by Shay Savage
I growled as he sneered at me. Unwilling and unable to wait any longer, I attacked.
I brought my sword up high and aimed for his shoulder, but he blocked me with his own blade. A tremendous clash rang out from where they met, and I quickly side-stepped and slashed at him again and again. I pushed with my blade as both swords came together, stepping forward at the same time and trying to wrench the hilt from his hand. My shoulder hit his chest and arm, and his elbow came up to smash me in the cheekbone, cutting me with the edge of his gauntlet.
I stumbled away, quickly righting myself and gripping my sword between both hands. I swung the long sword in a wide arc and again clashed with his blade. As I did, my foot slipped in the dirt, and I felt the blade of my foe’s sword dig into my arm. Sir Remy laughed and taunted me.
“This is what they call King in Silverhelm?” he said with another laugh. “Is this all you have to challenge me? Why, you are no more challenging than that so-called commoner queen of yours!”
I refused to listen as I went for him again, ignoring the blood running down my forearm. Our weapons sang out as they met with more force than before, and this time as I turned his blade aside, I brought up my foot and connected with his chest.
It was his turn to fall back though I gave him little opportunity to right himself. He continued with his jeers.
“I have had her, you know,” he yelled out. “Shoved her on her face and fucked her like a dog. I could not stand looking at that bloated body or that ugly face, but she was still complacent enough to take my verge without crying too much.”
All breath left me. I told myself not to listen, for I knew he would say anything with the intent of distracting me. He had done it in tournaments even when our lives were not at stake. He had not touched Alexandra. He could not have…
No…God, please, no…
With a scream, I went for him again.
As my sword hit his, I reached out with my hand, wanting to feel his flesh in my grip. He parried the blow, stepped backwards and away from me, but I did not stop. I grabbed for his neck, and my fingers found purchase.
I could feel his sword at my side, but we were too close, and he could not get the right angle to pierce through my chain shirt and into the leather beneath it. I snarled into his face as our eyes met, and he glared up at me. He moved swiftly and suddenly, and his forehead made contact with my own, sending me backwards.
Though I tried to keep my grip, my head spun, and I heard rather than felt my sword hit the ground beside me. I fell onto my back, dazed and unarmed. There was a low, dangerous laugh from above as I tried to focus on the shape of the man standing over me. There was a glint of shiny metal in his hands.
“And so you end,” he said quietly.
I heard a growl, but it was not from my opponent; it was from behind me. A mere half-second later, a dash of brown fur and floppy ears flew over the top of me, snarling and barking. I heard Sir Remy yell and saw his form fall back and away.
I grabbed for my sword as I righted myself and shook my head to clear it. Once I regained my vision, I saw Amarra snapping and clawing at Sir Remy’s leg as he kicked out at her repeatedly. I stepped forward quickly, seizing the opportunity to drive my blade into his gut.
He stiffened and stilled, his cold blue eyes turning toward me as his weapon dropped from his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth as I pulled my sword from his flesh. I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to me as I impaled him again, this time with a better angle, and I twisted the blade in a half circle inside of him. A strange gurgle came from his throat as life dimmed from his eyes. I threw him backwards, yelling incoherently at the body as it dropped to the ground. My breath came in pants as I leaned over with my hands on my knees, trying to regain my senses.
Amarra walked up to the still form, growling low in her throat. She sniffed at the blood coming from his stomach and chest, then stepped back, turned, and trotted away. Apparently, she thought she had done her duty.
I could not argue with the sentiment.
Romero was still close, and Erik held the horse’s reins as he brought him forward to me. I mounted the steed, and Erik followed behind us as I rode back into the fray. Additional mercenaries and soldiers from Edgar’s army fell to my blade as I rode through their midst. As more of Edgar’s men dropped, many of those still standing began to back away from the main battle and make their way toward the castle gates.
Though injured, our foes were still heavily armed, and Rylan pointed out the mercenaries in unmarked armor, not unlike the armor worn by those who had attacked my carriage. It was the same type worn by the man I had killed earlier. They all fought with similar maces and wore the same studded, leather armor.
I closed my eyes for a moment as I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. It was difficult when there were so many enemies around me, and the blood on my sword was just beginning to dry. I wanted more death. It was the only thing that could distract me enough to keep thoughts of her out of my head. I still dared not think her name.
My gaze fell on the two men in front who seemed to be the center of the mercenaries’ attention. One tall man with a full beard appeared to be directing the other mercenary soldiers toward the younger lads with poor weapons and no armor. The other was at his side, relaying his orders to the ones behind them.
The bearded man’s face held a sinister grin as he kicked a farm boy of no more than thirteen years.
“Hand me your crossbow,” I murmured to Rylan.
“Of course,” Rylan replied. He took the heavy, crank-powered crossbow from the back of his horse and handed it to me. He placed a handful of bolts in my hand as well, and I quickly fitted one into the slot and cranked it back. I steadied Romero, placed the weapon against my shoulder, took steady aim at the second man, and pulled at the trigger.
