The witch departed slowly the way she came, singing some sick lullaby, but he tried to shut it out. What had just happened to him—.
I’m so sorry, Melissa’s voice whispered as he pulled his pants back on and rolled over, sobbing.
He couldn’t respond, his soul torn, body violated, mind raped. He had no words, no strength to continue on. Sobs ripped from his body as he placed his head under a pillow and wished for death.
Chapter 22
Gallows
I
John sat astride his mount, armor in place, sword held ready at his side. Tar Reiz nodded from his position before his knights and he waved back. Over a hundred Guardians surrounded their King, Captain Reyes taking personal responsibility from his safety by refusing to leave his side; despite John’s admonishments that he would be better served staying behind. Even Bendor was on his cougar mount, a thick axe gripped in his stout hands.
Brasten was remaining behind with a small contingent of men to defend the castle, the rest of their forces having ridden out through the eastern gates and forming up to advance. Bendor gave last minute instructions to Roland and Thomas, Brigette armored and insisting on remaining at the dwarf’s side.
Armor glinted in the afternoon sun as he turned his horse and faced the large force before him. He looked into the nearest soldier’s faces and saw the fierce loyalty in their welcoming expressions. Standards were raised, the colors of Griedlok, Forlorn, and Lancaster flapping in the wind. One of Bordin’s generals signaled that their forces were ready, and he acknowledged it with a wave of his hand.
King Bordin had wanted to fight with them, but John had refused. He needed his father-in-law to remain behind and protect his family should the unthinkable happen. Though the elf guessed it had more to do with his age, he had relented when Jenna had stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, dragging him away.
They had already said their goodbyes and he had given his son one last hug before setting out. This would not be the last time he saw them, he had promised. Now it was time to see if he would be able to keep it.
A small group of Guardians had made sure that any enemy scouts on the eastern side of the castle had been dispatched, but their absence would soon be noticed. If they wanted to keep the element of surprise, then they needed to get moving.
There would be no speeches, no rousing call to arms. Any thundering or clamoring voices of so many would be hard to miss by the enemy. He wanted them to keep silent as long as possible, until it was too late for anything else.
“We’re ready,” Bendor told him and he nodded at the veteran warrior. Though the dwarf had still argued against doing this, he had finally relented, and put everything he had to see that it was carried out as efficiently as possible.
He raised his sword in a silent salute to his men and they raised their own in response. Turning his horse, he made sure his shield was in place, then lowered his weapon and started their advance.
The soft thunder of feet followed him as they began their way forward. Elven druids jogged next to Tar Reiz, refusing to fight from horseback, and their faces showing their anxiousness at what was to come.
Looking to his right, he saw Serix ride up next to him and nodded his head. “For better or worse, I’m by your side,” the mage told him in a whisper, barely heard over the shifting armor to their rear.
Was that a good or bad thing? He still didn’t know for sure.
Yet he acknowledged it and turned his face forward, searching the horizon for the enemy. They would be on open terrain soon, the end of the southern wall fast approaching. Hands tense, he tried to calm his nerves, but his adrenaline was pumping, and his heart thundered with excitement. This was the first time he’d lead these men into battle as their King, he prayed it wouldn’t be the last. He couldn’t let doubt weigh him down, it would cause inaction and bad reflexes, so he pushed it away and tried to focus on the task at hand.
As planned, when they reached the edge of the wall, Bendor raised his axe and Griedlok’s troops began marching west. They would hit the western side of the army while his hit the eastern. They hoped that by dividing the enemy’s attention, they’d get further than a single thrust down the middle.
Tar Reiz held up his sword as if to say goodbye, then led his men southeast, where they would sweep around the back and hit the army’s rear. The five hundred knights and twenty druids increased their speed and slowly rid from view.
It was dangerous to divide their forces, yet he knew it was necessary to achieve the affect he wanted. He looked to his own cavalry and saw Roland nod, leading his men to protect the army’s flank. He had been ordered to hit and strike where they could, but to make sure that none of the enemy got in behind them.
