Frostborn: The False King by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online Page B

keep.
     
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    Gavin stepped back, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face as he raised Truthseeker and his shield, seeking another foe.
    There were none left, though the sounds of battle filled his ears.
    The gatehouse had become a charnel house, the air heavy with the scent of spilled blood, the floor carpeted with the corpses of slain men-at-arms. Fortunately, only a few of them wore red armbands. Gavin lowered his sword and shield, his arms and shoulders aching from the strain of battle. 
    “It seems the enemy has run out of men to throw at us,” said Constantine. “Kadius.”
    The decurion crossed the room and peered through one of the narrow windows at the courtyard below. “The Swordbearers and the Rhaluuskans have passed the gate, Sir Constantine. The foe is withdrawing in disarray to the keep.” 
    “None come from the west,” said Antenora, still maintaining her wall of fire across that door. 
    Gavin looked out the eastern door. Save for corpses, he saw no one.
    “More of our men come through the gate,” said Kadius, and even the veteran decurion sounded excited. “The foe retreats. Sir knight, Castra Carhaine is about to fall.”
    “Then let us help ensure that it does,” said Constantine. “Any man too wounded to fight should remain upon the ramparts until the Swordbearers or the Magistri can heal them. Everyone still fit to fight, follow me. Our steel shall be needed, and I have no doubt Prince Arandar can make use of your powers, Lady Antenora.”
    “I obey,” said Antenora, dismissing her wall of fire and moving to Gavin’s side. 
    “That was useful, that wall,” said Gavin. “Else the enemy would have encircled us.”
    Again that almost-smile came over her face, and she looked away.
    Gavin followed Constantine and Kadius as the men-at-arms filed from the gatehouse. He paused long enough to use Truthseeker’s magic to give healing to some of the severely wounded men. A Swordbearer could not use healing magic as effectively as a true Magistrius or a Magistria, but Gavin did what he could. He tarried as long as he dared, Antenora waiting next to him, and then followed the other men onto the ramparts.
    Only to find that the battle was already over.
    Hundreds of men-at-arms and knights marched through the gate, pouring into Castra Carhaine like water through the breach in a dam. Already Gavin saw crossbowmen in the colors of the Arbanii and the Durii hurrying along the ramparts, securing the siege engines and turning them to face the inner keeps. He looked for any remaining Carhaine men-at-arms. Surely they could not have all been killed?
    “They’ve fallen back to the keep,” said Constantine, pointing with Brightherald. A mob of Carhaine men-at-arms had withdrawn to the steps of the nearest of the three keeps, standing before the doors.
    “They’ll dig in there, sir knight,” said Kadius. 
    “No matter,” said Constantine. “Surely the Constable must see that his position is hopeless. If not, we’ll burn them out.” He shrugged. “Taking Castra Carhaine with two of three keeps intact is good enough for one night’s work.” He turned back to Kadius. “We’ll join the others, and prepare to storm the…”
    “Hear me!” 
    The voice of Calliande, Keeper of Andomhaim, rang over the courtyard like a thunderclap.
    Gavin and the others hurried down the stairs, joining the other Swordbearers and the Rhaluuskan orcs as they formed up to face the mob of Carhaine soldiers. Gavin saw the fear on the faces of the enemy, the determination to fight to the bitter end. He wondered how many of them were Enlightened, how many of them had sold their souls to the shadow of Incariel, and how many of them were here simply because they had no choice.
    “Claudius Agrell, Constable of Castra Carhaine, hear me!” said Calliande, the spell throwing her voice over the courtyard.
    Gavin spotted Calliande atop her horse, flanked by Master Marhand and Crowlacht. Sometimes Gavin thought that