A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [27]
A swift murmur arose amid the guards of Sart Gasde, and someone among the line of them that barred the way through its gate gasped aloud.
"My fame precedes me, it seems," Bloodblade said pleasantly, "which should make our business together much easier."
"Ah-our business?"
"Well, since Baron Brightpennant is so careless of the safety and rule of his barony that he leaves it open and undefended to invading armies-such as this one, that whelmed in the very streets of Gildi without a blade raised to stop us, and has come hither with similar lack of challenge or scrutiny-I deem Glarsimber Belklarravus unfit to hold such office, and declare these lands forfeit to me. In short, I am now Baron Brightpennant, and-"
"You dare?" the swordlord shouted, snatching out his sword and hurling it, in one snake-swift motion. "Men-resist this outlaw rabble!"
The swordlord's throw was as sure as it was unexpected, and the huge man in fluted armor toppled silently from his saddle, his open-faced helm sprouting a sword-hilt and spraying blood in all directions.
With a roar the men of Brightpennant surged forward-only to come to a confused halt before a line of suddenly leveled spearpoints.
Another, deeper voice snapped, "Bowmen!" and the spearmen suddenly flung themselves to the ground, to reveal a line of stone-faced cross-bowmen. The crash of their volley of bolts was deafening in the castle foreyard-and before its echoes had died away into the mad whirring of half a hundred windlasses as the bowmen readied their bows again, the swordlord and his steed had both crashed to the cobbles, so transfixed by arrows that they resembled many-branched trees. Very dead trees.
The order had come from a second, slightly smaller man in nondescript, much scarred armor, seated on a horse behind the now-riderless mount of the giant in fluted armor. As the men of Brightpennant watched-and the spearmen rose to menace them once more-this man could be seen to smile, in the few moments before he swung the visor of his helm firmly down.
"As it happens, I am Bloodblade," his voice came hollowly to them, sounding almost lazily casual, as he raised one gauntleted hand in greeting, "and I offer you a choice: surrender or death. Gildi is mine, and Sart shall be mine by nightfall, one way or another. I am your new baron; will you serve me, or not? Choose, men of Brightpennant, for neither patience nor mercy runs strong in me."
A few moments of tumult followed under the castle arch, as Brightpennant armsmen traded glances, jostled, and cursed. Some flung down their arms, and stepped back. Others stood their ground defiantly, one of them swinging his blade at a fellow who'd surrendered his steel. No one moved to stop the brief, brutal thrusts that followed.
Bloodblade's spearmen watched impassively… and ere long, silence fell like a tense cloak over the scene, and it could be seen that perhaps a score of the armsmen of Brightpennant stood defiantly in the arch, swords and shields raised ready for the fray. Almost as many stood uncertainly aside, openhanded and looking rather foolish.
"Those who've surrendered," Bloodblade said flatly, "get you down on the stones, flat-facedown, and move not until I say so."
After a moment of uncertain hesitation, the unarmed men clattered their ways onto their bellies, leaving the few defiant armsmen alone in the arch. "Such loyalty should be rewarded," Bloodblade declaimed grandly, looking up and around at frightened faces peering out of house windows and castle balconies. And his open hand swept down.
The line of spears was flung, and Bloodblade's spearmen hurled themselves to the cobbles in the same movement. The Brightpennant armsmen were still staggering and reeling when half a hundred crossbows fired again, the crash and thrumming as loud as ever.
When that hail of heavy quarrels was done, only three men still stood in the arch. Bloodblade's horse danced restlessly, snorting at the smell of blood, but he sat in his saddle as easily as if it