Chapter 1
Prince Kent dragged Captain Rourke’s body into an abandoned shack. Rourke’s blood left a trail across the wood flooring as Kent pulled him away from the shuffling corpses. He whipped the door shut and searched frantically for a way to brace it against the relentless horde. The heaviest piece of furniture in the one-room home was a hand-carved dresser. It groaned as Kent pushed it in front of the door.
He knelt beside his captain, who coughed and sputtered blood. The man had a chunk of his neck missing. A bite wound. The blood loss would be severe, but that’s not what would kill him.
Fists pounded on the door. Already, the wood cracked from the onslaught. The prince took Rourke’s sword from his bloodied fingers, then crossed the man’s arms over his chest. “You know what I have to do, my friend.”
Rourke nodded. “Thank you, Sire.”
Already the man’s eyes were cloudy. The change was coming quickly. Kent raised the sword. Rourke closed his eyes. The prince separated his captain’s head from his shoulders. The prince felt sick, but swallowed back the bile. As one last act of respect for his comrade, Kent folded Rourke’s hands over the sword. Hopefully whoever found the body would have the decency to bury it with him.
When the undead broke through the room’s only window, Kent had his sword raised. He was eager to meet them, to take as many of the monsters with him as he could. If he were lucky, the prince might slay the one who’d poisoned his captain.
Two of the undead crawled through the opening. The jagged glass tore at their already-shredded clothing. Kent dispatched them quickly. Their unnaturally dark blood slid from open necks. Another climbed in and another. The room began to reek with the smell of their foul bodies, but the prince inhaled it and let the stench run wild through him. “Come on!” he shouted, bringing his sword up again.
Each movement of his sword brought another vile revenant to the ground. The demons began coming in faster than Kent could slay them. The door behind him bowed and creaked at the strain. Kent knew the end was near, but this had been the end he had always hoped for. One he could be proud of.
Kent’s eyes were wide, his breath short. His blade whipped through the air one last time before the door gave way to ear-splitting croaks from the wood being hacked to tinder. Evening’s pale light streamed into the tiny, one-room shack. The prince heard the dresser creak as it slid away from the door. He turned to face his enemy, ready to embrace death.
But it wasn’t death that had come to claim him. Several soldiers, one with a great ax in hand, marched toward the prince. Two men grabbed his arms. Another soldier sliced at the nearest undead, keeping them at bay.
“What are you doing?” Kent struggled against his own men. One of them took the prince’s sword from his hand while the others carried him out. “No!” Kent shouted. “Release me now! I command you as your prince and commander to release me! NO!”
The prince fought against his father’s royal guard as they dragged him out to safety.
