with a flint and spark stone, after a few strikes they were alight. A pillar of smoke started to rise from the pile as they cracked softly.
The captain of the Blackrock Guards, a man called Griffin or something, had been looking on, clearly trying to gather the courage to do something. Now he stepped forward to one of the bald men.
“What is the meaning of this? Surely the lady will not abide this?” he said.
As quick as an assassin, the bald man pulled a small curved dagger from behind his back and thrust it into the man’s belly. Its sharp blade slid easily through his leather armor. He held the soldier close as his body slid to the ground, slumping backwards into a growing pool of blood. Goldie turned and calmly walked away. He knew what was next. The sounds of battle started ringing behind him, but not a hand touched him as he walked towards the gate.
Then he saw just what he’d expected. Brave old Dagosh, running towards the Keep. His hundred and fifty or so fighters that were still left, followed, armed and ready behind him. Blood up and looking for a fight. They’d be killed in a heartbeat. Goldie rushed out the gate and met them on the roadway, out of sight of the king’s men.
“Stop Dagosh!” he yelled.
Dagosh went to run past. Goldie drew his sword with a deep sigh and pointed at him.
“I should have known you’d turn traitor,” he spat, stopping.
“I’m not, you fucking idiot, but if you go in there you’ll all be dead and I’d rather that not happen,” Goldie said.
“We have to protect Elizebetha!” Dagosh said with real feeling. This man actually cared about her.
“You can’t. She’s dead. I’m sure of it and now, unless you want all these fine people to join her, you have to run.”
“The Cold Death don’t run!” shouted one of the archers drawing on him. It was Captain Stellos. She fired a well-aimed shot into his shoulder. It sunk fast and deep into his flesh, making him drop his sword with a grunt. Dagosh rushed past him, shoving him roughly to the side, and hitting his head on the roadway. In the midst of them, he saw Josette. She looked back at him for a moment and ran on.
Goldie looked from the roadway as the brave idiots ran through the gate and at a force twice their size. Fucking loyalty , he thought as he passed out.
Chapter Seven
Prince Thellas was awoken by sounds that roused him in a state of fear. He’d been dreaming of dark shapes, of people chasing him that he couldn’t escape and sharp animal teeth. Thellas threw off his plush bed covers and searched his way through the dark, guided by the crack of light under his door. He found the metal handle and turning it, let himself out of his bedroom.
A guard stood on the other side his one hand reaching for the door handle, the other on his sword.
“Young prince, get back in your room. Something is wrong,” the guards said.
The boy knew what was wrong. He ran past the man, down the stone stairs in his fine nightshirt and ran to the door of his father’s study. He saw the guards smashing it down. They heard the sounds too, but louder and terrifyingly real. The sounds of wild animals and human screams.
Two guards rammed the heavy wooden door with a marble bust of the first king of their line, his grandfather. The wood splintered and the door flew open hard. Young Thellas stood and looked into the room.
There, on the floor reaching for the door, with a ruined and bloody hand, was the body of his father. Blood covered his face and part of his lower jaw was gone. His throat was a bloody mess of ribbons, a look of terror frozen in his dead eyes. The boy looked and thought what could possibly do this. What could turn the father he had loved so dearly into this lifeless, horrible thing crumpled on the floor.
The boy turned his back and was snatched up by his tutor, Renfra. The tall bald man held him against his chest, shielding him. The boy cried while the man knelt, stroking his hair.
“Never fear young king,