The Forgotten Crown (2019) Book 1 of The Broken Crown Series

44. Enter the Falcon

The city before him was besieged, the wall breached and the lower courtyard overrun. The horrendous din of metal striking armor and stone was deafening. Blanche wrinkled his nose as he was assaulted with the stench of sulfur. In living memory, never before had Thor Grind been put to flame and never before had she so few defenders.

"Poor sods." Lord Edwin, his clansman from Endar, sat abreast him surveying the destruction with cold, hard eyes.

"My Lord...I'm afraid this city is beyond our help." Lord Kellan managed to make the statement sound remorseful. The Draesian Duke's craggy features were cast in sharp relief against the burning city. Three more Draesian Lords ranged directly behind them, all in turn agreeing with the statement.

"Aid was promised gentlemen and I'll not go back on my word" Blanche's rebuke was a soft one.

"And what of the promise you made us Blanche?" his kinsman was a blunt man.

"Aye, you fair on promised a miracle. I see no divine intervention here."

"The miracle promised is of another kind and trust me, it is well worth the effort. It...it will change everything."

Edwin's face was openly suspicious while Kellan's was plainly puzzled.

Wind stirred at their backs and the rustlings of a thousand men beat against their ears.

"Are you quite sure, Milord? Once the King has heard you have aligned yourself with Feldin...why I suppose there will be no going back. You will no longer be welcome in his courts."

"I no longer know this self-proclaimed 'King' you speak of Kellan." His companion's sharp intake of breath spoke volumes. "There is another that has risen." Had not Kellan been saddled, Blanche supposed the Duke might have actually tipped over, as it was Edwin's armor screeched horribly as his head whipped around. "One that has long been thought lost."

"Saints above...can it be?" Blanche had veritably resurrected a ghost. "She lives? The child lives?"

"Aye, and she is more than we could have ever hoped for." The fire in his eyes burned from within. The breeze toyed with his hair and his standard fluttered gracefully in its current. The proud falcon's wings remained ever spread, ready for battle. Blanche stood in his stirrups and held his sword aloft. One thousand men stood silent, to hear his words.

"Men, I call you to arms! There are many who need you within those walls! Feldin awaits, as does the one whom I promised you. Many of you have heard whispers across the land. I am here to tell you they are true! YOUR FUTURE QUEEN LIVES!"

A great gasp issued and was taken up as the word spread to the far ends of the host before him. Taking his reigns in hand he once more settled his seat, his sword arm still raised to the sky.

"My Lords, shall we ride?"

"We shall!" And so they did.

They rode swiftly and silently. All armor, boots and hooves had been muffled with rags, so they slipped through the night like ghosts in the wind. Their passage was difficult but necessary, angling across the treacherous slopes they formed a wedge, hammering into their enemy from the side.

Like an arrow they flew and fought to stem the breach. Faring well at first, the element of surprise gained them much ground. Reaching the wall however, they came to an impasse. Blanche's forces became divided, fighting enemies on two fronts. Lords Kellan and Edwin commanded the rear, protecting their flank. The higher ground worked well in close quarters and yet the middle ranks suffered, being picked off with ease by enemy archers.

On the fore Blanche suffered with the lower ground, his enemies having the advantage of the foundations height and the walls protection. Upon signal a horn was taken up, its high clear tone echoing deep into the keep. Again he signaled and again the horn sounded.

After several minutes an answering call sounded from within. A smile cracked through the battle lust upon Blanche's face. He threw back his head and roared. "Kersey you lazy cur, let us in!"

A gore spattered head poked out over the battlements. The head disappeared and was followed by a grunt and a scream. A grey swathed soldier flew over the wall into the writhing horde of men below.

The head poked out once more "You're a bit late, don't you think!?"

Blood splattered his breastplate as he ran another grey swathed soldier through the chest. "I can always come back another time Donovan; it seems you already have company!" Blanche waved his sword sarcastically at Daagon's forces.

Another screaming soldier took flight, this one impaled upon a long spear. "Aye, but they've overstayed their welcome!"

An ominous sound rolled through the breach and over the lip of the broken wall. Smoke billowed and curled around the stones until the ragged edges of rock were no longer visible. The front line raised their shields in caution. Shapes and shadows darted to and fro in the smoke and the men shuffled their feet about in nervousness. "Hold" Blanche bellowed ominously. He raised his sword to shoulder height, ready to swing. The smoke swirled faster and he braced himself. Something wet streaked through the air and bounced heavily off his upraised shield.

The object came rolling back to his feet, his gorge rising as he looked into the mutilated face of a boy. The eyes had been cut out, as had the tongue and nose. Spinning away quickly he emptied his stomach as he crouched behind his shield.

One after another the heads began flying through the air. Sick sounds echoing across the front line, quickly followed by screams as arrows came in their wake. They were truly stuck.