Tyrant

Sirona turned her head towards the sound, “It’s coming from town.”
Her heart hammered in her chest at the sound. The excitement of the moment seemed to die at the sound of terror. Something was wrong. She could feel it like a warning from the earth. The air was vibrating with terror and urgency.
“Yes, but—”
She went still as the scent of smoke hit her nose and pushed him back hastily, sitting up, “They’re under attack. We have to help.”
Arawn bit his lip, groaning, but he let her slip off the rock and righted her dress before she could get from between him and the rock.
“At the least, it will be a good chance to try the things you’ve learned.” Sirona looked at him and nodded, grabbing the wooden sword. “I’ll be just behind you.”
Arawn watched her rush off towards the town and cursed. He focused on gathering his wits, calming himself, and getting his aura back under control. It felt more unruly than normal and he huffed. He knew that he shouldn’t have expected anything less from his core power. He looked down at the wildly flourishing plants that had sprouted up around the clearing around where he’d been prepared to take Sirona for the first time.
It had been primal and painfully good.
It had also been stupid. He drew a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. Whatever it was about Sirona that was causing him to act so ridiculous, he’d have to figure it out soon. It would throw off his plans if he stopped thinking of her as a weapon and started thinking of her as a companion or something more than that.
Those thoughts would have to wait. Right now, it was time to take a look at how far Sirona had come in her training.

Sirona broke through the tree line on the edge of town as a bandit shoved a man back and hauled a large black crystal onto a cart. Further away, other people were struggling for black crystal in carts and bags.
People screamed, trying to fight off the bandits and fight the fires they were setting in the buildings that had barely survived the last attack.
“Leave him alone!” Sirona cried rushing towards the man. She swung hard, forcing the man to drop the rock. The villager grabbed the crystal and scurried off.
“Stupid girl!” The bandit drew a blade and swung at her. She dodged around him and struck his hand, forcing him to drop the sword with a cry of agony.
She struck him again but the man caught the end of her wooden blade and dragged her forward. She kicked him between his legs and hurried away from him as he crumpled to the ground, cursing her.
Another bandit jumped out at her, brandishing a dagger. He was faster than the other one had been, but not faster than Arawn. She caught him in the throat with the broadside of the sword. He choked and crumpled, crawling after her. Another bandit jumped at her, trying to grab her, but she dodged and caught him in the side with her sword.
Arawn walked into town, watching bandits shove and drag villagers. He was impressed that the underfed villagers had the energy to fight off the bandits. Maybe it was because they had some faith that Sirona was around to help.
After she got rid of these bandits, he had a feeling that she would have her first true believers. He’d have to figure out what he would tell her about the origin of the cult of Arawn.
He considered telling her the truth, but it wasn’t a very interesting beginning. He wasn’t even sure she would believe him.
He walked through the fight until he found Sirona fighting a group of bandits. She hit several of them in vital spots, but her wooden blade wasn’t filled with enough power to be lethal. One of them slammed into her, knocking her off balance. Another jumped forward trying to catch her off guard. She blocked him and shoved him off. Casting her gaze around as a woman wailed in panic and ran from another bandit.
“Focus, Sirona,” he said, “You can’t pull back your power if you want to help these people.”
Sirona shoved a man and cried out as someone kicked her in the back, sending her tumbling forward and across the clearing. She rolled to her feet and lifted her sword, but Arawn could see that there was not enough power in it to do any damage.
She was still holding back. Had she ever killed before? Perhaps she was just frightened to do so.
To be fair, most didn’t kill until they had no choice but to kill. Sirona was innocent enough, still, to think that she could simply incapacitate these men and that would keep the town safe.
Arawn knew better. Destroying the threat guaranteed that at least that threat was gone for good. A new threat may come soon after, but a new threat was better than the monotony of the same threat.
He crossed his arms, watching the scene, waiting for her patience or her fear to wear out.
“Finally, got you, old man!” A bandit cried across the clearing. Two men dragged the town leader in front of the main building in the town and the leader of the bandits stood nearby cackling. “Tell them to give up the black stone and maybe I won’t kill you.”
The old man said nothing. Sirona turned as a group of bandits grabbed several men and threw them to the ground.
“A weak old man is going to defy me? Do you know who I am?” He cackled as two men shove the man to the ground. The man didn’t speak. His jaw was set and his eyes were stern. “Tell that woman to stand down!”
The world shook around her. She could see the steps of the castle and the polished stone floors of the throne room. She could hear Blodeu’s voice, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. From the tone, it seemed like a prayer or an accusation. The cult of Anu tended to use the same tone for both.
Then, two men dragged her father past her into the hall. He stumbled on broken, battered legs, but he did not let them drag him like a criminal. He looked terrible, as though he had been kept out of the sun for a long time and tortured.
They shoved him to his knees in front of the king and queen, facing the court hall. Her heart began to race. She looked around searching for someone to speak up, someone to do something.
Her father was innocent, someone had to say something. She recognized the faces of the nobles in attendance, but no one moved to speak. Some of them seemed excited to see his death, likely thinking that they would get a part of Gunning after he was dead.
Wait, she thought. What am I doing here?
She was sure that she had been somewhere else a few moments ago. She had been doing something else. Her father had died in the capital. She hadn’t known that he was dead until the Herald had come to their estate. What was she seeing now? A vision? A nightmare?
Blodeu said something, slinking closer to him and grabbing his face to force him to look up at her and say something. Maybe it was a taunt or something cruel about the fate of Gunning.
Blodeu flinched as a glob of bloody spit landed in her face. She shrieked and gestured wildly. The two knights held Jakon firmly as the king drew his sword and marched towards him.
Haron wasn’t a large or a powerful man. Everyone knew that he had never really wielded his sword to do much of anything except for play at practice. He wouldn’t have the strength to behead her father.
This couldn’t be right.
The nobles in the room remained quiet, staring up at the display as he was forced to face them. His eyes were hard and determined. His jaw was set and he did not close his eyes. She heard Blodeu’s cackling. The Herald was speaking. Haron licked his lips with a maddened expression.
She heard her father’s voice as her eyes began to burn with tears.
Darans do not bow to tyrants.
Haron started to swing, and she heard herself screaming as she raced forward.

Arawn felt the shock wave of fury and grief cut through the air as Sirona lifted her blade and screamed. The air shook and she flew across the clearing towards where the bandits were holding the old man. Arawn had barely had time to register what she was doing and what her plan was before the leader choked as her wooden sword plunged through his chest.
His body slumped and slid off the edge of her blade with a long, wet sound.
.