Reckoning

The inn sat on the outskirts of Bornia, far from the inner district where nobles lodged during the festival. Beggars' tents crowded the streets outside. It wasn't a place where anyone attending the festival would stay.

Azlaan wasn't here for the festival. For him, the room was clean, the stable secure. It served its purpose.

The day had just begun, and he was getting ready to meet the Duke. Shouting rose from the courtyard below.

He left his room and made his way downstairs. In the courtyard, two of his soldiers were arguing.

"It was your fault," Kabir said, jabbing a finger toward Saghir.

"My fault?" Saghir shot back. "I'm not the one who led him to the competitors' entrance!"

"You were supposed to find out where the Duke was, not how to entertain him."

"He WAS at the arena! How was I supposed to know he'd be sitting in the stands like everyone else?"

"Because he's the Duke! Of course he'd be watching, not competing!"

Saghir looked down at him. "Just because they talked to me thinking you were a child doesn't make you any less accountable."

"I'm never getting paired with you again!"

"Good! I—"

"What are you two doing?" Azlaan's voice cut through the argument.

Both men turned, straightening immediately.

"It's this man, Ya Emir," Kabir said. "All he knows is his sword."

"No, Ya Emir, it's his heig—"

Azlaan raised his hand. "Enough."

He looked between them. "Whatever happened worked in our favor. We're meeting the Duke today."

"Get the horses ready."

The two glared at each other, then headed towards the stable.

The moment Saghir released Noor, the black stallion charged out of the stable, and stopped just short of Azlaan. He snorted and stomped his hooves, angry that someone else had led him out.

Azlaan ran a hand along his neck, calming him, then swung himself into the saddle.

Saghir led his own horse out and swung into the saddle. Kabir approached his mount, took a running start, and leaped—barely catching the saddle before sliding back down.

Azlaan signaled toward Saghir.

Saghir dismounted, walked over, and lifted Kabir off the ground.

"Let go of me! I can get on my own," Kabir protested, scowling as Saghir placed him in the saddle.

They made their way toward the inner district. The path changed from dirt roads and tents to cobblestone and shops. The streets filled with vendors and buyers, shouting and laughter.

A crowd had gathered ahead around a shop. Azlaan slowed down.

Over the crowd, he saw a man beating his child. First with his hands, then he grabbed a stick.

Azlaan dismounted and pushed through to the front. He caught the man's wrist mid-swing.

The man struggled. "Let go of me!"

"Why are you beating your son so mercilessly?"

The man glared and pointed at the boy curled on the ground. "Don't call that thing my son. He's a witch's spawn." He tried to kick the child. "Destroying our liv—"

Azlaan grabbed him by the collar and threw him aside.

The man hit the ground hard. He scrambled to get up, but Azlaan's soldiers pinned him down.

The crowd had grown larger, pressing closer.

Azlaan lifted the boy carefully from the ground. "The one acting like the devil shouldn't accuse others."

The boy was trembling, his face streaked with tears and dirt, one eye swollen and his lip split. Azlaan carried him toward Noor. Whispers spread through the crowd as they noticed the black horse.

Azlaan tried to place the boy on Noor's back, but the child clung tighter to his chest, trembling. "No! Please!"

Azlaan held him steady. "It's alright."

"Do you know that man?" Azlaan pointed at the man that his soldiers were now interrogating.

The kid shook his head, still crying.

"Where is your mother?"

The boy said nothing.

"Did you see her today?"

The boy’s grip weakened. His body went limp in Azlaan’s arms.

Azlaan pulled him back only to find the child unconscious.

His soldiers beat the man and left him on the ground before returning to Azlaan.

“He has no relationship with the child, Ya Emir,” Kabir reported.

“What about his mother?”

“He only knew that a noble took her for being a witch.”

“Find a physician,” Azlaan ordered.

They took the child to a physician, who reluctantly treated the kid because of Azlaan's men. They paid him more than enough for his trouble.

Hours passed before the boy's eyes opened.

Azlaan held out a piece of bread. The boy stared at it, then slowly reached out and took it.

"What's your name?" Azlaan asked.

"Teo."

He tore off a small piece, ate it, then tucked the rest into his pants.

"You can have more if you want," Azlaan said with a smile.

Teo looked up. "For me?"

Azlaan nodded.

"And for my mama?"

"Yes. For you and your mama." Azlaan pulled out another piece of bread. "But first we need to find her."

Teo's eyes went wide. "No! You'll hit her!"

Azlaan kept his voice calm. "We won't hit her. We'll give her bread. See?" He held up the second piece.

