Rastevar secured the final knot of the rope around the criminal’s ankles. This tiny village was fortunate he had been passing through; when the brutish Karlai warrior had come out of the inn dragging an unconscious woman by the hair, Rastevar was the only person willing to confront the man. All the villagers, men and women, simply kept their distance and watched.
The fight was swift. Despite the large warrior’s strength, he was no match for Rastevar’s prowess and training. Once Rastevar had knocked the warrior out, he tied the oaf up before he could cause anymore harm.
Rastevar stood, pushed strands of his short black hair from his face, and saw a man a few spans in front of him wearing a long, deep-red cloak. A Tharum Vanquisher.
“What are you waiting for?” the man asked coming closer.
“What do you mean?” Rastevar asked.
“Finish him!” Rastevar’s father yelled.
Rastevar’s lips press tightly together. “I will not.”
“Father, this man—” Rastevar began.
“This man deserves death, and it is your duty to carry out his sentence!”
Rastevar crossed his arms across his chest.
Rastevar’s father shoved his young son away and drew his right hand from under his cloak, revealing a shimmering clawed gauntlet. In one swipe he sliced the large Karlai man’s throat. The victim never woke.
Rastevar’s father knelt by the dead man, muttered something even Rastevar could not hear. Then he stood and turned his head to his son. “Another failed test,” he said.
Rastevar shook his head. “I am not a Vanquisher, and I never will be.”
“Yes, you will,” replied his father.
(The word prompt today was “Test.” Rastevar is a character from my book, By the Light of the Moons)