“What you wanted is irrelevant. My hatred is the only thing that’s kept me going all these years, the only reason that I’ve suffered like a good little slave and let those scumbags look down on me like some Inverted wretch. The moment I first set foot in those mines as a slave, I vowed that I’d have my revenge on Rodei, but he had to go ahead and die before I could kill him.” His gaze wandered back to Alistar, unstable eyes filled with killing intent. “Luckily, I’ve been given a chance at the next best thing.”

“Bertrand, please…he’s just a boy. He hasn’t even had his first Nameday.”

Bertrand took a deep, resolute breath and exhaled through his nose. “I’m sorry old friend, but it’s time for your struggles to end.”

“Bert—”

Alistar watched in horror as the old blade parted the skin of Raidon’s throat with sickening ease. Blood shot out of the dark, fleshy gap while rivulets of ruby dribbled down his front and stained his dirtied clothing. Some of the gore sprayed onto Alistar’s face.

“Ack—lss—tr,” his uncle gurgled as Bertrand stepped past his whitening face, eyes wide with terror and worry.

“And now for you.”

Alistar’s legs were shaking. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, what he was still seeing. It had to be a dream, a very real and twisted nightmare. He was going to die in the coming moments, but would wake up with a start only to be hushed back to sleep by his mother’s soothing voice, his father’s heavy arm wrapped around the two of them, hugging them closely.

He put up no resistance as the man stepped in front of him and readied the bloodied knife for a simple slash that would surely slit his throat.

He could have freed the deadly crystal from his pocket and hurled it at his attacker. It only needed to graze his skin, and then everything would end. However, his uncle would still be dead, and he’d still be stranded in the middle of the forest, alone for the first time in his life. But as things were, he couldn’t even form a thought, let alone attempt some sort of retaliation. He was absolutely petrified.

“This is the end, little Loya—”

Raidon’s grizzly figure tackled Bertrand to the ground, blood still jetting out of his open wound and spattering onto the other man’s face as they began to struggle in the dirt. His face had gone pale, more so than anyone else that Alistar had seen die.

Uncle Raidon! No!

His uncle sputtered as he begged Alistar to escape, incoherent and crazed. The despair on his face and the desperation in his eyes said more than words ever could. Raidon would die at any moment, after using the last of his strength to restrain the man that had antagonized his family since as early as he could remember. Alistar would follow within seconds, and once they were killed, their family would continue to suffer without knowing that the two of them had never made it to Malford.

He watched as Raidon’s struggles died down, the light in his eyes extinguished as Bertrand rolled him off of his body. As the big man made to get up, a memory of Kaila’s voice shattered the stillness of Alistar’s mind, and his legs stopped shaking.

Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again, Alie. After all, you promised, didn’t you?

He barely avoided a sweeping slap as Bertrand staggered to his feet. Without looking back, he tore through a group of bushes and sailed over a trio of fallen trees, taking off through the forest like a fleeing deer.

There was no destination, no plan of escape. Alistar only knew that he had to get away, had to run until his lungs stopped working and his legs gave out. His uncle had sacrificed his life to give him a chance to survive, just as his father had years ago. Like his mother was now, slowly dying in that stuffy, dimly lit hell.

He ran and he ran, but no matter how far or how fast he sprinted, the bloodied visage of Bertrand Loran was right behind him. Alistar was smaller and nimbler, and could easily work his way through and around large stretches of undergrowth, but Bertrand made up for this difference with his huge, unyielding body and his long, powerful strides.

Alistar didn’t dare to look back, his heart beating a rhythm of fright within his chest as he continued his frantic flight. He could feel the man’s presence behind him, as if he were so close that any second he’d lash out and finish the job that he had set out to do.

Just as his strength began to give out, Alistar spotted a wall of bushes up ahead that intersected with his current path. Panic dug its heels in, since it didn’t matter whether he went left or right. Bertrand would cut diagonally and catch him.

As his last hopes drained away, he spotted an opening at the base of the massive bush that was just large enough for him squeeze into. He dove for it without thinking and clawed his way forward the moment he hit the dirt. The branches were stronger and thicker than most of the bushes he’d seen thus far, and its density far surpassed all the others. This bush was unique.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He kicked furiously and continued to crawl, realizing with subconscious gratitude that the small hole was the entrance to a tiny tunnel that ran beneath the leaves and branches. Bertrand plunged in after him and began to tear into the natural restraints like a crazed beast in a cage.

After half a minute of crawling, the island of bushes came to an end. Bertrand was close enough that the branches around Alistar shook and whined with every bloodthirsty step that the man took.

He scurried free of the tunnel in a frantic, four-legged crawl, but fresh, unexpected fear caused Alistar to dig his hands into the dirt and resist his forward momentum with all his might. The huge block of bushes didn’t end where he’d just come out. It wrapped around a ring of open space, which created a small patch of barren land within what was in actuality a huge expanse of dense underbrush.

