Come on, something must change and soon. Kyrad thought desperately. The trial was set for tomorrow, and he wasn’t a fool to think he would be ruled innocent. If he didn’t make a move tonight, he would be done for, and he refused to die like a common thief. There had to be a way out of here.

  The Swords of Justice were thorough, always maintaining at minimum six guards and leaving no openings. If they had to open the cell doors, a couple were always ready to fire blow darts to knock them out. How could he break out? He glared at his fellow prisoner, Arturo, who was slumped against the wall, asleep. If only the big oaf wasn’t a raging idiot. With his help, they might be able to escape this prison.

  Fear. When was the last time he felt this emotion? Not many things in this world scared Kyrad. This was one of those rare times, and not because he feared death but because he feared failing to achieve the Sword of Cataclysm. It is said that if you grasp the sword, you will feel an incredible power. He wanted to feel that and be here when the war began.

  His whole life had been waiting to invade Aidris. He remembered dreaming about the invasion as a kid. It always began with Kyrad leading the charge and conquering all the nations and unifying them under the Durmaddon banner. The dream had to come true.

  But how? I'm like a fish caught in a net with no escape! Kyrad closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths. There would be no hope of escape if he allowed emotion to cloud his judgment. After doing this for a minute, he opened his eyes once more and looked around.

  Movement caught his eye. Was he hallucinating? So desperate that he was seeing things? Kyrad blinked and waited. Someone started to yell outside, one of the women, but he couldn’t understand what was being said. Out of a nearby window was an orangish tint, and it was getting brighter with each minute.

  “We’ve got a fire!” one of the guards yelled out.

  “Kyrad’s people have come to rescue him,” Arturo said, causing all the guards to look at him strangely.

  When did he wake up? Kyrad thought and shook his head. That was what was happening; of that, he was sure. The odds of a fire coming from an accident weren’t likely. Perhaps Arturo wasn’t as stupid as he thought.

  “How can you be sure?” the guard asked.

  “Trust me, get reinforcements!” Arturo said roughly.

  “He’s right, Dedora, go grab some re—” one of the guards stopped mid-sentence. Blood started to spill as she clutched her throat, where an arrow was sticking out.

  The other guards all took out their weapons and yelled that they were under attack. But it was no use. The words barely left their lips when a figure appeared, holding two short swords, and carved through the guards in seconds.

  A head rolled on the ground, and two guards were lying on the floor, twitching and bleeding out from their wounds. One of the guards grabbed the bars and opened her mouth, trying to utter out words. Instead, a sword tore through her skull, and she went still.

  The door opened, and in came Ithric, his sword and shield in hand. “Good to see you are still alive,” Ithric said and looked over at Arturo, who was standing there, glaring at each of them. His hands were curled into fists and visibly shaking.

  “About time you showed up,” Kyrad said as his cuffs were removed. It felt good to move them without metal clanking around his wrists and ankles. Once that was done, Ithric turned to Arturo and raised his sword. “Stop.”

  Ithric stopped and turned to Kyrad with a confused look. “Why?”

  Arturo, to his credit, didn’t look scared or confused. His expression never changed, except his attention turned on Kyrad completely. He had no doubt in his mind that Arturo would kill him if their situations were reversed.

  “Because I want to fight him again,” Kyrad said and walked toward the doors. “He’ll escape, and then I’ll kill him.”

  “What makes you think I’ll escape?” Arturo asked.

  “It’s a feeling I have. Until next time,” Kyrad said and walked out of the cell. They needed to move fast as it wouldn’t take long for reinforcements to arrive. Standing outside the cell, with both blades in hand, was Ahalfar. “Where are the others?”

  “Keeping the entrance clear,” Ahalfar said.

  “Let’s not keep them waiting then,” Kyrad said, and they started to jog out. He looked out the window and saw five different fires. If he had to guess, he would bet Samot set the fires. Not many could hide as well as Samot, and if he didn’t want to be seen, he usually wasn’t.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  As they made their way down the hall, Kyrad thought about Arturo. If his father were here, he would have told him to kill Arturo and be done with it. But he wanted to fight him again. Perhaps it was his ego or maybe Arturo’s arrogance. Whatever the reason, he wanted to be the one who killed him in a fair fight.

  “Where is my sword?” Kyrad asked.

  “Samot should have it,” Ithric said.

  Good. Kyrad didn’t want to be without his sword. The weapon was special, and he would hate to lose it. The curved blade was an artifact, created with special properties that allowed the blade to pierce any armor, regardless of its properties.

  They made it out, and he saw five dead women, all with slit throats. Samot, Cainon, and Buthomar were standing with their weapons drawn and turned when Kyrad, Ahalfar, and Ithric came out.

  Kyrad had nothing against these women, but they were his enemy. If they hadn’t captured him, they would still be alive. The fires were starting to lower, and he was impressed at how quickly they were being taken out.

