Gathelaus caught his breath upon the floor and glanced for his sword. It was nowhere to be seen. He reached for something else…
Forlock plead with Tormund Ghast. “I am sorry, the heat and the power, it went to my head. I meant you no harm, loyal friend.”
“Friend? Ha!” snarled Tormund Ghast. “Now I see your true colors and while I may have used you for my own ends, it seems those days are at an end. Gathelaus will slay you and I will remain his advisor while playing him like a har as I have you, until such time as I no longer need his services either. Then—urk!!!!”
The words caught in Tormund Ghast’s throat as Gathelaus’s tomahawk stuck in his chest.
Gathelaus remained on his knees and was breathing hard. He had only managed a throw half his regular strength, but it was enough to stop the wizard’s heart along with his tirade.
Tormund Ghast fell dead and as he did so, his glamour and such in eth tower collapsed too. The room was now a vacant shell of what it had appeared, the brilliant white and smooth features were replaced by cold grey stones, rough and baring the chisel marks of the ages; cobwebs hung in every corner and rats danced with abandon in the far reaches.
Gathelaus took in a deep breath, regaining his strength from the crushing blow of Forlock. Then he was rapidly struck down again.
The naked king stood above him, pummeling him with his bare fists. “Try to steal my crown eh? No one steals from Forlock the mighty! No one!” He kicked and stomped and spit his wrath on Gathelaus.
Hardly able to avoid the worst of the blows raining upon his head, Gathelaus rolled away.
“This should do the trick!” proclaimed Forlock as he found his scepter and brought it down on Gathelaus’s back.
Gathelaus launched across the floor and fell something cold touch his hand. Metal and curved, pointed and hard. The crown of Forlock!
Forlock approached and swung the scepter down to brain the usurper. Gathelaus rolled under his feet and knocked him down, then knocked him in the head with the crown, until blood flew.
“The king is dead,” said Thorne, who had just arrived. “Long live the king!”
Gathelaus got to his feet, still clutching the bloody crown.
“I’d say you earned that,” remarked Thorne. “But you could have waited for me to help.”
“No,” said Gathelaus, still breathing deep, “I couldn’t.”
***
A week later…
Frinchant approached, strutting like a peacock. His golden armor gleamed in the dazzling light and the crest of feathers atop his helm bounced unceremoniously. “I always knew you could do it. My congratulations, Gathelaus,” he said.
“King Gathelaus,” corrected Niels.
“Yes, well, King Gathelaus,” said Frinchant, noticing that the deferential attitude among the Sellsword’s toward him had changed considerably since last they saw him. “I trust that the misunderstanding of your campaign will be overlooked, and we can continue our friendship and brotherhood. The annexing of the Tyrian River valley will stand will it not?”
Gathelaus looked at Frinchant and gave a wolfish chuckle. “You called men back that were mine to command when you thought I was going to be slaughtered.”
Frinchant was indignant. “You can’t fault me for that. They were my men and the agreement was between Prince Roose and I”
“And the agreement of annexation for the Tyrian river valley was between Roose and you. I call that arrangement null and void. Get yourself back across the river before I decide to kick you across myself.”
Frinchant was indignant. “This will not stand. I hold the fortress.”
Gathelaus shot back. “I’d just as soon burn the fortress down as let you hold it.”
Frinchant glanced about as if to see there might be anyone who might consider him an ally, finding none, he attempted to bluff his way through it. “I can hold against the greatest of sieges.”
“Look around you. I took this place; what do you think I could do to that scrap heap?”
Frinchant’s eyes bulged in fear but he attempted bravado and held his chin high saying, “You know my strengths.”
“And your weakness’s, said Gathelaus as he rose from the throne. “We can part amicably, or you can declare war. But remember war is my business.”
Three months later…
Epilogue: A King’s Obligation
Gathelaus finished reading the torn scroll. He crumpled the paper in his scarred hands and shouted, “Prepare my horse!”
Servants sprang into action and raced away.
“Are you going riding my king?” asked the steward. “Is there anything I should prepare for in particular?”
“Aye, a ride for a good length. I plan on seeing more of the kingdom. Prepare a contingent of men to follow me, but I won’t be waiting for them.”
The steward tsked at him, “That is not wise protocol your majesty. Surely you must have the royal guard with you at all times.”
“Get Captain Niels and my old guard to catch me then, I won’t wait. I have business in the north, with or without them.”
“In which direction should I tell them you went sire?”
“To Aldreth.”
Continued in BRUTAL Book Two of the Brutal Saga
The Usurper Page 29
