Chapter 13: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Izzie’s hand shook as she forced herself to cut him through but something was holding her back; maybe it was his willingness to die or she was just too overwhelmed with anger that she couldn’t move.

“Go on then, do it,” Colt enticed her and Izzie breathed heavily through her nose as she focused on the sword and pushing it through his throat but she still couldn’t kill him.

“You can’t, can you?” Colt laughed as he got to his feet and brushed the blade aside, her arm releasing all tension and the sword swung by her side.

Izzie followed him as he walked around the tent, avoiding his guards’ spilt blood.

“I must admit I was impressed with your skill . . . not one of my men could get through that guard,”

“I’m chuffed you noticed,” Izzie snapped at him with sarcasm; she hadn’t come here to show off her fighting skills; she’d come to kill him but something was stopping her. What was it!?

“You must really hate me,” Colt added, “To dedicate your life to training that much,”

“I do,” Izzie told him steadily.

“And yet you can’t kill me,” Colt teased her as he removed the blanket, showing off his glory, before he pulled on some tight black leather trousers.

Izzie felt her chest grumble with rage even as she was looking for a way out; she might not be able to kill him yet but he wouldn’t have trouble with killing her.

“Is it because I didn’t fight you?” Colt turned back to her, keeping his broad, masculine chest showing, “No . . .” Colt murmured as something dawned on him.

Izzie kept eye contact and she could tell she wasn’t about to like what he said.

“It’s not because I didn’t fight you, or actually it is, but it’s because you wanted me to fight you to cover the fact that you’re a murderer,”

Izzie got to her feet, “I don’t murder innocents,” she growled at him, “I’m not the one pillaging villages and raping women,”

“You’re a murderer,” Colt reinforced, “Just like me. You love the fight and the rush of power you get when you kill. You might be less significant than me maybe but you hide it well,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Izzie snapped but the face of that young boy flooded to the front of her mind.

“Yes, you do,” Colt grabbed her by the wrist and held her close, Izzie tried to break free but his hold was like an iron grip.

“You’ve known all along but you’re afraid; so you hide behind your good deeds and dark past, making you feel invincible but you’re just the same as me; a murderer.”

Izzie’s breathing was growing heavy but a small voice at the back of her mind reasoned with him; tearing her eyes off his she cast her eyes down to the slain guards.

“You didn’t have to kill them,” Colt told her; not out of sympathy but getting his point across.

“They were in my way,” Izzie told him, she wanted to kill him and they were going to stop her.

“Exactly,” Colt grinned as she fell into his trap, “You could have simply knocked them unconscious but you chose to kill them instead. What does that say about you?”

“About me!?” Izzie growled, whipping her arm away only because he released her, “What does it say about you that you don’t even flinch when you’re men get killed?”

“Oh, I’m a murderer,” Colt prowled towards her, “I know it and I accept it,”

Izzie looked into his opaque eyes and something inside her was starting to solidify even more; it might have been her heart.

“And once I did I became the best swordsman in the country, maybe even the world,”

“Cocky,” Izzie slipped in there.

Colt tilted his head, allowing her that one, “Once you accept it, sweet Isadora,” he murmured, bringing her down to sit on the end of the bed with him, “then you can let yourself free and with the skill you have you could easily be my second in command,”

Izzie stared at him and although she hated him with every fibre of her being she knew she wasn’t good enough, yet, to beat him.

Izzie had always known she was evil; the moment she first drew blood with her sword she knew it but her revenge overruled everything and she kept it buried inside her.

But Colt knew all about that; he knew what it was like keeping something like that back so as she stared at his face she could feel herself being won over.

Also, if she spent time with him then the opportunity might just arise that she could kill him.

Looking back up into Colt’s eyes she saw him smile as he knew he won her over, “There’s someone you should meet,”

Izzie frowned but he’d already gotten to his feet and threw a plain cotton shirt over his chest, not tucked in, and dragged her out of the tent where all his men were either sleeping or eating.

Izzie didn’t know what Colt was up to so she kept her guard up but even now she could feel herself looking at the world in a different light.

