Dark Throne, The (2 page)

Fade shrugged
. It was
not a throwaway gesture but one filled with anger.

A
week ago, scouts had been dispatched to this
stronghold
. They’d discovered
a secret entrance to the castle. The plan had been to distract the
hoonans and allow a solitary rider to enter the melee and slip
inside the castle to rescue Keira.

Originally,
he'd been
selected as the solitary rider. That was before the generals had
completely ruined the battle with their poor leadership skills and
he’d lost his weapon.

From Fade’s position, he wasn’t entirely certain the King’s
men could win this battle, never mind having someone slip into the
secret opening
.

“
It is no skin of
f my
nose if the hoonans kill Keira, but I would imagine your heads rest
on it.” His lips quirked in a smile which clearly showed his
approval of such a fate. “Perhaps you think it is time for me to
return to the fray?”

General Brae’s head swung between the trio and answered for
them
. “Aye. Get a sword from
the arms sergeant. Try and work through the melee and break into
the castle.” His lips rose in a sneer. “Let the princess’ fate rest
in your hands and on your head rather than our own.”

Slowly, Fade lowered the afore-mentioned head in the way
his mother had taught him all those years ago
. She had been the one to teach him royal
standards. His father had merely cast him off, begrudging even
having to feed and clothe him but knowing he had no other choice.
The countless coaches and tutors of other royal offspring were not
to be had. In his younger years, his lack of training had upset him
and severely hampered his confidence. However, now, he’d learned
not to give a damn.

“
I’m sure Keira’s fate is safer in my hands than your own,
gentlemen
,” he countered
before leading his horse away from the tent. On his way out, he
grabbed one of the poles that supported the pavilion. Eowyn’s
momentum had one of the supporting rods toppling down. Swathes of
fabric collapsed on the generals’ heads.

Fade discerned the arms’ sergeant’s location and steered
his way over
to him. “Give me
a sword, Drummond. The generals have rescinded the
order.”

“
Looks like we need your help out there as well, your
highness
,” Drummond said,
shaking his head.

“
Do you have a sword for
me?”

“
I can’t see why not, sire
. Do you want to give me the shards of your other sword?
I’ll have one of the blacksmiths mend it for you if you want. I saw
you leap down from the horse and salvage the splinters. It
shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

Fade reached down for the
sword Drummond passed him. “I appreciate that, Drummond.
But no, it’s a good luck charm. I’d hate to be parted from it
during a battle.”

“
Understood, sire
.”

Drummond backed a
way
and moved towards the carts which housed the weapons the generals
had called for after the King had cried war on the
hoonans.

There were myriad folk roaming around in the background of
the fighting
. Mostly old men
or too young boys, some acting as messengers or aids to the more
superior officers, who were out on the field, others preparing food
or poultices for the injured.

As Fade urged Eowyn towards the battle, he realized that
there never was a more conspicuous person than himself- the huge,
black-feathered wings on his back did that without the royal colors
on his steed adding to his very inability to blend into the
crowd
. His renowned skill
saved him from being of too much interest to the average soldier
and even though it was sheer cowardice on their part, he made it
into the midst of the battle with very little
difficulty.

Hoonan officers atop t
heir own mounts were littered here and there and Fade had
to brandish his new and ungainly weapon. The few seconds it took to
grow accustomed to the different shape, size, and weight could have
been costly but he managed to unseat the hoonan attacking him.
Without even a nudge of Fade’s knees to remind him, Eowyn did as
he’d been trained. He reared upwards, the fury of the battle
already simmering in his veins as he began to pummel the enemy with
his hooves. Specks of blood rained through the air and Fade felt
the moisture drench his cheeks and arms, coating Eowyn’s hide as
well.

Gripping his mount with his knees, he hefted his shield and
began to hack downwards
. The
dull thud of heavy wood bludgeoning into flesh pounded through his
ear drums and more blood spattered Eowyn and himself. His
concentration was total, his pleasure at ransacking hoonan scum
complete, but the sight of fallen elven littering the ground had
his stomach churning. Bile gathered in his throat and for one
solitary moment, Fade wasn’t entirely certain if he had control of
his body.

Like an untried boy fresh to war, nausea
g
rumbled through his system.
Had his father been there, he’d have spat at him and enjoyed
watching the older man’s shock and growing fury at his hated son’s
impudence. Especially as the King wouldn’t even be able to punish
him for his actions. No man in the empire would dare take on
Fade.

How many had to die
?
How many brethren had to lose their life to satisfy the King’s
need?

Charek had always been a selfish bastard
. But as the years passed and he grew ever more
desperate, his evil knew no bounds.

When the party of troops who had been sent to guide Keira
and her entourage to the Royal keep in Darraby returned minus
t
heir charge and severely
depleted after the hoonan attack, the King had not thanked them for
risking their lives. No, he’d had them strung up in the dungeons.
Fade had tried to convince his bastard father to release them, but
to no avail. When they’d set out to rescue Keira, only one of the
ten had managed to survive the torture of the King’s
guards.

Fade would see to it himself that t
heir widows would be well cared for, but rage still
coursed through his veins at his father’s abuse of
station.

He used the rage and transformed it into strength- it
powered his arm as he hacked his way through the crowds, both with
the sharp edge of his sword and the heavy shield
. Men tried to crowd around him, but Eowyn soon
put a stop to that and within twenty minutes, he’d made it through
the horde and to the other side of the battle field.

