The Dragons' Will

Chapter 11 - The True Overlord

The brute's hand struck the olive-skinned woman's face. She fell to the snow.

"If you're so ecstatic to be free of chains," her attacker said, "then why do you remain in Slyke? Why not return to your native Lorzak?"

The woman shook herself off and glared back at the big man clad in ragged clothing.

"Slyke is a new place now," she said. "I've spent my entire life here. I wish to live under the new system. The empire you cherish so much was abolished decades—"

The large man struck her again. Others gasped. They were on their knees at the point of blades held by other rugged men in torn and ragged clothing. Unlike the olive-skinned woman, they remained silent. Not all were of darker skin; some were just as fair as their attackers.

"You!" the man said, pointing a finger at the prone woman. Her eyes were beginning to water. "All of you! Lorzakians, Ravaloxians, Psykorians, Koriownim, whatever! You set foot in this land only because of the Slykan Empire! They brought you here! The rebels broke your shackles, but you choose to remain in Slyke? Not while I still draw breath!"

"Then you shan't draw breath for long," a calm voice echoed.

The large man and all his associates turned. A figure clad in black leather approached, his head concealed by a hood, half black, half blue, flowing into a similarly-coloured cape. A quiver of arrows hung over his back, and in his left hand a crystalline bow sparkled through the foggy air.

"You dare?" the large man said, drawing a short-sword. He already held a round wooden shield in his other hand.

Darkus continued his approach. "I am the Overlord of Slyke."

The rugged man chuckled confidently. His associates mimicked him, albeit lacking his confidence. The overlord intimidated them, and Darkus knew this.

"So..." the large man said, "Thraydus' successor comes to meet us in person?" He turned away from the villagers, his brow lowering. "It's about time."

Darkus quietly strode forward, the chilling air following his steps. He'd already counted five adversaries, but the other raiders didn't concern him; only their leader.

"You come to this village," Darkus said, "knowing that all who live here were once slaves from lands conquered by the Slykan Empire, who chose to remain here under the new regime because they believe in it."

"They have no place here," the man continued, "not lest they wish to lick a true Slykan's boots."

Darkus halted several metres from the man. "Who were you before the empire's fall? A nobleman? A general?"

The large man smirked. "A slaver. One of the very best."

"And you would see all men and women in Slyke not of pure Slykan descent wiped from this land?"

The ex-slaver's smirk upturned ever more. "To the day I die."

Darkus raised his head, deliberately letting his face become visible to the large man. The former slaver saw Darkus's terracotta-brown skin for the first time, realising that like the woman he'd beaten, he too was of Lorzakian descent. "Then you can start with me."

With a cry, the large man thrust his sword towards Darkus's face. Darkus rifted away before the blade touched him.

"He's Lorzakian!" the ex-slaver cried out. "Thraydus' successor is a damn Lorzakian!"

Those were his last words—an arrow flew out the fog. Its tip was bare at first, but as it soared through the air, ice formed around the steel, moulding into the shape of a large round cone. It blasted violently through the man's skull with force equal to a mace. His entire head was eviscerated.