The Red Knight - Merlin BBC [2]

Chapter 2: The Volts

"Do I know you?" I ask, flinching as the man puts his dagger away.

"Of course, you don't remember me", he chimes, a friendly smile replacing his confident grin. "I was only a child when we last met."

I narrow my eyes, looking over the young man several times, scraping through my memories. The more I observe him, the more I see similarities in his face, but I can't remember where I've seen them or when. I have met far too many people to remember a particular child.

"Do you care to enlighten me?" I sneer, increasingly confused at his relaxing demeanour in my presence.

"I'm Tyrant", he answers, placing his hand on his chest. "Do you not remember?"

With the mention of his name, my eyes narrowed on the young man. It rings in my head, repeated by a distant voice—a distant memory. I dissociate from the moment; a memory from long ago stirred in my mind, coming to the surface in loud havoc and chaos.

Please! I hear echoing through my head. Please! Not Tyrant! I'll do anything! Please! And then I find myself returning to the moment...

"Please! I beg you!" The woman cries on the ground, struggling with two men dressed in black for a bundle in her arms. "I'll do anything you ask!" The men manage to get hold of the bundle, the women falling to the ground in a heap. "Please! I beg-"

The woman's cries grow silent as the sword plunges through her chest. Light leaves her eyes as death takes her for his own.

My chest is heavy from the loss of breath caused by the horrific scene I saw and the fighting. I hold a sword in hand, skin stained with fresh blood from my enemies. The length of my blonde braids holding my hair back has turned a deep crimson.

"You were told of the consequences!" a loud voice booms through the village. "Now you know! The Wolf does not tolerate deserters!"

I watch on as a few survivors flee the village to the forests. They leave behind loved ones now dead atop the soil, homes pillaged and burned. The men I stand among all come to a halt in their savagery, now hunting for any goods and prices left behind.

"Treat yourselves!" the same voice orders the men, who all cheer triumphantly.

I turn back to the bundle, now on the ground, standing. Behind the faded blue fabric is a small face, grey eyes broad in fear: his dark brown hair, a cluttered mess around his bright red cheeks. The two men who had prided the boy from his mother's hands only moments ago closed in on the toddler. I know I shouldn't interfere, but my feet pull me before I can stop them.

I march towards the men as they draw their swords toward the boy. "Stop!" I order angrily, "Don't touch a hair on that boy's head!" I growl.    

The men halted, both getting out of my line of fire as I thundered down the street in their direction. Both men bow their heads to me, moving on to hinder somebody else. I approach the boy more composed than I did the two men. The boy looks up at me with pleading eyes, the fear ever-growing as he sees my blood-stained features.

I realise I'm holding my bloodied sword still and quickly raise my hands as I come to a halt. "I won't hurt you", I promise, returning my sword to its place on my hip. The boy doesn't grow any less scared but tugs at his cloak, pulling it further around himself ."What's your name?" I ask, kneeling in front of the boy with a kind smile.

"T-T-T-wweer-rant", the boy's voice shakes, the poor toddler still unable to fully speak. He takes a moment to think about it, his eyebrows furrowing. "T-wer-ant", he tries again.