One of the generals of the enemy army was a woman named Sakarda. Brave and ruthless, she was one of the main targets for elimination. It was impossible to eliminate her in combat, so a stealthy approach was chosen. A three-person group was dispatched to assassinate the warrior. The plan was sound and well-developed, taking into account the information from the informant. The entire group managed to infiltrate Sakarda's private chambers unnoticed. They quietly eliminated the closest guards and entered the bedroom. The woman was sleeping, and all would have been well if not for a detail the traitor had failed to mention. As they entered the bedroom, a loud cawing sounded immediately. A huge raven, staring at the newcomers from the top of its perch, screamed at the top of its voice. Each of the three warriors cursed vehemently at this impediment. Before they could do anything, Sakarda was already standing by the bed, sword in hand. Danathriel had seen her in combat and knew that even with a numerical advantage, they would have to exert themselves to defeat her. And indeed, within moments, the woman was fighting with two swords. She pulled the second from the wall without breaking the fight. However, despite her fencing skills, the trio gained the upper hand. Wearing only the very light armor she slept in, the woman had to dodge every blow. So, when she finally received a slash in the arm, Danathriel was certain the task was accomplished. He was wrong. A drop of blood hadn't yet hit the floor, and the warrior shouted a command in an unknown language. A huge raven joined the ongoing fight. Taking advantage of the moment of inattention, Sakarda jumped to the table and grabbed a bowl of some powder. She threw the contents into the face of one of the attackers, blinding him instantly. Two remained, each with a mad raven on his tail. The bird engaged Danathriel's companion, leaving him alone. He was a good warrior, even a very good one, but this woman was like a one-man army. He frantically repelled the warrior's attacks, knowing he was outmatched and in a losing position. He began searching for a way out when he suddenly felt a searing pain in his neck. The raven abandoned its previous victim for a moment and tore Danathriel's neck open. Reacting quickly, Sakarda also slashed his arm. The warrior already saw his death as the woman swung for the final blow, which would surely have pierced his leather armor. He saw no escape, but a way out presented itself. The blow was deflected by the companion the bird had just tormented. The man was bleeding from a head wound, and his gloves were in tatters. He tried to fight the woman and bravely resisted, but he too lacked the skills. Meanwhile, Danathriel dodged another attack from the bird and tried to reach the combatants. Before he could, the warrior delivered a final blow, and the man fell to the ground. Danathriel was already acting on instinct; it was either him or her. What's more, the mad bird had turned and was just about to attack again.The warrior acted haphazardly, and instead of dodging, he did the exact opposite. He leaped into the air and caught the flying animal. The raven tore his glove, but the raven didn't let go. He squeezed even tighter, then threw the bird at the woman. Willingly or unwillingly, she covered her face at the last moment, and the bird bounced off. Danathriel, not waiting a second, threw her dagger after the animal. Sakarda, disoriented by the animal, noticed the second projectile too late. The blade plunged deep into her stomach. She looked at her tormentor in disbelief and, with a groan, sank to her knees. She uttered a short command in a language unknown to Danathriel, then collapsed to the floor. The warrior waited a moment, sword in hand, but she didn't move. He approached her, checking her pulse and breathing. She showed no sign of life. Everything pointed to her being dead. Danathriel yanked his dagger free and sheathed it again. He looked around for the bird, but the raven sat calmly on its perch as if nothing had happened. It had clearly given up fighting after its mistress's death. In that case, it too left him alone and turned to its companions. Unfortunately, the victim of Sakarda's blow was equally dead. The other companion, though blinded and unconscious, was still breathing. Danathriel gathered him up and carried him out of the chamber on his back. The raven, black as night, swooped down upon its mistress's body.
"A wretched bird," Dan thought, touching the scar on his neck. Since then, he had developed an aversion to crows. If he had known then what a mistake it was to leave him alive, he would have been spared all his suffering.
Returning to camp with a wounded comrade blinded for life and scarred himself wasn't easy, but his training and innate strength helped. Killing Sakarda brought him renown among the army and a promotion. After that, it was all downhill. It turned out he had a talent for warfare, and the right moves led to faster promotions. He poured passion into every action, because it brought him closer to his beloved. Three years passed, and the war ended. Both sides signed an alliance pact. Danathriel returned to his hometown, where he found a pleasant surprise. Casandreia was still unmarried. Her father had tried three times to marry her off, but his daughter's temperament and firm "no" were remarkably effective. However, when Danathriel's name began to emerge with news from the front, the merchant gave up on pressuring his daughter. Now his future son-in-law possessed land and a title, which satisfied the merchant.
After their first meeting, Danathriel's heart was rekindled with love and passion, previously suppressed by the cruelty of war. From a determined leader, he transformed back into a lovesick puppy. He loved the merchant's daughter with all his heart. It's true that he sometimes used certain services in the camps, but the prevailing views back then were completely different. He loved only Cas. They saw each other daily, no longer having to hide. Both were confident in their intentions and, without hesitation, planned their wedding within a month of each other.
