32 Revenge

Jacob received the attack on his good leg, placing more strain on it than he would have wished. His sword held, but he felt an ominous bend in the blade. When he broke away from the angry bandit leader, Jacob glanced at his weapon. True to what he had felt, the blade was severely disfigured. It was better than fighting barehanded, but the weapon was barely functional.

He had wanted to preserve his mana; getting a headache mid-fight would've proven disastrous. As it stood now, though, not using it would spell his imminent death. Dancing away from Richard's blade, scared to rely on his defective sword, Jacob took a few more cuts on his arms and torso. In the meantime, he gathered molecules of earth in a predetermined location behind him. When he felt they were ready to snap upwards into a small spike, Jacob retreated, forcing Richard to follow.

The gambit paid off. While his head pounded, Jacob's magic responded faithfully; Richard's right leg was speared clean through. The bandit leader collapsed to the ground, wailing in pain. Fear now replaced the joy in the man's eyes as he watched Jacob approach. The men and women around them ceased their jeers, looking on in shocked silence.

"Wa-wait! I can give you whatever you want!" Richard cried. Jacob supposed now would be the time for a hero's diatribe, but he knew the cliché. He'd take too much time talking, and then the villain would escape due to some elaborately prepared plan. That was not a risk that he'd allow. Richard stopped breathing moments after, Jacob rising to his feet and glaring at the brigands surrounding him, daring them to move.

It was largely bravado; his magic wouldn't hold up for another spell, and his sword was unusable. His own body was failing from a loss of blood. If he didn't bandage his wounds soon, he might just wind up joining Richard in death.

The bandits muttered amongst each other, eventually advancing as a cohesive unit towards Jacob. One man with a battle axe, almost as bulky as Richard was, led the push. The second in command was attempting to seize power. Jacob dropped his sword, opting to use the cumbersome, but intact, zweihander.

He watched the ring draw closer and closer, the brigands cautious of his magic. Jacob met the second-in-command in combat, swinging the zweihander with all his might. It was fruitless; he didn't have the mass or strength to wield that thing as anything more than a club. With nowhere to retreat to, Jacob thought about using his magic to create a tornado, as he once had with the wolves.

No. He had come closer to dying there than he ever had, and he didn't want his last moments to be on the ground screaming in excruciating pain. Just as he was resigning himself to his fate, he felt a tremor through the earth. Like an earthquake, but it was getting stronger and stronger. Soon, he heard neighing accompanying the tremors. Riders were approaching.

Their appearance brought Jacob a small reprieve, allowing him to tear his cloak and swiftly bandage his leg and the countless other cuts that found their place on his body. The axe wielder watched Jacob from the corner of his eye, as if Jacob could go anywhere out of the human ring.

"Ho, travelers! What might you be looking for?" the man called out, his gravelly voice feigning pleasantness. The brigands didn't want to fight?

"We seek a man named Richard the Relentless. You wouldn't happen to know about his whereabouts, would you?" a voice familiar to Jacob asked, suspicion lacing the man's words. Jacob focused on figuring out how he knew this person.

"Nay, we don't know of anyone like that out here. We're too far from the cities, sir."

"Oho. You wouldn't mind me searching your village, then?" the man asked, though it really wasn't a question, but a command. The brigands started at that, knowing full well that they obscured this rider's view of their dead leader.

"That's quite unnecessary, sir," the new bandit leader's voice betrayed him. It shook with the tell-tale sign of nervousness. The rider sensed this, too.

"You're all under arrest by the authority of King Benjamin. Please comply," the rider said, the click of irons audible even to Jacob through the silent atmosphere. Then, all hell broke loose. The bandits turned their weapons on the rider and his men, and a battle bloomed from the violence.

The sound of dying men filled the clearing, the screams of the bandits intermingling with the kingsmen's. The new bandit leader eyed Jacob one more time, joining the fight after deciding that a heavily-wounded boy who had refused to use magic to save his life would be able to harm him more than the soldiers facing his troops.

Unfortunately for the man, his decision had come too late. The last of the bandits fell where they stood, leaving only the axe wielder standing. Surrounded by a corps of men in gleaming armor, he dropped his weapon. Jacob scanned the kingsmen, searching for the speaker. It was Will. The swordsman was wearing the same armor as those around home, though his came with a crimson tabard with the symbol of the king on it in gold.

"You'll be coming with us to Kingsrest. There will be plenty of food and water if you cooperate and tell us all we need to know. For now, though, tell us where Richard is, if you want to keep your head," Will demanded. Jacob had never heard him use such forceful language.

"He's dead. The boy killed him," the man pointed at Jacob and the body he sat next to.

Will wandered closer, checking the veracity of the man's claims. His eyes widened. "Jacob? What are you doing here?"

"Taking revenge, Will. I had to kill the bastard that razed Leafburrow."

"I'm surprised you were able to take him down," Will said, inspecting Richard. Jacob crossed his fingers, hoping not to hear the words he feared would come.

"Jacob, what is this?"

Of course.