The Siege

by B.M. Griffin

pushes the door open more while he motions for the others to follow with his free hand.

  He walks out into the day light behind the stables like he said. Dellen is right behind him following. They turn away from the main gate heading to the right of the main tower. Dellen senses something wrong. He can’t see a door anywhere in sight. He reaches for his dagger but Derrick runs off too fast for him to get stuck by the blade.

  Dellen comes around the corner seeing all of the castle guards blocking their path to the main gate. He turns to run but they have already come around the other side of the stables. They are surrounded. He scans the guards looking for Derrick.

  “Frederick!” He yells out. “Show yourself, coward.”

  “No need for hostility, Dellen.” A man in full plate armor steps in front of the guards.

  “Oh good, you’re here. Now, where’s your beggar at?”

  “Derrick!” Frederick calls out. “Step forward.” Derrick reluctantly steps in next to Frederick.

  “Yes, m’lord.” He looks up at Frederick.

  “I have a promise to keep to you.” In one motion, Dellen sends his knife through the air, connecting with Derrick’s throat. Derrick looks at Dellen in fear as he pulls the knife out of his throat. Blood shoots from his neck, spilling on the hard packed dirt. It pours out all over him as he falls to the ground. The dry ground drinks up all the blood, leaving a dark stain around his body.

  “Was that really necessary, brother?”

  “How dare you call me that. You are no longer kin with what you’ve done!” Dellen roars.

  “I’m simply taking what’s mine.”

  “It’s not yours. It is the elves turn to rule, not the humans.”

  “It is my birth right!” Frederick’s anger is showing.

  “No, it’s, Grandle’s.”

  “He is adopted. My father was king. Now I am.”

  “You know the laws. The king shall adopt the eldest son from the royal families from each race. Each race takes turns ruling. Elves, dwarves, and then humans. If one is ill fit to lead the others may choose to enter into single combat to dethrone them. Only a prince can take the life of another prince and it must be in single combat. This rebellion is useless. The laws will not change. Even your own kind will not follow you.”

  “How dare you speak to me like I’m some kind of simpleton. I will kill Prince Gra-.”

  “He is our king, Frederick! I challenge you to single combat!” Dellen bellows for all to hear.

  “What are you doing?” Grandle walks up behind Dellen. “It’s not your duty to fight him.” He grabs his arm.

  “It is my duty to defend my king.” Dellen bows his head slightly. “Wait for my signal to make your move.” Dellen smiles walking to the center off all the guards. He draws his sword awaiting his brother’s response.

  “I won’t take pleasure in killing you, brother.” Frederick draws his sword, moving to face him.

  “Who says I’ll be the one dying?” Dellen attacks with a quick strike. Frederick deflects it easily. The sound of steel on steel rings throughout the courtyard. Frederick strikes back with a fast counter. Dellen dodges to his left slapping Frederick’s attack to the side.

  “You still move fast for a dwarf, Dellen.” Frederick spins around trying to smash him with his shield. Dellen ducks under the attack, he comes up with a hard fist to the chin knocking Frederick off balance.

  “I have a question for you, traitor.” Dellen hisses. Frederick slashes left and right wildly, enraged from the insult. Dellen blocks the incoming attacks with ease, countering with a back hand.

  Frederick falls to the ground, blood spilling from his lip. “What?” Frederick snarls, wiping blood from his lip. He stands up slowly staring at Dellen. He charges him with a rush of anger fueling the attack. He chops at Dellen in a feeble attempt to take him by surprise. Dellen jumps out of the way with a little laugh escaping his lips.

  “Have you ever heard of black powder?” He takes a few swings at Frederick. A few attacks bounce off his breast plate.

  “It’s a myth. It’s not possible. My alchemist’s have been working on it for years.” Frederick swings frantically at Dellen. He takes a few steps back, dodging the attacks effortlessly.

  “That’s what I thought too. Until-” Dellen stops. He feels the tip of a spear in the middle of his back. He looks behind him taking his eyes off of Frederick for only a moment. The moment is all he needs. Frederick stabs Dellen, driving the tip of his sword through his belly.

  “That’s not single combat you son of a-” Grandle yells. He stops short when he sees Dellen stick his fingers in his ears. His bloody smile is going from ear to ear. Grandle turns to hide behind the stable but isn’t fast enough.

