’s chin, then abruptly unsheathed his dagger. The woman stared at the dagger for a while then at Ryland, her face getting firmer by the second. The way the sight of the dagger emboldened her instead of instilling fear, baffled Ryland. Then in an act of brazen defiance and hatred, she spat on his face.

“I think she understands me alright” Ryland smiled as he got up. He wiped the spit off his face.

“She’s a feisty one, I think she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t” Ryland replied, “She hates me. I killed her husband with this blade.”

He leisurely walked around the bunch of captives, dagger still in hand. The Drak’ar warriors around were waiting for Ryland’s go ahead to execute. The prisoners, as if having accepted their fate, looked down waiting for their imminent death. They literally had no hope for a savior, and earlier on, their attackers showed no remorse while they killed. Sooner or later, they would be dead, and the prolonged suspense was doing them no favors.

After a few minutes, more like hours to the prisoners, Ryland finally spoke.

“Release them,” he said

“What?” an instant objection sounded. The prisoners, just as surprised as the Drak’ar warriors, looked up to Ryland with puzzlement.

“Release them, let them go…”