Cevic

Chapter 32

“I gave you my heart, but the very next day

You gave it away

This year, to save me from tears,

I’ll give it to someone who’s special…”

 

 

Will to live, will to kill

 

 

 

“Eron, in any battle, of politics, physical, psychological or emotional, depends on only two things: skill, and your mentality. I deem the latter to be superior even if the former lacks.”

  King Decus’s words rang in my head midst a few moments of first, oblivion, total whiteness, and then pain.

  My hands were outstretched, protecting my chest, and grasping onto the soldier’s blade.

  “If you want to live, you will live. If you give up even for a second, you will die. Remember the simplest and the most profound rule.”

   My hands trembled against the force of the blade, the edge digging into my skin. In front of us, Jàs battled two soldiers at once, his jaw caked with blood and eyes lit in pure concentration. Bodies littered the floor. Pools of blood. Reeking of copper.

 Aé pe tos!

I wanted to give up. My eyes wanted to close, my heart wanted to surrender, to stop the pain. A small, pained groan came from my lips.

  Blood dribbled onto the blade and down my shirt from my hands, as the soldier pressed on, his eyes blazing with the will to kill. What had driven these soldiers to commit treachery?

  Cevicïans were born and raised to be calculating, to endeavor for the top, but not murderous, deceiving or treacherous. By nature we played fair and square, and despite our calculating side, we were as reasonable.

  We did not go any length to reach the top like humans. We didn’t kill or rob to reach the peak. 

  What had become of us?

Aé pe tos!

  A muffled groan.

Live.

 I shall live.

With a shout that rumbled out from my stomach, I pushed the knife further toward him, as it dug deep, and kicked the soldier, as hard as I could, pouring all my remaining strength, and kicked his knee.

   As soon as his knees buckled, I yanked the knife away from his hand, and put it to his throat.

 His purple hair fell to his honey colored eyes, and he looked down, awaiting death.

“Tell me,” I said slowly, kneeling to match his eye level, my jaw clenched as I tried to quell any utterance of pain, as blood dripped and dribbled from my other hand. “Under the queen’s order you came. Tell me. Why does the queen want the pendant?”

  His honey eyes became the color of poison, and he maintained silence.

Jàs shouted in pain, backed to the corner with the two soldiers. I needed to help. He was too exhausted; he could not defeat both.

  “Don’t you have a mother and a father too? Don’t you have a brother or a sister?”

I let a warm tear slide down my face unguarded. “I have a family, and to me, the only family that doesn’t try to kill me every time I turn my back on them is my own king, and I want to save his life for saving mine. Please.”