Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Sacrifice**

“No,” Jason screamed. He squirmed but the thug on top of him wouldn’t budge. Tears began to roll down his cheeks like salty rivers without him even noticing. “He didn’t do anything,” Jason yelled, the words exiting his mouth like screeches of chalk rubbing off of a stone.

Malcolm let a content smile creep across his face. The man’s blade hung from Byron’s chest like a coat rod. Malcolm twisted the blade and Byron released a gasp of dead air as his heart was ground to a pulp. Byron's eyes hung like he were in a sleepy trance then the reeve’s body slumped forward farther down Malcolm’s blade, still and lifeless. “He’s done plenty in his rotten life to deserve worse,” Malcolm said as he ripped his blade out of Byron. Like a sawn tree, the body fell to the ground in a heavy heap. A red stain bloomed across Byron’s shirt as blood leaked from his wound.

“Why?” was all Jason could muster to cry in a defeated mantra. “All he’s ever done is help people,” he was finally able to whimper.

“Is that right?” Malcolm remarked wide-eyed. “All I can remember is him watching as his neighbors starved while the river went dry and we went without rain for an entire summer. When Finchead had silos full of grain he wouldn’t even let his people sell to us for a fair price. He told his people to sell elsewhere where they could charge a higher price,” Malcolm said disgustedly. Malcolm’s thugs grunted, anger leeching throughout the street like fog on a cool night.

“We had to or we’d starve,” Jax yelled defiantly.

Malcolm turned to Jax and stared at the hunter as if he were a schoolmaster looking down at a naïve student, “that’s what he wanted you to think, but Finchead had enough to share with us in our time of need. Byron put Finchead first,” Malcolm said with a nod, “but at the cost of watching us starve, something I can never forgive.” The thugs began to cry out again, now was their time for revenge. “Killem”, “String 'em up”, and “gut them”, and more were thrown about in increasing intensity.

Jason looked to Byron’s body and Malcolm, tears still racing down his face but his feelings now a mixture of grief and distraught. “Jason,” Jax yelled. The thug holding down the hunter pinned Jax’s head down with his arm but didn’t stop Jax from continuing to exclaim, “he’s lying, you don’t know what it was like during the drought. No one knew how long it would last.”

Malcolm strode over to the hunter and drove his foot into Jax’s side. A loud tuft of air leaped from Jax’s mouth as he was winded. “Him next,” Malcolm commanded. A pair of goons pulled Jax up and moved him to the wooden post, Byron’s body lay lifeless to the side. At first, Jax resisted so much with his thrashing and twisting, they couldn’t tie him to the post. But after one of the thugs sent a few loaded punches into Jax’s face and chest the hunter gave up any resistance. Malcolm stood back, showing he would not be the one to execute Jax.

Jason’s cheek pressed against the dusty ground. His tears and spittle mixed into muddy globs and he struggled to see. The thug who had held Jax down pulled an ax from his belt. The handle was long and its head wide, the weapon looked like it was meant more for chopping trees than killing people. The thug looked back at Malcolm, hints of fear and uncertainty revealed by his lowered eyes as if he were ashamed to look at Jax or Jason. Malcolm nodded and the thug tightened his grip. The man turned to Jax and raised his blade. Jax's head lobbed and his blackened eyes barely rose as he watched the ax head lift before him.

The thug bent forward to deliver the strike but before the ax could move any further the thug stopped with a jerk. From just below the man’s shoulder blade a thin spear protruded. The thug jerked to the side then fell to the ground clutching his wound. Everyone looked around frantically but before Jason knew it Trent and Vanna followed by the rest of their party was flooding into the street. Malcolm's men had spread themselves thin in a semicircle and the newcomers were easily able to disable a few of the thugs and break a hole in the line separating Malcolm’s fighters into two separate groups. The thug holding Jason down rose quickly and rushed to Malcolm’s side with his weapon ready.

Jason tried to get up but his joints and muscles were tight and sore. He honed his gaze on Vanna and the two locked eyes. “Jason,” the woman yelled. She tried to run to him but they were separated by a few of Malcolm’s men.

Malcolm scrunched his nose and glared at the newcomers but didn’t show any signs of fear. “What is this?” he asked rhetorically. “You are all disturbing a punishment ruled by law, these are murderers. I can have all of you jailed,” he said trying to hold onto any strands of authority.

“Don’t try to mask this farce Malcolm,” Trent retorted but then Byron’s body caught his gaze and the sheriff went limp. “Byron,” he mouthed. Vanna turned and saw the body as well and gasped nearly dropping her sword as she tried to cover her mouth. “Malcolm,” Trent growled, “you’ve gone too far.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I’ve warned you,” Malcolm said calmly staring straight into Trent’s eyes. “Leave now and I won’t have any of you punished.”

“How dare you threaten a King’s man,” Trent spat then moved towards Malcolm. A thug moved to intercede but Trent disarmed the man in a single salvo. “How dare you pretend to be delivering justice.” Trent looked around at the crowd, despite being outnumbered by at least two to one the villagers from Finchead were better equipped. “All I see is a despot,” Trent snarled inches from Malcolm’s face.

