All Through The Knight, M. Jade Glock [first ebook reader TXT] 📗

He held her close to his chest, her small form fitting snugly within the folds of his cloak.
“We're almost there little one.” He whispered to her.

He wrapped his cloak more tightly around his daughters sleeping form to ward off the chill of the late night threatening to penetrate the thin material.

He looked down at her as she continued to sleep, he could see the peace that she held in her features.
“I wish I could be the same.” He thought ruefully.

At only seven seasons old his heart began to ache at the thought of having to give his daughter away, his face had already looked a lot older than his eighty-four seasons, no longer holding the spirit and jubilation of someone so young.

Everything was being pulled out from underneath him, and his resolve was slowly crumbling away, the blocks he placed so carefully in his mind to control his emotions groaned and cracked in agony, wanting to give way.
He took a deep breath in, and then let it back out in one long sigh, dispelling the lump that began to form in his throat as a wave of gut wrenching guilt hit him in the stomach. “This is all because of me, little one, and it is because of me that you will now have to grow up in another woman's arms.”

He suddenly envied the man and wife that would be able to have his precious child to raise. Selfishness tried to ravage his mind, pulling, tugging, persuading him to turn back, but he pressed on. Forgetting his muddled and emotion ridden mind the best he could he came upon the small elven community that he had been looking for.

On normal circumstances no human was dared to come into a village such as this, there was an unwritten law that humans and elves were not to intermingle. A prejudice that had lasted longer than any human could remember.

He tried to keep his steps slow, despite the chill in the air.

Coming to the house he wanted, he pounded on the door the sound echoed through the hollowed out tree.
“Who are you?”

“I've come to ask a favor of you, old friend.”

“Neurion?” The man smiled despite his melancholy. No one had used his elven name in a long time.

“Yes, Azron, it's me.” The door was opened quickly, the elf was much taller than Neurion, about half a foot over Neurion's 5'11 frame.
The one named Azron looked at his friend. Suddenly realizing the rite between humans and elves

“Come inside, quickly.” He ushered his friend inside and hurriedly shut the door behind him. Seeming to forget the amount of time he hadn't seen the young human, Azron lead Neurion to the fire that blazed in the corner of the room, holding out his hands.

“Here, let me take your cloak.” Helping himself to taking the cloak off of his friends broad shoulders. It was then that the elf could see that his human friend was not alone. The elf had looked intently at the small bundle that his friend carried.

“Neurion, is that-”

“Yes, she is.” Neurion gazed down at the tiny baby and brushed her cheek with the side of his pointer finger.
“She's beautiful.” Azron couldn't stop his warm smile “May I?”

Reluctantly, and somewhat hesitantly, Neurion agreed and gently handed over his precious treasure to his older companion. Azron cradled her gently in the crook of his arm. “Children are such amazing miracles.”

“Indeed.” Neurion commented, his stomach turning again. The room became silent.

“What is it that you wanted to ask of me?” Azron asked, handing the small bundle back to her father. Azron guessed that it wasn't something that he looked forward to hearing, but listened regardless.
Neurion choked on his words.

Azron could see the young man's difficulty. “Is something the matter?” He gently nudged with his words.

Neurion took a seat on the floor near the fire and beckoned the elf to come sit with him. As they both sat there the young man still didn't seem ready for what he wanted to say, but forced the words past his lips, each one tasting like pure poison in his mouth. “I need you to find someone to take care of her.” He gestured at the sleeping baby in his arms.

“What?” The elf said, perplexed. “But she's your daughter, don't you-”

“Yes, I do, with all of my heart.” Neurion said quickly. “But it isn't safe for her.”

“What do you mean it isn't safe?” The elf was more confused than ever.
Neurion didn't answer him.

"Neurion, what's the matter?" Azron's face became solemn and serious.

"Are you going to be able to do this for me or not? If not, I must be on my way."

Azron was taken aback, but didn't push the human any further

"I'll do as you've asked."
"Thank you."

Neurion stood and Azron followed his lead.

Slowly, Neurion held out the child and gently placed her into the elf's arms where she began to squirm and awaken.

"What's the child's name?"

