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Kingdom of Fire

Page 19

by Nick S. Thomas


  Yorlor slumped onto the base of some steps, glad to be able to leave the fight to his fellow knights. He nodded in agreement.

  “Knights follow me! Captain Durer, lead on!”

  Markus sheathed his mighty sword and took the Banner of Leonzal from the man who carried it. Durer led them back into the inner wall of the city and along its interior, far to the west. They continued onwards for what felt like an age until they reached the stables, and a small storeroom within it. He pulled forwards several crates of supplies, and a rug that hung from the wall to reveal a well-hidden door.

  “How did you ever find out about such a thing?” Markus asked him.

  “Every Lord has his secrets, keeping those secrets safe was a vital duty and one which necessitated such knowledge.”

  “Then I commend you on your duty, for it has served your country well.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  “How many men do you suppose they have within the keep?”

  “I would say about a hundred at a guess, maybe more.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Lead the way, let’s end this!”

  Durer pushed the heavy door forwards, revealing a staircase leading to an underground tunnel. The tunnel was all of stone, as wide as two men and taller than any man. It had clearly been in usage by the Lords of the city for hundreds of years.

  “Where does this lead to?” asked Markus.

  “In the kitchen below the Lord’s Chamber,” said Durer.

  “Perfect.”

  They carried on and arrived at the end of the tunnel. Durer carefully pulled back the door and pushed against the wheeled cabinet that hid the doorway. He looked out cautiously, before swinging it wide. It was the store cupboard for the kitchen with a narrow staircase leading up to the kitchen, which was completely empty, as they had expected. Almost all of the Karsians were currently in the square of the keep nursing their wounds, or on the walls awaiting any attack.

  “Here, carry this for me.”

  He handed the Standard of Leonzal to Durer, who looked at it with pride. Markus walked over to look out of a small window overlooking into the inner square of the keep. He could see around thirty men in the square, and a large cannon pointing at the wooden gates. He turned back to his men.

  “I’ve got a great idea.”

  “What do you see?”

  “There’s a cannon down below pointed at the gates ready to blast anyone who gets through. If we can reach that gun, we can blow the doors and open up the keep for the rest of the army. How many stairways are there in this main tower?”

  “There’s one which leads from the ground to the very top, and this one, which only goes as far as this chamber, but few know about them.”

  “That cannon will be loaded with shrapnel, it won’t blow the doors,” said Bull.

  “Then we throw down a ball as well, that’ll do the trick.”

  “You think the barrel can take it?” asked Vesart.

  “It’s as good an idea as I can think of, got anything better?”

  Vesart shook his head, grinning at the only partially crazy idea.

  “Alright, we need a diversion. Bull and Vesart, you with me. The rest of you, I want you to run onto the battlement, make it look like you got over the walls. Send word to our people to stay well back from the gates!”

  “And then do what after this diversion?” asked Ulrich.

  “Hold.”

  “Sounds like a great deal.”

  “Better than what we must do. Right, let’s go, give us just two minutes, and get moving!”

  Markus pulled off his helmet and laid it to rest on the kitchen floor, as did most of the men. They could no longer take the heat and exhaustion the wearing of them caused. The three men set out into the tower to find the main staircase. They carefully crept down it, when they heard footsteps running up the spiral staircase.

  They stopped, anxiously waiting, not knowing anything else to do. Suddenly a Karsian appeared, not realising they were enemy until he was on top of them. Markus grabbed the orc by his gambeson and threw him up the stairs towards Bull, who punched him repeatedly with his metal gauntlets until the man went still.

  Markus nodded in appreciation as Bull laid the orc’s body down on the stairs. They continued onwards to the base of the tower. It had no light, a convenient fact for them. At the bottom of the stairs, they found the door to the courtyard open, and another door leading to a great hall. Peering from the darkness into the courtyard, they could see the cannon. It was most certainly ready to fire, a lit torch rested several paces away from it, the powder pan covered.

  “Get into the hall and stay hidden, these stairs are going to get very busy in a few moments,” whispered Markus.

  They crept into the great hall, a magnificent sight. The ceiling was grandiosely large, with several fireplaces around the room. A massive oak table ran the length of the room, big enough for a hundred guests. The three men hid against the nearest wall, hoping that any Karsian orcs would pass them en route to the walls.

  “Come on you Karsian bastards!” Tobias shouted, starting their diversion.

  Shouts and the noise of orcs echoed around the courtyard as the Karsians were abruptly alerted to the Werstrian presence on their walls.

  “To the walls!” shouted a tall Karsian.

  The orcs from the courtyard piled into the tower, storming up the stairway, while others on the keep’s walls circled around to Ulrich’s position. Markus snuck a look around to the stairs as the last Karsian stomped through. He looked back to his two friends with a smile.

  “It worked, let’s go.”

  They ran out towards the gun, the Karsians completely unaware of their presence. Looking up at the battlements, they could see their friends fighting twice their number already, and a Karsian falling from the walls as he was kicked off.

  “Bull, throw one of those cannon balls down the barrel, Vesart, open the pan!”

  Markus grabbed the torch from the wall and looked up to his men fighting upon the wall. He watched as the tall Karsian reached the wall with a huge glaive in his hands, he was of some importance as he was very expensively dressed. Markus could only watch as he hacked with all his strength against Tobias. The knight tried to parry with his sword in two hands but the huge polearm smashed through, knocking him back against the wall. The Karsian swung a huge horizontal blow against him. Tobias ducked under it and leapt up with a thrust into the giant’s torso.