He pulled up on his reins; allowing the soldiers behind to pass. He had led them this far, and though he had wanted to lead the charge personally, his one concession to Bendor had been to take up position in the center of their forces. The dwarf nodded his approval and led his horse to the center of the formation, taking the lead.
Growling under his breath, he waited for the majority of his men to march by before spurring his horse forward once more. The Guardians moved with him, Captain Reyes eyeing the horizon and listening for the enemy’s call to arms.
Serix sat patiently at his side, eyes riveted on the army around him in awe.
It was a glorious sight and he couldn’t help but feel it himself. Pikemen led the vanguard, infantry in the middle, with lines of archers interspaced, ready to begin firing when within range. The ruined city was beyond them now and the first of the enemy lines began sliding into view.
A dark shape rose from the distant encampment and began winging its way towards them. He could vaguely see his dwarven general raise his axe once more and the horns around him began to sound. The ground thundered as five thousand feet rushed forward, weapons raised, voices bellowing their battle cries.
“Lancaster!” he bellowed; sword raised high and kicking his horse forward at full gallop.
Caught up in the moment, he forgot his promise to the dwarven general as his mount pushed through the troops racing alongside. Forgotten was everything in the world but what lay before him, this frozen place in time where flesh would meet metal and the world’s destiny forever decided.
Horns in the distance blew, but he raced forth regardless, Guardians fanning out to protect their King. The first of their troops drove into the enemy horde, their King not far behind. Blood thundering in his ears, sweat dripping down his face, he spurred his horse even faster and flung himself into the enemy lines.
The Battle for Lancaster had begun.
II
Tristan barely felt it when the guards entered his cell and slammed shackles across his hands and feet. He was drug into a sitting position, his clothes repositioned on his body to better cover his exposed flesh. A hand slammed on the back of his neck, squeezing tightly and forcing him to his feet.
Token growled next to him as the dwarf was forced awake and kicked forward into the hallway. The three women were similarly roused, and his gaze fell upon his fiance, the broken beaten heart of his softly thudding when their eyes met. Sorry and dread filled her eyes, her face swollen from her tears. She mouthed that she loved him, but he could not answer her; his mind broken.
Eleven guards led their prisoners forward, chains clinking as they began mounting the steps. Melissa was in the lead, Token behind her, Willow at his side and Kylee to the rear. Weapons were unsheathed and held ready if they resisted, yet he found that he lacked the spirit to do so. His mind had been violated, his spirit crushed. There was no more will within to fight; he was resigned to his fate.
As they left their prison they faced a very large angry crowd of peasants. They wore rags, their faces dirty, nasty grins upon their faces. Vegetables began to fly, and he felt an onion impact his right temple. Staggering, he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. The air was kicked out of him by a guard’s foot and his stomach clenched in agony. Willow’s
hands found him, pulled him back up, but someone hit her in the back, droving her forward and free of him.
He was distant, detached from his body as he stumbled along behind her. Tomatoes and lettuce were flung at them, as was the occasional rock. Kylee suffered a blow to the head, her cheek sliced open by a projectile whipping past. Laughter erupted from the men around them as they slowly made their way to the gallows steps.
A platform had been built on the right and his eyes slowly turned that way, flinching as another vegetable knocked him sideways after hitting his shoulder. He didn’t feel it, his mind long past caring what happened to him. Selena stared down at him from above and he felt that hot rage of what she’d done suddenly rush through him. Clenching his hands, he prayed for a sword and a chance to get at the bitch, but the guards were closing ranks as they approached their destination, and he was forced to walk underneath her horrible wretched smile.
A step at a time, they walked up the gallows to their oncoming deaths—all but one.
