With each thunderous beat, his heart propelled him forward, his body nearly in full flight through the sprawling cityscape. Footsteps echoed from behind, mingled with the bellowing cries of the pursuing guards. The city bells tolled; warning of the turmoil unleashed within the castle walls. The setting sun cast long shadows across the city, intensifying the sense of urgency in the air.
Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of armored guards steadily gaining on them. “Hurry!” he yelled ahead, “Keep running.”
She turned toward him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her disheveled hair flying around her face. “You shouldn’t have come for me. You’re too important,” she cried, her voice laced with fear.
“You’re just as important to me,” he responded with fierce intensity. He took a moment to steady himself against a cold, weathered stone wall. “No matter what you hear, don’t stop running.”
Slowing his pace, he deliberately displayed signs of exhaustion, allowing the pursuing guards to close in on him. In one swift motion, he spun around and smashed his gauntleted fist into the head of the first approaching guard, instantly felling him to the ground with a sickening crunch. Without missing a step, he drew the sword from the fallen man’s sheath, using its hilt to strike the next guard’s gut eliciting a painful groan. He then sharply arced it toward the man’s temple and watched his eyes roll white as he collapsed. Stepping over the two downed men in the narrow alleyway, he deftly countered the flurry of panicked blows raining down on him from the third guardsman.
The guard was clearly little more than a boy, a fresh recruit thrown in the deep end. This was no time for mercy. Taking advantage of the boy’s inexperience and hesitation he feinted left striking at the boy’s right side and ran him through. In less than twenty breaths, all three men were down. He turned around and set off at a sprint, hoping the delay he caused would provide them with enough time to escape.
Before long, he caught up to his companion. She twisted around, her fearful eyes brightening upon spotting her rescuer. “What do we do now?” she asked between strained breaths.
“Follow me.”
As they fled through the winding streets, cries of alarm arose from the citizens who witnessed their desperate flight. His muscles burned; his legs propelled by adrenaline-fueled determination. He knew their survival depended on reaching the drawbridge before it rose.
He sprinted towards the guard’s stable, where their horses awaited. A troupe of guards spotted the fugitives, no doubt assisted by the cries of the people. “Damn it to Ash!” he cursed, still armed with the bloodied guard’s sword. “Bring the horses,” he shouted, before leaping into the fray like a raging bull. Three guards desperately tried to break his defense and surround them, barring their way to freedom, but he would not let them succeed.
The guards now wary of him were more cautious and stuck together with practiced precision, but he had faced worse odds before. He keenly dodged a blow from one guard causing him to swing wide, parried a strike from the other with the back of his gauntlet and moved forward and head-butted the third, causing him to collapse backward clutching his bleeding, broken nose.
He caught the falling warrior by his coat, his already fatigued muscles straining under the exertion. Pivoting, he positioned the guard as a shield, blocking a strike from an attacker behind him. The man in his grasp let out a cry as his comrade’s blow struck him. His assailant’s horror at having maimed or possibly killed his fellow guard gave him the opportunity he needed, and he seized it bringing down the frozen man in one clean blow.
The last remaining guard enraged at the sight of his downed comrades charged. The warrior blocked the man’s frenzied blows and moved in close taking advantage of his opponent’s anger, striking his chin with an elbow, and driving his sword through the man’s ribs. All three fell, as if the strings controlling their movements had been simultaneously cut.
As he took in sharp ragged breaths, his mind took in the surroundings after the fight. Cantering hoof beats approached, and he turned to see the girl atop one of the horses, leading the second. He ran towards her and mounted his steed in one leap.
“Where now?” she called out anxiously.
“To the gates.” he bellowed, taking the lead as they spurred their horses into a gallop.
The shadowed gates of the keep, and their path to freedom, loomed in the distance, ahead a company of guards readied themselves. Beyond them he spotted the drawbridge slowly beginning to rise. His heart sank as their chances of escape quickly diminished, but he refused to give up.
