by Jon Kiln
Forseth and a group of a half dozen men stood across the doors with their blades up and ready. Most were bleeding and a couple were doing so profusely. Forseth’s bandage over his chest was coming loose. The cloth was stained yellow and green from the unhealthy emissions of his old wound.
More men reached the top of the stairs behind the captain and lieutenant. General Dreth stepped up and took position between Berengar and Nisero as they advanced.
“Forseth,” Berengar said, “are you still betting on the old horse behind those doors?”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to change wagers at this point, Berengar.”
“Do you care for one last fight, old friend? For old time’s sake? I would quite enjoy showing you what you never learned. I would very much like to finish what we started in the throne room.”
“What do you say?” Forseth looked to the men around him. Most were un-uniformed and probably mercenaries. No Elite Guard were left with him. Those that survived the escape from the throne room were being finished off on the lower floors, Nisero imagined.
The other men dropped their blades with a clatter and fell to their knees. Forseth shrugged and set his sword down on the floor in front of him. He held his hands out and open at his sides.
“I suppose this is over. I will see you two at the trial,” Forseth said, defeated. “Can I count on you to vouch for my character? For old time’s sake?”
Berengar called to the soldiers behind him. “Take these men away. We will deal with them later, once we have extracted Marlex from the chambers beyond.”
The soldiers moved along the walls toward the surrendering men – six on their knees and one former Elite Guard captain, still standing.
Dreth pushed ahead and drew his own sword. “No. The King was quite clear. No quarter will be given. These men fall here.”
Dreth drew his blade to swing at Forseth, but Forseth was quicker. He snatched a dagger from the back of his belt and with a shout, planted it deep into the ribs of the General. Forseth heaved twice, nearly picking Dreth up off the floor. The General’s sword fell from his grasp and rang as it struck the stone.
Forseth looked at Berengar as he twisted the blade in a “C” motion, cutting at the organs in a fatal move he had probably learned from Captain Berengar years ago.
Berengar and Nisero charged up the hall ahead of the other men. Forseth jerked the dagger free with the grinding sound of metal off bone. Blood poured dark from the wide wound and Dreth folded to his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Forseth held up the dagger as if to put up a fight. The blood coated the blade and ran down over his fingers and fist in tendrils. “On guard, men. Always on guard.”
Berengar swung high, catching Forseth across the throat. Nisero came in low from behind, along the back of Forseth’s legs.
Forseth dropped to his knees with the other men. He bled from his open throat into his shirt. The dagger dropped to the floor with the other weapons. Nisero sliced across Forseth’s kidneys and Berengar drove his blade into the man’s heart. The sneer faded off Forseth’s face along with the light of life from his eyes. When he finally collapsed to the floor, he and Dreth stared up with the blank expressions of death.
The other men had remained on their knees the entire time, but the King’s soldiers grabbed them up and slammed their faces into the walls of the hall.
The King mounted the stairs and walked down the center of the hall. He stepped over Dreth and then stepped over Forseth to stand facing the doors of his own bedroom. He looked back down at Berengar and Nisero, kneeling over Dreth. The King said, “The General’s sacrifice of his life will not be forgotten. It shall be remembered as one small step toward regaining the throne for the rightful King.”
Nisero was not sure how he felt about the sentiment.
The King turned his attention to the other soldiers. “Speaking of small steps, take these final traitors to the top of my palace and let them step off. If they are still alive after they hit the ground, take them up and drop them again.”
The men holding the prisoners dragged them up the hallway away from the King’s chambers.
Nisero whispered, “What will we tell Arianne?”
Berengar shook his head glumly. “Nothing but the truth will do, as cruel as that is going to be.”
The King raised his voice at the doors. “Marlex, you worthless dog of a man. I have paid all I intend for you in the blood of good men. You can open these doors and I will let you live, in some fashion. If my men have to knock down my fine doors to get to you, I shall see your flesh flayed and you will be hung outside alive on a pike for the birds to peck apart. Decide now, dear cousin.”
Nisero continued to speak in a low tone. “She will have her baby without a father, and this after losing her mother and brother.”
“She has you and I,” Berengar said as a consolation. “That will have to do for now.”
The latch sounded and the doors pulled open.
