Chapter 6: Cenric

Chapter

Six

CENRIC

Blood pounds in my ears as I lunge at the nearest attacker. The sharp clang of metal against metal rings out as our blades collide. I grit my teeth, muscles straining as I shove him back with a powerful thrust.

I spin, my blade whirling in a quick arc. It bites into flesh, drawing a pained cry from one of the masked men. He staggers back, clutching his bleeding arm.

Two more rush at me from opposite sides. I pivot, then slam my boot into the chest of the one on my left. He flies back and crashes into a stack of barrels.

The other swings his sword in a vicious overhead strike. I catch his blade with mine, the impact reverberating up my arm. Our eyes lock, his filled with cold determination and mine, no doubt, with unwavering resolve. I shove him away and whirl to face the next attacker.

Another masked man lunges at me, his blade aimed at my heart.

Not today!

I sidestep, letting his momentum carry him past. Then, I attack, finding the gap in his armor, and he falls to the ground with a gurgling cry.

The remaining men close in, their movements more cautious now. They've seen what I can do. Good, let them know fear.

I've faced worse odds before and emerged victorious. These fools don't stand a chance.

"Come on," I challenge. "Let's dance."

They hesitate, exchanging uncertain glances.

I take a step forward and wave my sword back and forth. "Who's next?"

Before any of them can react, I lunge at the nearest man. He parries my strike as I pivot to face the second man. Our swords clash, and I use my brute strength to shove him backward.

The first man comes at me again, and I duck beneath his blade and slam my elbow into his face. He staggers back, blood gushing from his shattered nose.

I don't give him a chance to recover. Instead, I sweep his legs out from under him with a powerful kick, sending him crashing to the ground. My sword finds his throat, and I slash it.

The second man is more cautious, circling me with wary eyes.

I smirk, twirling my sword in a lazy arc. "Come on, then. Let's see what you've got."

He lunges, and I block his strike, then counter with a fierce cut of my own. He stumbles back, barely avoiding the deadly edge of my sword. I feint right, then spin to the left, my blade slicing across his thigh. He howls in pain, and his sword falls from his grasp as he clutches at the wound.

I kick his blade away and press my weapon against his throat. "Pathetic."

"Please," he begs. "I have children."

Then, he should have thought about them before attacking me.

I don't allow him to say anything else before slashing my weapon across his neck.

A familiar voice rings out from behind me. "Need a hand, brother?"

I glance over my shoulder as Praxis strides toward me, his sword already drawn.

Together, Praxis and I make short work of the remaining attackers. The men fall before us like saplings in a strong breeze.

When they're all dead, I wipe my blade clean on the surcoat of a fallen attacker. "Everly is here in Karra." I straighten and sheath my sword. "Two men dragged her away. We need to find her."

Surprise sparks in Praxis' eyes. "Everly is here?"

I nod and turn away. Now is not the time for conversation, not when those men took Everly. They will die, just like those men who attacked me.

I set off through the streets of Karra with Praxis. The city is quiet at this hour, the only sounds being the distant howl of the wind and the occasional bark of a dog .

We stop when we come across an abandoned building. I kick the door open with a splintering crash. The interior is dark and musty. And the air is thick with the stench of mold and decay. We move cautiously, our eyes straining to see in the gloom.

"Everly," I call out, my voice echoing off the bare walls.

No answer.

I kick in the next door I come across. The room beyond is empty, except for a broken chair and a tattered banner. My eyes scan every corner, every shadow, but there's no sign of her.

Moving to the next room, I slam my shoulder against the door. It gives way with a groan, revealing a dusty bedroom. The mattress is torn, stuffing spilling out onto the floor. I check under the bed, behind the wardrobe, even inside it.

Nothing.

I continue my search on the main level. The kitchen yields nothing but rusted pots and rat droppings. The pantry is bare, its shelves long since picked clean.

In what must have once been a study, I overturn a desk, sending parchment and ink scattering across the floor. My eyes dart from one yellowed sheet to another, searching for any clue, any hint of where Everly might be, but there's nothing useful here, just faded letters.

Frustration rips through me as I kick in another door. The wood splinters with a satisfying crack, and the door flies off its hinges, crashing against the far wall with a thunderous boom, but the room beyond is as empty and lifeless as all the others we've searched.

Praxis stops next to me, his eyes moving from the smashed door to my clenched fists. "Are you going to destroy the entire building, Cenric?" he asks, his tone heavy with amusement.

I ignore Praxis and hurry out the front door. The cool mountain air hits my face, but it does little to quell the fire burning in my chest.

My brother falls into step beside me as we move from structure to structure, my irritation mounting with each empty room we encounter. I kick down doors with increasing ferocity. I scan every dark corner, every shadowy alcove, but it's all for naught. Each building stands as silent and lifeless as the last.

Exasperation soars through me as I clench my hands into fists. Where could those men have taken her?

Praxis places a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find her, Cenric."

The knot of worry in my gut doesn't ease. Everly's a friend, and the thought of her in danger makes my fingers itch to exact revenge.

We continue our search, combing the streets and alleys of Karra, but as the night wears on and the cold seeps into our bones, it becomes clear that we will not find her tonight.

"We'll pick up the search in the morning," Praxis says, his breath misting in the frigid air. "Get some rest, brother."

I want to argue, to insist that we keep looking, but I know he's right. We're no good to Everly if we're exhausted and half-frozen.

Reluctantly, I turn away and follow Praxis out of the city. Tomorrow, I will resume my search.