Chapter 13 - THE SIEGE OF SUNSPIRE
The earth shook beneath the thunder of fifty thousand pairs of charging boots.
The northern cavalry struck the southern vanguard like an iron wedge driven into rotten wood.
Silver lances splintered against black shields.
Warhorses crashed through the wooden barricades, throwing southern mercenaries into the freezing mud.
Gideon led the assault from the center.
His warhorse leaped over a burning cart, plunging straight into a knot of Obsidian pack guards.
Gideon’s broadsword cleaved through steel plate and leather like paper.
Every strike of his blade was accompanied by the terrifying roar of his royal wolf, sending southern soldiers scrambling backward in sheer panic.
Hazel rode directly behind him, protected by Duke Brandon and six heavy infantrymen with tower shields.
A southern archer on the gatehouse took aim at her, his arrow drawn to the ear.
Ptu.
Hazel drew her revolver with blinding speed.
She cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The hollow-point bullet struck the archer’s bow hand, shattering the wood and sending the man tumbling from the stone parapet.
Duke Brandon let out a booming laugh.
"Fine shooting, my Queen!" the old Duke roared, cleaving a mercenary's shield in two with his axe.
The outer gates shrieked as an iron battering ram smashed through the oak timbers.
BOOM.
The heavy doors collapsed inward.
The northern army surged into the city streets.
Citizens leaned from their windows, weeping and cheering as they saw the black wolf banners of House Hayes cutting through the southern occupiers.
"THE KING LIVES!" the people shouted.
"GIDEON HAS RETURNED!"
The southern mercenaries, realizing they had been lied to about the King’s death, began throwing down their weapons and fleeing toward the river docks.
Only Kaelen’s elite Obsidian guard remained, retreating toward the high granite steps of the royal cathedral.
Gideon dismounted in the central plaza.
He walked up the marble steps, his sword dripping black blood, his armor dented from arrows and blade strikes.
Standing before the cathedral doors was Desmond.
His coronation robes were torn, his golden ceremonial crown askew on his head.
In his hand, he held a trembling dueling pistol.
"Stay back, Gideon!" Desmond screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria.
"I was chosen by the high council!"
"The kingdom was weak under your rule!"
"You cared more for kitchen maids and commoners than for the glory of our house!"
Gideon did not slow his stride.
He climbed the steps one by one, his boots clicking on the marble like the countdown to an execution.
"You poisoned my wine, Desmond."
"You ordered the slaughter of the laundry quarters."
"You sold our borders to the southern slavers."
"I did what had to be done to save us!" Desmond shrieked.
He pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck Gideon’s left shoulder plate, ricocheting harmlessly off the reinforced steel with an angry whine.
Gideon closed the distance in half a second.
His left hand seized Desmond by the throat, lifting the traitor six inches off the marble steps.
The dueling pistol clattered onto the stone.
"You didn't save anything, brother," Gideon whispered, his amber eyes burning with cold, final judgment.
"You only exposed the rot."
With one heave, Gideon threw Desmond down the marble steps.
Desmond tumbled forty feet, crashing onto the plaza floor at the feet of Duke Brandon’s infantrymen.
The soldiers immediately pinned the traitor to the stones with the butt-ends of their halberds.
Gideon turned toward the cathedral entrance.
Standing in the shadows of the arched doorway was Lord Kaelen.
In his left hand, Kaelen held an ignited thermite grenade.
In his right, he held his obsidian rapier, pressed directly against the throat of an elderly woman who was on her knees in the dirt.
Mrs. Alvarez.
The elderly housekeeper Hazel had protected six weeks ago.
Kaelen smiled, his serpent eyes glittering with madness.
May you like
"A stalemate, Gideon," Kaelen purred.
"Drop your sword, or the old woman burns with the cathedral."
