Into Oblivion

6

Jerald sat upon the barstool; an utter mess. His once slicked back jet hair was now matted and spiked for he had ran from Kvatch all the way to the Imperial city to find the Hero that he had heard so much about. His wife and sons had left for Anvil where family members would be waiting for them. Jerald's guilty conscious had gotten the better of him and he would not stop until he saw his daughter's face again. Half his gold went to bandits as they robbed him on the paths. He told them of his situation and some bandits were civil enough to make him pay his price for passing through their territory.

The Hero was a strong man, an intelligent man, a great man... he could still hear the deal that they had made between each other.

One of the Hero's lips had twisted up into a half smile as he told his price, "I will save your bonny daughter... if you promise me her hand in marriage."

Jerald had nearly choked upon his own words. He coughed and his eyebrows rose causing wrinkles to form over his forehead, "P-Pardon?" He sputtered.

The Hero sighed deeply and leaned back upon the barstool, "I have accomplished my main goals in life, friend, and even though I have fulfilled my wildest dreams it seems that I'm not really happy. So... I've decided I'm going to try and settle down and the first step is to find a wife. I already have a wonderful home in Cheydinhal with a lovely family who are more or less... servants to me." He couldn't help but to brandish a grin for the thought of his brotherhood. "I can provide your daughter with the loveliest of gifts and riches. I'm not too young or too old for her, and I believe that once she has met me she will be glad we came to this agreement. What say you?"

Jerald's bothered eyes fell to the table and he held up his hand and called to the bartender, "Ale, please."

An old worn out tan cup slid across the table, ale spilling over the brim and staining the counter. Jerald picked it up and guzzled the liquid down. He quickly lost his rich and mighty façade and instead he turned to his barbaric beggar side. A droplet of ale rolled down the corner of his lips as he considered the following; would Elizabeth like him? Is he truly the best for her? Is he a good candidate for her husband? Would he treat her right? All sorts of questions came to his head as he worried about his little girl. His heart ached within him as he thought of leaving her. How foolish were his actions!

The Hero bowed his head slightly with narrowed eyes, "Well, friend?"

Jerald raised his stern eyes and softly he said—

I'm going to die. Elizabeth screamed within the confinements of her mind. Her feet padded across the cobblestone courtyard of the castle. The rain beat down upon her as if it was upon Broga's side. It held her back and tossed her about like a wave in the ocean. She ran through the gates and the Kynmarchers looked down upon her with wary glances. Where was she running to, they questioned themselves.

Suddenly, Broga burst through the castle doors and the Kynmarchers saw the blood running down his face and mixing with the water. They also saw the sword that trembled within his insufferable grasp. The Kynmarchers all removed the bows from their backs and quickly put an arrow onto the string. Their strong fingers pulled back the arrow and they aimed at Elizabeth with merciless eyes.

Broga saw them and he bellowed up through the raging storm, "Do not hurt her! Do not hurt her! She belongs to me so her punishment shall be by my hand!"

The Kynmarchers lowered their bows with confused eyes. Broga sprinted through the gate with such agility and strength. His legs moved as pistons, one came up and the other one quickly fell soon propelling him through the air. His muscles contracted and bulged through his dark skin. His sleek black figure seemed like a shadow gliding across a wall.