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I turned to see a young, black-haired boy of twelve years or so. I scowled at him, trying to remember the lad’s name, for I knew I had seen him before.
“Sir Parnell sent me to assist you,” the boy said, “if you will permit it. I’ve already polished your armor, and I know how to prepare your steed—I have tended Sawyer’s horses many times.”
I took a deep breath as I recalled exactly where I had seen him before—he had been Parnell’s stable hand when he was a child.
“Erik, is that your name?”
“Yes, my king!” he said with a smile.
“Prepare my
horse,” I said with a sigh. Romero snorted and shook his head as the boy with the unfamiliar face walked over to him. I could hear the lad speaking softly as he reached into his pocket to offer the horse a treat. Easily won over by such bribes, Romero allowed the boy to ready him for battle as I pulled out my recently shined armor and laid it out on a bale of straw.
Once he was done with Romero, Erik offered to assist me with my armor and then with mounting the horse. Stable hand or not, Parnell had obviously been training him as a proper page as well. He had us ready just as the sun crested over the horizon.
Erik followed me out of the stable and into the middle of the practice field where my soldiers had gathered. Rylan was there with them, and I did not miss that six of his best fighters were also on horseback and ready to ride to Hadebrand.
My heart pounded as I looked over my men, and I wished I had some words of encouragement for them. With Rylan’s six and the army of Sawyer, we had maybe two hundred in our ranks—only half of the force Edgar had amassed in the previous battles. They were marginally trained, young, and would be horribly outnumbered.
If they would just provide enough of a distraction, I could possibly infiltrate the walls and find her. It would be the only true chance we had. If that did not work, and I discovered they had…they had killed her…I would simply die with my men. It would be quicker than the slow death I would face without her.
I turned Romero without a word and began to lead the troops toward the road, bringing the horse to a slow trot. Once we hit the open road, we would ride hard until we reached the castle walls of Hadebrand. I guided the reins to the side and rounded the corner outside the gate. There we brought our horses to an abrupt stop and gaped at the vision outside Silverhelm castle.
All around us were men.
There must have been at least three hundred of them.
They were of varying ages—some men well past their prime with graying hair and slowly moving gaits. Others were quite young, not much older than Erik. They all stood in lines together, looking up toward the castle as the army of Silverhelm came upon them.
They did not dress in armor and only a few rode on horses, but every one of them held in his hand a weapon of some sort. Some held crooked old swords or simple clubs fashioned from a tree branch. Many had knives in their hands, pitchforks, and several were holding either scythes or sickles.
I felt my heart tighten in my breast as one of them stepped forward. There had been times before when some of the farmers would band together to bring forth their complaints and concerns—the kingdom was demanding too much of their grain or the forge was polluting the water they needed to drink and cook. Normally I would have listened to their troubles, for they truly did not complain unduly, but I had no time for grievances now. I gripped Romero’s reins and set my jaw as one of the men left the line and moved closer.
“Greetings, sire!” the man called out. “My name is Samuel, and I farm the fields between the eastern forest and the border of Wynton with my sons.”
He gestured to two lads in their early teens standing behind him.
I nodded curtly and pointed to the rabble behind him.
“What is this?” I asked, my shoulders still tense. I could not handle an uprising at this point, and if I needed to make an example to the others with this man’s life, then I would not hesitate to do so.
Alexandra’s face flashed in my mind, and I knew she would not have approved of such action.
“Reinforcements, my king!” Samuel said as he took another step forward. He made his way over until he stood at Romero’s flank and looked up at me, his arm held out. “She is our queen, too.”
And that is when I knew we had a chance.
Chapter 2—Daringly Battle
I remembered when I was a small child, and my father left to fight with King Camden against some rogues threatening the eastern border of Silverhelm. I did not recall why there was an uprising, only that their numbers required more than just a handful of soldiers to quell it. Camden had sat on his horse and moved back and forth in front of his men, speaking words of encouragement to them before they rode into battle.
I had not done that in our last war against Hadebrand. It had not even occurred to me, like many things did not occur to me until long after it was too late for me to do anything about them. I would likely have not known what to say, regardless. There were so many mistakes I had made—from the insignificant to the grave—in my lust for revenge against Edgar. I found at this point, I would give up the fight entirely if it would deliver Alexandra back to me safely.
I knew it was far too late for that.
There was only one way this could end now: in blood and destruction. We would either be victorious, and Hadebrand would be no more, or Silverhelm would fall to Edgar, and we would all perish.
My cavalry was mounted on the horses of Sawyer, and my foot soldiers stood at the ready. The serfs, farmers, and peasants of my kingdom gathered around the horses haphazardly, but there was no time to train them. Even Amarra had joined us, and she paced around the horses as she readied for the hunt. It was as if she knew Alexandra would not be safe as long as she was in the hands of my enemy. The very thought nearly drove me to madness.
