Two days had done amazing things to her. Before the reception, the general had been the last thing she wanted to see. And now… Leiya would have given anything to see him one more time.
Bodies littered the ground around Roven, but she could see the end was near.
I should call to him, she thought. I should thank him. I… shouldn’t distract him.
The glow was nearly upon them now. Leiya could see shadows stretch longer around them, and it seemed some of their enemies had noticed it as well. She didn’t know what was so interesting about it, but they seemed to even allow a moment to take their eyes from Roven. The great warrior was now lying on the ground, barely breathing.
The streets around them were narrow. It slowed the approaching light down, but not much.
“Oh shit,” Leiya heard one of the warriors murmur. “Oh fuck…”
Her eyes darted to the end of the street. A good thing too, or she might have missed the moment the rescuer arrived for the silly girl.
Her heart missed a beat. And then another.
Faren’s speed was such that he slid to a stop, finally landing in a crouch in the beam of light that was he. Then he looked up. Even Leiya winced at the gaze, but a collective hush went through her attackers. The light around the general changed to a furious dark red. Rays of crimson broke from the glinting edge of the battle ax in his hands.
Slowly, with terrible calm, he rose to his full height. They all took in the sight of him, but what made every spear present rise up on guard was the way his lips curled into a deadly, vicious smirk.
When the most feared general in the Brion armies smiled like that, they were all going to die.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Faren
The air was rank with fear.
It wasn’t a scent unknown to Faren. In fact, the illusory smell of naked terror had always been around him for as long as he could remember. It was a carefully calculated image Brion warriors showed to the world. While it came with hard work to others, Faren had always found it easy to instill the emotion.
The streets of the capital were silent now. The residents seemed smart enough to keep away. Only they remained – he and the frozen group before him.
It wasn’t often that he felt this righteous. The galaxy wasn’t painted in black and white after all. The Brions were viewed as troublesome and quarreling by default, but it wasn’t always true. All their enemies only became ones after no other option was possible.
There had been times when even Faren had doubted the will of the Elders, but they always seemed to be right. This right there, before his eyes, this was easy.
He’d run all the way, but he didn’t need to anymore.
With slow, almost lazy steps, he approached the waiting warriors. To his eyes, they were warriors only in name. The only true one he could see was lying on the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds, protecting his gesha. Faren wouldn’t forget that, even if he didn’t know whether Roven would live until the healers arrived.
These warriors-in-name-only did at least one thing right – they didn’t run. Bigger crowds and better man had fled from him. No, Faren might have respected them if he could believe for a fraction of a second that they did it out of honor. Facing an enemy was what the Brions did, they didn’t retreat unless it was clear suicide to stay.
These wretches before him had no honor or they would have been serving aboard a ship somewhere. They stayed because they realized their only chance was to bring him down with numbers.
Faren refused to look at Leiya, other than to confirm she was alive and unharmed. That glimpse was enough to make his blood boil. She looked terrified, exhausted. It was hard to keep his pace slow after that, when all he yearned for was blood. He had to remind himself who he was. He was Faren and his fury was his own.
Despite what everyone on Briolina thought, Faren enjoyed neither death nor killing simply for their own sake. It merely seemed so because he was very, very good at killing.
The countdown of the slow steps had almost run its course. From the moment he’d arrived, everything had just been the aim. And he was the killing shot.
The first four enemies were left beheaded before his feet while the others still blinked in confusion. It disgusted Faren to his very core that some might consider these bastards warriors. Falling for such a simple misdirection tactic was embarrassing, but not as shameful as it was for Faren to kill them.
It was so far beneath him he felt himself sinking to their level. Still, the sweet taste of justice drove him onwards. No one would hurt his gesha and be allowed to breathe another day.#p#分页标题#e#
Of the almost fifty sell-swords before him, a mere two or three had reacted fast enough, jumping back before Faren dashed forward.
They had thought to kill her. To kill his gesha.
