Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Thirteen

"Oh my, what a nice little trail you lead me to," the witch snarled, baring her canines. Her brown eyes flared a luminescent orange, the colours flickering like flames. Yevvi tensed, carefully placing his hand on the sword by his side.

Lukas shivered sporadically, clutching to the ground as he hurled multiple times. Tears raged out of his eyes. The witch pranced cautiously around the open library, a dagger lightly in hand. She eyed Yevvi with such untamed brutality, a wild beast waiting to attack.

"If you would be as kind as to hand the prophecy boy over then we can avoid a nasty bloodshed." She flipped the blade over in her hands, caressing it. "But, I do truly love a battle."

Yevvi hated the cockiness of Thordonians and their insatiable longing for blood to spill. A warrior's drive but an empty heart. He recalled the last time he fought against these callous brutes. An attempt to raid the Maragnian royal castle in search of the newborn half-breed. The clash of razor sharp swords and grim moans of the fallen haunted him. His mind faded into a memory.

***

A moment of calm chatter and the exchange of pleasantries before a rocking boom. A crowd of murderous Thordonians rushed into the central opening, driving their weapons into the air and commanding their orders. Yevvi fumbled for a weapon, unsure of what to do. He hadn't faced such a harsh situation before. His days merely consisted of offering his assistance in duties and indulging in another rare book in the catacombs. The prince, Daris, had been so kind as to allow his presence in the sacred library.

Yevvi spotted a blade used for carving ice and shakily prepared his stance. He watched Daris twirl effortlessly around his opponents before wielding his sword ruthlessly. The pure power in his actions resonated with Yevvi, glued to his memory. Hopefully it could be of use now. A man drenched in scars of war pounded his muscly legs over to Yevvi, flipping his gleaming iron dagger. Yevvi fell back, intimidated by the utter wickedness in his eye. A second later, he was tumbling across the room desperately striking his blade.

A baby's cry erupted through the hallway and silence fell. A snicker within the intruders and a dash of legs. Yevvi panicked, sprinting through the back butler's entrance to Lukas's room. A woman's gasp and then a pleading whimper. He thrusted his body into the room to reveal Naedeen cowering in the corner begging the criminals to release the child in hand. He paused, his breath heavy with anger.

"You have no chance of kidnapping that child," Yevvi's voice shock but he kept his posture strong and unwavering.

"What is a mere boy like you going to do about it?" the warlock sneered, his sharp eyes screaming of destruction.

Yevvi gulped, throwing himself and the blade at the warlock hoping to hit some vital point. Otherworldly screams echoed through the tight room and a pack of savage hellhounds snarled. They immediately tore at the guards rushing in to help, their flesh ripping with just a small bite. Yevvi's gut turned as his body swayed. Pure, furious panic took over.

He blocked out the screams of terror and the severed bodies. He kept his eyes locked onto the warlock gripping the baby. His one-day king to be. The world seemed to slow as he twirled, plunging his blade into the man and clutching the baby. There were no thoughts nor sounds blanketing his mind.

Everything seemed fuzzy. A rush of guards. A screaming baby. Those mighty blue eyes shooting to the intruders that dare threaten his family. The world blacked out. Later, he woke up his quarters beaten and bruised. But, the baby laid by his side peacefully sleeping. In that moment, he swore never to let such a threat happen to his kingdom again.

***

Yevvi brought himself back to reality and ripped his sword from its cover, dashing towards the witch in an instant. She spun to the left, her powerful legs defying gravity as if gliding across the ground. He angled his sword, striking it forwards in a swift motion. The witch veered just missing the impact. Her braided hair whipped sharply as if a keen blade itself.

Yevvi gritted his teeth, irritated at her ruthlessness and persistent dodges. He had to admit her techniques were formidable. He shot a quick glance at Lukas who stared at the ground, frozen in time. The witch, spotting his attention, thrusted her leg into his gut knocking him far back. The wind seemed to shoot out of his lungs.

With a vicious snatch, the witch heaved the quivering boy and pressed her blade close to his neck. Yevvi chocked on the air expelled from his body, furiously fighting back the raging burn in his gut.

"Go ahead. Use that daring black magic of yours," her voiced hummed softly, a hidden warning. Yevvi forced his body up, gripping the sword with remorseless fury. "You are one of the survivors of Maragnus, aren't you?"

"What the hell do you want with Lukas?" The witch frowned, driving the blade through Lukas's neck. A small trickle of blood lined it. He winced, shifting desperately to release the grip. Yevvi took a deep breath. It was clear the witch wanted to play games, to distract him with pathetic drivel until she could rush out a free woman.

He dropped his sword before cracking his knuckles. A mist surrounded his hands, a ball of complete darkness. "Aren't you that murderous witch with a fine bounty to her name?" he snickered. He faintly remembered a council building scorched and the cries of those around it, confused at the sight. He never really kept informed with petty witch business, always searching for battle and death.

"Soon, the entire world will know of this prophecy boy and he will be hunted too," she growled, a low guttural tone so full of hate. A flash of red and Yevvi was thrown back against a wall, the pain shocking his body. He failed to see the symbol the witch created with Lukas's blood.

Helplessly dangling, Lukas was pulled out the library and up the catacomb stairwell. Yevvi sprinted close behind, flushing the tight space with darkness. Pushing and heaving at the indestructible witch. Nothing worked. His legs pounded up the stairs, refusing to give in to the agony. He never forgot his promise long ago. That bastard witch will tremble at Yevvi's next merciless appearance.