by Scott Baron
“The kingdom has been taken, as you have already deduced, especially given the outcome of your duel with king Horgund.”
“So, no casualties? I blacked out just as things started heating up.”
“Unfortunately, there were. Many of your guard were lost in the aftermath of that fight, but the remainder of your subjects and troops gave up peacefully, as was agreed. For the most part, at least. There were those who fought the usurper, regardless, and there were casualties had on both sides. Mostly ours, though, I’m afraid. Horgund had far more men hidden than we were aware of.”
“And how the hell did that happen? I mean, I get sneaking in and having some troops ready to go, but that was a full-fledged army out there. No way they just marched all the way here but no one happened to see them.”
“Agreed. Something is not right,” Bawb agreed.
“And why didn’t Ara see them? I’ve been trying to reach her, but the poison must have really done a number on my head. I still can’t connect with her.”
“I do not know why she did not see the forces coming, but I’m afraid we will not be able to ask her. Ara is still missing.”
Charlie felt his blood run cold.
“Missing? She’s a giant, red dragon. How the hell can she be missing?”
“It is just as it sounds. None have seen her since Horgund arrived.”
Charlie closed his eyes and felt with his senses, reaching out for that familiar connection. He couldn’t reach his friend, but to his core he knew she was still alive. Just somehow, some way, out of touch.
“She’s alive. I’m sure of it.”
“I am glad to hear this news. But without her presence, and power, we are at a terrible disadvantage,” Bawb said as he patted himself dry and slid into clean clothes. “But there is another problem, Charlie.”
“Great. What else?”
“You must remain calm. Promise me you will control your emotions.”
Charlie felt a spike of panic in his chest. “I’ll keep myself in check, Bob. But what’s wrong? What haven’t you told me?”
“They have Leila. It has been confirmed. She is being kept in the dungeon.”
King Charlie, formerly the most powerful man in the realm, felt his knees buckle slightly. “But Baloo?” he managed to say.
“Hurt and kept from her when she was taken, according to my sources. Caught in a trap of some sort.”
“But not killed?”
“Not while my spy was there, but he had to flee, lest he be taken as well. The last he saw, they were making off with her while Baloo was still trapped in the woods.”
“He just let them take her?”
“If he’d been free, I am certain he would have laid waste to a great many of her assailants rather than allow it.”
“But she was taken, Bob.”
“I know.”
“Which means Baloo is dead. And Leila is a prisoner in our own castle.” He felt the anger bubbling up, but forced himself to keep his rage in check. Bawb was right. He couldn’t fly off the handle. Not if they were going to save her. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of sound planning and tactics.
“Oh, shit. Bob, what about Hunze?” he asked. “Were your spies able to get word?”
Bawb’s brow furrowed slightly, but he otherwise seemed at ease. Or as much as one could be after his home had been taken from him by an invading army.
“She is unharmed,” he replied. “As we had hoped, Thomas secreted her among his staff. She is safe, at least for the immediate future.”
Charlie studied his friend. The Wampeh pretty much never showed emotion, but for some strange reason, when it came to the young Ootaki woman he’d saved from slavery and likely demise, something shifted in him. If you didn’t know him, you’d miss it, but Charlie had been spending a lot of time with the deadly assassin. Enough to pick up on the minute tells when Hunze’s name arose.
“We’ll get her back. We’ll get both of them,” he reassured his friend.
“That is my intention,” Bawb said, sliding his feet into his clean, proper-fitting boots, shoving the scavenged disguise into a rough sack and stowing it in the corner of the room.
“So now what?”
“Now? Now you get healthy. Purge the rest of that poison from your system and regain your strength. We dare not break into the castle until you are back to one hundred percent.”
Charlie cocked his head. “I’m sorry, I must be confused still. It sounded like you said we would be breaking into the castle. I’m sure you meant to say, ‘after we round up the men and form an army,’ right?”
“No. Just you and me, sneaking into the castle.”
“As glad as I am that you’re so confident in your abilities, need I remind you that there are only two of us, and the castle is where the enemy is.”
Bawb smiled, his pointed canines gleaming menacingly. “Yes. But that is also where all of our weapons are hidden.”
“But you said––“
“Ara is gone. Baloo is dead. Leila is captive, and Hunze is trapped within those walls,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I think the time for subtlety is past. I think it is time to break out some magic. A lot of it. A can of whoop-ass, as you are fond of saying. I hope you agree with my assessment.
Charlie pictured brutally smiting the invaders with his magic. It would be a bloodbath.
“Oh, I agree,” he said. “I agree wholeheartedly.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The king’s guards, along with a handful of other men who had fought the invading army, felt the hard ground of the courtyard dig into their flesh where they’d been forced to kneel for the better part of an hour. King Horgund had wasted no time flushing out those loyal to King Charlie, segregating them from the rest of the men.
He would normally have made a public spectacle of them. A warning to others not to follow their foolish ways. But this was a somewhat unique situation. Out of sight and earshot of his longtime advisers, his very pregnant mistress had pulled him aside, giving him a far different bit of counsel.
