The Wounded Guardian by Duncan Lay Read Free Book Online Page A

across the shoulders and blood dripping from where the whip had laid open his upper back.
    ‘Go to the militia? As if the shit-slingers could do anything to Duke Gello!’ one of the guards sneered.
    ‘Get out of here before anything else happens to you,’ the other slammed the haft of his spear into the metal bars of the gate, making them ring harshly. ‘Make us come out there and you’ll be sorry!’
    Muttering, the crowd slunk away.
    Duke Gello could have looked back and seen them go—but he had no time for that. These people were far beneath his notice. He strode through the house and up to his study, where his guests waited.
    Count Cessor was plump while Earl Worick was lean but they had much in common. Their lands shared a border, they were two of the more powerful Norstaline nobles, they always obeyed Duke Gello and had answered his summons immediately. They leapt to their feet when he walked in, shadowed by the commander of his personal guard, a lean killer called Chelten.
    Tall, wide-shouldered and thin-hipped, blond-haired, with a square chin, powerful nose and blueeyes, Gello was the embodiment of a saga hero. Only the mouth, full-lipped and inclined to twist into a sneer rather than a smile, cast a shadow on that image. But for Cessor and Worick he was at his most fulsome.
    ‘You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come and see me like this,’ he said pleasantly.
    Neither said anything, because Gello had not phrased it as a question.
    ‘My friends, the time is upon us. Having my cousin sit on the throne as a queen is an affront to this proud country, an insult to God and the dragons. I shall wait no longer. I intend to create a crisis. You two will lead the Royal Council to declare a state of emergency and appoint me regent. I will handle things from there,’ he smiled.
    ‘Crisis? What crisis could possibly justify calling for the Queen to be replaced? We still have many nobles who will not sanction that—we could end up being executed for treason!’ Cessor blurted.
    Gello’s smile vanished. He stalked across to stand in front of Cessor, who tried to lean back into his chair to get away. He would have gone back further only Chelten loomed over him from behind.
    ‘Are you saying you don’t trust me? You are thinking that perhaps the country is better under my dear cousin?’
    Cessor tried to shake his head, while Worick shuffled his chair across, to be a little further away from his fellow noble.
    ‘Then remember all those who obey me shall be richly rewarded. Those who oppose me…’ He stared into Cessor’s eyes, while the noble writhed with fear.
    ‘I have always been loyal! Of course I will do what you ask!’ Cessor gabbled.
    ‘I know you will. Because otherwise Chelten will pay a visit to your precious daughters. Understand?’
    Cessor nodded his head violently, his eyes wide with horror.
    Gello smiled wolfishly, then patted Cessor’s fat cheek. Behind the noble, Chelten took a reluctant step backwards.
    ‘Good. I will ensure anyone who might stand in our way will be out of the city for that council meeting. And, as to the crisis, why, it will be the biggest crisis this country has ever faced! I am going to steal the Dragon Sword.’
    Worick dropped his wineglass, while Cessor nearly choked on his mouthful but neither dared to say anything.
    ‘Now, this is how we shall do it…’
    Father Enterius Nott had been a priest for almost sixty years now and more than forty of those had been spent in Chell.
    It had been a good life, in the main. Days of simple duty to his God and his flock, helping guide the villagers through their lives. He had no ambition to be anything more than a village priest and had turned down several offers to move to towns or even cities. Feeling the seasons change, seeing the crops and the animals grow, these were the things he loved. Thanks to Aroaril, few were his villagers who died of illness. His prayers for healing were almost always answered. There had