All Through The Knight by M. Jade Glock (read novels website .txt) 📕

life of Aracane.

“Can any of you claim to never have done anything wrong?”

The shouting had stopped long ago; all that remained was an empty silence. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, each unwilling to admit their past transgressions.
“Which one of you, then, could in good conscience taker her life?”

Turning back to Aracane he spoke once more.

“Let he who is without transgression come forth and raise your blade against her.” He knelt a second time, putting a reassuring hand upon Aracane's shoulder

Seconds slipped by then minutes. No one had stepped forward to harm the girl but Mordeci would not back down.

“How can we let this murderer go without punishment?”

The ranger wasn't surprised by the man's question. He answered him with this;

“You know that it is the law to bring her to a court for trial. You are in violation of that at this point.”
Without another word he released Aracane from the captor's grip and helped her to her feet. He had her lean on him. Aracane squinted at the pain her body endured, and though the man was gentle it didn't help the intense pins and needles that coursed through her.

“I don't understand-” she whispered.

“You don't have to” he whispered back.

But Mordeci refused to let them go so easily, not when his own pride was the price to pay. He stood in their way, alone, the only one to challenge the ranger. His speech was severely slurred and as time passed it only seemed to get worse rather than better. He still held his sword, gripping it hard in his right hand.
“Where do you think you're taking her?” He growled through clenched teeth.

The ranger swiftly and softly set Aracane down, wanting his hands to be free. Men like these were mostly impervious to reason; a brawl was all they wanted.

“To the courts as we are commanded to do.” He said carefully, assessing the man before him.

“I can't let you do that,” Mordeci sneered.

“Yes you can, I don't want to fight you but I will if I have to,” the ranger's gaze remained level staring into Mordeci's eyes, at if looking into his soul.

“You aren't getting out of a fight,” Mordeci raised his weapon weakly, the ale finally eating away at the rest of what little common sense he had. “She will die here and now. I won't let a weak man like you get in the way of my justice.”

“What brings you to hate her so much?” The ranger asked rhetorically. “No matter,”he shooed it away with the flick of his wrist.

Without warning, Mordeci gave a loud cry and charged the man before him. The ranger instantly side-stepped him and grabbed his wrist, twisting them painfully in his grip making Mordeci's weapon fall to the ground. A split second later the ranger used his thumb to press, unmercifully, into the soft part that lay in between the man's sternum and shoulder muscle. Instantly Mordeci crumpled to the ground, incapacitated. The ranger hurriedly went to Aracane and lifted her onto her feet.

“Let us go,” He said to her. “Try your best to walk.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, let us hurry.”

“No!” Aracane screamed, she tried to reach for Mordeci's weapon, “He musn't live, he doesn't deserve to live!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. The crowd began to shift, their previous uproar mounting again in a fierce rage. “She's possessed!”

The ranger grabbed hold of her shoulders roughly making her remember the pain through her body.
“Control yourself, come with me or die, it's your choice.”

She was unable to speak, and didn't answer him as the crowd tried to reach them both once more.
“Make your choice,” he said urgently, willing for her permission. “I can't take you without your consent.
“Save me,” was her plea.

Without another moment to lose the ranger, knowing full well the extent of her injuries, did not prompt her to walk, instead he held her in his arms. A sharp whistle escaped his lips and a mount emerged from the depths of the forest. Hurriedly he saddled them both on the animal's back. No saddle, no bridle, not even reins were strapped to the steed, but yet it obeyed his every command. The ranger firmly kicked the horse's flanks willing him forward, and it did as it was bid. Though Aracane's previous neighbors and friends followed in pursuit, but they were no match for the speed of the beast. It didn't take long before her home, her village was not even a speck in the horizon.

Aracane left behind a past of regrets, a village who wanted her blood, and a father wishing her a fate worse than hell, she only hoped that her new path of life was worth saving her soul.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nealan followed behind his mentor, Captain Moonrise, walking the maze of halls the castle possessed trying to make way to the King's chambers, a document was crumpled viciously in Nealan's hand.

"How could my father do this to me?" He growled aloud.

"Nealan, you are to be the future King, it is only right that you learn how to deal with situations like this for yourself."
Nealan only continued to mutter under his breath. Ignoring his whispers, Moonrise continued.
"You're going to have to learn sooner or later, there's a lot more to being a ruler than being exceptional with a sword and combat."

"And how would you know?" Nealan said, contempt on his lips.

Moonrise turned quickly, facing Nealan with firm eyes screaming his authority.