The bolt pierced the man through the neck, and he dropped to the ground. The bearded man immediately turned from his ally toward our direction, and I allowed Romero to take a few steps forward as my gaze met with the mercenary leader’s eyes from across the battlefield. His eyes grew wide as he called out to his men to begin retreating.
Without looking away from him, I brought up another bolt and placed it in its spot. I steadied the weapon in my hands after pulling back the bolt with the crank. The tension in the line was perfect, and my finger barely touched the trigger before it let loose.
The bolt hit him square in the back as he tried to turn and run.
Rylan laughed.
“That ought to disorganize the lot of them!” he cried out. I placed another bolt in the shaft and held the weapon again to my shoulder. A moment later, another soldier dropped to the ground. I pierced a fourth man as he reached the young boys in my ranks though the bolt only went through his leg. The boys immediately seized the opportunity as he lost his footing, and they were upon him.
I handed Rylan the crossbow, and he took a few shots himself before we rode off with the rest of the cavalry toward the main group of fighters. Parnell was at the lead, his sword swooping down to the unhorsed soldiers as two other horsemen surrounded Hadebrand’s men and jabbed at them with spears.
We continued to press forward.
Hours later, with the sun deserting us below the horizon, the clash of steel on steel could still be heard outside the gates of Edgar’s castle. We had fallen back somewhat—regrouping and planning the next stage of attack. This was where I hoped to truly take advantage and push the battle-weary men of Silverhelm just one step closer to their queen.
I found my thoughts invaded by images of her face, but I pushed them aside. I turned Romero around and rode back to where the archers were collected, preparing for the next offensive. Benjamin was there with the Master Archer from my own army.
“Is it time?” I asked Benjamin, and I was met with his gleeful smile.
“Almost,” he replied.
I watched as over fifty archers each took a mug containing a glob of the black, sticky substance. Benja
min said there was enough pitch to coat ten arrows each. The archers knelt behind us and readied their arrow tips. Benjamin took up two torches and handed one to Erik and one to Sir Rylan’s page. The two boys ran behind the line of archers with torches extended, and one by one, the archers’ arrows began to glow.
“Now we are ready,” Benjamin said with a grin.
He nodded at the Master Archer, who drew back his bow and called to his men.
“Ready!” the Master Archer yelled loudly. Each of the flame-tipped arrows rose to point at the sky. “Loose!”
My eyes widened in awe as the arrows remained lit and soared up into the sky in perfect, glowing arcs. They left a trail of light through the clouds before disappearing behind the walls of the castle. We could hear shouts from inside the castle walls, and I saw several places where firelight began to burn more brightly. One man—still in flames—fell from the castle wall.
“Ready! Loose!”
Fifty more arrows lit up the night sky as they sailed over the heads of the knights battling in the open field, over the walls of the castle, and inside again. I could then hear the screaming of those who fought for Edgar as they burned. The glow behind the castle walls became brighter as the sun set, and the battle continued. Benjamin and his pitch-covered arrows continued to rain fire upon our enemy.
With the sun below the horizon, the bright fires from behind the walls were even more evident. The battle in front of the castle was slowing both because all the men were tired and because the sheer number of bodies lying in the field were in the way. They hindered the cavalry’s movement though it also meant the serfs and peasants who had survived thus far were better armed. Each of them grabbed a mace or sword from the fallen enemies’ hands.
Still, there weren’t many of the common folk left. As I looked around and quickly counted those still standing—both for Silverhelm and for Hadebrand—I knew the people of Silverhelm had indeed been willing to die for their queen. There was no way we would have survived without them.
Parnell approached on foot with Rylan close behind him and called up to me.
“My king, many of Hadebrand’s soldiers and their mercenaries have surrendered. The fires inside the castle are reported to be reaching the inside walls.”
“We have to move inside,” I said, “and quickly. We do not know where they are keeping Alexandra.”
“What of the prisoners, my king?” Parnell asked.
“No prisoners,” I replied. “Any man who has fought for Hadebrand will die.”
“Yes, my king.”
I turned to Rylan as he mounted another horse and rode up beside me.
“Where are the engineers?” I asked.
Rylan motioned behind us, and I could see Lord William’s men with their machines.
“Ready, sire!”
“Make way for them! Give them cover!”
With twenty men holding their shields for cover from Edgar’s bowmen, the engineers moved closer to the walls, pushing the huge log, sharpened at the front. It rolled on a shortened cart but could be raised and lowered with a crank at the back and front wheels. It was huge and it was heavy, and it took many of the farmers and other peasants to help push the gigantic contraption to the castle gate.
To get close enough to use it, those pushing the machine needed to be directly under the castle walls, which left them quite vulnerable. Another line of peasant fighters—also partially protected by knights with their long, tower shields—stood at the ready so they could replace those that would undoubtedly fall during the attack.
As they approached, the engineers adjusted the height of the battering ram, and the men on the sides of the cart began to run. The impact of the pointed end of the ram as it hit the castle gate must have been heard all the way back to Sterling. Arrows fell from the top of the castle walls, and many of those pushing the ram dropped to the ground. As the body of each man was pulled away, there was always another, ready to take his place.