She was no longer the good soldier helping the people she was on the opposite side; she was a murderer evading the king’s guard.

“Where are you taking me!?” Izzie demanded to know but Colt just ignored her and kept walking; the men bowed when they saw him pass whilst they stared at her in confusion.

“My Lord,” An elderly soldier bowed when Colt stopped at his tent shared by three men.

Izzie looked the man over; he was at least into his late forties, early fifties but he looked good for his age. He still had a full head of grey hair and although whiskers covered his jaw his eyes were still a vibrant green and his physic was excellent.

“Arthur,” Colt spoke out loud and Izzie was surprised he even knew his name, “Meet Isadora,”

Izzie frowned when she saw the man’s shocked and stark reaction at her name but it quickly subsided and he bowed to her to, “My lady, forgive me but your name . . . it simply brings up a past memory,”

“Arthur of Thistle,”

Izzie snapped her head to face Colt as she heard her own village named.

“Meet your daughter, Isadora of Thistle, my second in command,”

“How is this possible?” Arthur gasped, still staring at her even as they were alone in a new tent which had been erected after her little showdown with the guards in the last one.

Izzie just looked him over; her father had abandoned her and her family to the raiders and now he was one of them? She was sure he had been killed or simply died over the years; she never thought to look for him.

Why move away from the path of revenge only to find out what you already knew?

Izzie was shocked to learn that she didn’t even remember what he looked like.

“It’s not,” Izzie told him matter-of-factly, “And if it is then pray your commander is wrong for my father abandoned me and my family to these creatures,”

“These creatures that you are now in charge of,” Colt reminded her, pacing up and down the length of the room; Izzie ignored him.

“No,” Arthur shook his head, “I never abandoned you, your mother or your sister Henrietta,”

Izzie looked at him as he chose her sister’s name; how could he know that after almost a decade of her being dead?

“I told you to go home whilst I helped fight at the gates,” Arthur told her with great emotion, his eyes tearing up, “But I was knocked out in the forest. When I awoke and stumbled back into the village I found your mother-” Arthur stopped and closed his eyes, as if the memory of his wife and child brutally murdered and raped on the fall could kill him all by itself.

“But you weren’t there,” Arthur’s throat caught and his voice wobbled, “I searched for years but I found nothing and then I was hit by the times and Colt took on an old man,”

“And it good investment it has been,” Colt murmured, sat at a desk and toying with some wooden thing or other.

Izzie still didn’t know what to think or feel, “You joined the very people that killed your family and separated us?”

Arthur looked at his feet, ashamed, “It was not Colt or his army that did that. But two men who Colt immediately kicked out; by the time my leave came up to hunt them down they were long gone and their trail cold.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Izzie licked her lips, “I killed them myself,”

“Izzie!” Arthur gasped in shock, “What have you done?” He stepped forward and went to reach for her.

“No!” Izzie shouted and whirled out of his grasp, Arthur looked deeply hurt but she didn’t care.

“You left me,” Izzie could feel tears threatening; “I . . . had to watch my mother and sister be raped over and over again in front of my eyes. And then I had to watch them have a sword buried into their chests! I did what I had to do to survive after you left me!”

“I’m sorry!” Arthur was crying now and Izzie couldn’t take it; he didn’t get off being the one hurt the most. He’d joined up with the very people who pillaged his village to help pillage others; how could he!?

Izzie stormed right past him and burst outside into the open; she needed fresh air and to get away from him.

“Isadora!”

Izzie closed her eyes and groaned as she heard Arthur coming after her.

“Isadora! My dear daughter-”

“NO!” Izzie screamed, unsheathing her sword from her waist and turning to face him before she plunged her sword blade through his lower abdomen giving him a slow and painful death.

“Isadorla!” Arthur gasped, blood already pooling at the corner of his mouth as his wide green eyes stared at her with betrayal, “What-?”

“I am no longer your child,” Izzie removed her sword and let him fall to the floor, her soul well and truly damned, “I stopped being a child when my father left me to the hands of killers and rapists.”