The young warrior surveyed the scene to see where he was needed most. Lieutenant Jimson was locked in battle with a bandit but seemed to have the upper hand. Tam was standing not far away as if waiting to lend aid, but his face was drawn and pale. Frisha was hiding behind her horse in the center of the road, but Reaylin was missing. Something in the trees to Frisha’s side caught her attention, and she started in that direction. Rezkin took off at a sprint determined to intercept her and face whatever commotion had drawn her attention.

The warrior arrived just ahead of Frisha and ordered her to retreat. He could now see what had drawn her away from the relative safety of the road. Reaylin was being tossed around like a rag doll by a hulking bandit who was probably double her weight. She had lost her sword but at least managed to score a hit with one of her daggers. The small blade protruded from the monster’s thigh, but the injury only seemed to incite the brute’s rising anger. Rezkin looked more closely. It was no surprise the man was unfazed. His arms were covered in purple-black ink. He grabbed Reaylin by her chest armor and threw her into a tree. She struck the trunk with a heavy thud and crumpled to the ground. Frisha screamed, drawing the man’s attention. When the bandit turned, though, it was not a frightened woman he faced but Rezkin’s demonic gaze.

With both swords in hand, Rezkin punched the man in the face with a fist braced by a heavy hilt. The bandit stumbled back but maintained his footing. Rezkin shoved his steel reinforced boot into the man’s gut with all his might. The air exploded from the man’s lungs, and he vomited as he fell to his knees. Rezkin sheathed Bladesunder, and taking Kingslayer in both hands, he held the sword high over his head with the tip pointed down. He drove the sword straight through the base of the man’s skull severing the spinal cord. It was an execution, plain and simple.

“Rezkin!” Frisha screamed. She knew Rezkin had killed men in the last battle, but she had not actually seen it occur. To see it now, in such a brutal fashion after the man had already been beaten, was shocking. Rezkin ignored Frisha’s scream and casually tore a strip of cloth from the dead man’s soiled tunic. He wiped down his blade and slid it into the sheath. He turned and quickly strode over to where Reaylin lay gasping against the tree.

With swift fingers, the warrior unbuckled the injured young woman’s armor. Frisha stumbled forward and gripped his shoulder with one hand. With his body still surging from battle, he barely managed to avoid shoving her away.

“Rezkin, what are you doing?” Frisha shouted in alarm.