The area must have been eight paces across and more than half as wide. Alistar had anchored himself in place only an arm’s length outside of the tunnel. In front of him, close enough that he could reach out and touch its moss-coloured scales, slept a giant, coiled up creature that resembled an elongated cave lizard without any legs. Without a doubt, it had to be a snake. This particular one was wider than Alistar’s waist and must have been fifteen paces long, though he couldn’t tell since it was coiled up into a large, ropy mound. Its face was within reach, beside the bend of a fat section of its body. It appeared to be sleeping, but he knew it must have noticed the commotion that Bertrand was making as he thrashed his way closer to the unsuspecting horror.

Within a split second, Alistar understood that this giant snake was more of an immediate threat to his life than his uncle’s killer. Bertrand would force his way into the open space in the coming seconds and would probably kick him towards the snake as a distraction.

What was the best thing to do in a moment like this?

Just as he was desperately trying to figure out a way to survive, the snake’s eyelids peeled back and revealed a pair of cold eyes, coloured the lightest, iciest blue. There were no whites in these eyes, just black slits down their centres. The unsettling stare fell upon Alistar as the creature raised its massive head and cocked it back ever so slightly.

“Where are you hiding? You can’t get away!”

Alistar had to make a decision and he had to make it now, or else he would die. He scrambled backward and planked against the wall of bushes, bracing himself just as Bertrand broke free.

“There you—what the—”

A heavy foot caught on Alistar’s body, and Bertrand stumbled forward, directly into the head of the giant snake. His expression was lax with confusion as he stared into those great, piercing eyes, almost nose-to-nose with the imposing animal as it responded viciously.

It flung its head back and snapped out with its powerful mouth, clamping down on Bertrand’s side. It took an exaggerated chunk out of his abdomen, and sent him crumpling to the ground while howling in pain. That was the last that Alistar saw of the attack, for he immediately darted back into the hole and made a quick escape.

Bertrand’s screams lasted less than a minute, by which time Alistar had already cleared the tunnel’s exit. With his mind a mess, he sprinted off into the forest with aimless abandon.

A few hours ago, his uncle had estimated that they were about two days away from Malford. His best chance was to make his way back to the river and follow it all the way to town, but disoriented as he was he had no way of knowing in which direction it lay.

Without any bearings on his current location, Alistar ran straight ahead, mindlessly and without any regard to his physical wellbeing. He tripped over roots, ripped through bushes, and scuttled over mounds of heightened earth, ignoring the tears to his clothes and the cuts to his skin.

Leaping over a log, a much smaller snake that was sleeping beneath it struck out and narrowly missed his left leg. About ten minutes later, a red pouncer soared past him as he barreled into a small bush, the creature thrashing fiercely as he left it at his back.

Once the better half of an hour had passed, his body began to refuse all commands from his brain. He’d run until his heart threatened to burst from his chest, his legs on fire, his body rigid and heavy. Worst was the pain in his lungs, which felt as if he had inhaled a handful of grinded glass.

Uncle…

Blinded by a wash of stinging tears, he stumbled through one last thicket before his legs tangled together and he pitched forward, face-planting in the dirt.

Have to get up. Have to escape.

He only thought of running, of putting as much distance as possible between himself and all of the corpses he’d left behind him. He inched forward at a tenacious crawl, putting one hand in front of the other and kicking feebly, one leg at a time. His entire body had been cut up and scraped, which left him covered in blood and suffering from the slightest movements. Warm sunlight tickled his skin as he heaved in great breathes, choking on air as he finally stopped moving so he could vomit at his side.

He tried to push himself farther, as if running away from the horrors he’d experienced would erase them from reality. He flipped over with the last of his strength, lying spread-eagle as his eyes gladly slid shut beneath the sun’s burning gaze.

The area around him was less clustered, less shaded than it had been moments ago. A light breeze soothed his sweaty skin, urging him to ease his mind, to let go of his worries and to stop fighting the pain that defined his perceptions. Minutes passed before he realized that he’d stumbled upon a mountain road, which was wider than the one that led away from the mines.

Vomiting again, he cried in silent agony, his body unresponsive as he stared into the backs of his eyelids. Uncle…you saved me. You protected me, and yet I… Uncle… Uncle!

Alistar’s right hand rested atop his waistline, where he could feel a small lump amidst his tattered, bloodstained rags. By some miracle, his hidden pocket had remained unscathed, his precious crystal still sitting within. It was the one thing that could have saved his uncle’s life, but his cowardice had destroyed any hopes of reversing the results of that ambush. His uncle was dead, left in the forest to rot, or to be eaten by a wandering animal. All Alistar had left was this pretty, red stone.

His exhaustion caught up with him all at once, his head ringing as if struck by a hammer in the hands of a strong man. He had been put through too much today. No, not just today. His entire life had been an unending string of abuse and tragedy. Why did horrible things keep happening to him and his family? What had he ever done to earn such an unfair fate? What was his purpose, being born into slavery and endless abuse, living in fear and sadness as he watched his loved ones suffer and die, one after another?

Fearing that death was drawing near, Alistar lost himself to the darkness. The last thing that he heard was a strange clopping sound, and what seemed like words of worry, though this was surely the beginning of an unknown dream.