The Supreme Master

The Betrayal

Kian’s muscles strained, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the hilt of the ancient sword. The steel, if it even was steel, felt like ice against his palms. He expected a glow, a surge of power, or at least a sound. But there was only the heavy, wet breathing of the troll and the clatter of Ruma’s blade against the monster's bone club. They were done for.

“Kian! Now would be a good time!” Ruma yelled. He was backed against the cavern wall, his face slick with sweat and grime.

Kian gave one final, desperate heave. The sword did not slide out of its scabbard. Instead, with a loud c***k, the entire weapon broke free from the stone pedestal. It was surprisingly light but as Kian tried to draw the blade, it wouldn't budge. It felt as though the metal was fused shut.

“It’s stuck!” Kian screamed.

“Then use it as a club!” Ruma ducked under a massive swing that shattered the stone where his head had been a second before.

Kian didn't hesitate. He ran toward the beast, swinging the sheathed sword like a heavy staff. He caught the troll right in its knee. To his shock, the creature let out a high-pitched shriek of agony. Where the ancient scabbard touched its skin, the grey fur sizzled as if burned by fire.

The troll stumbled, clutching its leg. Ruma saw his opening. He lunged forward, driving his own sword deep into the soft tissue of the creature's neck. The troll gave one last, gurgling roar before collapsing to the floor, shaking the very foundations of the cave.

Silence fell, broken only by their heavy breathing.

“You alright?” Ruma asked, leaning on his knees and gasping for air.

“I think so,” Kian panted, looking down at the black sword in his hands. It looked plain, kind of ugly but it had terrified a monster that ordinary steel couldn't hurt. He tried once more to pull the blade out, but it remained locked tight. “It won’t open. The old woman was right. It’s not for me.”

Ruma stood up straight, wiping his blade on his trousers before sheathing it. “If it’s not for you, then it’s definitely not for Master Zito. But we have our orders. Let’s get out of this gods-forsaken hole before another one of those things shows up.”

_______

The journey back through the cursed lands was a blur of cold and exhaustion. They pushed the horses hard, reaching the border of Athos in half the time it had taken to arrive.

As they approached the spot where Azura’s hut stood, Kian slowed his horse. “Ruma, look.”

The hut was there, but it was silent. There was no smoke rising from the chimney, and the stool where the old woman had sat was overturned. They dismounted and walked toward the small building, their hands on their weapons.

“Azura?” Kian called out softly.

There was no answer. The hut was empty. It looked as though she had simply vanished into the wind, leaving nothing behind but the scent of dried herbs and old parchment.

“She’s gone,” Ruma noted, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Maybe she knew something.”

“What do you mean?” Kian asked.

Before Ruma could answer, the sound of a snapping twig echoed from the trees nearby. Ruma’s hand flew to Kian’s shoulder, shoving him down behind a large, jagged rock.

“Stay quiet,” Ruma hissed.

A group of men stepped out from the treeline. They weren't wearing the colorful livery of Athos’s royal guard. They were dressed in dark, practical leather and carried heavy crossbows. Kian recognized the man in the lead, it was Harek, one of Master Zito’s senior enforcers.

The men stopped near the empty hut, looking around with frustrated expressions.

“Where are they?” Harek spat, kicking a stone. “They should have been here by midday. Master said they’d be coming back this way.”

Kian felt his heart drop into his stomach. He looked at Ruma, who remained stone-faced, though his jaw was tight.

“Maybe the troll got them,” another man suggested, leaning on his spear. “Would save us the trouble of burying them.”

Harek laughed, a dry, cruel sound. “The Master doesn't care if they’re dead or alive, as long as we have that sword. He was very clear, no witnesses. He wants the world to hear the story of how he ventured into the cursed lands and fought the beast that guards the sword himself to claim the legendary blade. He can’t have two lowly guards walking around telling people the truth. Even better is if they are dead, no one would miss them.”

Kian felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

No witnesses.

Master Zito hadn't sent them on a mission of honor, he had sent them to their deaths. The promise of freedom was a lie.

“If they aren't here soon, we move further into the border,” Harek commanded. “Master wants that sword before the week is out. If we bring him the heads of those two as well, there might be a bonus in it for us.”

The men began to move off, heading toward the path Kian and Ruma had just traveled. They waited in the silence for a long time, neither of them daring to breathe.

Finally, Ruma leaned back against the rock, staring up at the grey sky. “Well. I suppose our service to the Manor is officially over.”

Kian looked at the sword resting against his legs. He felt a sudden, hot flash of anger. He had served Zito faithfully. He had worked in the dirt, took the beatings, and climbed his way up through sheer will. And this was the reward.

“He was going to kill us,” Kian whispered. “After everything.”

“That is the way of men like Zito,” Ruma said quietly, no longer referring to him as Master. “They see us as tools. When the tool is no longer needed, you throw it away so it doesn't get in the way of the next task.”

“We can’t go back,” Kian said. It wasn't a question.

“If we go back, we die,” Ruma agreed. “If we stay here, Harek will find us eventually.”

Kian stood up, his grip tightening on the ancient scabbard. He looked toward the west, away from Athos, toward the wild, unclaimed territories where the three kingdoms met.

“Then we go where he can’t find us,” Kian said. He looked at Ruma, his friend and mentor. “You don't have to come with me. You’re a better warrior than I am. You could find work anywhere.”

Ruma stood up and let out a short snort. “And let you get eaten by the next monster we run into? Besides, I’ve grown fond of your annoying singing. It keeps the silence away.”

Kian smiled, though it was a sad, tired thing. “Where do we go?”

Ruma looked at the map one last time before tearing it into pieces and letting the wind take it. “There is a valley beyond the Elradron border. It’s thick with forest and difficult to track through. If we can reach it, we can disappear. From there… we decide what kind of men we want to be.”

Kian nodded. He looked back toward the Kingdom of Athos, the only home he had ever known, even if it was a home of chains. He felt a strange sense of lightness. The slave Kian Ashborne was dead.

“To the valley, then,” Kian said.

They mounted their horses and turned away from the kingdom.