  The Karsian orc screamed in rage, pulling the sword from his body and throwing it to the wall. He kicked Tobias to the ground and swung a massive strike to his head, the might of the glaive cracking his helmet and leaving him lifeless upon the wall.

  “Markus! Do it!” shouted Vesart.

  He looked back, his two friends stood beside the cannon, desperately awaiting his action. He looked at the torch in his hands as Vesart pulled back the pan cover of the huge gun. Markus stepped up to his position and touched the pan with the torch. The fine grain powder ignited immediately, and within a split second, a thunderous bellow rang out around the courtyard, shaking the ground around them. The sound was deafening.

  The wood and metal of the gate smashed and splintered, sending debris as high as the walls themselves. Those fighting upon the battlements stopped in surprise to see what had happened. Markus stood back up straight, dust and debris settling over his hair and armour. He shot a look back up to the battlement where the murderous Karsian looked on at him with disgust.

  Markus drew his sword and ran to the stairs of the tower, charging up to the walls as fast as he could. Reaching the open doorway to the battlements he rushed the first Karsian who had his back to him. Markus hacked the orc’s neck and then pushed him from the wall, falling to his death below.

  Looking down as the body fell, he could already see his Red Devils storming through the gate and up into the gatehouse to reach the walls and relieve his men. The tall Karsian stepped forward to confront Markus, his brutal glaive still in hand.
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br />   “So, it is the mighty Lord Markus Handel! The Lord who is not a Lord!”

  “Who are you? How do you know my name?” Markus shouted.

  “I am Prince Ozturk, son of King Randar of Karsia. I will kill you just as I killed that squealing peasant brother of yours….”

  Markus approached the orc with utter hatred, the Karsian cut with his savage weapon. Markus leapt back voiding the strike, and pivoted his sword around, cutting onto the beast’s left wrist, hacking the hand from its arm.

  Prince Ozturk screamed in agony and rage as he charged at Markus, who thrust his sword through the barbarian’s stomach. Blood ran from his mouth as he dropped to his knees. Markus pulled out his bloody sword and quickly swung it around his head, gathering momentum and hacked at the orc’s neck. The head flew from the prince’s shoulders and into the courtyard, the body slumping on the battlement.

  Ahead of him, Markus could see his men pouring onto the walls and hacking down the Karsian defenders. He walked up to Tobias who was still against the wall. He pulled the battered helmet from his head and knelt down beside his friend with Vesart. Tobias had blood trickling from his head, and he could not move his body, his breathing was slow.

  “Did we do it, Markus?” asked Tobias.

  “We most certainly did, you did us proud, my friend.”

  “Our ancestors are honoured,” said Vesart.

  Tobias smiled as his breathing finally slowed and his body went still. Markus looked down with sadness. Tobias was one of a long list of friends he had lost since he had joined the war. He looked up to see his old friend Alix stood at the front of the men who had stormed the gate. Beside him was Captain Durer, still holding the Banner of Leonzal, and a bloodied sword in his other hand.

  Markus stood up and went down to his men. He gravely took the standard from the Captain, and nodded in gratitude to him. He turned towards the entrance to the tower.

  “Let’s do this!”

  He walked sombrely to the tower, accompanied by his knights. They followed the stairs of the tower to its very top, the tallest tower of the city. Markus held the banner upright for all to see across the lands. Behind him, Bull pulled down the black Banner of Karsia from the pole and tossed it to the wind.

  Markus looked out at the sheer carnage around him, death and destruction. Several buildings were on fire, and there were no civilians to cheer them on. Those who occupied the city had been killed or sold into slavery. Few escaped with their freedom. It was a bitter victory, but a victory nonetheless. Markus had come to know that you could never win a battle without losing much of what you love. His thoughts went to Lena and he felt at that moment she was with him, as was his brother who finally was avenged.

  He stood upon the tower with his knights looking out at the armies of Werstria below, cheering their victory. He could see Count Kohler and the Lords riding in through the massive gates of the city that his forces had finally pulled open. Markus turned to his battered and bloody men who were awaiting his words.

  “Knights of Salbein, men of Leonzal, Villau and Ambstern, you have honoured your people, you have honoured me, and you have done a great deed for the Kingdom of Werstria. We have just ensured our names go on in the history of our nation. However, you must all be aware that this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. We have done nothing more than take back what was rightfully ours. If we do not win this war, the history books will burn along with our homes. Gentleman, welcome to a new age, an age of victory!”

  The knights and men roared in excitement. Bull and Vesart looked out across the plains, sorry for what they had lost, but thankful for the friends and countrymen they had gained. Markus had achieved the glory he had always dreamed of, though he never realised it would be such a battle to achieve it. He looked west towards Ternen and the fallen lands of Werstria. He wanted them back.

  With one major victory under his belt, all he could think of was more. He turned back to his men. He drew his mighty longsword and thrust it into the air above the tower. The eyes of the victorious armies were all upon Markus. The glint of the blade was so bright it almost blinded all who gazed upon it. As Markus made to speak, flames poured out of the sword.

  “To Victory, to Glory, and to Werstria!”

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Kingdow of Werstria

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

 

 

 


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