#highfantasy

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With the help of his associates, Hotran suppressed his enemies with force and subsequently ordered that no prisoners be taken. A massive slaughter of dissidents ensued... anyone who had taken a step against him was killed along with all their family members. More than two thousand men, women, and children were killed within four days, and after this, only Respina's warning caused that man to alter his decrees. Nevertheless, countless rebels were slain, and their wives and children were taken into slavery. Anyone who could, took their life in their hands and fled the country, while the rest of the suppressed people watched these atrocities in misery, an invisible rage seething beneath their skin.

It was precisely at this time that Respina and her friends decided to leave Palen. Enough with the pretense. None of them could bear to witness these tragedies any longer. Once, Palen had been the seat of a wise king, a just man who dedicated all his power to the peace, welfare of the people, and the progress of his country. Its men and women served him with love; but Hotran walked the path of the devil and had stepped onto the road of tyrants. He had taken up sorcery and witchcraft, and contrary to the oath he had sworn, he used the power that belonged to the people for his own welfare; thus, he was unworthy of service.

They were only waiting for Respina to give birth to her child. One month after the birth of her daughter, Himan arranged the preparations for their escape. They were to take a side road to reach the mountains and from there, return secretly to their home—the place they had left years ago in the hope of serving their people. It would have been a successful escape if Hotran's soldiers had not found them exactly four days later. Himan was killed in an attempt to help them escape, and now his wife and child were on their way back to Palen. A place where Hotran, whether intentionally or not, would employ their talents in the path he desired. Like before, he would trade each of their lives for another, and this was something Orkam did not need his sister's prophetic ability to know.

Respina, whose gaze was fixed on a small bundle in the hands of one of the guards, whispered under her breath: "There is no danger for her. At least not from the man who is there."

Then she stood up and walked directly toward the group's commander. Neither of the two guards stopped her. Facing the officer who stood a few paces away, she commanded: "I want to feed my daughter... bring her."

The officer’s sharp gaze swung toward the woman. Respina commanded even more firmly this time: "Did you not hear what I said? Bring my daughter..."

The man's sword left its scabbard with a ringing resonance and was placed against Respina's neck: "Are you giving me orders?"

"Exactly. And you had better do what I said immediately."

age turned the soldier’s face crimson. Pointing toward a large wolfdog sitting beside his horse, he said, "Do not forget that you are a prisoner here. Now, go back to your place and sit down before I throw that brat to the dog..."

Not a single muscle moved in Respina’s face. "I know—and you know—that Hotran wants us alive. I expect you to treat me with the respect befitting my status, as he demanded; otherwise, in the end, it is you who will suffer."

The small fire within the camp erupted with a roaring fury, causing the soldiers around it to leap up and recoil. Heedless of their reaction, Respina warned with a voice that could make stone tremble: "Now, if you point your finger at my daughter one more time, I will make such an example of you that others will never forget. Is that clear?"

The enraged officer took a large stride toward Respina, and that was enough for Orkam. With a swift surge of strength, he tore through the remaining ropes around his wrists. In an instant, he lunged, swept the nearest man off his feet, and before the others could grasp the situation, he wrenched the sword from the man's hand. With one quick motion, he brought the man’s headless body to the ground. By the time the other guards regained their senses, Orkam had already dispatched the second guard and was moving toward the third.

A sudden stinging in his shoulder took his breath away. A throwing knife, by absolute chance, had embedded itself a hand-span above his chest. The pain cut his breath short. But Orkam was no novice soldier. He pushed the pain aside and, ignoring the blood seeping from the wound, went after the next man—the one who had thrown the knife. Before he could raise his sword, a guard finally reacted. In a split second, he snatched the infant from the man standing next to him and held her over the flames of the fire: "Make one more move and I'll throw her into the fire..."

Respina screamed involuntarily: "Linda!"

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