As his horse galloped, he plucked throwing knives from his waistcoat, hurling two of them at the guards closest to him. The knives flew true, and the guards fell to the ground, opening a narrow path for their escape. As his horse made it through the gap, he felt a glimmer of hope, but fate had other designs.
He heard the hiss of an arrow sailing through the air, before it struck him, piercing his shoulder with sudden, brutal force. Searing pain lanced through his body. The force of the impact flung him off his horse, crashing to the ground just before the gate.
“Gabriel!” she yelled; her voice filled with anguish. Her horse’s hooves scraped loudly against the cobblestone as it halted behind him.
Gritting his teeth against the agony, he made an effort to rise from where he had fallen sprawled on the floor. Looking between the approaching company of guards and the rising drawbridge he knew that time had run out for him. His clothing was becoming stained by a growing bloom of blood spreading from where the arrow pierced him. But his spirit remained unyielding. Through sheer determination, he struggled to his feet. “Go,” he told her. “Keep going and don’t look back.”
Her gaze shifted from uncertainty to determination. Tearfully, she confessed, “I love you.”
Turning his back on her, he couldn’t focus on anything but the path ahead. He nodded once, raised his sword high and charged into the enemy’s ranks with an arrow still jutting from his shoulder.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He fought valiantly. Every strike was fueled by his unwavering resolve to buy her the time she needed to reach the waiting army beyond the drawbridge. Blow after blow, he parried and countered, his movements a testament to his skill and determination. Soon, another gap opened in the guards line, and she galloped through it, not looking back. Although she had made it through the gates, he still needed to buy her more time to make it past the rising drawbridge.
He knew being hopelessly outnumbered, it was only a matter of time before he could no long stem the tide. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel caught sight of her disappearing into the distance, to safety. Soon afterwards, he was overwhelmed by sheer force, the guards surrounding him like a swarm, raining down blows on him from all sides.
As shadows closed in around him, he knew he had fulfilled his mission. His heart filled with bittersweet satisfaction, knowing he had stolen the Princess from the keep and passed her on to those who would keep her safe despite what may happen to him.
As he slipped further and further into the darkness, he found solace in the thought that although things may not have gone to plan, he still had a few cards to play.
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Lahera walked down the sloping corridor with trepidation. This part of the keep had remained forbidden to her and her siblings for most of their lives. The walls were bare, a stark contrast to the opulence of the castle above and her own fine clothing. As she approached the guards on either side of the barred door, they silently saluted her, their closed fists over their hearts, and moved to open the door.
The first thing that struck her was the smell – a heavy blend of blood, sweat, smoke, and other unpleasant odors that she dared not name. No trace of surface light reached here; the sole illumination came from flickering torch flames set against the four walls of the corridor stretching out ahead. The shadows they cast against the walls seemed to possess an eerie life of their own.
Walking past the cells, the men within paid her no heed, paralyzed by fear, not daring to provoke their captors. These prisoners, lying amidst their own filth, had been thoroughly broken. “What am I doing here?” she muttered to herself, her nerves getting the better of her.
At the dungeon's far end, another guard saluted her and opened the door. Through the bars, she spotted the figure of a man, his face shrouded in the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight, reclining against the stone wall, completely oblivious to her presence. Confusion clouded her mind. Why did father command me to speak with this prisoner? Lost in her thoughts, she hesitated, unsure of her purpose here.
“Hello, Princess,” the man said as if greeting an old friend. “I must admit, I was expecting your Highness some hours ago.” His words startled her, he spoke without even looking at her. “I suppose it’s to be expected. It’s not every day you would visit the dungeons,” he said patronizingly.
She stayed silent a moment too long. “Why am I here?” she asked, finally finding her voice, albeit rather shaky.
“I do enjoy the company of a lovely woman. Can you fault a man for that?” he responded, leaving her at a loss for words. They had called him a savage, a man with steel instead of blood running through his veins, yet his speech resembled that of a courtier.