"Aracane." Was Neurion's short and stony answer before he walked out of the home, leaving behind a crying babe and a worried friend.

Aracane dragged an uncontrollably shaky hand through her hair, streaking the dark raven color with blood. Her whole body trembled and shook like an earth tremor. Tears flowed like a pair of twin waterfalls from her eyes. Her heart throbbed in her throat and her chest ached with an unbearable pain. Taking her hands she stared at them once more.

Aracane had no idea how long she had been sitting there, staring, unable to move her limbs from where they froze. All at once hands grabbed her arms roughly, a person on each side, yanking her from her chamber floor. Torches illuminated the walls around her as she was dragged and forced outside her home. They were not merciful in putting her down; they threw her to the ground. Her arms began to bleed from the force. Her stomach churned and lurched ready to empty its last known contents into the earth. She let her hair fall around her face creating a barrier between her and her surroundings. People were everywhere, shouting “Murderer! Kill her, kill her!” They formed a circle to which she couldn't escape if she tried. They poked and prodded her with various tools, all wanting their own sense of justice. They scraped her flesh, drawing blood in some places and leaving marks in others, though some could not be content with causing her harm through objects. Someone grabbed a fist full of her hair throwing her head back, straining her neck. Her scalp seared with pain and the back of her neck ached from the rough handling.

“Take her to the capital!” Someone's cruel suggestion rang through the air. A roar of cheering and screams of approval rang in Aracane's ears.

“I say we take care of it here and now.” Another voice was added to the mix. All heads turned to the one that had spoken a silence commencing through the multitude, and a path was cleared towards the middle where Aracane was held. She looked into the face a man walking towards her, sword in hand, ready to strike.

“Why leave it up to the capital when recompense is in our hands?” He looked her up and down, disgust written all over his face. He then grinned mirthlessly at she who had been forced to her knees at his feet.
Aracane's pulse quickened and her stomach twisted in disgusting knots.

“Father?” She whispered.

She was met with a stony gaze as he spat in her face.

“You are no daughter of mine.”

The smell of a night's worth of ale stood stale on his breath, his eyes bloodshot and anything but loving
“Who could call a she devil like you their offspring, who would admit to that?” The malice in his eyes seemed unmovable.

Aracane was kicked in the stomach causing her to double over and her hair was yanked back again to expose her throat, she gritted her teeth as she could feel the blood from her lips pour into her mouth.

“Is this how you're going to do it then, Mordeci? You wait until I'm at my most vulnerable and then strike me down? What cowardice.” She chuckled with morbid laughter, spitting the accumulated blood to the earth. “May the heavens never forgive you for what you've done,” Mordeci couldn't hold in his anger, hesitating only because of the alcohol that ran through his veins. He came closer holding his blade parallel with her neck, his intentions apparent in his face.

“May you burn in the depths of the lake of fire where you belong.”

Aracane couldn't help her biting words. “May you return there also.”

Still strained from her hair being pulled she waited for death, mentally daring him to be done with it so that she may escape this wretched life. The air was still, everyone's breath held as blood lust rang in their eyes, hungering for her death. She closed her eyes, accepting her inevitable fate.

“Stop!” a man's voice boomed in the painstaking silence. Immediately the crowd turned and saw a strange being in ranger's garments.

“What do you think you're doing?” the mysterious man asked of the crowd.

He walked towards Aracane, the people not daring to deny him passage to their hostage. Turning towards Mordeci he posed a question to him.

“How dare you say that you can take a life. How much better are you for this vile act?”
The man knelt in front of Aracane.

“Release her.” he demanded, looking straight at the captor of her hair and neck, authority blazing in his eyes. The captor was unsure of himself, he didn't know whether to let go or hold steadfast, he chose the latter.

“Who do you think you are?” Mordeci spat at the ranger. “This matter does not concern you,” he continued.

“The death of an innocent isn't something to be concerned about?” The ranger shot back, turning towards Mordeci and gracefully lifting himself off of the ground.

“She is far from innocent!” Mordeci shouted for all to hear, outraged at the suggestion.

“Who are you to judge? Do you presume to be without wrongdoing?”

The ranger stood and looked to the crowd that so wanted to take the