  “Incoming!” One of the sentries yells from the wall. The explosion destroys the main gate. Chunks of wood fly all over the courtyard killing all those they hit. The second blast obliterates a part of the wall. The concussion sends Grandle and those around him off their feet.

  Grandle’s ears are ringing from the explosion. Smoke is covering the ground of the courtyard, making it difficult to see much of anything. A few smaller explosions are going off as his men race through the front gate cutting down all, that stand in their way.

  He sees Dellen lying on the ground next to a stable. Frederick’s sword is still stuck in his belly. He lies motionless on the hard pan, blooding pooling momentarily around him before the ground absorbs it.

  Grandle crawls over to him, dirt raining down on him as more explosions go off from hand held explosive devices his men are throwing around the castle. His brother lies in front of him. He crawls over the top pulling him into his arms.

  Dellen looks into his eyes. Blood comes from his mouth as he coughs. “You should have seen the look on his face.” He laughs with a mixture of bloody coughs.

  “You didn’t have to fight him.”

  “I needed the distraction so his men would look down upon us.” A muffled explosion goes off inside the main tower. “I didn’t know who I could trust so I couldn’t even tell you the plan.”

  “It’s a fine weapon your alchemist’s created.” Grandle smiles, looking around at all the destruction.

  “Don’t let it fall into the wrong hands. Keep it safe.”

  “Just hang on a little longer. Our healers should be in soon.” A tear rolls down Grandle’s cheek.

  “Is that for me?” Dellen presses a finger on his cheek, wiping it away. He leaves a dirt smudge running across his face.

  “Nah, the smoke is getting in my eyes.” Grandle tries to laugh but Dellen can tell it’s forced.

  “Goodbye, brother. Be a good king.”

  “I will be, brother.”

  “It’s much warmer than I thought.” Dellen looks at his brother one more time and closes his eyes. Grandle closes his eyes, another tear rolls down his cheek. He sets his brother down on the ground. He stands, drawing his sword.

  “Frederick!” He yells looking for him through the smoke. Most of the guards are either dead or off fighting in another part of the castle. He sees his traitorous brother lying on the ground covering his head. Grandle walks closer, most of the fighting has moved inside the castle. “Frederick!” He yells again.

  Frederick rolls over when he hears his brother calling for him. He gets up on his hands and knees looking for his sword. He is unable to find it in the thick smoke crawling along the floor of the courtyard.

  Grandle walks closer. His anger grows with each step. “I challenge you, brother. I challenge you to single combat.” Grandle’s hand tightens around the sword handle, turning his knuckles a milky white.

  “I forfeit. I have no weapon.” Frederick holds up his hands. Grandle draws a blade from his belt. He tosses it in the air letting it land at his feet.

  “Pick it up, coward.” His rage taking control of all emotion.

  “I surrender, brother.”

  Pick it up!” He yells, his face turning red. Frederick picks up th
e blade, his hand shaking. “Challenge accepted!” Grandle steps forward with his left foot, his sword at the ready. He spins on his heel coming down with a downward slash.

  Frederick’s hand falls to the ground, still holding the blade. He falls down with it, holding his mutilated hand, blood pumping from his severed wrist. “I yield.” He cries.

  Grandle is now towering over him. Frederick is lying on the ground, holding his stump in a defensive form, waiting for his pending death. Grandle raises his sword and stabs it into the ground. “You will be imprisoned until the day you die. I will hold a formal hearing to ban the human king in the next rotation. You have dishonored your family and your race.” He walks away without looking back.

  His men are still coming through the holes in the walls. He walks to the middle of the courtyard. Prisoners are being led out of the castle. He looks around at the army pouring through the gate. The healers are right behind them. He pulls two of them off to the side. “Go see to my brothers.” He points in their direction by the stable.

  His army surrounds him, waiting for him to say something. All of his men are in the castle now. Men lay dead or dying all around them. Wounds are still bleeding. Most aren’t even wrapped in bandages. Yet, they stand there in silence looking at him with their war torn faces waiting for his words.

  He raises a fist into the air. “The castle is ours!” He yells at the top of his lungs. His men cheer all around him.