The Devastation: Unexpected Circumstances Book 7 (5 page)

“Is it time?” I asked Benjamin, and I was met with his gleeful smile.

“Almost,” he replied.

I watched as over fifty archers each took a mug containing a glob of the black, sticky substance.  Benjamin said there was enough pitch to coat ten arrows each.  The archers knelt behind us and readied their arrow tips.  Benjamin took up two torches and handed one to Erik and one to Sir Rylan’s page.  The two boys ran behind the line of archers with torches extended, and one by one, the archers’ arrows began to glow.

“Now we are ready,” Benjamin said with a grin.

He nodded at the Master Archer, who drew back his bow and called to his men.

“Ready!” the Master Archer yelled loudly.  Each of the flame-tipped arrows rose to point at the sky. “Loose!”

My eyes widened in awe as the arrows remained lit and soared up into the sky in perfect, glowing arcs.  They left a trail of light through the clouds before disappearing behind the walls of the castle.  We could hear shouts from inside the castle walls, and I saw several places where firelight began to burn more brightly.  One man—still in flames—fell from the castle wall.

“Ready!  Loose!”

Fifty more arrows lit up the night sky as they sailed over the heads of the knights battling in the open field, over the walls of the castle, and inside again.  I could then hear the screaming of those who fought for Edgar as they burned.  The glow behind the castle walls became brighter as the sun set, and the battle continued.  Benjamin and his pitch-covered arrows continued to rain fire upon our enemy.

With the sun below the horizon, the bright fires from behind the walls were even more evident.  The battle in front of the castle was slowing both because all the men were tired and because the sheer number of bodies lying in the field were in the way.  They hindered the cavalry’s movement though it also meant the serfs and peasants who had survived thus far were better armed.  Each of them grabbed a mace or sword from the fallen enemies’ hands.

Still, there weren’t many of the common folk left.  As I looked around and quickly counted those still standing—both for Silverhelm and for Hadebrand—I knew the people of Silverhelm had indeed been willing to die for their queen.  There was no way we would have survived without them.

Parnell approached on foot with Rylan close behind him and called up to me.

“My king, many of Hadebrand’s soldiers and their mercenaries have surrendered. The fires inside the castle are reported to be reaching the inside walls.”

“We have to move inside,” I said, “and quickly.  We do not know where they are keeping Alexandra.”

“What of the prisoners, my king?” Parnell asked.

“No prisoners,” I replied.  “Any man who has fought for Hadebrand will die.”

“Yes, my king.”

I turned to Rylan as he mounted another horse and rode up beside me.

“Where are the engineers?” I asked.

Rylan motioned behind us, and I could see Lord William’s men with their machines.

“Ready, sire!”

“Make way for them!  Give them cover!”

With twenty men holding their shields for cover from Edgar’s bowmen, the engineers moved closer to the walls, pushing the huge log, sharpened at the front.  It rolled on a shortened cart but could be raised and lowered with a crank at the back and front wheels.  It was huge and it was heavy, and it took many of the farmers and other peasants to help push the gigantic contraption to the castle gate.

To get close enough to use it, those pushing the machine needed to be directly under the castle walls, which left them quite vulnerable.  Another line of peasant fighters—also partially protected by knights with their long, tower shields—stood at the ready so they could replace those that would undoubtedly fall during the attack.

As they approached, the engineers adjusted the height of the battering ram, and the men on the sides of the cart began to run.  The impact of the pointed end of the ram as it hit the castle gate must have been heard all the way back to Sterling.  Arrows fell from the top of the castle walls, and many of those pushing the ram dropped to the ground.  As the body of each man was pulled away, there was always another, ready to take his place.

Two more similar rams were used on the walls at the sides of the gate, smashing into the stone structures repeatedly until dust dropped onto the heads of the men who pushed it.  The stone walls were harder to breach, but the men were more effective as Hadebrand’s archers concentrated on those aiming for the gate.  At the same time, the catapults began their assault on the walls to the left and the right of the rams.  Huge rocks flew across the sky, slammed into the walls, and pulverized the stone.  Boulder after boulder was hurled through the sky, and slowly but surely, the walls started to come down.

