The King in Reserve by Michael Pryor Read Free Book Online Page B

Gormond cried with delight. 'The enemy! They think they have us!' He drew a sword.
    Adalon blocked him with an outstretched arm. 'Back. Take cover.'
    His mouth was dry, with both fear and excitement. He hadn't had a chance to don his armour, but the A'ak blade stirring in its scabbard made him giddily confident that he could cope with these ragtag soldiers.
    The King's retainers dropped their cooking implements at the sight of the attackers. 'Up the tree,' Adalon snapped. 'Hurry.'
    Gormond shook his sword. 'You heard him – quickly!'
    'You too, Your Majesty,' Adalon said. He couldn't have the young king engage in combat. He was too valuable.
    Gormond glowered. 'Battle calls. I will not run.'
    Adalon thought quickly. 'I need you high up in the tree, to warn us of others.' He caught himself. 'No. It would be too dangerous. You would be a target.'
    'Dangerous?' Gormond swallowed, but then straightened. 'What is danger? A challenge that the brave must face, that's all.' He trotted to the blackwood, then turned and waved. 'I will protect you!'
    That's one fewer worry, Adalon thought. He could now see that the riders wore the livery of Queen Tayesha's household cavalry, even if it was travel-worn and bespattered with mud. They carried shields bearing their proud blue cross. 'Simangee!' he called.
    'I have them.'
    Two arrows sped from Simangee's bow, one after the other, like flashes of lightning on a summer's night. Two riders somersaulted backwards, arrows sprouting from their shields.
    The other riders didn't pause in their charge. Brandishing swords and stabbing spears, they tore the morning air with their battle cries. Adalon put his hand on the hilt of his sword and it fairly leaped into his hand. He drew it, feeling the fine steel ring on the mouth of the scabbard. He hissed, biting down on the battle joy that the A'ak blade brought. Now was not the time to fall under its unholy influence.
    Targesh lumbered to his side. He held his giant battleaxe at the ready. He, too, had not yet put on his armour. He glanced at Adalon and grinned. 'I'll take the first five. You think you can handle the rest?'
    'Watch me.'
    Adalon swung the A'ak blade. It hissed through the air and he marvelled at its lightness. It felt alive in his hand. He resisted its whisperings that battle was shiny and glorious. After Sleeto, he knew too well that battle was sordid and dangerous, mostly filled with terror and panic, and much too much blood.
    When the blood hummed in his veins and his tail twitched with excitement, this time it wasn't the A'ak magic at work. It was because it felt good to be doing something instead of brooding. In a moment of insight – as the cavalry charged toward him – he understood that it was actions that were going to win the day, not needless worrying.
    Adalon gripped the sword two-handed and raised it over his shoulder. He was ready to strike the first rider and twist away, prepared for the next. He could see the movements in his mind – one, two, three, like a complicated dance.
    His hands were steady. His eyes were calm. He was ready.
    At that moment, Kikkalak and her company swooped from the sky like a dozen thunderbolts. War challenges shrieked from their throats.
    The enemy's riding beasts, well trained though they were, were terrified by these apparitions from the heavens. Some base instinct warned them that death came from the skies, and all they wanted to do was flee. Just yards from where Adalon, Targesh and Simangee stood, the riding beasts refused to go on. They screamed, bucked, fought their riders and even bit each other. Some sheered off and wheeled away, carrying their cursing riders to the south.
    In a matter of seconds, the riders and their steeds were scattered, no longer a threat. Those riders who had been dismounted took to their heels as if pursued by demons.
    Adalon let his sword drop. He sheathed it and realised his hands were sore from gripping so tightly. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or