A love forged in exile

Chapter 2: The Ambush

Kaelin's heart pounded in his chest as he stared into the gathering shadows outside the cave. The Forsaken scouts were silent, their figures blending into the darkened landscape like phantoms. There were at least three of them, maybe more, and they moved with the lethal precision of trained killers.

Tarin's grip tightened around the hilt of her sword. Her eyes flicked toward Kaelin, her voice low and tense. "How many?"

"Three that I can see. Could be more," he whispered back, his hand already reaching for his own weapon. The cool metal felt solid in his grasp, but even with their skill, they both knew they were at a disadvantage. The Forsaken were relentless and skilled in dark magic. And after days of running, Kaelin and Tarin were exhausted-both in body and spirit.

"We can't fight them head-on," Tarin muttered, her voice steady despite the tension. "We'll be dead before we reach our swords."

Kaelin glanced around the cave, searching for any other option, but the narrow space left them trapped. They couldn't stay, and they couldn't run-not fast enough to outrun the scouts.

"We need to draw them in, then take them out one by one," he said, his mind racing. "If we can isolate them, we might stand a chance."

Tarin nodded, her expression grim. "I'll go first. Get their attention. You stay hidden, take the first one when they come close."

Kaelin's jaw tightened. The plan was risky-too risky-but there wasn't time to argue. "Be careful."

Tarin gave him a sharp look, one that was more about focus than reassurance. She didn't need his concern-she needed his sword. Without another word, she moved toward the mouth of the cave, stepping into the dim light with calculated slowness.

Kaelin crouched behind the rocks, sword ready, his pulse quickening as he watched the Forsaken scouts approach. The air was thick with tension, the storm clouds overhead casting an eerie, shifting light across the land. One of the scouts-the leader, perhaps-made a gesture to the others, signaling them to spread out.

Kaelin held his breath, waiting for the right moment.

Tarin took a few steps into the open, her blade still sheathed. She looked vulnerable, exposed. It was a trick they had used before in the Mage-Knight battles-lure the enemy into thinking they had an advantage, then strike when their guard was down.

The first scout, a hulking figure cloaked in shadows, moved closer, eyes gleaming with malice. His Autherium blade shimmered faintly in the twilight, the deadly metal forged to counter magic. Tarin's hand hovered near her sword, her movements careful and slow.

As soon as the scout drew closer, she acted.

In a blur of motion, Tarin unsheathed her sword and slashed at the Forsaken scout. The sound of steel clashing rang through the clearing, followed by a grunt of pain as her blade bit into the enemy's side.

Kaelin saw his chance.

He lunged from his hiding place, driving his sword into the back of the nearest scout. The Forsaken soldier let out a choked cry, collapsing to the ground in a heap as Kaelin's blade pierced his heart.

One down.

But the others were on them in an instant. The second scout lunged at Tarin, forcing her back with a barrage of rapid strikes. Kaelin barely had time to react as the third scout, a wiry figure with quick movements, rushed toward him, brandishing a wicked curved blade.

Kaelin parried the blow, the force of it sending a jolt up his arm. The scout pressed forward, dark magic crackling around him like tendrils of smoke. Kaelin dodged a second strike, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of the magic in the air, thick and suffocating.

Tarin, meanwhile, had her hands full. The second scout was relentless, his attacks precise and brutal. Tarin blocked and countered, but the strain was evident in her movements-days of running had taken their toll, and her usual grace was slower than it should have been.

Kaelin slashed at his attacker, but the Forsaken scout twisted away, moving like a shadow. The dark magic swirling around him seemed to fuel his speed and strength, making him more dangerous with each passing second.

Suddenly, Kaelin heard Tarin shout. He glanced over to see the second scout disarming her, knocking her sword from her hand. In a panic, Kaelin swung his sword at the scout attacking him, forcing him to step back.

Without thinking, Kaelin charged at the scout that was about to kill Tarin. He slammed into the Forsaken soldier, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The scout snarled, his blade slicing through the air as they grappled. Kaelin's hands closed around his sword, and with a surge of strength, he plunged the blade into the scout's chest.

One more down.

But before Kaelin could catch his breath, the third scout came at him again, fast and vicious. Kaelin barely had time to react, parrying the strike but losing ground as the scout pushed him back. The dark magic surrounding the Forsaken made him faster, stronger, and Kaelin could feel his own energy draining.

Tarin, having retrieved her sword, rushed to his aid. She slashed at the third scout from behind, forcing him to turn his attention to her. With the scout distracted, Kaelin took his chance. He spun around and drove his blade deep into the Forsaken's side, the blade sinking into flesh with a sickening crunch.

The scout staggered, blood spilling from the wound, and with one final strike from Tarin, he fell to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, they simply stood there, panting, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the cold wind and the bodies of their enemies around them.

Tarin wiped her sword on the cloak of one of the fallen scouts. "We need to move. There will be more coming."

Kaelin nodded, though his muscles ached with exhaustion. "You're right. Let's get out of here before they send reinforcements."

As they gathered their meager supplies, Kaelin couldn't shake the weight of what had just happened. The Forsaken were relentless, and they were running out of places to hide. But more than that, something had shifted between him and Tarin. In that desperate fight, there had been a moment-a look between them-that was more than just the bond of warriors.

It was something else. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

But for now, there was no time to think about it. They were still hunted. Still running.

And the Forsaken wouldn't stop until they were dead.