The Betrayed: Book one of The Lost Words by Ljubuncic Igor

Author:Ljubuncic, Igor [Ljubuncic, Igor]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

His self-spelled portent of doom came two days later. A band of Outsiders tried to rape Matriarch Alda.

Ayrton awoke to a torrent of screams and shouting. He ran out of his tent into a rainy night, naked, with a sword in hand. Several Outsiders lay dead or dying, their blood mingling with rainwater. Sloshing through mud, he fought his way toward the epicenter of calamity.

Torches sputtered, trying to survive the storm, making the weakest of lights by which he navigated his way around wagons and tents. Not far from where he slept, a group of patriarchs had taken shelter under the thick branches of an old chestnut that provided some lee from the elements.

Now, the ancient tree was a witness to a gruesome fight, unarmed patriarchs and several soldiers fighting a horde of monsters intent on rape. Matriarch Alda was in their hands, and they struggled with the choice between stripping her clothes off and fending off men who opposed them.

Unseen by either group, Ayrton hopped toward the carnage and hid behind a tree. They had camped at the outskirts of a forest, where they had hoped to avoid the worst of the bad weather that had haunted them for the last several days.

Matriarch Alda was screaming madly. People were cursing and growling like animals. Swords rang. Ayrton waited for a few moments, breathing hard and deeply, trying to get his bearings. The illumination was horribly weak. He could guess shapes at best. Still, he did not hesitate when he rushed from his hiding.

The first man never saw him coming, only felt a cold length of wet steel through his neck. Ayrton did not waste time talking, negotiating, or merely wounding. He cut through flesh and bone as efficiently as possible. The second man collapsed.

The remaining three noticed him, let go of the matriarch, and charged together. He spun and slid in the mud, collided into the chestnut with his back and shoulder, cursed silently as blades rained about him. He was winded within seconds.

But his opponents were drunk. Their movements were sluggish, inaccurate. The third man dropped dead, clutching his guts. The remaining two yielded.

Suddenly, the enraged and shocked crowd of onlookers became a mob of rabid animals. Picking up dead branches and stones, they attacked the two Outsiders. Ayrton found himself defending the very men he had tried to kill only a moment earlier.

“No! No! Stop. They must live so we can hang them before all!” A fist punched him, tearing open his upper lip. A stone bounced off his shoulder. “The justice of the gods must be served.” He stood over the two cowering drunkards, sword poised to strike if need be. The crowd lost its momentum. Ayrton almost dropped to his knees, exhausted.

Matriarch Alda rose and started wiping clots of mud off her shredded dress. It was a symbolic gesture. She looked him in the eye. “Thank you, soldier. You are a true servant of the gods.”

Ayrton nodded mutely, too tired to speak anymore.

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