Soul's Eye

Chapter 10: The insign

The prints were fresh. Deep, badly erased. A dozen steps, wheels, a horse with a heavy gait.

They weren't far off.

The sky was gray, threatening, and the bare branches quivered in the rhythm of an acid wind. I walked slowly, sword in hand, senses alert.

My breath was discreet. My heart was beating fast.

After half an hour of stalking, I spotted smoke in the distance. Behind a rocky hill, between dead logs and scrubby thickets, a fire was burning.

I ducked and approached cautiously. A dozen men, gathered around a makeshift fire, were laughing, drinking and sharing canvas sacks. The horse's hooves were still full of dried blood.

It was them.

I moved closer, slowly. Hidden behind a fallen tree, I was still watching them. There was no question of rushing headlong.

I waited, calculating. I was alone, but they were disorganized. No sentries, no one ready to fight, they were too confident.

I could attack.

I used my sword to deliver a heavy blow to the trunk of a weakened tree near me. The resulting sound was thunderous, like a beast running at them.

They immediately jumped to their feet, rushing back to the wagon where they had left their equipment.

This was it.

I rushed after them and pounced on the nearest one. The element of surprise kicked in.

The first bandit only had time to scream. My blade pierced his side with frightening clarity. He fell onto the fire, throwing foul-smelling embers into the air.

The flames had already begun to feast on his flesh when my gaze turned to my next victim.

The plan was simple: take advantage of their panic to kill as many as possible.

I took an impulse to plant the tip of my sword in the back of the next one's neck.

Only ten more to go

The bandits had had time to arm themselves and were preparing to attack me. They were slowly closing in on me like a pack of wolves, but none of them decided to launch an assault.

I took a deep breath and moved forward again.

I drew my sword and it met the rusty blade of a bandit, who was easily pushed aside.

Fortunately, they were drunk, so the fight was almost fair.

I followed up with a clean slice across his chest, leaving him lifeless, before quickly turning around.

"Shit!" The deep voice of one of my opponents echoed in the silence of the battle.

I parried a blow from a rusty sword, stepped back, and dodged a dagger. Adrenaline was taking over. Every movement was instinctive. My breathing was short, but my movements were precise.

Blade after blade grazed my skin, leaving cuts that were only the most serious of which I noticed.

One of the attacks hit me in the shoulder. I staggered. Warm blood trickled down my cape. I crouched down quickly to avoid the pain and rolled to avoid a sledgehammer blow. Then, not letting the wound occupy me any more than necessary, I struck blindly.

One of the bandits had his throat slit, and the others could no longer stand because of their wounds.

Now there were only three left. Two were retreating, but one was advancing. Despite the panic on his face and his panting, he stared at me as if to intimidate me.

"You... you're not from around here, are you?"

I didn't answer. But that didn't stop his monologue.

"I don't know who you are, but we have a very powerful supporter." At the same time, he moved closer, as if it weren't obvious that he was waiting for an opportunity to kill me.

He pulled out a dagger with an ornament attached.

It was a bronze medallion adorned with a strange motif: a stylised eye enclosed in an inverted triangle. I stared at it for a long time. Something about this symbol was bothering me. I was sure I had seen it before, but where?

He lunged.

I blocked his attack and pushed him with my shoulder. He lost his balance and fell into the mud.

I shot him without a word.

Silence fell like a black veil.

All around me were corpses, blood and soot. A pool of shame.

I caught my breath; my hands were dirty and trembling. I bent down slowly and picked up the jewel that had fallen into the mud.

It was cold to the touch. It was heavy and the patterns seemed to vibrate faintly under my fingers.

"If you don't stop, I'll kill you," I said coldly to the two remaining bandits, who were trying to escape. They froze, and I slowly joined them, as if to make the scene more dramatic.

I stared at the ornament for a long moment.

It was a stylised golden eye, trapped in an inverted triangle.

I'd seen this symbol in the Lord's study.

An image crossed my mind.

One day, a long time ago, in Arhen's weapons room, the Lord had told me about an organisation that was supposedly running a human trafficking ring.

And this jewel was the same one.

I frowned. "Where did that thing come from?" I received no response. So I executed one of them. I needed answers.

"Who gave it to you?" Despite the urgency I felt, I spoke to the last person standing in a deceptively calm and controlled voice.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. 'It's a man... I—I don't know his name.'

"And why's that?" I continued, already irritated by the situation.

"He's one of our customers. He came from Nadrel and bought some..."

He fell silent, but I wanted to hear him say it for himself. To hear him admit to having no remorse in executing him.

"Speak."

"Slaves," he said, despite the fact that slavery had been banned for more than half a century. My hand barely trembled. A gesture would have been enough. But deep down, part of me wanted to know. Not to judge him. To understand. To justify myself?

"But I've been told they only seek out those with special abilities."

My blood ran cold.

"What exactly are you talking about?" I said, my throat constricting.

He shrugged weakly. "He only accepts those who are born with unique gifts. Maybe he uses them as mercenaries or sells them to nobles."

He looked up at me with a loathsome smile on his lips. "If you're looking for some... I could help you. I could get you a very nice..."

Suddenly, his head fell off, and he was back on the road with the horse that had run off a few hundred meters ahead.

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My thoughts were heavy. The man didn't know where they were taking the children, but he had mentioned a place: Nadrel, a border town several days from Combenil. And this symbol...it was too specific to be a mere coincidence.

I hadn't found Abel yet, but I was beginning to follow the trail. A dangerous one.

"We're almost there, sir!" It was the merchant driving the cart.

I slipped the pendant, wrapped in a cloth, into my saddlebag and looked up at the horizon. The hills were gradually leveling out, and the first roofs of Combenil were already visible in the distance, nestled in a sea of mist and smoke.