Even as hot sand was poured from the top of the walls, the men continued to run forward as the end of the giant ram made contact with the wooden doors repeatedly.  They pulled back and rushed forward again as arrows tried to pierce them from above.  The archers behind us dutifully picked off the men on the walls where they could, but I still saw many of the peasants of Silverhelm fall as they were hit.  Still, as one man fell, another took his place, and the battering ram slammed continuously against the wooden gate.  Finally, there was a crack that could be heard across the field as the door splintered and broke.

“Almost there, Alexandra,” I said too quietly for anyone else to hear.  I closed my eyes for a brief moment, kicked at Romero’s sides, and we sped forward through the archway as the doors fell before us.  All around us, the walls surrounding Castle Hadebrand were crumbling.

And that is when I knew I had won the war.

Flames were everywhere.

Heat coated my face, and my nose was assaulted by the smell of singed straw and charred flesh.  The courtyard was a shambles of burned and broken bodies, men who fell from the walls or were hit by debris from the catapult’s ammunition, and the sounds of the few skirmishes still going on.  I rode among it all until I came to the entrance to the castle.  Parnell pointed out that the fires were close but did not seem to be advancing any longer.  There was plenty of time to find Alexandra and get out, but where was she?

Rylan, Parnell, and I all dismounted and entered the castle with a dozen men behind us.  I didn’t know my way around the building, for I had been inside only twice before—once as a child and again when I lay with Whitney.

That particular thought now made me feel ill.

At each turn, we were met by a handful of soldiers and guards though not nearly enough to cause our advance to slow.  Many tried to surrender to me, and each one of them was cut down.  When I was done, there would be nothing left of the castle of Hadebrand, the family, or any loyalists that resided within.  I knew there would be some—some who were not so loyal to Hadebrand—who would also perish.  Unless I knew with absolute certainty that they could be trusted, I would not take the chance, and there was only one man within Hadebrand whose loyalties were pledged to me.

There had been no sign of my trusted captain, Greysen.  If I could locate him, I would spare the few he said could be trusted, but without his judgment, none within the castle walls would survive.

“King Branford!” Rylan called out.  I pulled my sword from a dead guard’s innards and walked over to meet him.  He pointed with the tip of his weapon, and I looked down into the lifeless eyes of another familiar foe.

Prince Gage.

“You took his life?” I questioned.

“I did not,” Rylan informed me.  “I found him like this.”

“I want the name of his killer,” I said as I turned and gestured to Erik.  “Get me an answer.”

“I will find out who did this, my king,” he said with a quick nod.

I returned the gesture and even found myself smiling a little as the boy rushed off.  He was going to make a fine replacement for…

I abruptly shook the thought from my head.  Such memories would lead where I did not wish to go.  If I were to think of Michael for too long, I would remember why he wasn’t here.

She must be close…

I did not feel her presence, and this agitated me.  Somewhere there would be a lower area—possibly even a pit—where prisoners were kept.  Would they dare hold a royal prisoner in a dungeon?  A more likely place would be a tower or an isolated wing of the castle.  We headed through the towers and upper rooms, killing everyone who crossed us, and found nothing.

There was no sign of Alexandra to be found, not even a shred of clothing.  We also found no sign of the king or queen of Hadebrand, and I started to wonder if they had escaped during the battle.  I sent two of the farmers-turned-soldiers to race back outside to the cavalry to have them search for any evidence of flight.

In one of the upper rooms, we found Hedda, Whitney’s young sister, and Hedda’s twin brother, Jared.  The soldiers took them to the throne room of the castle where they could be used against the rest of the family.  I tore through the remainder of the royal chamber but found nothing.  I raced to the other wing of the castle, the lower levels, the dungeon, and kitchens, dropping guards and servants alike, but found no sign of my wife.

She was not here.

As I made my way once more through the upper level, slight movement from the far end of the corridor caught my eye.  I waved the other guards back down the long staircase while I went to see what was there, telling myself I had only imagined it.  We had cleared out this area already, and I did not think anyone else could be up here.

