A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [28]
One armsman threw down his sword and shield-but the Brightpennant guard beside him turned and drove his blade through the side lacings of the man's armor, and he fell. Grim-faced, the two surviving armsmen looked at each other, then straightened their shoulders and stood ready against Bloodblade's army.
"Halduth," the warlord said calmly, and the ranks of his host parted before a man even larger than the false Bloodblade in the fluted armor-a man who drew back his arm and hurled a war spear as large as a tree without salute or delay.
It struck one of the two remaining defenders in the chest, plucking the man off his feet and bearing him some twenty paces into the castle courtyard. When the spear slid to a stop, the bleeding, broken thing wrapped around it no longer looked like a man, let alone clung to life.
The last man wept, flung down his shield-and then with a wild roar, raced forward into the ranks of Bloodblade's men, hacking frantically. For an amazingly long time he slashed, thrust, kicked, and spat, loudly crying, "Brightpennant!" thrice… but in the end he was overwhelmed, and men turned from him to raise bloody blades in salute to Sendrith Dudijack.
Bloodblade gestured wordlessly to the castle, and with a roar they surged inside, waving blades and bellowing triumph. Their orders were clear: no breakage or burning, no harrying of horseflesh, no savaging of any clergy, cook, or kitchen maid-but all armsmen, swordcaptains, courtiers, and other women were theirs to sport with.
As the screaming began, Bloodblade turned in his saddle to look down into certain waiting faces, and said, "Lordikul, stand guard around me with all your command. Darag, go and secure what I've ordered."
Darag saluted him impassively and led his men off at a trot.
Bloodblade watched men hooting and running this way and that across the castle yard for a time, and was seen to smile. Then he turned again, and said to Lorthkul, "Find me the trade fair. We'll buy herbs there and enjoy fair Sart town, until Darag sends word that the feast is ready. Castles are such noisy, bloody places."
Chapter Five
A Storm of Serpents
Te faces of the commoners were white with terror; clearly they expected to die here this night, as they shuffled into the feasting hall of Sart Castle under the gentle but firm hands of Bloodblade's armsmen.
When the seats were filled-fourscore full-armed warriors, still in their reeking and blood-smirched armor, seated across from as many frightened commoners-and swordcaptains at each table had rapped for silence and received it, the tapestries behind the baronial high seat parted, and a large man in a plain tunic came into view, bearing the baron's great goblet in his hand.
" DIV the and of we all as been this he you should doing sweated.?He smiled around at them. "No, friends, there are no tricks. Unless one of you is so foolish as to draw blade and try to harm any warrior here, none of you will die this night. Eat and drink heartily! Be merry, for this is a bright new beginning for Sart and for Brightpennant!"
He raised his goblet in salute. "This is your feast now, and your castle. In Bloodblade's Aglirta-yes, the rumors are true, may we always meet in pleasant peace-there'll be no more such bejewelled parasites bleeding you white with taxes. You will find my hand light and merciful, and my rule fair-so long as you but spare some food and drink for my army, as I march on Flowfoam, to take the River Throne and become your rightful king."
The faint echoes of distant, drunken singing came to him. The man who called himself Bloodblade smiled faintly, and went to find the errant open window.
When he found it, amid all the fine paneling, tapestries, and gleaming statuettes, he drew it firmly down to shut out the sounds of revelry, murmured, "The feast is well advanced, indeed," and retrieved his goblet of wine.
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