Ambushed

The next morning, I awoke to the soft crackling of a fire. Dim light filtered into the cave, casting gentle shadows on the walls. James crouched by the flames, tending to the embers with careful precision. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes betraying a sleepless night. He poked at the fire, lost in thought.

I turned my gaze toward the cave entrance, spotting Aric still asleep, curled under his cloak, seeking warmth from the morning chill. Aric rested peacefully while James bore the weight of unseen burdens. James glanced up as I stirred.

“Morning,” he said, his voice rough from exhaustion.
“Did you sleep at all?”

I asked, sitting up and wrapping my cloak tighter around me. He shook his head, a faint, weary smile breaking through his fatigue.

“Someone had to keep the fire going.”
“Also keep an eye on our visitor,” I added, moving closer to him to soak in the warmth of the fire.
“You should have woken me.”
“We could have taken turns.”


James shrugged, his gaze returning to the flames.

“It is alright.”
“You needed the rest more than I did.”

Our focus was drawn to Aric as he began to stir. He shifted beneath his blanket, movements slow and groggy. When his eyes fluttered open, they met ours, and startlement flashed across his face. He took a cautious step back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“I mean you no harm.”

He held my gaze, attempting to convey honesty through his eyes. James did not relax his stance.

“What is your purpose here?” he demanded, his voice cold and controlled, each word laced with an undercurrent of threat.
“I sometimes use this cave for shelter,” Aric replied.
“I did not realize anyone else knew about this place.”

He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the familiar marks and belongings that hinted at long-term use. James tightened his grip on his sword.


“I made this cave a safe space for me years ago,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone.

Aric swallowed hard, sensing James’s territoriality.

“I can leave if you wish,” he offered, taking another step back.
“I did not mean to intrude.”

James took a deliberate step forward, the metallic clink of his sword echoing in the confined space.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, his eyes piercing into Aric's.

Aric lowered his hands slightly, trying to appear less threatening.

“I have no reason to harm you.”
“This cave is just a refuge, nothing more.”
“My father and I stumbled upon this cave many years ago by accident,” he stammered, his voice trembling as he glanced at the cold steel of James's sword.
“I am a hunter.”
“It was too dark to travel last night.”


Slowly, Jame lowered his sword, though his grip on the hilt remained firm.

“What were you hunting in these parts?”

Aric swallowed hard, mind racing for a plausible answer.

“Deer,” he said finally.
“The forest here is rich with game.”

After a moment, James sheathed his sword, though his posture remained guarded.

“We were just about to depart.”
“You may continue to use this cave.”
“Thank you,” Aric stammered.
“Be cautious,” James added, his tone softening slightly.
“These lands are not as safe as they once were.”
“I will.”
“Safe travels to you.”


James turned to me, gripping my hand as we walked out of the cave. The cool morning air greeted us.

“We still have a long way to go.”

He chose to avoid the main roads, knowing they were too dangerous for us. Instead, we ventured into the dense part of the forest, where ancient trees stood like sentinels, their branches intertwining to form a natural barrier against the outside world.

We walked in silence, the only sound was the soft crunch of leaves beneath our feet. Hours passed, and the forest seemed to close in around us. Just as fatigue threatened to overtake me, James paused, his grip tightening slightly.

“We will rest here for a while,” he said, guiding me to a small clearing surrounded by towering oaks.
“It is safe enough for now.”

Suddenly, without warning, men brandishing swords surrounded us on all sides. Their eyes glinted with malice and a thirst for revenge. A grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek stepped forward, his sword pointed directly at my chest.

“You are wrong about being safe,” he growled, his voice rough and menacing.

The other men tightened their grip on their weapons, forming an impenetrable wall around us. Another man, younger but equally hard-eyed, spoke up, contempt dripping from his words.

“We have been tracking you for days.”

The scarred man’s eyes blazed with fury as he took another step closer.

“You killed our captain and left a woman in charge,” he spat, his face contorted with rage.
“You will pay with your life.”

I glanced around, assessing our chances of escape, but the circle of swords tightened, leaving no room for retreat. The forest closed in around us, the trees looming like silent witnesses to our impending doom. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to think of a way out, but the determined expressions on the men’s faces told me they would not be swayed easily.


“We had no choice,” I began, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides.
“Your captain was a tyrant, and his death was necessary to bring peace.”
“Leaving a woman in charge was not an insult; it was a testament to her strength and capability.”
“Enough of your lies.”
“Prepare to meet your end.”

The other men raised their swords, ready to strike at his command. James quickly drew his sword, the blade gleaming ominously in the fading light. His grip was steady, his eyes focused and determined. The scarred man, a hulking figure with a menacing grin, chuckled deeply.

“James, you were never able to defeat me,” he taunted, arrogance dripping from his voice.

He stepped closer, his sword still sheathed as if mocking the idea that James posed any threat. James’s jaw clenched, knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the hilt.

“Things change,” he replied through gritted teeth, his voice resolute.

The scarred man’s grin widened, the deep gash running down his cheek stretching taut.


“I taught you how to use that sword,” he sneered, drawing his weapon with swift precision.

The steel sang as it left the scabbard, the sound sharp and foreboding. James’s eyes flickered with a mix of anger and resolve, memories of past humiliations and lessons learned flashing through his mind.

“Maybe you did,” James conceded, his voice low and steady.
“I have learned more since then.”
“I have fought battles you could not even imagine.”
“Empty boasts will not save you,” he said, advancing with deliberate steps.
“Show me what you have learned.”
“Show me how you have improved.”

James took a deep breath, centering himself. He remembered the grueling hours of training, the sweat and pain, the moments of doubt, and the triumphs. He remembered why he fought and for whom he fought.

The two men clashed, swords meeting with a resounding clash of steel. Sparks flew as they exchanged blows, the scarred man’s movements precise and powerful while James fought with a blend of technique and raw determination. Each strike was a test; each parry demonstrated skill honed through hardship.



“Not bad,” the scarred man admitted begrudgingly, their swords locked in a fierce struggle.
“Not good enough.”

With a sudden, forceful push, he sent James stumbling back. James recovered quickly, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

“I’m not done yet.”

They continued to battle, the sound of their swords filling the air. James fought with everything he had, drawing on every lesson, every experience. The fight wore on. It became clear that he was holding his own, matching the scarred man’s strength with his own. The scarred man’s expression shifted from smug confidence to a begrudging respect.

“You have improved,” he acknowledged, breathing heavily.
“Can you finish this?”

James didn’t answer with words. Instead, he focused all his energy on a final, decisive strike. With a swift, fluid motion, he disarmed the scarred man, sending his sword flying from his grasp. The scarred man staggered back, disbelief etched on his face. James stood tall, his sword pointed at his former teacher.


“I have learned more than just how to fight,” he said, his voice unwavering.
“I have learned why I fight.”
“That is something you will never understand.”

The scarred man stared at him, a mixture of anger and grudging admiration in his eyes.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with a strange respect.
“Perhaps you have.”
“I still cannot let you leave.”
“Your place is aboard the Black Serpent.”