Someone had once told Izzie that if it was too good to be true then it usually was.

And so it was when she and Drystan defeated the royal guard with simple ease. They shared a look of confusion.

“I thought it was going to be harder than that,” Drystan murmured as he stared at the numerous unconscious bodies that lay at their feet.

“So did-” Izzie started when a crowd of royal guards appeared from out of nowhere and came charging at them; outnumbering them almost one hundred to one.

Izzie bent her knees and flipped her sword effortlessly in her hand before she gripped the handle and smiled at the approaching horde, “Let’s have some fun,” she chuckled as she ran straight for the first guard and the bloodbath began.

Drystan looked at her as if she was mad but he wasn’t about to let her go in there alone so he simply shook his head and joined her; slashing his sword against the men’s backs and legs as he stopped them from burning another village to the ground.

“How do you-” Drystan head-butted one soldier in the head before swinging his sword at another that came up behind him, “suppose to,” he lifted his leg and kicked a guard in the chest, sending no less than five guards to the ground with him, “beat all of these guards!?” Drystan shouted to Isadora as he dodged a swing of a sword and retaliated.

“Just keep-” Izzie screamed back as she jumped and wrapped her thighs around a man’s neck, suffocating him even as she continued fighting with her sword, “fighting!”

Drystan shook his head, “Thanks for the tip!” he scoffed; he had that part down.

They might be better than any guard here but there were a lot more guards here than them. And they couldn’t kill them whereas the guards could kill them without a second thought.

Izzie was glad to be in the middle of a fight; after everything that had happened with Beth and Dawn and Thomas she was glad to finally let her frustration out no matter if she was outnumbered.

She’d been outnumbered before and these stupid apes hardly posed a challenge as she sliced through them like a knife through butter.

As another guard dropped to the ground, leaving a space where he had once stood, Izzie looked up and saw a guard with a black moustache.

He charged at her, sword swinging high in the air as he let out a large war cry which didn’t frighten Izzie at all.

Standing up straight she dealt with three other soldiers before he even got close to her and when he did she simply raised her hand and gripped his wrist, holding his sword to the side, whilst she connected the butt of her sword against his temple and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Izzie stared at the man as he slept on the floor when she heard a boot fall in the dust behind her.

Turning sharply, she lifted her sword to gut him when an arrow suddenly protruded from his chest.

The boy coughed up thick red blood, his eyes flickering one last time, before he fell to the ground, face first.

Looking up she saw Dawn stood there, side on, with her bow slightly raised. She tilted her head at Izzie as if taunting her with her expertise.

Izzie narrowed her eyes at the woman before she heard another guard approach and she turned to attack; she had a battle to fight and she couldn’t be distracted with simple minded people like Dawn.

But if Dawn was here then that meant the others were as well meaning they would have back up and maybe the fight would be over sooner.

Izzie didn’t like that thought but she didn’t fancy fighting all day long when she would much rather be having something to eat.

It could have been a few hours or a few minutes later when the fighting eventually ended.

She saw that the sun had dropped further in the sky, causing a light shadow to be cast over them but it was still light enough for her to see the carnage.

A few guards had bled out from their injuries but the others were being treated by Beth and her family.

Izzie noticed that Dawn had extended her services; a fighter and a healer and she knew that Dawn was doing it to annoy her.

She offered Izzie a smug smile as she bandaged a man’s arm and Drystan congratulated her.

It was almost enough to make Izzie gag.

Taking a position on the outskirts of the town, protecting a small flock of women that were gathering water, she kept her eyes peeled on the forest tree line for any more guards.

“Would you like a drink?” A young girl asked her, holding up a jug of water she had just collected.

As Izzie stared into the water she realised how thirsty she was and thanked the girl.

Lifting the jug to her lips she took a long drink, the girl starting up a small conversation when Izzie heard the irrefutable sound of a sword being drawn.

“Take the others and go back to the village,” Izzie told her in hushed and calm voice as she handed the jug back to her, not wanting to alert the guards that she knew of their presence, “Don’t run,” She ordered them, “Just walk, slowly,”

Izzie turned her back on the guard slightly, tricking them, as she watched the women leave.

When they were gone far enough and the guards were closer she knelt to the ground, pretending to do up her boots, when in fact she removed both her daggers and secluded them beneath her cloak.

Tilting her head to the side she heard them move into the field, under the cover darkness, and she knew it was time to strike.

Twirling around, she removed her daggers and threw them through the air.

She knew she had succeeded in hitting them when she heard two bodies drop to the ground immediately followed by a moment of silence.

Izzie withdrew her sword, her sheath covered in a line of fur hiding the noise metal against metal made unlike the soldiers, and she waited for them.

Closing her eyes she didn’t have to wait long before they attacked; it was only a small group of four or five soldiers.

With a few flicks of her sword and roundhouse kicks she dispatched with them easily enough; their blood dripping off the end of her sword.

Izzie was ready to sheath her sword when someone reached out and grabbed her shoulder; responding to the threat, Izzie shrugged their hand off and turned, driving her sword deep up into their chests until the tip of it came out at the back of their shoulder blade.

But when she saw that it was only a young village boy, sent to aid her, she pulled her sword out in shock and he fell to the ground, instantly dying.

Izzie’s mouth run dry, her heart seemed to stop beating and the whole world seemed to crash onto her shoulders.

Taking a step forward, her blade dropped from her hand and she fell to the boy’s side; his dying eyes followed her everywhere and they were filled with terror and pain.

“I’m-I’m-” Izzie started to mutter, her hand hovering over his body, not sure what to do when a shriek pierced through her mind and she looked up to see a mother running to her son.

Izzie picked up her sword and stepped backwards, giving her her dying son, whilst she just grew numb. She had killed an innocent boy no older than twenty.

She was just as bad as the men she was dispatched to deal with. She was a murderer.

Unable to face anyone she turned and headed straight for the forest; damn the royal pardon, damn the villages and damn the soldiers.

She had taken a boy from his mother just as her mother and sister had been taken from her.

Running through the forest, her mind reeling with only the image of the boy’s eyes in her mind, she tripped over fallen trees, her hair fell out of its binds and when she was so tired she could hardly breathe she crumpled to the floor.

Her chest was heaving so hard she was sure that Drystan could hear her back in the village and he would find her.

She couldn’t face him right then and as she thought about Dawn her anger just increased; she would be loving this.

Izzie leant back, staring up at the night sky through the trees, trying to get her breath back when noises of a camp fire filled her ears.

She would have turned and ran off in the opposite direction if two men hadn’t been walking towards her; the same insignia on their top left breast pocket as the army that attacked her family.

Then she realised that it was there fault that boy was dead.

If they hadn’t attacked her family or her village then she wouldn’t have become a warrior and that boy would still be alive among with plenty of others.

It was their fault.

Getting to her feet, she headed straight for the camp.

It was time for her to kill the man who made her like this.