In the end, she appealed to his kinder side––or at least his more logical one––and convinced him that he should punish the men in private. She was so near her time, and if he executed the men in public, the possibility of a full-fledged uprising was very real. Best instead to dispatch them in a manner that did not rile up the locals in a single, large instance. She did not want her child born in war.
Smitten with his lover, and anxious to meet his new son, the conquering king acquiesced.
But that didn’t mean men would not be dying this day.
Seated on an elevated platform, King Horgund drank deep from his chalice of wine. It seemed King Charlie had a fondness for quality drink, he had been pleased to learn. After a more thorough examination of the cellars, he would have to remember to take his men to visit the wine maker and relieve him of several more casks. A tax, due the new king of the realm.
In the meantime, however, there was bloody business at hand. He nodded to the captain of his men, a brute of a fellow named Sykes.
“For sedition against the rightful king, as determined by individual combat, and for inciting others to violence against their new ruler, you are found guilty. Have you any statement?” the new king’s captain asked the man kneeling before him.
“Fuck you! Bloody filth! You’re nothing but––“
The captain’s sword plunged downward through the man’s neck, piercing his heart, putting an abrupt end to his words.
Sykes pulled his blade free and wiped it on the dead man’s tunic, then moved down the line to the next prisoner.
“Please, sir. There must be a mistake. I gladly welcome King Horgund to our lands. I would never take up arms against him,” the man said.
“Yet here you are. Captured in battle along with these other men,” the captain countered.
“I’m just a soldier. I swear, I had nothing to do with that. We just follow orders. If you want to blame someone, blame
him!” he begged, pointing to Captain Sheeran.
“At least have the decency to die with honor, you pathetic oaf,” Sheeran growled.
Captain Sykes drove his sword into the man’s chest, then walked to the former king’s captain. “A man of action, I see.”
“As are you. Begging does not become us.”
“It does not,” Sykes agreed, eyeing the man before him.
While Sheeran might have been on his knees, it was only in body. His spirit stood as tall and strong as ever. Captain Sykes had to respect the man’s spine. He also recognized him from the battle upon the dueling field.
“On your feet. The king would have words with you.”
Captain Sheeran rose as best he could with bound hands and followed his captor to the raised platform. King Horgund leaned forward and studied him a moment, a curious look in his eye.
“You were present at the contest with your former king, were you not?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And your men attacked mine when my victory was at hand. Is that not correct?”
“Yes, Sire. That too is correct.”
“These are your men. Loyal to you. Loyal to your king. Yet I remember you ordering them to halt their attack. Why is that?”
Sheeran shifted on his feet, well aware of the scrutiny he was under.
“Your Highness was engaged in an agreed upon contest. To intervene, even if King Charlie was losing, would be dishonorable.”
“And you are a man of honor, then?”
“I am, Sire.”
“Yet you would let your king die at the hands of an invader.”
Sheeran spat on the ground. “That bastard Charlie was no king of mine. I served, aye, but not because I was loyal to him. Have you heard the tale? How he came to seize the throne from my rightful king?”
“Refresh my memory.”
“He killed him. Didn’t even use his own hands, like an honorable man would. Instead he had his infernal dragon devour him. Burned him alive, then ate him whole. That is no way for a king to die, and no way for another to claim the crown.”
“Yes, I heard of this event,” King Horgund said.
“And you are not afraid of his mighty beast?” Sheeran said, eyes darting toward the sky, as if he expected her to swoop down at any moment and burn them all.
King Horgund smiled, utterly relaxed in his seat. “I’m not worried about the creature,” he said. “It has been handled.”
“Sire?”
“I have counsel of a powerful wizard of my own, you see. One who helped rid me of the winged obstacle to the throne.”
Sheeran seemed shocked. “The dragon is truly gone?”
“Yes.”
“Then I humbly offer my service to you, Sire. King Horgund, the rightful King, who claimed the throne by legitimate combat.”
The king laughed. “You shed your king and offer your loyalty to me so easily, Sheeran?”
“My loyalty was never King Charlie’s to have, Sire. I’d be proud to serve you.”
Horgund glanced at Captain Sykes. The armored man nodded ever so slightly. Sheeran was well respected and known throughout the realm. And if he were on their side, perhaps they had an option besides executions for the others.
At least for most of them. Some would still need to be made examples of, naturally.
“Very well, Captain Sheeran. Kneel, and swear your fealty.”
His hands were unbound, and his sword returned to him, which, as he had done when Charlie claimed the throne, he unsheathed and planted in the soil before him, kneeling in front of his new king. He swore his oath, then rose to his feet, free and restored in rank.
“Now, your first duty is to empty the barracks. My men will be taking up residence there.”
“Of course, Sire.”
“And then I wish for you to weed out the loyal from the traitors. Can you do this for me?”
“Yes, Sire. But if I may, can I request the assistance of my loyal man to aid me in my duties?”
“Granted. Which one is he?”
