Dreisterne

CHAPTER 19

Nathan carefully pushed the trapdoor open, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid any creaking. As he climbed out, the cool evening air brushed against his skin, carrying the faint scent of smoke from torches and the distant murmur of voices. He turned his gaze westward after he picked up his backpack and weapon, and his stomach twisted. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the village. The children could be here any minute.

Keeping low, Nathan darted eastward, his griffon hide boots barely making a sound against the dirt. He stuck to the edges of buildings, slipping through the gaps between storage sheds and fences, making sure he was far enough from the square before breaking into a full sprint. The wheat fields stretched before him, golden and swaying ever so slightly. The stillness of the air was a relief. No wind meant less risk of the fire getting out of control.

The swordsman skidded to a stop near a large patch of wheat, a good distance away from the village square, and immediately got to work after making sure there weren't any guards patrolling close to him. He tore out handfuls of stalks, his fingers quick but careful, clearing a wide enough space so the flames wouldn't spread beyond where he wanted them. Each second felt like a weight pressing on his chest, but he forced himself to stay methodical. He could not afford mistakes and hesitations when children's lives are at stake.

Once he was satisfied with the clearing, he stepped back, steadying his breathing. He held out a hand, focusing on the energy coiled within him. A familiar warmth pulsed at his fingertips: the telltale sign of magic building beneath his skin. With a swift motion, he thrust his palm forward, projecting a fireball that struck the dried wheat and instantly engulfed it, flames licking hungrily at the stalks. The bonfire blazed high, its heat washing over Nathan's face as embers spiralled into the sky. It worked. Nathan turned on his heel and bolted, his heart hammering in his chest as he felt a thrill of satisfaction at his flawless execution of the fireball spell. But as he disappeared into the cover of the village, he made a mental note: He needed to keep up with his magical training.

Meanwhile, back at the village hall, the heavy wooden doors of the entrance creaked open, and the gasps of the gathered villagers filled the air as their eyes fell upon the two caged carriages rolling into the square outside. Their children clung to the iron bars, reaching out desperately. "Mama! Papa!" Their cries rang out, raw and terrified.

A woman near the front surged forward, but the cold gleam of a sword blade stopped her in her tracks. She flinched as one of the armoured guards pressed his blade forward in warning. Others recoiled as well, their fury barely contained.

Keith stood among the soldiers, his expression carefully schooled into indifference, but his eyes remained sharp. His gaze flicked to the youth in the crowd, the one he had instructed to spread word of the coming fight. The lad met Keith's eyes, waiting for a sign. Any sign.

Standing by the cage carriages, von Hentzau surveyed the scene astride his horse with a smug satisfaction. His voice rang out, smooth and composed. "You see? I am a man of my word. In my grace, I have allowed you this reunion. Be grateful."

The village head stepped forward, his voice hoarse with desperation. "I beg you, milord. They're only children. Let them go!"

The noble's smile remained, but his words carried an edge of steel. "I said you may see them, and nothing more."

Murmurs of outrage rippled through the crowd. A few men clenched their fists, their postures stiff with barely contained rage. A low growl of defiance came from one of the villagers, a burly man who took a half-step forward. Another followed, a woman gripping a wooden spoon as if it were a dagger. Keith couldn't help but tense at this turn of events. These people would die if they tried to attack the guards like this.