The Knight's Eyes

47: LET GO

ALSIN'S POV

He strolled through the woods deep in thought. The morning sun beamed her summer's light through the green trees. He halted at the top of a decline soaking in the serenity. His father would have enjoyed this fresh air and this feeling of freedom if he was still alive. The gods must hate him for sure.

"What have I done?" he asked the forest. Birds flapped by above singing with not a care in the world of the troubled knight below.

His eyes burnt prepared to drain the flood of tears swelling within them. He sniffled, took a deep breath, and forced his thoughts to another topic. He had learned so much yesterday that a new worry invaded him. The Illusion Spell was obviously powerful for the people of his kingdom to praise and love King Edrich, the man who has terrorized the Mystic Realm for years. If they knew how many people he had killed to get where he was they would not be cursing Galasia but rather their own ruthless king and his daughter.

No, he shook his head, his mistress. His heart tightened realizing how much he had actually loved Javana. She was beautiful and witty. He could not picture her as the evil Galiathan, Kit, and even Galasia had described. However, he remembered the small memory he had extracted from Galasia's empty mind. Javana's blood red hair and bright green eyes raging with fury told him they were right.

"How could you trick me, you devil," he whispered still feeling uncomfortable for his sudden change of heart for the woman.

He traced a finger over the hilt of his sword. It was a Terran Knight's sword, but definitely not his. He unshielded it and rolled out the kinks in his shoulders.

"A little practice with you won't hurt no one," he muttered and began doing the normal strokes, changing hand positions and foot position from time to time.

Beads of sweat slid down his temple and his golden hair flopped into his eyes, but the familiarity of the sword in his hand pumped his adrenaline to ignore them. He pictured himself in the Terran Arena fighting someone as good as the late Sir Nileon or the stiff Athenian Naveen. His adrenaline spewed through his veins as his pace quicken, his sensory opened wide and aware of his surroundings, all that troubled him bundled together and ignited into rage.

He spun and sliced the air with the rage of a wild boar. He imagined Stein and Beo standing before him wanting to spill his blood, but he did a quick side step and did an underhand stroke. He imagined the Mad Mist that claimed Sir Nileon's life, which he had to unfortunately end. He saw Sir Demetri choking on his own blood as he slept beside him. He thought of the screaming souls of his quest companions as they were plucked from the ground by cravers. His horse Rome... His mother and father who faced a dreadful death leaving him behind. So many times, he had faced death's sword-edge but somehow for some apparent reason his life was more precious to the gods than he thought. Unless they were punishing him...but for what?

A stick snapped behind him. He swung his sword around and aimed it at the creeper who dare disturb his moment of ventilation. He glared into those gold eyes narrowed with a dare or maybe disgust. He could never tell with this woman. He sharply inhaled for the fresh oxygen to rest his heart thudding wild in his ears.

He lowered his sword. "What do you want?" He wiped an arm across his sweaty forehead and wished Galasia had not disturbed him.

Kaahiss and Casper are not here, she said. Something is not right.

"Nothing is ever right these days," he said flipping the sword's hilt in his hand.

What if they have them, she said cutting her gold eyes into the forest as if Edrich and Javana had suddenly appeared.