Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Eighteen

Yevvi ambled through the Soran streets, observing every corner. He trailed the witch through the forest, searching for any sign of inhabitants. Luckily, the fool left a nice pile of vine and wood as well as the carcass of a firebird. They seemed to be heading towards Sora. Her face burned into his mind. He refused to forget her image. Soon, her face would be contorted with fierce marks of his blade and blood splattered across it.

Vagrants swarmed the streets, sniffing out the wealth of foreigners and fighting each other for a shred of food. Guards scattered across the kingdom, questioning others and surveying the surroundings no doubt searching for a witch. Yevvi slumped his shoulders, a little relieved to think they may be here.

He paused near a corner, hearing gossip between two women.

"Did you hear? That little witch who killed all those people may be here," the first woman chattered, fidgeting with her purse.

"Oh, yes. I heard she had an accomplice. That black-headed boy from the tavern."

"The one with the courtesan mother who thought she could actually be a queen in Maragnus?"

"Can you believe it? What a dolt." The women giggled, amused with their spiteful comments. Yevvi fought back the desire to run his sword through their skulls. He felt reassured nonetheless that Lukas was indeed spotted in Sora.

He looked at the royal castle to his right, its size much smaller than he thought. He wandered in, letting curiosity take over. The opening flurried with the remaining noble people of Sora. They conversed eloquently with that rich, uptight pride, whilst clinking glasses of wine. Their outfits were a poor attempt to regain the wealth they lost, the fabric splitting slightly at the seams. The material cheap and poorly made. He felt somewhat upset at the sheer ignorance of these try hard aristocrats and their lack of desire to help the poor people beyond this castle. He had enough ignorance from Lukas. He didn't need to suffer any more.

Yevvi coughed, signalling a man to his attention. "Is the prince running the castle?"

"The prince? No, no. He left a long time ago," the man waved his hands, straightening his back as to seem elegant and classy, "The noble people, you know cousins of the Andel family and such, keep the castle on its feet. Barely." He paused, lowering his hand. Yevvi felt a stab in his heart. Perhaps it wasn't ignorance in this castle but rather grief of an absent king.

"Do you know of the witch that was supposedly residing here?"

"Witch? Oh, no. No witches here. Would you like a glass of ale? You seem a fine man." Yevvi tensed, politely rejecting the man and slipping out.

~~~

Yevvi groaned, his feet aching from hours of searching. It fell deep into night now, the streets silent and empty. He ignored the pain in his body and begun his journey outside of Sora. He didn't know where. He just needed to feel as if he's getting closer to Lukas.

Dread ate away at his mind. He flipped through the possibilities of Lukas's whereabouts. Was he hurt? Was he alive? Yevvi yelled, releasing his worry into anger. He paused, realizing he aimlessly wandered through the forest and had no idea where he was.

A booming echo of voices and a lightning strike lead in front of him. He froze, the colour leaving his skin. Such a strike signals the appearance of a Jabarah, a ghostly woman haunted by her death and thirsts for the same fate to fall upon those she crosses. He glanced at the moon, which faded into a deep grey as if disappearing. Jabarahs were incredibly rare.

Yevvi dashed for the source of the lightening, half hoping to find Lukas. Branches sliced his hands as he pushed through the rows of trees. Finally, an opening into a field. He gaped, spotting that flicker of red hair furiously fighting the Jabarah.

He glanced left, seeing Lukas struggling to cut open the rope on his hands. Yevvi breathed, grateful to see that shimmer of golden eyes. He wasted no time throwing his hands out, darkness encasing the rope and dissolving it. Lukas rushed over to Yevvi, wrapping his arms around him and murmuring incomprehensible words mixed with his tears.

Yevvi darted his eyes back to the witch and some other figure. Hate flushed through his mind, that image of a bludgeoned face coming back to him. He headed forward only to be pulled back by Lukas.

"Please, don't go. You could die," Lukas sniffled, pleading desperately.

"Stay here," Yevvi hissed as he shoved the boy behind a shrub and dived for the battle.

His blind rage clouded the shiver in his body and the terror in his mind. Jabarah were known for staring into the eyes of her victim and sucking the very blood from their skin, leaving them a hollow shell. The soul is said to be sent into a neutral realm. A forever purgatory.

Yevvi sheathed his sword, picturing the witch's blood on it. He jumped in front of her and the warlock by her side, an offering to help kill the Jabarah. He glanced at the warlock, who nodded his head in agreement. Yevvi refused to look at the witch, fearing he'd instantly tear her apart.

The ghostly woman jumped forward, her echoing cries rumbling in the forest. Lukas pivoted, shielding his eyes from her gaze and swung his sword. He hit nothing. He cautiously looked up, the woman effortlessly gliding from person to person attempting to lock their gaze. The witch was sent back as the Jabarah whipped her bony arm towards her. Yevvi grinned, delighted by the sight of her weakness.

He stared at the warlock, throwing a few gestures with his hands. Distract her. The warlock nodded, as if reading his mind and sprinted backwards. He flailed his arms, yelling and cursing at the woman. She twisted and shot for him, her legs floating across the surface.

Yevvi surged forward directly for the Jabarah. He lifted his sword, swinging it fiercely and driving it into the woman. She stopped dead in her tracks, frightfully close to the warlock. She turned slowly, her hair flushing with colours. Her skin turned a dark tan and her eyes a dazzling blue. A smile tugged at her lips and she fell, dissipating into molecules of flesh. Yevvi breathed heavily, the fear hitting him instantly.

"It's not every day you see a powerful mortal warrior such as yourself. Thanks," the warlock begun a speech of thanks and introduction. Yevvi blocked out the conversation and whirled around, eyes locked onto the witch who stood back feebly. Surprising for her to avoid such a lively battle.

Yevvi clawed her neck, kneeing her gut and slamming her into the dirt. She groaned, reluctant to fight back. He hovered his sword across her neck whilst glaring into her orange eyes, no longer fearing the vicious glow. I'm going to tear her skin layer by layer.

"I could be a rich man with your head skewered on my sword," yevvi chuckled manically, feeling nothing but contempt.

"Watch what you do." The warlock pressed his sword against Yevvi's back. Yevvi lowered his own sword, the warlock slightly releasing his. He breathed calmly, shooting his glare into the witch's eyes more intensely.

"If we happen to cross paths again, witch. I will not hesitate to pierce your heart and watch you die. You're not the only fearsome beast here." Yevvi pounded his fist into the witch's face, the blood smeared against his knuckles satisfying. He forced himself to get off her and to dash for the woods. He couldn't risk losing control. Not with the warlock on his back.

Yevvi cracked his neck and stretched his arms. He marvelled at how many interruptions prevented him from expressing his plan to Lukas. This time, he would let nothing stop him. He will take Lukas to the kingdom of Heht and he will find Arvin. There is a prophecy to be fulfilled.