Teo looked between Azlaan and the bread, then continued chewing.

The festival noise grew louder as noon approached.

Azlaan and his men prepared to search for the mother.

He mounted Teo onto Noor, and they started toward the market center.

A scream tore through the festival noise. People around them turned and moved toward the sound.

Azlaan pulled Noor to a stop. "Saghir, secure the horses."

He lifted Teo down. The boy gripped his hand tightly as they moved toward the sound.

A massive crowd had gathered in the market center.

Four wooden poles stood in the square, flames consuming the first. The other three held bound women, shouting desperately.

Witch burnings.

Azlaan turned to his men. "Bring water."

The second pole caught fire. Another scream—sharper than before.

Azlaan pushed through the crowd, pulling Teo along.

At the front, a line of soldiers stood guard before the burning poles.

"Why are you doing this?" Azlaan demanded.

One of them sneered. "We're punishing these witches so their souls can be saved by God."

"What did they do?"

"Did you not hear me? They're witches!" the man barked.

Teo tore his hand free and ran at the guard, small fists beating against the man's legs. "Where's my mama? You took her! Where is she?"

Before Azlaan could stop him, the soldier kicked Teo hard, throwing him to the ground, then spat on him. "Get away from me, you imp."

Azlaan closed the distance in an instant. He lifted Teo from the ground, set him aside, then turned to the soldier.

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck with enough force to drop the man where he stood.

Azlaan's men arrived with buckets of water and threw them onto the burning poles. Steam hissed as the flames died.

One woman still lived although her skin was charred beyond recognition. She coughed and screamed, her breathing shallow and ragged.

The soldiers who had been guarding the poles now surrounded Azlaan and his men.

Through the smoke stepped a nobleman in fine attire, his hair as red as the flames devouring the women. "What do we have here?"

He kicked the unconscious soldier at his feet. "Pathetic." He turned and raised his voice to the square. "People of Bornia, we have found more supporters of Satan."

Shouts erupted from the crowd. "Burn them!" "Servants of the devil!"

Azlaan met his gaze. "What is your proof?"

The shouting died.

The noble blinked in disbelief. "Have you not just protected these witches from justice?"

"What proof do you have that these women are witches?"

The noble scowled, pointing a finger at Azlaan. "How dare you question my authority?" He turned back to the crowd. "People of Bornia, what should we do with this warlock?"

Some shouted, "Burn him!" Others stayed silent.

The noble's jaw tightened.

Azlaan pointed to a random man in the crowd and spoke louder. "People of Bornia! Did you know this man here is also a witch?"

The accused man looked around in shock. "He's lying!"

Azlaan signaled his men to face the accused. He echoed the noble's words. "How dare you question my authority."

He turned back to the red-haired noble. "You can accuse anyone, but who are you to impose judgment without a trial?"

The noble addressed the crowd again. "Do not listen to this warlock. Justice will be served."

"What justice?" Azlaan's voice cut through the square. "I won't let you touch any of these innocent women."

The noble walked over to the burned woman, still breathing faintly.

He called to Teo. "Hey, imp. This is your mother, isn't it?"

Teo stared at the charred figure, unable to recognize her. He shook his head.

"You know," the noble said, drawing his sword, "she was the only one screaming, 'I have a child, don't kill me.'"

"But no witch deserves to live."

He drove the blade through her chest.

“Arrest them!” the noble ordered. Azlaan drew his sword, stepping forward as he pulled Teo behind him.

The guards advanced. Azlaan’s men met them head-on with a fury of strikes. The first line of guards broke under the sudden force, several falling where they stood.

Azlaan held his ground, parrying blow after blow to keep Teo behind him.

“Go help them!” a voice shouted from behind.

An escort of soldiers rushed down to reinforce Azlaan's position. He turned toward the voice. A lady stood behind the advancing escort.

Azlaan grabbed Teo and moved toward her. She opened her arms, taking the boy.

Azlaan turned and charged toward the noble.

The noble had already moved to the next woman, raising his sword.

Azlaan closed in fast and struck. Both swords met with a sharp clang.

The noble staggered back, eyes wide with surprise.

"You," he spat.

He launched a flurry of strikes, forcing Azlaan back. “Who are you to stop me?”

Azlaan didn't answer, deflecting each incoming blow with precision.

The noble lunged, thrusting the longsword for his heart.

Azlaan twisted his wrist, the flat of his sabre gliding against the blade and turning it aside.

Without giving him time to recover, Azlaan's sabre rose in a sweeping arc toward the noble's neck.