Faren had always known he could have turned out to be a monster. The problem was that very few knew he chose not to be one. From time to time, however, it was necessary to let it out.
The man surrendered the control to the beast within.
The air was filled with screams at once. In anyone else’s hands the ax might have been a clumsy weapon, but not in his. The first idiot to turn his back to his companions had his skull split in two. Even if they were all beneath his notice, Faren didn’t stand cowardice. He ripped the ax free, ducking under the blades of three spears that sought to punch through him. The weapons clashed over his head, and their owners lost their legs for such an amateur mistake.
They crumbled on their mutilated limbs, and Faren snatched up one of the spears. The others were keeping their distance now, giving him a breather. Another runner was nailed to the wall by the spear, aimed to strike him perfectly so as not to make him die instantly. His legs were twitching in a death dance, and everyone who stopped to look at him in horror perished next.
Faren hit one of them in the chest with the butt of the ax so hard one of his lungs must have collapsed judging by the sound of it. He ripped the spear from the warrior’s limp hands, stabbing him through the stomach with his own weapon. The man dropped to his knees, eyes filled with terror and agony. He left the wretch there, a lesson for the others that in a fight you didn’t take your eyes off the enemy.
All that had taken less than a minute. Again, someone tried to run. Faren brought the mighty ax above his head and split another enemy clean in two. One more spear found its way into his hands. He threw it with such power it dragged another enemy with it before finding its mark in the back of the fleeing warrior.
The weapons sang in the silent air, the ground painted as red as the night around them. With every death, Faren’s fury ripped loose more and more. His valor squares glowed so brightly the attackers’ could barely be seen. Everything was red. He was seeing only red.
They’d tried to kill Leiya.
Distantly he knew she was watching.
It was why he let his ax cut the torso clean off the next warrior, instead of stopping it in the middle. He could have picked the exact moment to leave the warrior screaming in agony, bleeding to death in minutes instead of the instant death he gave him.
It was why he made it quick for the woman crawling from him on the ground. Her long hair billowed over her shoulders. He stepped on it while he dodging a spear flying towards him. He caught the weapon out of the air, ignoring her futile attempts to pull free.
She was screaming. He put an end to that once he had a moment, sending the spear straight back into the eye of its owner. Then he buried his ax in her stomach instead of cutting off her legs and seeing how far she could crawl like that.
He was being merciful. Faren wondered if they were aware of that.
Everything had taken about two minutes, but he remembered all the details. Warriors had a great memory. All those deaths had been too quick to see for most of the enemies. They only saw blood, and limbs, and death lying in his wake.
The fury raged on. Not much left to satiate his need to keep killing, to make all of them pay for the look in Leiya’s eyes with every drop of their blood.
The ones still standing were the only six who Faren had noted before the battle even began. It might have even been worth complimenting them for understanding the basic rule of combat – holding on to your weapon was imperative. He wouldn’t disarm them as easily as he had their companions, but he didn’t need to.
Red still the only color he could see, Faren charged the last six. He felt the hunger in his blood, the rage.
The first of his enemies deflected two of his blows. It would have been impressing if he hadn’t allowed that. Suddenly the man found his spear stuck in one of the dead, and a heartbeat later, Faren reached to pull him face-first into the weapon. He was left half-standing there, blood trickling from his eyes. One of the others stumbled seeing that. It was his end.
Faren was disappointed, but the edge of his ax was merciless. The third and fourth made an attempt to have him fight them both at the same time. Fine idea. The next moment Faren sliced one of the spears in two and its owner a second later. The fourth wasted his only chance by hesitating, and by then, Faren’s ax had sliced through his throat.
The last two backed away from him, but Faren wasn’t about to wait. They’d lived far longer than they should have. Every breath they took was an insult to him. He broke through their defenses with ease, cutting the head off one of them. The last one ended up on his back, the edge of Faren’s ax buried in his chest.#p#分页标题#e#