“Are you accustomed to ordering women for company, Prisoner?” she retorted, refusing to let him gain the upper hand.
“I must admit, it’s not my usual way. More often than not, it’s the women ordering me around,” he replied, and she swore she detected a hint of a smile in his words. “Please, step into my humble abode; make yourself comfortable.” He gestured as if inviting her to his luxurious home.
Fear gripped her. I don’t want to be anywhere near this man. “I do not think anyone could ever be comfortable near you,” she said with venom.
“Well, that’s only because you don’t know me. But Princess, I’m sure we can rectify that,” he responded kindly.
It has only been two days since this man had stormed into my home, freed the bride-to-be, wreaked havoc among the guards, and endured torture. Yet there he sat, unnervingly calm.
She gulped, then asked, “They say your name is Gabriel.” She found that her fear was no match for her natural curiosity. After all, this man had accomplished the impossible.
“That’s what they say. Then again, I’m known by many names,”
Detecting his evasiveness, she pressed further, “They say that’s what she called you when you fell.”
“I suppose you’ve got me now. And really, is there a need to bring up such a painful memory when my face is still bruised from that embarrassing fall?” he replied.
His jovial and playful manner disarmed her, taking away the sting from any words she could muster. Despite dealing with cunning nobles and merchants, she had never felt this uneasy. It feels as if I’m intruding into his domain—a preposterous thought she quickly dismissed.
“Why did you ask for me?” she asked urgently, desperate to be anywhere but here.
“That’s the wrong question, Princess.”
“Then what is the right question?” she asked, frustrated at how she had fallen into his hands.
“Why did the King send you here? That is the question.” He paused a beat too long for her liking before continuing, “People will always make demands of kings, and most are far more reasonable than my own.”
I have asked myself that very question.
“The answer is, I have something all kings want. Some might call it the greatest power of all: knowledge. The knowledge of why the army is still massed outside even though the princess is safe, why no message has been sent, and why they hold a white flag imprinted with the blazing sun. I know the king is worried. I understand why the king tried to torture me. And I know why, when they realized it was futile, he would be willing to listen to my demands in exchange for a chance to comprehend.”
She asked another question that had plagued her thoughts. “Why me?”
He stayed silent for a moment, then, as if in remembrance, answered “I heard this story once.”
He paused a moment longer before continuing, his voice filling the room with a rich timbre as if he was a bard telling a tale. “A man weathered in his age had just lost his son, a soldier who died defending a duke’s land from bandits. Despite this valiant defense, the greedy duke refused to pay the bereavement sum for the soldier’s untimely death. What happened next hurts my blackened heart even more.”
Lehara leant against the bars, caught on to his every word.
“You see, the son had been sending money to his father to help him keep the farm and pay the duke’s taxes. With no money from his son, the man couldn’t afford the taxes, and as recompense, the duke seized all his lands and property. The man petitioned the king, but the ruler would not go against his loyal duke. It didn’t matter what a peasant had to say; he wasn’t the duke’s equal. The man hung his head, seething with anger at the world’s injustice. But then, a beacon of light appeared—a young princess who had no involvement in the matter at all. She responded to the petition by donating her own funds, allowing the man to settle the taxes and keep his property.”
Her breath caught. Impossible.
“Why you, you ask?” Finally turning to face her, his vivid green eyes bore into her as if he could uncover all her secrets. She reminded herself to breathe. “It’s because when all others would not listen, you did. You acted. I have something to say that could change the course of history. I will tell you my story, and it will reveal everything about the army outside your castle walls and how you can prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”
She distinctly remembered the day from his story—of course, she did. But she couldn’t fathom how he could possibly know. Only the man, the king and the duke knew of it.
“It will be a long tale. Will you listen, Princess?” he asked, as if the fate of the world depended on it.
She was still afraid, but she forced herself to nod, and, with an intensity she had not yet shown, she responded, “I will.”