though.
Slithering backward, he found Morgan again. “Haerold’s hired himself some eastern mercenaries.”
It wasn’t a surprise.
What , Morgan wondered, had Haerold promised them? How was he paying them? In plunder? Or was he depending on the treasury? How would he fill it again?
He shook his head.
They slipped through the streets silently, avoiding patrols, getting closer to the castle.
Morgan could almost sense his people as they moved through the city and out near the soldiers now encamped to the north and west. Their job was to get a count – an assessment of what it was they were up against.
He and Jacob were going to try to get closer to Haerold himself.
The castle gates were guarded but Morgan had been High Marshal and as such he’d been responsible for the safety of the King. He knew that castle better than almost any. His gut twisted a little at the memory of how badly he’d failed in that task.
How had Haerold pulled it off so quickly?
With magic, obviously, timing and men…
There hadn’t even been a hint he’d planned such a thing and Morgan had been careful enough to have people watching him. That still plagued him.
How did I miss it?
It hadn’t been a coincidence, either, that the attack had come on a night when he and most of his people were supposed to have been away to the north. If they hadn’t taken care of their business there so quickly they would have been there still, only to ride back to find this.
Haerold had known, had planned for everything but that last.
The wizard had always underestimated Morgan.
Smoke still stung the nose, fire still smoldered in places. Buildings were crumpled in on themselves, leaving odd skeletal remains.
He passed a hole in the ground where once a building had stood. The hole was nearly filled with ashes, coals glowed dimly in the bottom of it.
Home? Shop? Whichever or whatever it had been it was gone.
Morgan’s jaw clenched.
But they’d drawn close to the mostly dry moat and slid down the side of it as silently as they’d arrived.
The stench hit and Morgan fought the need to retch.
Here was where they’d dumped the bodies of the dead, rather than give them a decent burial… It was a horror, an abattoir…
Morgan fought through it as quietly as he could – too aware of the bodies beneath his feet, good people who’d done nothing to deserve this fate – until he reached the other side and the narrow stretch of earth at the base of the castle. He’d always warned the King’s guards about this possibility, had reminded them to keep stone at their backs and away from the shadows.
Ducking beneath the drawbridge, Jacob made his way to the other side.
With his back pressed against the castle wall, Morgan slipped silently along it.
It was late, the guards were tired, not alert, while he and Jacob were tense and quick.
The guards died swiftly and joined the dead below, their bodies sliding down the bank.
Morgan stepped into the tunnel beneath the gate tower and looked up.
Following his gaze, Jacob nodded in understanding.
Above them, a faint light glimmered through the murder hole. Voices, muffled, came from above, they bantered back and forth.
From the rhythm of it, Morgan guessed a card game was in progress.
A clink of coins confirmed his guess.
Keeping tight to the sides, he and Jacob slid past, to peer around the corners at the other end.
The courtyard was empty, save for the two guards at the main doors.
Torchlight flickered unsteadily from the torches in the brackets by the doors above their heads.
On the ramparts above, the guards paced tiredly. They were looking out, not in, talking idly among themselves.
No one really expected any organized resistance, not yet. That would change and quickly, if Morgan had any say in it.
If he survived this.
The guards at the doors looked up as someone on the walls called to them. Morgan tipped his head and Jacob came over to Morgan’s side of the entry as Morgan slid around the
Slithering backward, he found Morgan again. “Haerold’s hired himself some eastern mercenaries.”
It wasn’t a surprise.
What , Morgan wondered, had Haerold promised them? How was he paying them? In plunder? Or was he depending on the treasury? How would he fill it again?
He shook his head.
They slipped through the streets silently, avoiding patrols, getting closer to the castle.
Morgan could almost sense his people as they moved through the city and out near the soldiers now encamped to the north and west. Their job was to get a count – an assessment of what it was they were up against.
He and Jacob were going to try to get closer to Haerold himself.
The castle gates were guarded but Morgan had been High Marshal and as such he’d been responsible for the safety of the King. He knew that castle better than almost any. His gut twisted a little at the memory of how badly he’d failed in that task.
How had Haerold pulled it off so quickly?
With magic, obviously, timing and men…
There hadn’t even been a hint he’d planned such a thing and Morgan had been careful enough to have people watching him. That still plagued him.
How did I miss it?
It hadn’t been a coincidence, either, that the attack had come on a night when he and most of his people were supposed to have been away to the north. If they hadn’t taken care of their business there so quickly they would have been there still, only to ride back to find this.
Haerold had known, had planned for everything but that last.
The wizard had always underestimated Morgan.
Smoke still stung the nose, fire still smoldered in places. Buildings were crumpled in on themselves, leaving odd skeletal remains.
He passed a hole in the ground where once a building had stood. The hole was nearly filled with ashes, coals glowed dimly in the bottom of it.
Home? Shop? Whichever or whatever it had been it was gone.
Morgan’s jaw clenched.
But they’d drawn close to the mostly dry moat and slid down the side of it as silently as they’d arrived.
The stench hit and Morgan fought the need to retch.
Here was where they’d dumped the bodies of the dead, rather than give them a decent burial… It was a horror, an abattoir…
Morgan fought through it as quietly as he could – too aware of the bodies beneath his feet, good people who’d done nothing to deserve this fate – until he reached the other side and the narrow stretch of earth at the base of the castle. He’d always warned the King’s guards about this possibility, had reminded them to keep stone at their backs and away from the shadows.
Ducking beneath the drawbridge, Jacob made his way to the other side.
With his back pressed against the castle wall, Morgan slipped silently along it.
It was late, the guards were tired, not alert, while he and Jacob were tense and quick.
The guards died swiftly and joined the dead below, their bodies sliding down the bank.
Morgan stepped into the tunnel beneath the gate tower and looked up.
Following his gaze, Jacob nodded in understanding.
Above them, a faint light glimmered through the murder hole. Voices, muffled, came from above, they bantered back and forth.
From the rhythm of it, Morgan guessed a card game was in progress.
A clink of coins confirmed his guess.
Keeping tight to the sides, he and Jacob slid past, to peer around the corners at the other end.
The courtyard was empty, save for the two guards at the main doors.
Torchlight flickered unsteadily from the torches in the brackets by the doors above their heads.
On the ramparts above, the guards paced tiredly. They were looking out, not in, talking idly among themselves.
No one really expected any organized resistance, not yet. That would change and quickly, if Morgan had any say in it.
If he survived this.
The guards at the doors looked up as someone on the walls called to them. Morgan tipped his head and Jacob came over to Morgan’s side of the entry as Morgan slid around the
Similar Books
