The Seared Witch

Saul

"I told you, Lanney, you can't come with us." A tall, muscular man with black hair and dark eyes explained as he packed his bag. He carried himself with authority that undoubtedly came from the gold amulet embedded into his chest.

"But, Saul, you promised." A thin boy with messy blond hair protested on the bed. He couldn't have been any older than 12. He held a sheathed sword and a shield, both of which were bigger than him. "You said you would ask Father."

"I did ask," Saul held out his hand for the sword and shield, "I'm sorry, but you can't come."

Lanney jumped from the bed and waved the sheathed blade. "You've trained me hard enough to know how to kill those damned Jaddaks."

"Don't curse, it's indecent." He sighed and kneeled so that he was at eye level with his younger brother. "If it was up to me, I'd let you come. But it's not." He lightly took away the sword and strapped it to his belt. "The Jaddaks are highly dangerous. They used to be normal, everyday people like you and I."

"But then they made a deal with the Seared Witch and they were corrupted. And now they will live the rest of their lives as slaves to the night. They're masters of shifting and trickery. I know." Lanney finished for him.

"And it's up to The Order and their soldiers to extinguish them." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Think of this as an opportunity to train more. You will be out there someday, by my side. Who knows? Maybe I'll be King of the First Realm by then."

As soon as the words left Saul's mouth, he regretted it. Lanney's eyes swelled with tears and he burst out, "I'm never going to be like you!"

"Lanney—"

But the boy was already racing out the door.

Saul stood with a sigh and slung his satchel over his shoulder. His eyes skimmed over his room: his colored window was open, his desk was propped up next to it, his chests were lined up perfectly. Just how he liked it.

He took a deep breath and made his way out, shutting the door close behind him.

"What do you think, sir?"

Saul broke out of his thoughts and focused on the soldier, Marqui, in front of him, who was holding up a map. "Sorry, would you repeat that?"

"I was saying that there's a hide-out not too far from here. The scouts checked it out and they say there's not too many of'um."

"Round up Squad 5."

"They're already at the riverside, awaiting your orders."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Saul frowned and ducked into the thickets. Everything in the jungle were made of different shades of red—the trees, bushes, dirt, and even the wildlife. Which was why he and his men were dressed in maroon cloaks and masks. They slid through the undergrowth until they heard the trickling of a river up ahead. Simultaneously, they slowed their pace so that their footing was more purposeful and silent.

When they pushed through the ferns, they were face to face with four other men, wearing the same cloaks and masks.

"General." The group placed two curled fingers over their hearts and dipped their heads in respect.

Saul did the same as he approached. "Report."

"There's three camping out b'yond this river," the closest whispered, motioning briefly to the red stream behind him, "they don't appear to be higher-leveled."

"Freshly-changed?"

"Possibly. A few months."

"This should be easy, then." Saul nodded as he spoke. "Do you have everything?" He waited until the soldiers all agreed that they did. "Good. Even though they are low-classed, doesn't mean they don't have shifting abilities. Don't drop your guard."