It's a shame it wasn't quite like that, but unfortunately, at this point, the well-worn story took a turn for the worse. A few days before the wedding, the couple had arranged to meet, as they often did in recent days, in the clearing where they had met in their youth. Danathriel arrived on time, but Cas didn't show. When he began to arrive late, he set off towards her house. Halfway there, he came across his beloved's footprints, and with them, the footprints of two men. Even an untrained eye would have noticed a scuffle, after which the girl's tracks stopped. However, one of the men began leaving deeper prints in the forest floor, indicating he had been carrying the girl. Following the footprints, the Warrior reached the spot where horse tracks had appeared. From then on, the kidnappers were on horseback. There was no point in pursuing them on foot. Danathriel turned back towards the house. He burst through the door, panting, and ordered his father to gather a few men to follow him. Then, gathering his weapons, leather armor, and horse, he hurried after the kidnappers. They must have been racing at breakneck speed, for half the day had passed, and he still hadn't caught up. About an hour ago, another trail joined the two horses. After all, it was three horses and four riders. One of them was carrying Cas, and yet they had been riding for hours. Something was off. It was already getting dark when he entered another forest. After a day's racing, his horse was barely breathing, but Danathriel couldn't let go. His love had been kidnapped by who knows who. After all, it was only for her that he had endured the horrors of war; she had given him meaning in life. He wouldn't let go, even if it meant tearing himself to pieces. After another hour, the mount refused to obey and stopped.
"You've done so much." The tracker patted the stallion and left him to rest. He set off on foot, tracing the tracks in the torchlight. The moon was already high when he noticed the glow of the fire. He extinguished the torch, wondering if the others might have noticed her fire. It's always better to have the advantage of surprise.
Even from a distance, he could hear the two men talking. They clearly weren't trying to hide their presence, nor were they afraid of pursuit. He listened for a moment to the voices. Only two spoke continuously; the third, the kidnapper, remained silent. He climbed quietly onto a branch from which he could observe everything. Two men sat by a fire, eating roasted rabbit. They were dressed in armor similar to his own, with swords at their belts. Mercenaries. He didn't notice anything unusual about them. His attention was more drawn to the third person, sitting farther away, leaning against a tree trunk. Dressed in a habit similar to a monk's. It was clearly a woman, judging by her slender figure and long black hair. He couldn't be entirely sure, as he couldn't see the person's face. Her head was resting on her chest, clearly asleep. He could only see gray streaks in her black hair, so she wasn't in her prime. Right next to the mysterious figure, leaning against the same branch, sat Cas. Gagged, her hands bound, she watched everything around her. After analyzing the situation, Danathriel decided an immediate attack was the best option. He didn't have a bow or crossbow, and there was no point in setting traps or thinking of anything else when he could take care of it right then and there. The men, engaged in conversation, were easy targets, and whoever the woman was, probably wouldn't pose much of a problem. Even if she did, she wouldn't have time to do anything. Yes, right here and now. He drew his sword and dagger. Still moving as quietly as possible, he ran out right behind the nearest mercenary. The blow nearly severed the man's head. He didn't even notice what had killed him. His companion's eyes widened in surprise and, reaching for his weapon, he tried to scream, but the dagger lodged in his throat interrupted his plans. Both were dead. Good. Danathriel turned to his last opponent and...stopped dead. The woman stood erect, holding Cas with one hand, the dagger at her throat with the other.
"Stay where you are," she said calmly. "Don't look so surprised. I've followed your career and I knew you wouldn't rest until you caught us."
Danathriel tried to remember if he knew her. She was around fifty, her face familiar, but he couldn't remember who she was. The answer hovered at the edge of his consciousness. Meanwhile, the woman continued.
"You're a good leader, but love makes you rash." She nodded, pointing to the bodies. "Those two played their roles well."
The warrior looked down at his feet. Bait. He attacked the target he had assumed was more important, but it was the other way around. He cursed himself silently; he could have spent more time observing. But it was too late for that now; now he had to find out what this was all about and who his opponent was. A good strategist would have devised such a decoy; a ruthless one would have sacrificed two warriors. A ruthless woman, a strategist, a commander... the answer came, though he didn't know how it was possible. He'd seen that face two years ago, only then she was twenty years younger. He looked up.
"Sakarda," he muttered through his teeth.
She acknowledged it with a smile. "You recognized me, my murderer. Pleased."
Danathriel began to curse for not ensuring her death by decapitation. Only after the fact did he learn that Sakarda also dabbled in dark magic and was simply a witch. If he had known sooner, perhaps he wouldn't have left her as he did, merely checking for a heartbeat. Damn it, what was he thinking? She was dead, she had to be.
"How come..." he started to say.
"Is it possible?" she finished for him. "Well, it wasn't easy and it cost a fortune, as you can see. All I have to do is thank you for leaving me a familiar.
" "A familiar? A bird! That damn raven. You should have finished the bird off on the spot." His thoughts returned to that place for a moment. Meanwhile, Sakarda continued.
"Besides, you can't cheat death that easily for too long. I have a limited time, just enough to get my revenge.
" "So come here and kill me," he tried to incite her.
"Yes, you would, but don't count on it, I'm not in good shape anymore," she replied with a short laugh. "Enough talking, time to act." After these words, she drew the dagger across Casandreja's throat.
Now, remembering that moment, Dan couldn't stop the tear that escaped. It was the moment his life fell apart, and he could do nothing.
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