Two more similar rams were used on the walls at the sides of the gate, smashing into the stone structures repeatedly until dust dropped onto the heads of the men who pushed it. The stone walls were harder to breach, but the men were more effective as Hadebrand’s archers concentrated on those aiming for the gate. At the same time, the catapults began their assault on the walls to the left and the right of the rams. Huge rocks flew across the sky, slammed into the walls, and pulverized the stone. Boulder after boulder was hurled through the sky, and slowly but surely, the walls started to come down.
Even as hot sand was poured from the top of the walls, the men continued to run forward as the end of the giant ram made contact with the wooden doors repeatedly. They pulled back and rushed forward again as arrows tried to pierce them from above. The archers behind us dutifully picked off the men on the walls where they could, but I still saw many of the peasants of Silverhelm fall as they were hit. Still, as one man fell, another took his place, and the battering ram slammed continuously against the wooden gate. Finally, there was a crack that could be heard across the field as the door splintered and broke.
“Almost there, Alexandra,” I said too quietly for anyone else to hear. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, kicked at Romero’s sides, and we sped forward through the archway as the doors fell before us. All around us, the walls surrounding Castle Hadebrand were crumbling.
And that is when I knew I had won the war.
Chapter 36—Utterly Destroy
Flames were everywhere.
Heat coated my face, and my nose was assaulted by the smell of singed straw and charred flesh. The courtyard was a shambles of burned and broken bodies, men who fell from the walls or were hit by debris from the catapult’s ammunition, and the sounds of the few skirmishes still going on. I rode among it all until I came to the entrance to the castle. Parnell pointed out that the fires were close but did not seem to be advancing any longer. There was plenty of time to find Alexandra and get out, but where was she?
Rylan, Parnell, and I all dismounted and entered the castle with a dozen men behind us. I didn’t know my way around the building, for I had been inside only twice before—once as a child and again when I lay with Whitney.
That particular thought now made me feel ill.
At each turn, we were met by a handful of soldiers and guards though not nearly enough to cause our advance to slow. Many tried to surrender to me, and each one of them was cut down. When I was done, there would be nothing left of the castle of Hadebrand, the family, or any loyalists that resided within. I knew there would be some—some who were not so loyal to Hadebrand—who would also perish. Unless I knew with absolute certainty that they could be trusted, I would not take the chance, and there was only one man within Hadebrand whose loyalties were pledged to me.
There had been no sign of my trusted captain, Greysen. If I could locate him, I would spare the few he said could be trusted, but without his judgment, none within the castle walls would survive.
“King Branford!” Rylan called out. I pulled my sword from a dead guard’s innards and walked over to meet him. He pointed with the tip of his weapon, and I looked down into the lifeless eyes of another familiar foe.
Prince Gage.
“You took his life?” I questioned.
“I did not,” Rylan informed me. “I found him like this.”
“I want the name of his killer,” I said as I turned and gestured to Erik. “Get me an answer.”
“I will find out who did this, my king,” he said with a quick nod.
I returned the gesture and even found myself smiling a little as the boy rushed off. He was going to make a fine replacement for…
I abruptly shook the thought from my head. Such memories would lead where I did not wish to go. If I were to think of Michael for too long, I would remember why he wasn’t here.
She must be close…
I did not feel her presence, and this agitated me. Somewhere there would be a lower area—possibly even a pit—where prisoners were kept. Wo
uld they dare hold a royal prisoner in a dungeon? A more likely place would be a tower or an isolated wing of the castle. We headed through the towers and upper rooms, killing everyone who crossed us, and found nothing.
There was no sign of Alexandra to be found, not even a shred of clothing. We also found no sign of the king or queen of Hadebrand, and I started to wonder if they had escaped during the battle. I sent two of the farmers-turned-soldiers to race back outside to the cavalry to have them search for any evidence of flight.
In one of the upper rooms, we found Hedda, Whitney’s young sister, and Hedda’s twin brother, Jared. The soldiers took them to the throne room of the castle where they could be used against the rest of the family. I tore through the remainder of the royal chamber but found nothing. I raced to the other wing of the castle, the lower levels, the dungeon, and kitchens, dropping guards and servants alike, but found no sign of my wife.
She was not here.
As I made my way once more through the upper level, slight movement from the far end of the corridor caught my eye. I waved the other guards back down the long staircase while I went to see what was there, telling myself I had only imagined it. We had cleared out this area already, and I did not think anyone else could be up here.
I turned at the end of the hallway and entered the royal bedchamber just in time to see a flash of black cloth as it disappeared behind a large, ornate wood carving, which hung on the far wall. I raced over to it and yanked it from the wall. Behind was a small alcove, and King Edgar stared back at me with wide, surprised eyes.
For a moment, I felt as if I were in a dream. Here he was, right in front of me, and I wasn’t sure what I should do. This was something I had desired for so long—to have this man in front of me without guards and with just cause to take his life—and I did not know how to respond. It was my moment of hesitation that allowed him to slip past me and try to run from the room. Even in my momentary stupor, he was not fast enough, and I caught up with him before he could reach the door. Edgar quickly jumped back and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