I turned at the end of the hallway and entered the royal bedchamber just in time to see a flash of black cloth as it disappeared behind a large, ornate wood carving, which hung on the far wall. I raced over to it and yanked it from the wall.  Behind was a small alcove, and King Edgar stared back at me with wide, surprised eyes.

For a moment, I felt as if I were in a dream.  Here he was, right in front of me, and I wasn’t sure what I should do.  This was something I had desired for so long—to have this man in front of me without guards and with just cause to take his life—and I did not know how to respond.  It was my moment of hesitation that allowed him to slip past me and try to run from the room.  Even in my momentary stupor, he was not fast enough, and I caught up with him before he could reach the door.  Edgar quickly jumped back and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“King Branford, what are you doing?”

“I’m here to destroy you and your family for what you have done,” I replied softly.  “Is that not obvious?”

“It was your own cousins who devised that plan!” he said.  “I knew nothing of the handmaid or the tea!”

His gaze shifted quickly to the door and then back to me again.  I knew he was lying, and I told him so as my sword hovered between us.

“You have already made those responsible pay for that,” he said. “There is no more need for bloodshed!”

“No need?” I snorted.  “You seize my wife and have the audacity to look shocked when I break down your door?”

“Seize your…seize your wife…?”

“Do not play innocent with me!” I bellowed as I swung my sword in an arc near his head.  “I will not stand for it any longer!”

“King Branford, I have no knowledge of Alexandra’s kidnapping.  I swear—”

“
Where is my wife
?” I screamed.  I had tried to keep my voice calm and low before, but it was no longer working.  I was quickly losing whatever dignity I might have left.  The muscles in my arms were sore from battle but still cried out for more bloodshed.

“King Branford, you must believe me!  I have no idea where your queen may be.”

I slowly raised my sword and held it in both of my hands as I pointed it to him.

“I will not listen to your lies,” I said quietly.  “You will die for everything you have done to me and to my family.

“Branford…listen to me—”

I laughed and I stalked toward him.  I felt as if I were in a trance as everything he had caused slowly traversed through my memories—my parents’ death, the misplaced faith of the mentors I had trusted with my life, the presence of the handmaid who harmed my wife, Alexandra’s disappearance…

I heard my own voice drop to a whisper.

“Perhaps you thought I had no breaking point, but believe me—I am broken now.”

He barely drew his sword in time before my blade crashed into his.  There was little room for fighting in the enclosed quarters.  Inside my head, the visions continued as I swung my blade at Edgar again and again.  He parried, ducked, and tried to escape over his bed, and I lunged toward him, taking the bed’s canopy down and leaving the silk drapes scattered around the floor.  I leapt over the bed and attacked again.

Edgar rolled over on his back and kicked out with both of his feet.  They connected with my gut and knocked me backwards as the blow knocked the wind from me.  I gasped and tried to right myself before he came at me, but he had the upper hand as he clashed his blade into mine and sent me reeling backwards to the wall behind me.

He followed after but made the mistake of setting his sights on me and me alone.  The silk from the bed still lay strewn across the floor, and his boot caught on the fabric.  He lost his balance and tripped just as I spun, turned to the side, and slipped my blade across his wrist.

It was only a small cut—not deep enough to kill—but it sliced the tendon, and he cried out as he dropped his sword.  I grabbed him and threw him against the wall, my body following after.  With my blade extended, I crashed into him.  I felt the resistance of the wall as my sword exited through his back and struck stone.

I looked down into his face, my breath escaping from my lungs in short bursts, and slowly twisted my wrist.  His shoulders clenched and turned inward, and his mouth opened and closed twice before he slumped forward a little.  I took two quick steps back, and my sword slid from his chest as I moved away from him.

The king of Hadebrand, the man who exerted his own will over my kingdom and was responsible for my parents’ deaths, slowly slid to the ground with his back still up against the wall.  His fingers twitched slightly toward the blade that lay several feet out of his reach as if there were some way he could seize it now.  Edgar’s eyes stared up at me for a moment, and he seemed as though he wished to convey some message to me before his look glazed over, and he stopped moving.

