Chapter 8: A Warrior From The Kingdom Of Kiro

‘But where are the other members of the circle?’  He bit his lower lips and hid his body behind a palm tree.

He wasn’t good at rescuing people, the last time he tried to rescue a teenage boy from being sexually harassed by one male taskmaster, had almost gotten him killed.

They had scourged him on a pole and had whipped the living daylight out of him.

The scar on Bola’s back pulse as if in agreement to his testimony.

He just hoped that the other chief of the village were helping to evacuate the people. This wasn’t a one man’s job.

“Over here,” Bola whispered to the man whose back was the only thing he could see.

At first, the man did not hear, but Bola picked up a stone and threw it.

The man held his neck with confusion and turned to acknowledge the source. His eyes widen when he saw Bola.

“Elder…”

“Shush,” Bola placed his index finger on his lips and shushed. He signaled the man forward, and the slim man hurried behind the palm tree where Bola was.

They stooped, hoping the grass was high enough to shed them from the eyes of the taskmaster.

“Ahmed, how do we get to the others?” Bola asked, as he watched the blue light rays which had slit the grass and rested on the Ahmed’s face.

He could smell the stench of sweat that was coming out from the man’s body.

But despite the sanity of good grooming, only heavens could tell the joy in his heart for running into Ahmed.

Ahmed, the man, was among a sword seeker. A warrior from the kingdom of Kiro.

“I don’t know,” Ahmed said and studied the circle. They were almost the same age, but Bola was in the circle of the council, and Ahmed was not.

Ahmed’s slim body has nothing to do with it. The man was fit, but had been disqualified because of Dan from the Kingdom of Kiro was already a member.

The taskmasters were still throwing arrows to the light. It seemed as If they were shooting air. The arrows seemed to be passing through the blue light and falling on the other side of the forest.

“There,” Ahmed pointed.

Bola let his gaze follow the slender hand.

The man was pointing to the far end of the village square were some shadowy grass was bending in and out of the forest.

“Wait, is that—”

“Yes.” Ahmed interrupted.

A small smile plastered Bola’s face when he realized what was happening. Those were not grasses. It was the villagers making their way into the forest, and they were escaping from the distracted face of the taskmaster, and the husk bent figure of Uta, the village chief, was leading the party.

“Ah, at least someone read my mind,” Bola whispered.

“You said something?” Ahmed asked,

“Never mind. We should hurry to them, or else we will be left behind.” Bola said and was about to trace his steps back into the woods when Ahmed said.

“What about him?”

Bola needn’t asked who he was talking about. Guilt crept into his hurrying body as he realized that he had forgotten all about Ginika, simply because he didn’t fit into his prophecy. ‘He is still human and a member of the Kingdom.’

“You go on ahead,” He turned his attention to the sky. “I will stay and help this one,”

“You sure?”

Bola only nodded. He was too engrossed with guilt to answer the man. It was true he didn’t know how to rescue people, but maybe that was because he was the one that always runs away.

He had always been a coward. Even when his fellow mage had fought the children of the night outside the city wall, he had abandoned them and had run to the safety of his bed, only to find out later that all his brothers-in-arms had died and he was the only one that had survived.

He swallowed as sweat walked down his brow. Fear would not hold water in him today. He was determined to be brave, if not for anyone, at least for the little boy who was risking his life to save the entire village.

***

Bola hands and knees carried the weight of his body to the western side of the circle, which was closer to the taskmasters and her imps.

He was grateful that his brown leather coat blended well with the night, but it would have been a good thing if the grasses were tall.

Save for the palm trees, which added more shadow to his tinny figure. He doubts, and if he would have set out on this mission in this first place.

His heart was racing, and the thumping sounds reverberating in his ears, were not helping matters.

‘I can do this.’ He whispered to himself for what seems to be the hundredth time.

The night was cold on his skin, but hot air was pouring out of his nostrils, and he could hear a voice in his head urging him to turn back and run away while he still had the chance.

It took all the discipline in him not to obey that voice.

He had run away once, and he regretted every bit of it. Even though his cowardice had spared his life in the process, he would not cower and leave this little boy behind.

‘If I perish I perish, at least I would die with the conviction that I tried to help someone. My name would be remembered when people sit in the campfire to tell stories of brave mages who had fought with the taskmasters. Not on the list of those who fled in the sight of danger like some pierce of shit.’ Bola kept on ranting inside his head as he gnashed his teeth as the pebbles pierced his leather pants and pricked his skin.