Nisero raised his eyes and saw a frail man. He had expected a white-haired man like the King. He knew Marlex was older, but he still expected a grand figure to match the evil they fought against. Marlex looked elderly and barely able to stand.
King Ramael turned his back on the frail man. He pointed at a couple soldiers. “Take him to the tower and stand guard. He is not to be harmed in any way. I will visit him shortly and see to the rewards for his actions personally.”
Marlex limped away slowly between the two soldiers. He tracked through Dreth’s blood and left small, red footprints up the hallway.
“Captain and lieutenant.” The King stepped over the bodies and approached the stairs. “Come with me. Our work is not entirely finished.”
Berengar stood, but the younger warrior remained on his knees.
“Come, Nisero,” Berengar said.
The King stopped and turned. “The General’s men will see that he is handled with honor and respect. I need you to help me finish this battle.”
Nisero slowly stood and stepped away.
One of the soldiers approached him. “What of Captain Forseth, sir?”
Nisero looked at the former captain’s dead body with distaste. “Find a trash heap. He deserves no grave and no further attention.”
Chapter 20: The Will of the King
Lieutenant Nisero and Captain Berengar stood in the shadows behind the drapery of the servants’ entrance to the throne room. They had attended three ceremonies out in the city where they were honored, and this was the fourth for loyal nobles committed to the crown.
Another group of servants brushed past them carrying more platters of roasted duck. The men moved to the walls again to let them through as they listened for their cue. Nisero smoothed down his formal uniform and stared across at Berengar in his. He looked natural in Elite Guard dress again with a clean shave, but he did not look happy.
Another set of servants exited carrying empty casts of wine between them.
“It is strange being in this passage again considering how we entered it last,” Nisero commented.
Berengar nodded with his head still tilted down. “Strange seeing duck served in such quantities, with grain still being scarce in the city. And us standing here in pressed colors while farmers spill blood and shed it on the eastern border in a war that should not be.”
Nisero acknowledged the captain’s observation but did not immediately respond. He listened into the King, talking about the plague of Marlex that infected the nobility and threatened to destroy the land. After a time, he began to get restless. “Are we close to our entrance, yet?”
“Still a ways to go,” Berengar replied. “He is just starting on the bit about the fate that befalls all the disloyal.”
Most of the nobles had heard it before too, but the King wanted the point driven home. Like his grandfather before him, he cut down the disloyal nobility including Aedwrath. The King neglected to mention that Caffrey had managed to slip away from the King’s grasp. Apparently, the sly noble had p
aid for good knowledge and knew when to run.
Nisero could not help but to think of the King’s words outside the inn. If the King did business with a man like Caffrey, perhaps even in the bloodlust of taking the heads of disloyal nobles, he would see fit to let Caffrey slip away for a price. Nisero had no evidence as such and he imagined Caffrey was not the kind to put himself at another’s mercy, if he could help it. Nisero was concerned the man was still at large with a possible grudge against him and the captain.
The lands of Caffrey and those that were executed were being distributed to others.
Instead of banishing Marlex again, the King cut off the man’s thumbs and blinded his eyes. Then, Marlex was locked into the same tower room that had held the King during his captivity. The King had offered to let Berengar and Nisero join him in going to say hello, but they had declined.
The King raised his voice into a crescendo. “It was by my great mercy that I allowed Marlex to live,” he declared. “And even granted his request to live within the palace, in his own room in the tower, for the rest of his days.”
The silence in the room told Nisero that the nobles were taking the message.
“Is Arianne doing well?”
Berengar blinked and looked up at him. “Have you not seen her?”
“I’ve been interviewing potential recruits between each ceremony.”
“Right, I will help with that soon. I want to look at regular army recruits as well. We need experience.”
“Yes, sir, the war complicates that, of course,” Nisero said.
Berengar exhaled slowly. “Arianne is fine. I convinced her to stay in the capital for now. Her land is close to the border. The fighting is swinging north and could spill over into Spire and beyond as we have feared. You should visit her. The villa is much nicer than the tenement we were hiding in before.”
“I would imagine. So, she is not attending tonight?”
Berengar shook his head. “She begged off due to being close to birth, but I think she’s had enough of all the pageantry.”
“As has her father, I’m guessing,”
Berengar drew his mouth into a line. “You should stop in to see her. Recruits can wait.”
“After the loss of Dreth… I don’t know, sir.”