I stared at the dead man until my own eyes felt dry and burned from the smoke outside the windows.

Edgar had known nothing of Alexandra’s disappearance.  It was all over his face—etched within his eyes as I killed him.  He didn’t know where she was or why we had come to destroy him on this day.  He had no idea it was the common people of Silverhelm who were now tearing the walls of his castle to the ground.

And I still had no idea where she was or what was happening to her.

All the mental blocks I had placed inside my head since we rode from Silverhelm crumbled, and thoughts of everything my enemies may have done to Alexandra rushed over me.  I took a few steps backward, only stopping when I hit the stone wall behind me.  It was cold, but I barely felt the chill.  I could only feel the stifling heat and stale air of the bench where I cowered and hid as screams echoed through my mind.

I should not feel this pain any more.  Edgar was dead now, and my father and mother had finally been avenged.  I should not feel like this again.  Edgar was gone, and there was no way he could harm anyone in my family any longer.  He could not harm me.  There was no cramped space underneath a bench, and the screams in my head were not real.  I knocked my head against the stone to try to dislodge the memories from my mind and focus on the present.

Alexandra?  Where are you?

My hands shook, and I tried to ball them into fists to make them stop, but it didn’t work.  I could barely draw breath, and when I did, I could smell blood and sweat and death all around me.  Was she here?  Had they killed her?

“Do not touch him,” I heard someone say, “lest you have no regard for your own life.  Give him a few moments.”

I became aware that my hand, still clenched into a fist, was slamming repeatedly into the limp body of the dead king on the floor.  I cried out and pushed myself back to the wall, forcing my fists into my eyes as I tried to erase the images in my mind.

After some time had passed—seconds, minutes, I wasn’t sure—I opened my eyes slowly to see Parnell standing a few feet from me with both Erik and Rylan behind him.  One of his arms was held out to the side, blocking young Erik’s advance.

“My king?” Parnell tilted his head to one side and took a half step forward.

I tried to inhale slowly, but my body did not obey my commands.

“Branford.”  This time I felt his hand lightly on my arm, and I met his gaze.

“I have to find her,” I said quietly.  “I have to find her now.”

“We shall,” Parnell said.

I looked at Edgar’s corpse on the ground and watched, fascinated for a moment, as his blood spread across the floor.  Who else would know where she was hidden?  If the dungeons and outlying buildings were all empty, where else would she be?

“Is there no sign?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“None, my king.” Parnell hesitated.  “We have been through all of the castle and the surrounding areas.  They must have her hidden somewhere else.”

“Where?” I turned and stared him in the eye.  “Where is she?”

“The rest of the royal family is in the throne room,” Parnell informed me.  “One of them has to know.”

“Whitney,” I said with a nod.  “Whitney will have known about it all along.”

“Then let us get the information you need from her.”

I looked around a moment, and I noticed both Rylan and Erik had moved out of earshot.  I leaned close to Parnell and spoke quietly in his ear.

“What of Greysen?”

“No sign of him,” Parnell said.  His voice was grim.  “He would not have fought against your forces, and I would have expected him to show himself by now, just as Rylan’s spy has done.”

“He should be here,” I said in a similar tone.  “What if he was discovered?”

“Then there is nothing we could do for him now,” Parnell said, and I knew he was right.

“To the throne room?”

“Yes, my king.”

The rest of them were there—Queen Margaret, her two daughters, and her youngest son.  Margaret and Whitney were both bound and held by a guard, but the twins only had their hands tied behind their backs and cloth secured across their mouths.  They sat on the floor near one of the regal thrones.  Jared struggled against his bonds, but he could not loosen them.

“Your husband and Prince Gage are dead,” I told Margaret.  “You will all die soon if the whereabouts of my wife is not revealed.”

“You are insane,” Margaret yelled, “just like your father!  You have no idea what you should do for your kingdom, which was made most obvious when you refused to unite us!  All of this blood is on your hands!”