  As Ithric said, Samot had the curved blade and handed it to Kyrad, who put the scabbard onto his hip. Now he felt complete. Thankfully, the women had never removed his armor, and he had everything else. “Let’s get going,” Kyrad said.

  There wasn’t an easy way to escape unnoticed. Kyrad and the others hid behind barrels, wagons, and even hid near bushes. It didn’t take long until an alarm went off, and the Swords of Justice began moving in groups. They were organized, moving quickly and with a large group. There were At least a hundred—how had he not heard of these people before? In his time in the various nations, not once had he heard anyone talk about the Swords of Justice.

  A group of guards ran past their wagon. Ithric moved forward until Kyrad grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. “We can’t give away our position.”

  “We can take them and get out of here,” Ithric argued.

  “No,” Kyrad said forcefully and pointed. Not far away were another twenty guards and not far from them was another ten. Could they take forty soldiers at once? Probably, yet he wasn’t going to risk his life to test. He would rather get out of here and get to Carhan.

  This mission was proving to be more dangerous than he expected. If these women recognized him, who else would? Time was of the essence, and Kyrad couldn’t give Azzellia time to move the Sword of Cataclysm, for if that happened, that would complicate his mission immensely.

  Ahalfar took the lead. “We’re close to the horses,” he said as they jumped inside a wagon and the sound of armored guards walked by.

  “Where are they?” one of the guards said angrily.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t let them escape!” another said.

  “Keep moving; there is a good chance the prisoner is hiding nearby,”

  “Let’s check these wagons.”

  The guards began to look behind anything a human could fit in. There weren’t many spots left to hide, and he wanted to avoid a fight. Someone tapped his shoulder, and he saw it was Samot.

  “Follow me; I can get us out without being detected,” Samot said.

  “Lead the way,” Kyrad said.

  With that, Samot crouched as low as he could and motioned for the others to mimic him. He was swift, moving so low that the nearby bushes covered them, and it was like he could read the minds of the guards. Each move he made was precise, and he made them all stop at the exact time a guard was about to look where they would have been.

  Kyrad had asked Samot how he knew when someone was going to look nearby but never got a satisfactory answer. Either way, he was glad Samot followed his orders. Before long, they were able to get out of the camp and ran toward a nearby cave.

  How nobody spotted them, Kyrad could never say. They were in the open for at least five minutes, running with little to no cover, and then they made it to the cave. Samot wiped some sweat from his brow and laughed. “We made it,” he said.

  “Where are the horses?” Kyrad asked.

  “Through this cave,” Ithric said and put away his weapons. He took out a flask and took a deep drink before handing it over to Kyrad. “Some water.”

  “Thanks,” Kyrad drained the rest of the flask and handed it back. The cool liquid felt good and very refreshing. “We go through this cave, and the horses are at the end?”

  Buthomar nodded, and Kyrad began walking. There was no point in remaining here any longer than necessary, and he didn’t want to be discovered. Once they got on their horses, they would be free, and he would never let his guard down again.

  The cave was dark, and Buthomar took out a torch and lit it, illuminating the area with much-needed light. The cave was longer than Kyrad was expecting as it seemed to never end. An hour passed, and there was no end in sight.

  “Do you know why you were captured and not me?” Buthomar asked.

  “They recognized me from Talin Grad,” Kyrad said. He nearly forgot that Buthomar had been with him when he was attacked. How foolish it was not only to be caught off guard but to have both of them taken out. If the Swords of Justice had wanted to, they could have killed the five of them. It was by luck they only wanted him.

  “Ah, perhaps you should wear a hood. I would hate for you to get captured again,” Buthomar said.

  “Oh, shove it,” Kyrad said with a wave of his hand. “It took you guys long enough to find me. A day later and I would have been dead.”

  “We found you quickly enough,” Cainon protested, his longsword still in hand. “The issue was finding a way to get inside and rescue you and get out. We counted one hundred and fifty-three soldiers. We had to play it smart.”

  Kyrad didn’t respond. It was a fair argument. There was no way the six of them could take on one hundred and fifty soldiers. He was a skilled fighter, but numbers would always overwhelm a small number of skilled fighters. Some warriors overestimated their abilities and died to a group of people they had no reason dying to. He did not overestimate himself.

  “It was easy once your captors stopped and put you in that prison,” Cainon continued. “After that, we found this cave and got you out. There’s little chance we’ll be followed in here.”

  “You got that right,” Samot said.

  The cave began to brighten up, and a few minutes later, Kyrad saw the horses, all tied to a lone tree. Thankfully, there were six horses and plenty of water and food. His men hadn’t been stupid enough to starve them, which meant they were well-rested and ready to go.

  “You all did good,” Kyrad said and looked behind one last time. Cainon was right; there was no chance the Swords of Justice would go through the cave. He was free with only one concern left. The Sword of Cataclysm had to be found and quickly. No more stops. “It’s time for us to go then. We ride to Carhan!”