Malcolm winced angrily then moved to strike but Trent headbutted the man. Malcolm swayed for a moment then first dropped his sword and then himself to the ground, both lay without any sign of threat. Trent looked down at the fallen man for a moment then scanned the crowd locking eyes with every one of Malcolm’s goons.

“I can forgive you for once following this sod,” he said then paused. “But I cannot forgive you if you choose to defend a tyrant over saving your home. Go,” he said with a brush of a hand, “save your town and know this feud is over.”

Malcolm’s goons looked between themselves. A few gripped their weapons causing the Finchead villagers to ready their weapons but then one of the Fallows villagers turned to the raging fire behind them. The man dropped his weapon and ran off and like water called by the tide the rest of the thugs followed after him.

“Jason,” Vanna said as she rushed to his side. Her face was a shroud of worry as she rushed to him but she calmed once she saw that he was alright. Meanwhile, Trent slowly approached Byron and the militiaman bowed their heads.

“Byron,” Jason gasped as Vanna helped to pull him up.

“Is he…” Vanna started quietly but was unable to finish her question. Jason clumsily stood and limped over to Byron. Jax and Trent knelt over the body.

“Byron,” Jason whispered. He reached out a timid hand to touch Byron’s chest. It was still.

“We need to get out of here,” Trent mumbled. The sheriff hooked his hands under Byron’s arms, “don’t just stand there,” he yelled. “Someone help me,” his voice cracked. No one moved, all they did was stand and watch Trent pathetically cling onto Byron.

Jason’s heart slowed to a steady beat. The answer is right in front of me, he realized. But I can’t… no I can… no I can’t, his head buzzed. Jason moved to Byron and grabbed onto his legs. Trent looked at Jason with surprise. Jason tried to lift Byron but he was too weak. “Vanna, help me please,” he said. The warrior was stunned but quickly recovered and grabbed onto Byron’s other leg. “Come on, down the alley,” Jason commanded and Trent and Byron followed his lead. The rest of the party started to follow after them but Jason yelled, “no. Tie up Malcolm and bring him with us.”

The men looked to Trent for permission and the sheriff nodded silently. The militiamen moved to arrest the unconscious Malcolm and the trio carried Byron through the alley undisturbed.

“Jason…” Vanna started.

“Don’t worry Vanna,” Jason cut her off. The answer is right in front of me. The warrior went silent. “Set him down over here,” Jason said using his head to indicate a soft patch of grass. The three gently lowered Byron. Trent backed off and slumped against the wall of a nearby house and bowed his head. Vanna stood back and watch Jason hover over the reeve’s body.

“Jason…” Vanna repeated desperately.

“Why is this so hard to do?” Jason asked himself.

“What?”

Jason didn’t answer and stared down at the corpse. I don’t even know if he is real, Jason thought but reached into his tunic regardless. His hand closed around the stone and it beat slow and warm like a heart. The longer Jason held it in his hand the warmer it grew. It wants to be used, Jason realized. He wasn’t sure what to do but pressed the stone onto the center of Byron’s chest. All of a sudden energy flowed through Jason’s body, its pressure most intense at his heart and head like the strongest migraine and pang of heartburn he’d ever felt. Jason willed the pressure from his body and the stone began to exude red mist.

Vanna yelped in surprise and Trent scrambled over to Jason. “What are you doing?” Trent asked in disbelief.

Jason didn’t answer and continue to let the energy flow through him and into Byron. Jason pushed softly on the stone and it fell into Bryon’s chest as if the man were made of water. The beating of the stone was replaced by a stronger thumping and then Byron gasped loudly. The reeve doubled over onto his side in a coughing fit and a moment later the remainder of the red mist rushed into his mouth. Jason slumped to the ground exhausted and dozed off to the foggy sight of Trent and Vanna descending on him and Byron.

*****

“Jason…Jason,” a voice repeated. Jason felt something gently pounding on his chest and opened his eyes lazily. Vanna knelt over him with her hands pressed to him. “Oh God, he’s awake,” she cried and Jason could see tears form in her eyes. The woman pulled Jason into a hug.

“I’m alright Vanna,” Jason said as he tried to sit up. “Byron,” he gasped remembering what had happened. Jason turned his head frantically looking for the reeve and found him still lying on the ground but Jason could see his chest was slowly rising and falling.

“You saved him,” Vanna said. “I don’t know how, but you did,” she said through mixed tears.

“Trent,” Jason called and moved over to the sheriff bent over the now living Byron.

Trent turned to Jason and opened his mouth but before he could say anything the rest of their party appeared from the alley, Jax at the lead. The hunter stopped and took in the scene. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped. “Wha… wha…”

“Later,” Trent said tersely. “Do you have Malcolm?”

“Ah, yeah,” Jax said dumbfounded at what he was seeing. The militiamen behind the hunter were all reacting similarly to the sight of the resurrected Byron.

“We can’t waste any time,” Trent said as he lifted Byron onto his shoulders, “they may still attack us when they find Malcolm gone. We must leave now.”