Treasures - Book 4 The Frencolian Chronicles (complete)

Chapter 15

Luke and Sabin were no longer at the knights' tower near Mayhew. The newly declared king had been secretly moved to the northern border of the kingdom, beyond Leroy—the town where Sir Dorai was the castle lord—to the border castle.

Border castles were even more impenetrable than knights' towers. They were twice the size, with twice the security.

Luke felt sad to be moving further away from his sister but realized he had no choice. The senior knights did not want him anywhere near the front lines when they sent Elliad the mandate. The men considered Luke's relocation as part of taking care of Frencolia. Sir Dorai arranged for news to be relayed to Luke as it came to hand. The border castle was posted with over two hundred knights and soldiers to guard King Luke.

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Elliad, while out on an information-gathering mission, was led to believe that Luke Chatelain was holding a knights' tower captive. This seemed incredible and highly ridiculous to Elliad, and he rode to Mayhew to investigate.

The suspicions were confirmed; Mayhew knights' tower was in a state of siege. Soldiers were on guard at the gates and Elliad spied longbows at the ready. A knights' tower was impregnable; he would have to retreat, gather reinforcements and make plans to regain it.

It seemed inconceivable that Luke, a mere boy, could over-throw a knights' tower!

This new development worried Elliad greatly as he rode back to the city. "How could a boy persuade a whole contingent of the army? How many men does he have? How many knights are involved? What right does this Luke have to be doing this?"

"Halt, who goes there?" this powerfully deep voice rang out as Elliad's company rounded a bend. It was after sunset and descending darkness mixed with rising mist made it difficult to see. The sound of swords sliding from their sheaths pervaded the still night air.

One of Elliad's knights called, "Your King, Elliad! Put your swords down and make way!"

The deep voice reverberated once more, "Forget the others, go for Elliad."

The attacking men shouted, "For Frencolia!"

The next half-hour was filled with the confusion of a battle on horseback in almost dark conditions.

Elliad's knights stayed near their king, trying to cut a path through the mass of horses and men. Oaths and curses rang out as the dusk made it very difficult for a man to view his enemy. The air was thick with the smell of death. Swords found their marks as men tumbled to the ground and were trampled under hoof. Groans of dying men soon made it obvious that skilled swordsmen were amongst the attackers.

"Sire, there are too many; I'd best try to work my way past and get us into the city," Berg, the king's chief bodyguard, declared over the commotion. Elliad could see there was sense in this. He could not tell which men were on which side and wondered if the men knew themselves.

Berg uttered a guttural yell, leaned over and gathered the reigns of Elliad's horse.

Without regard for his own life, he spurred the horses on through the mass, his sword arm slashing fervently at the obstructions directly in front of them. Elliad's sword arm swung with haste too—slashing, stabbing and driving, brutal and vicious—aiming to kill.

Elliad's strength began to wane; he lurched, unsteady in the saddle.

Righting himself he realized he was galloping towards the castle and safety, with a dozen of his men. Sheathing his sword, he noted his arm was soaked with blood to the elbow, though he had not incurred as much as a scratch.