"You may be prince, but I'm still your teacher, you'll give me respect."

Nealan withdrew. Though he was prince he didn't have the stomach to defame his teacher, Moonrise. A man of impeccable honor had earned his title as captain of the Kings army. He oversaw each of the men, and only upon request was he to give Nealan private tutoring and teaching. To Moonrise, this was coddling the prince, keeping him away from dealing with people and not really giving him a taste of the world and its workings. Though he wouldn't question his majesty. How he wanted his kingdom run wasn't any concern of the people who lived and worked in it.

The two men walked in silence.

Soon overcome with the tension between them Nealan spoke "I apologize tutor, I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

To anyone else, they wouldn't have heard Nealan's apology, but Moonrise could hear it clear as day. Smiling to himself he pat the young man on the shoulder "All's forgiven, running a country is stressful."

It only took a few more minutes for both of them to reach the doors of the King's chambers.
Moonrise motioned for Nealan to enter.

"It is not my place to be among the King and his son's business"

Bowing briefly he stood guard at the entrance as Nealan, without knocking, quickly entered the chambers, slamming the door closed behind him and taking his leave of his teacher.

His father lay in his bed, pale almost beyond recognition. Nealan approached his father, his previous fury written all over his face. Nealan quickly uncrumpled the piece of parchment that was so unfairly strangled in his fist just a short time ago. He thrust it onto his father's bedspread.

"What is this?" Nealan demanded, pointing at the meticulous letters that were so magnificently crafted upon the scroll.

His father, the King, didn't need to look to know what it was Nealan was asking him about.

"It's a summons." His father sighed. He knew what was coming next.

"Yes, it's a summons." Nealan picked up the parchment on the bed and turned to the window, arms crossed over his chest, the summons once again strangled in his grip. He sighed in frustration.

"What am I expected to do?" He asked, his anger dissipating and turning itself into a twinge of anxiety.

"Sit up there and act like the prince you were raised to be instead of the child you insist on becoming," Nealan whipped around, fire practically lit in his eyes.

"I may not be the son that you wished you had, but to Hades if I'm not still the Prince and must be informed of my specific duties"

Talking to his father as if he was lower than Nealan wasn't a problem for him. In his mind, he was better, stronger, and more capable of running the kingdom of Fornhagen much better than his father could ever do.

"You will not talk to me that way, though I'm your father, I'm also your king." The King's voice began to roar throughout the chambers, but Nealan was unperturbed by his noise. There was a saying that came to mind.

His bark is worse than his bite.

Which fit this situation perfectly. All talk and no initiative.

"I will speak in whatever manner pleases me" He smirked at his father's bedridden body.

"If I wasn't ill, I'd whip you."

Nealan only scoffed "As if you'd lay a finger on me."

Nealan's whole life was surrounded by luxury and leniency. A combination of both leaves you with a young man who believes he's absolutely invincible, and completely convinced that nothing can harm him in any way.
The King's green pallor was soon mixed with red as his temper rose.

"You insolent child!" His voice never did get any quieter than booming. "I'm not dead yet and you will give me the respect that I deserve"

"Or what?" Nealan challenged.

The King went silent.

"Exactly."

Nealan went straight for the entrance to the room, tired of talking to his father and not getting the information he needed. The anger that filled Nealan was one that took over his entire body.

"I hope you die of this sickness." Each word was filled with venom and spite as Nealan slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the stone walls. The King lie there, unable to move and hurt by his son's stinging words. Though expected, they didn't affect him any less harshly.

Nealan stood outside the door. Moonrise could tell by the prince's face that nothing had gone well within the room behind his majesty.

"You really need to learn to control that anger of yours, it'll be the death of you."

Nealan bit his lip. He wasn't in the mood or state of mind to be taking advice from anyone, let alone Moonrise. Instead of responding he just started off in the direction of the training arena. Moonrise, realizing that the prince wasn't going to reply, followed closely behind his highness.

"What are you going to do now?" Asked Moonrise, effortlessly keeping instep with Nealan's gait.
Nealan still didn't respond.

The moon was high and bright, in his mind it was perfect to practice his skills on an unsuspecting dummy filled with hay and covered in cloth. Nealan felt like killing something, anything that he could get his hands on quick and at this moment.

Moonrise was wise not to have spoken further. Trying to talk to Nealan in this state was futile. Every word that he would have uttered would have went in one ear and showed up as steam out of the other. Nealan's anger was well known throughout the kingdom, hence why