“Owen. Come here, lad,” Sheeran called out. The beaten youth scrambled to his feet and joined his captain. “We serve King Horgund now.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“I want you to spread the word among the men.” He took his sword and freed the youth’s hands. “You’re serving the new king under me, understand?”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Good lad. You’d best get to work, then. Go on, now.”
Owen took off to find the others, leaving Sheeran before the king.
“Well done, Captain. Your men obviously respect your judgment. But, where were we? Oh yes,” the king said, rising to his feet and speaking loudly to the prisoners. “I would have all of you see what happens when you are loyal to me. You can be restored to your former positions, like the captain, here. You can have a good life. Feed your families. But only if you are loyal to me, and me alone.” He nodded to Sykes.
Captain Sykes swung his sword, neatly decapitating a wounded captive who had fought at the dueling field. The headless body trickled blood onto the ground while the others awaited their fate.
“The same will happen to any who help this rogue criminal. Your former king, Charlie.” Horgund paused a long moment, the silence hanging uncomfortably in the air. “But, for whosoever finds and turns him in,” he continued, “there will be a hefty reward of golden coin and prominent rank in my castle. Now, those who fought my men as they took the towns and castle are free to go, for you were unaware what had occurred between your king and I. Tell the others of my mercy.”
Sykes moved down the line, freeing the group of men taken as they claimed the castle after the king’s duel.
“The rest of you,” he said to the remaining men, kneeling in the dirt. “You dishonored yourselves, attacking despite the agreement between your king and I. For this, you shall be made an example of, that others will not make the same mistake.”
Several hours later, the men’s bodies lay in a shallow, mass grave just outside the castle. Their heads, however, remained above ground, a gruesome reminder to all who would doubt the new king’s resolve.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Haven’t seen him. Nope,” the man on the road said. “Why? Is the king alive?”
Captain Sheeran scanned the road and adjacent fields with his sharp eyes from atop his horse, then turned them back to the man standing at the side of the road.
“The old king is exiled, long live the new king.”
“Long live the king!” Owen exclaimed from atop his adjacent horse.
“Who? Horgund?”
“King Horgund. It would do you well to remember it, for others may not be so understanding of your words.”
“Sorry, Captain. King Horgund. But it’s true, then? King Charlie’s beast is missing, along with the man himself?”
At the mention of the dragon, all three couldn’t help but glance upward, expecting that familiar shape to soar overhead at any time. But the skies remained empty.
“We’ll find him,” Owen said. “Me an’ the Captain are riding the entire kingdom if we have to.”
The younger man had ridden out with Captain Sheeran that morning, and the pair had covered a sizable swath of the kingdom in a very visible search for the renegade king. Word had spread that they were looking high and low.
King Horgund had been particularly pleased to hear his new man was performing so zealously when his spies reported in. Sometimes the transition of power did not go so smoothly, but with the realm’s longtime captain leading the search, locals were far more likely to fall in line. It was a pleasing turn of events, and one that allowed him more time with his mistress as her time grew near.
A son. An heir. After his former queen’s failure to produce one for so many years, this passionate young woman he’d taken to his bed shortly after her untimely death had provided him not only comfort and warmth in the darkest of hours, but now the one thing his bed’s former occupant could not. O
ffspring.
And thanks to the efforts of a certain local turned to his side, he was now free to focus his attentions upon his lover when she needed them most.
Captain Sheeran had been a most fortuitous acquisition, and Captain Sykes wholeheartedly agreed. Things had fallen into place, just as his wizard had foretold. King Horgund had been confident. Overconfident, even. But the overthrow of Charlie’s realm had gone even easier than they expected.
All that remained was the final elimination of the rogue king and his victory would be complete. And he was confident his zealous new Captain would leave no stone unturned. It seemed his dislike of King Charlie had only festered and grown since their first meeting, and it would serve King Horgund well.
“So, no sign of him, then?” Sheeran said to a passing shepherd.
“None. I’m sorry I can’t help ye, Captain.”
The captain and his aide nudged their horsed and rode on. There were still a lot of farmers and peasants to visit. Their survey of the realm would take some time, of course, but they were making good progress regardless.
Late in the day, Captain Sheeran and Owen dismounted their horses at a flourishing farm. It was in better shape than most, the fields lush and thick with healthy growth. The farmer had also avoided destruction of his lands by immediately swearing fealty to the new king as his men rode past. As a result, aside from their taking several sheep and bushels of grain as a tax, his lands were left unscathed.
Farmhands worked the last hours of sunlight out in the fields, but Sheeran had another destination, riding toward the small cluster of buildings.
“Cap’n. Good to see you, sir,” a deep voice said from the open farmhouse door.
“Likewise, Clay. It does my heart well to see you in good health. I take it all is well here?”
“Aye. King Horgund let us be, though his captain did tell us ta bring another dozen bushels of grain, as well as a sizable portion of tha crops just coming ripe.”
“A tax, eh?”
“Aye,” Clay said with a chuckle. “Rather ironic, isn’t it. Me, the tax man’s right hand now havin’ ta produce taxes for tha new tax man.”