Melissa was led to a large pyre that had been placed in the center of the square. The crowd ringing it were cursing the prisoner being flung their way. At the final step, he was forced to a halt as the other three were led along the gallows where three nooses swayed in an angry wind. Forced to his knees, he had a clear view of everything, and his heart wept for what was about to happen.
Nooses were fitted around Token, Kylee, and Willow’s heads as Melissa was thrown against the pyre, rope encircling her writhing body as the witch struggled to get free. His eyes looked from Melissa to Willow, her face towards his, her eyes saying everything that he wanted to say himself. He silently apologized to her, his love trying to soothe her terrified face. None of it mattered; they’d soon be reunited in the afterlife, then they’d be together forever.
“Citizens of Kershaw!” he heard a croaky voice holler from behind him. His uncle had risen from his wooden throne and was calling for the crowd’s silence. It abated some, yet stones and vegetables still soared through the air, hatred following their tormentor’s projectiles.
“Today we execute traitors and agents of the Phoenix!” Richard bellowed, and Tristan felt like standing up and contradicting him, but to what end? What difference would it make?
The crowd roared, and fresh curses were flung their way.
“A witch of enormous power has tried to infiltrate our castle and assassinate me! For that, she is hereby ordered to be burned at the stake!” his uncle lied, his voice booming over the roaring crowd. People spat at the tied-up woman, Melissa’s face no longer calm, but filled with stark terror.
“She planned to replace me with a pretender to the throne, the son of my ungrateful conniving brother!” People began to boo him, but he didn’t care. Just let it be over already. “These two elves and dwarf are companions of this traitorous assassin and one of them carries his half-breed bastard child! Now, people of Kershaw, what is the sentence for befouling our race and mixing with these unholy vermin?”
A clamor rose from the intensifying crowd as it roared for their deaths, disgust on every face, teeth barred, hands clenching in rage. He looked to Willow once more and saw tears sliding down the side of her face. If only he could get to her. His knees would not move; his body unwilling to try.
His heart cracked further as his uncle continued on. “For their actions, the sentence of death has been decreed and so ordered. How say you all?” his uncle asked but didn’t need to worry about their answer. By now, the crowd was ready to tear up there and rip them apart themselves, their bloodthirsty eyes begging for the chance. Guards surrounded the gallows, or they might have gotten it.
He turned to look at the King, his uncle, and the unbridled hatred in his eyes only made the other man laugh. Selena was smiling by his side, a hand rubbing her stomach. If only—
“Light your torch! Let the witch burn!” Richard hollered, glee within his voice.
A man with a torch stepped behind Melissa, her eyes turning to him as realization that this was actually going to happen dawned on her face. What have you done? Two thousand years I’ve lived in peace and now you have killed me, she roared in his mind and he flinched.
Every word was true.
If they hadn’t gone after the sword, if they had left her alone, she wouldn’t be here at this moment. She had been forced to help them and as the flames leapt to the wood and hungrily started spreading, he could find no words to express the apology in his soul.
Melissa began to scream from under her gag, her face contorted with agony as the flames engulfed the pyre beneath her. He could feel her pain through their mental connection, every second seared into him. As she began to burn, he burned with her. His chest ached with his sobs as he cried out, begging for them to stop.
Fire raged around her as the pyre blazed at full intensity. He could smell burnt flesh, her eyes rolling in her head, the scream tearing from her body. He fell forward in pain, crying out with her, but a hand grabbed him on the back of his neck, forcing him back up and making him watch.
“No!” he bellowed.
Then time stopped.
The crowed froze in place and he looked around stunned by what had just happened. The flames still roared from the pyre, Melissa’s poor body writhing upon it, but everything else seemed to have ceased in mid-action. He turned away from the grisly sight and looked to his comrades, their heads turned, tears leaking from their eyes. Willow’s found his and he realized that whatever was happening had not affected them.
Brushing out of the man’s clenching fist, he turned to face his uncle. The man was standing there, mid-clap, a large grin upon his face. Selena hovered silently by his side and though her eyes looked his way, her body remained motionless.
