Golden

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Lysandra

            The metal hilts of my swords move in a burst of gold motion, curling themselves tightly around my wrists as I unsheathe them. My grip is tight, expression cool, heart calm. “Your treason will not go unpunished,” I tell him as he raises his sword in my direction.

            The rogue Unborn gives me a cold smile, “it is not treason if I do not follow your Goddess.”

            “Penella is the one who gave you life,” I say, my eyes fixed on his every movement. “Without her, you would not be standing here. Without her, you would not even have the option of betraying her!”

            “Penella is a liar, an untrustworthy Goddess who does not deserve such a title!” the rogue shouts.

            A slow, icy smile curls my lips, “so is Norun.”

            He growls, his blindness to the truth clouding his eyes with anger. He charges at me, an expression of unadulterated fury apparent on his face. I raise my sword to meet his, the metal of mine glowing a furious gold that wraps around both swords in sheer colour. He raises his other arm, his clenched fist heading for my face. I swivel around his fist until I am behind him, my right sword immediately moving to his throat as my left sword presses against his armour-clad stomach.

            In one swift movement, he wraps his left leg around mine, pulling it out to sway my balance. I stumble back, a low grunt leaving my lips. He laughs cruelly as he slashes his sword in my direction. I pull to the side, swinging my sword toward his legs and feeling the metal cut into his calf. He shouts, immediately surging at me with his sword. I duck, however his sword catches my shoulder, cutting it slightly.

            My eyes set into a stone glare as I watch him smirk triumphantly. “It seems the great Warrior Goddess is not as invincible as she makes it appear,” the rogue says.

            I let out a breath of hot air, “I never claimed to be invincible. You rogues merely lack the skills necessary for battle,” I spit as we circle each other.

            I wait for a reaction to my words, one that will hopefully cause him to attack blindly and vulnerably once again. However, his reaction to my words is entirely unexpected – his eyes widen as he ceases his movements altogether. His stare fixes itself over my shoulder in an expression of shock and startling awe.

            “It is true,” he whispers, dropping his sword. It lands on the grass with a soft thud, and I find myself completely at a loss.

            What is he doing?

            I compose myself and narrow my eyes, “you cannot fool me. Distractions are of no use on me,” I say, gripping my swords with a tighter grasp in an attempt to stop him from doing whatever he is doing.

            He continues to look over my shoulder. I fight the overwhelming urge to turn around and find what he is looking at, but I know he will attack the very moment my back is turned to him. I move toward him in an attempt to catch his attention, and then stop when he jerks back.

            His wide eyes meet mine – and then he runs.

            I chase after him, his footsteps thudding audibly through the fields as I pursue him. I sheathe my swords as I run in a swift motion, slowly only slightly before picking up my pace. I can hear his breathing come in short gasps as he sprints, his wounded legs trembling from the pain as he moves forward.

            I quicken my speed, and then inhale sharply when I see him retrieve a glowing, green orb from under his armour. I move faster in a burst of motion before he can activate it. As his hands begin to press into it, I launch myself toward him, only just managing to tackle him before he can transport off of Valsea.

            He grunts as we fall to the ground, his face filled with complete panic as he struggles against my hold. I grasp his wrists with a firm grip and press them against the grass as I lock his legs together with mine.

            “Tell me why you are here!” I yell.

            His breathing is short, his eyes panicked and darting away from my face. “I will not tell you!”

            “You will,” I growl menacingly, the sound so deep it vibrates against my tongue.

            He narrows his eyes, seeming to regain his composure. “I will die before I tell you anything!”

            I give him a slow smile, “no, you will not.”

            Before a shout can pass his lips, I grab my left sword and land a blow to his head with the metal hilt. His eyes flutter shut, his pained expression sliding into a neutral look as he falls unconscious.

            I place his leg into the last shackle, firmly locking it with a loud click that echoes off the stone walls. The rogue’s arms lay limp by his side, attached to the wall – as well as his legs – by thick chains that only let him move as far as half of the cell.

            His blond head droops in front of him as he slumps against the stone wall he is shackled to. His eyes are shut, frowning as he sits unconscious. I stand from my kneeling position and let my eyes graze over each chain, ensuring that he cannot break free by a corroded chain or loose lock.

            The rogue groans, however his eyes remain closed, his breathing still silent and steady. I step away from his limp figure and turn to leave the cell, shutting the metal gate and making sure it is locked firmly.

            After a last glance at the prisoner, I move up the steps and climb out of the vault.