“You should stop in.”
Nisero fidgeted with his armor and looked away.
Berengar held up a hand. Nisero listened and recognized the rhythm of the King’s speech even though the words were muffled. Berengar gave three fingers, folded down one, and then another, and then waved Nisero out.
They stepped through the drapery and moved to the side of the dais, down a few steps from where the King stood in all his finery, the crown polished to an immaculate glow again. Nisero estimated that his feet were roughly where the chains and crown had been cast aside during their last visit. As the nobles applauded and stood, Nisero stared down at the scratches in the floor left by the table.
“Eyes up, lieutenant,” Berengar murmured.
Nisero looked up and they both waved.
The King said, “I and the entire kingdom owe these two men a debt of gratitude. They represent the best the kingdom has to offer, and together we reclaimed the palace and the city from those treacherous men that would see it torn asunder. Now more than ever, we need brave, loyal men such as these as our war with the east rages…”
Nisero drifted in his thoughts to Berengar asking what could be done to sue for peace with the king of the east. King Ramael had simply said that every kingdom needs an enemy upon which to focus its blame and anger. With Marlex hobbled and caged, the east would have to serve until the King was able to secure his hand on the power again.
Nisero had asked Berengar later how that was any different than Marlex ramping up war with the east for his own grab for power. Berengar had said King Ramael was their horse and their gamble, and they would have to ride it out with him.
The King continued. “And I’m proud to announce that Captain Berengar and Lieutenant Nisero have agreed to oversee the rebuilding of the Elite Guard that has protected the crown and the kingdom in times of war and peace. Under their leadership and nurture for the next generation, the Elite Guard will return to its former glory.”
The King lifted his hands and the nobles stood again and applauded. The King proceeded to loop a ribbon with an iron medal over each of their heads for the fourth time. Berengar and Nisero raised their hands on cue with the King and the applause continued politely.
Berengar had tried to beg off the King’s request to return into service. Berengar had even said that it was time to promote Nisero to captain. The King had simply said that Berengar was needed and he would require Nisero at his side for what was ahead. Berengar had insisted that war was the business of younger men. The King agreed to the statement, but not the request. He reminded that Berengar, like all subjects, served at the pleasure of the King and that honor of service was to be bestowed upon him again. Berengar agreed for lack of ability to refuse.
The King returned to his talk of the war effort and the contributions and sacrifices required of the nobility and the people.
Captain Berengar and his Lieutenant Nisero bowed quietly and slipped back out through the curtain.
They stood for a moment as more duck and wine were swept into the hall through the drapery.
Nisero licked his lips. “Are we free to go?”
“We should wait,” Berengar said. “Sometimes he likes for us to mingle with the nobility. Technically, we are here to protect him. Since the Elite Guard is only two strong at the moment, that full responsibility falls on both of us.”
“Do we give the medals back again or keep them this time?”
“I think this was the last ceremony, but someone will let us know.”
Nisero poked at the medal hanging around his neck. “If you had told me a few days ago that we would be reinstated and honored with this assignment again, I would have considered that the greatest of victories. From this side of it, it feels a bit muted.”
“Sometimes victory is just transition into the next battle,” Captain Berengar mused. “I’ve had worse victories in my time and will have a few more before we are done.”
Nisero nodded, but did not reply.
They stood across from each other in the dark, waiting to be called upon, and waiting to know the will of their King.
About The Author
Jon Kiln writes heroic fantasy. His major influences include David Gemmell and Conn Iggulden.
Sign up to his mailing list or contact him at JonKiln.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 : A Safe Place
Chapter 2 : On the Run
Chapter 3 : For Want of Sanctuary
Chapter 4 : Well Hidden
Chapter 5 : Know Who You Are
Chapter 6 : Want You Dead
Chapter 7 : No New Position
Chapter 8 : Lies and Answers
Chapter 9 : Conspiracies
Chapter 10 : Giving Orders
Chapter 11 : Dark Men Do Dark Things
Chapter 12 : Prey and Snares
Chapter 13 : In Chains
Chapter 14 : Long Live the King
Chapter 15 : A Time of Exile
Chapter 16 : Heights and Depths
Chapter 17 : The Man on the Left
Chapter 18 : The War Within
Chapter 19 : A Small Price Paid in Blood
Chapter 20 : The Will of the King