A loud roar split the heavens and he glanced up to see six large beasts soaring into view. One was an enormous orange dragon, its fierce teeth barred as it swooped down upon the silent crowd. The other five were creatures he’d never seen or even read about. Their bodies were a mix batch of breeds, with a fierce looking white head in the form of an eagle, beak barred in a piercing scream. With exception of the taloned forefeet, the rest of the body was that of a lion with a long winding tail. Upon their backs rode Jared, Kore, Merlin, and Reyna, fully armored and weapons held high.
His heart leapt in his chest with joy, until his eyes turned back to the dwindling pyre and the burnt soul upon it. Cursing under his breath, he knocked the frozen man down before him and snatched his keys, undoing his shackles. Then he reached down and seized the man’s sword. Turning to the gallows, he sliced through the nooses and freed his companions from their bindings.
The large dragon let loose a very long gust of fire, which hit where the pyre had been and buffeted the crowd. More burnt flesh stung his nose, but it no longer bothered him, he was beyond caring what happened to these people. He turned to the platform where his uncle cowered. Head lowered, he began his way forward.
Whatever had been controlling the crowd let go and screams suddenly filled the air around them. The griffins landed with a crunch and he heard Kore and Reyna’s battle cries as they launched themselves at the soldiers rushing forward. Blue fire arced around him, hitting one of the guards that had been coming his way. The dragon was soaring to his right, letting loose another burst of flame upon the nearby structures; setting the castle ablaze.
None of it phased him.
His uncle had been released from what must have been Jared’s control and his eyes had grown in panic at the chaos suddenly unfolding before him. He scrambled backwards but tripped over his own wooden throne, falling out of sight. That didn’t matter, he’d deal with his uncle soon enough. His eyes were fixed on Selena.
Jared had the forethought to let the rest go and focus solely on Selena, of which he was grateful. She was still frozen in place, eyes watching helplessly as he approached.
“Tristan!” he heard a cry from behind, but he was beyond stopping now. He mounted the steps to the platform, rage forcing him forward as he reached the wi
tch that had violated him and grabbed her by the neck. He pulled her face close to his, making sure they were eye to eye, his hot breath upon her frightened face. “There’s other ways of doing this, but this is the most fun,” he said into her ear as he drove his blade forward and felt it slide into the woman’s flesh. Her eyes told him how much agony she was in and his heart savored every last bit of anguish. As he felt the hilt hit flesh, he yanked his arm upward, her body convulsing around his embrace.
A dragon roared overhead, griffins stomped and snapped at the crowd behind him, and joy lit up his face at the dying light in the witch’s eyes. “Guess you were wrong about whether I’d kill the mother of my unborn child. That abomination will die with you,” he spat, giving one last tug, then releasing the sword and pushing the vile woman away from him.
His vengeance sated, he let out a brief gasp of relief and looked upon the hated woman that had violated every core of his being.
Movement caught his eye and he turned just in time to see his uncle bringing a sword in a downward arc at his head.
A blade suddenly emerged from the man’s chest right above his heart, his eyes wide, hands letting the weapon fall to the ground forgotten. His mouth worked as his body fell to his knees at Tristan’s feet. Willow stood behind the fallen king, a look of defiance on her face.
Everything else was forgotten as he stepped over the dying corpse and embraced his fiancé. Their grip was fierce as they clung together, reunited once more. He cried with the joy in his heart as he kissed her violently, saying everything in one embrace that he’d been forced to hold back.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Willow whispered quickly, her fingers digging into him and holding him close.
“Hey! Do you want to get out of here or what?” a voice called from behind them. Yet for a moment, they ignored it.
Reluctantly they released each other and turned to the chaos still gripping the town square. Reyna was fighting a group of soldiers, her sword slicing torsos open, feet kicking the dead men away. A griffin was directly behind her and he watched as the beast snatched another soldier in its beak and broke his neck, flinging it away.
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