The hoonans were poorer than the elven
. Elven had magic to boost their coffers, when
they ran low. They also had the ability to ‘talk’ to Mearth. If a
harvest faltered, the elven called on their shaman and he and
Mearth united and the harvest was strong. It meant their population
was healthy. Their bellies always full.

The hoonans were not so fortunate
. Every fighting man was too small, their frames
narrow and thin. They were almost frail, where the elven were
stocky with nourishment.

And the keep itself spoke of t
heir poverty. This stronghold was small, yes, but it was
obviously the possession of a minor royal if the ramshackle flag
waving desultorily in the weak breeze was anything by which to go.
It was rundown and battered- of no consequence.

No Royal elf would have dreamed of crossing such a squalid
threshold
.

Apart from Fade that was
.

On this side of the battlefield, there were no generals
sitting in expensive tents, swathed with costly
material
. Nor were there arms’
sergeants and carts loaded with heavy and modern weapons. It was
basic and the hoonans were managing to equal the elven simply out
of fury.

It wouldn’t last
. They
didn’t have the training of the elven soldiers, but their blood was
surging with the lust of the kill. It was a powerful intoxicant and
seemed to be doing the trick at that moment.

However, t
heir poverty
ensured the castle itself was poorly guarded. All of its defenders
had fled to the field in search of the kill. In a way, the plan of
distraction had worked, but the King would not be pleased, when the
Generals ultimately accounted for the losses of highly trained men
who were fighting barbarians.

Fade hoped to sit in the council on the day Gerauld or
Horaxe had to confess to incompetence
.

Even if they managed to save Keira, as delighted as the
King would be, he would be furious at the
expense
. After all, this
should have been no fight at all. It should have been a
massacre.

Well, that was the case
. But not on the hoonan side.

Fade bent low as he peered through the rays of the dying
red sun as it shone its light on the castle
. Close to Eowyn’s ears, he hummed under his breath to
calm the horse’s agitation. His chest heaved with the exertion of
trampling men into the mire- not that it tired him, simply that a
blood lust of the equine variety powered through the beast’s
veins.

His position meant he could calm his steed, but it also
meant that his features were hidden
. Any hoonans spying him might think him already dead and
if they neared and attempted to rob him of his horse, Fade could
attack them swiftly. Surprise on his side.

He saw no one however, as he moved carefully towards the
castle walls
. He followed its
curve, his eyes always switching left and right, monitoring the
situation. A copse of trees neared, dark and potentially offering
shelter to attackers and he continued along the bend in the
stronghold’s wall, his eyes fixed there.

Vines clung to the stones and scratched his tilted face,
but he ignored the sting, ignored the slow drip of blood along the
angular curve of his jaw
. His
eyes were intent as the bend disappeared and he moved onwards and
away from the copse.

Dismounting because the scout had detailed the opening to
be built into the wall after this curve, Fade squinted in the dying
light at the different stones and sought a particular cluster of
vines
. The scout had mentioned
they were of a different color to the others, but it was hard to
differentiate between black and black. The shadows made his quest
nigh on impossible and he returned to Eowyn’s side, rummaged around
on the small pack of essentials that was tied to the pommel on his
horse’s saddle. There he found a striker. Two pieces of flint
banded together with a wad of thick straw within it.

Fade pulled the two stones apart and the band charged the
energy from the action and sparked a flame, which lit the
straw
. The light was dim, but
when he held it against the vines in the area, he managed to
discern a set, which was a darker shade of crimson to the
rest.

In the distance, war cries pounded through the night, the
sounds of pain-filled screams, dying men’s whimpering accompanied
them
. They were sounds he was
accustomed to, they were part and parcel of war and over the years,
he’d seen too much bloodshed over the King’s selfish
wants.

A
part of him realized that enough was finally
enough
.

He would and could fight
, but only if the cause was worth dying for. He’d had
enough of risking his neck, especially when he received no
gratitude for it and the more his reputation as a warrior grew, the
more terrified people became in his presence. Which in itself was
saying something. His wings scared the majority to death. Combine
that with his reputation, it was a wonder anyone spoke to
him.

It was a situation, where only he lost
. And he’d had enough.

The thought shimmered through his mind as the scents of
stale and ripe urine melded with fecal matter and pummeled his
nostrils with the sour stench
.
Obviously this was where a privy dropped its load. Grimacing at the
thought, he pulled apart the vines and spotted a shadowed
doorway.

It was narrow
. Too
narrow for him and probably too small for a thin maiden, but he’d
merely have to squeeze in there. This was the only way of saving
Keira. Even if it was kinder to let her die here, he had to at
least try so he could face his father with truthful
eyes.

He rammed his shield against the doorway and grunted as the
move had vibrations oscillating along his arm and
shoulder
. The impact hurt, but
he continued until he heard a splintering- both of the door and of
the shield. Muttering under his breath, he discarded the shield and
began to ram the now-broken door with his shoulder.

It didn’t give way
.
Not by one sound or by a look could he tell that he’d made any
progress. He took a few steps back, intending to run against the
door and use the extra force to cave in the door.

His toes curled in his boots as he waited, sucking a deep
breath before powering off from his stagnant position and against
the door
.