Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 16–Regicide

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Edwyn mounted his horse and looked over the column of troops. Their eyes darted furtively between him and the ground. Even the lesser nobles looked away into the surrounding trees. Yes, I made my message clear. Obey or die. He waved his arm, and the column began to march, feet tromping on the dirt road as the troop column moved slowly to the north. They had not been trudging for more than an hour when a rider raced back down the column. “Sire, you must come forward immediately.”

“What is it?” Edwyn asked.

“A request for parlay,” the rider said.

 “From whom?”

“Lord Gall,” the rider said.

Edwyn gripped his reigns tightly. “What does that man want, now?” He nodded to the rider. “Halt the column and send Gall back here. I will talk with him.”

* * *

Gall rode beside the messenger sent by the King. The white flag on the staff he carried whipped in the wind. Edwyn waited for him to come within a few feet before speaking. “Why do you come to parlay with me?”

“I come to negotiate for the Princess,” Gall announced.

Edwyn grinned, then answered, “I’m afraid you are too late. She was executed this morning, but we can return the body parts to you if you like. There should be enough left for her father to bury.”

Gall’s face twisted into a sneer. He flung the white flag onto the ground and leaned forward, hands trembling. “I will make you pay for that.” He seized the pommel of his black sword, but a feminine voice rang out before either man could react.

“Edwyn is a liar.”

Gall twisted in his saddle to see Britta striding out of the trees, red hair streaming behind her, a long sword bouncing off her hip. Edwyn spat and then shouted, “Arrest her.”

Britta pulled her sword and pointed toward the King. In a loud voice, she addressed the column of soldiers, “Soldiers of Bretagne. This man is a charlatan, coward, and criminal. He no longer deserves your loyalty. I challenge Edwyn to a feat of arms. Let his legitimacy rest on how well he can defend himself rather than on the blood of those he commands.” The surrounding troops murmured and looked from Britta to Edwyn and back again.

Edwyn pulled his sword and slapped the nearest soldier with the flat of his blade. “You heard me, idiots. Arrest her. I am your King. Obey me.” Some soldiers responded, but others restrained them. Most stepped back, their eyes continuing to dart back and forth. Curses and shouts rang out from the assemblage as soldiers fell to arguing with each other.

Britta continued to advance. Edwyn pulled his sword and turned his mount.

If not stopped, Edwyn will ride her down. Gall leaned back and whipped a forearm into the King’s chest. The man tumbled out of his saddle, landing in a heap, sword on the ground beside him. He rolled onto his side and glared up at Gall.

“You bastard,” Edwyn swore. “I will kill you.”

Gall leaned toward him, his face tight and words filled with disdain. “It is not I with whom you need to concern yourself. Your reign as King will soon be over,” he said, nodding toward Britta.

The King whipped around. With a savage growl, he took up his sword and stood. The Bretagne soldiers fell back as the two royals raced toward each other. With a resounding crash, their weapons slammed into each other, the force of which tossed Britta to the ground.

Edwyn grinned, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “I will kill you myself, you guttersnipe.” His slashing sword embedded itself in the ground as Britta rolled and jumped to her feet. Her sword darted at him, causing him to backpedal as he yanked the blade free. He thumped into a soldier standing nearby. “Arrest her,” he screamed wide-eyed.

The soldier slid away. Several others stepped forward, but their comrades pulled them back.

THWACK! Britta’s sword sent a shower of sparks flying into the air as it struck Edwyn’s blade. He raised his weapon but staggered sideways as a crossbow bolt buried itself into his left shoulder. Yowling, he stumbled back toward another knot of soldiers, who continued to back away as they looked for the source of the missile.

Gall spotted movement in the trees. A dark figure slipped back into the shadows. His hand flexed on the pommel of his battered black sword. It would be easy enough to intervene and dispatch Edwyn, as he had planned, but for now, he’d let events play out.

With a high-warbling yell, Britta raised her sword and charged at Edwyn. He gamely raised his sword with his good arm and retreated further as she approached. Then, as she reached him, he stepped forward and whipped his blade at her head. She ducked at the last moment, but not before the whistling blade snagged some of her hair, severing the strands and spraying the ground with red locks. Her momentum carried her into Edwyn, smashing into his chest and plowing him into the ground. They rolled, grappling for each other’s throats. The King rolled on top of the young woman. Leveraging his advantage in size and strength, he pinned her to the ground. His hands closed upon her throat and began to squeeze.

Britta grabbed hold of the crossbow bolt protruding from his shoulder and twisted it. With a shriek, Edwyn pulled a hand from her neck and grappled with her grip on the bolt. She clapped her knees together and drove them upwards into his crotch. He gasped, releasing her neck altogether. Reaching into her waistband, she withdrew a dagger and, with brutal efficiency, repeatedly plunged the blade into Edwyn’s chest and abdomen. The King shuddered and tremored, still groping for her throat, but his movements slowed. With a final shove, she slammed the blade into his chest with all her strength. He groaned, then rolled off, blood dripping from a dozen wounds. Collapsing on the ground, his vacant eyes stared upward at the morning sky.

Silence filled the air as soldiers jostled to look upon the sight of their King lying dead next to Britta’s bloodied form. Panting from exhaustion, she struggled to her knees.

Gall dismounted and approached Britta. He grabbed her arm, still holding a crimson-covered dagger, and held it aloft. His voice boomed, “Soldiers of Bretagne, I present to you, Britta, your Queen.” Breathless, Britta looked at him with a mixture of fatigue and disgust.

A few hesitant shouts rang out, followed by more, which grew into a chorus of huzzahs and cheers of victory. As she glanced around, soldiers began to sink to one knee and bow their heads toward her.

“They are offering their loyalty to you,” Gall said, pulling her to a stand. “What do you say?”

After taking a deep breath, she spoke loudly, “Soldiers of Bretagne, the nightmare of Edwyn’s reign is over. As granted to me by the tradition of a feat of arms and by marriage, I assume the role of Queen of Bretagne. In return, if you give me your loyalty, I will keep our enemies at bay and our lands at peace.” The soldiers raised their weapons and helms and cheered once more.

Gall handed her the reins to Edwyn’s horse. “A Queen should have a mount.”

She climbed aboard and, though looking ragged, bloodied, and dirty, still exuded a regal air. Turning to him, she spoke, “I have someone for you to meet; his name is Riasean.” With that, she pointed at the tree line.

Gall followed her arm to a figure standing a short distance away. His blonde hair tousled in the breeze, and the Elvish eyes stared at him. “A Caretaker told him to find you,” Britta said firmly.

 “I will do so after we have made plans.”

“No,” she emphasized. “I do not need your services. Please leave my sight immediately.”

The tone caused him to whip around. She glared at him with hardened features.

“That is correct. You heard me.” She wheeled her mount and cantered towards the head of the column.

As she rode away, he couldn’t help but grin. “So, you are your father’s daughter, after all.” He mounted his steed, rode over to Riasean, and looked down at him. “Britta said you were looking for me. What can I do for you?”

“We need to talk somewhere alone and away from here.”

“I know just the place, it is not far, but do you have a horse?”

“I do, but I will have to get it,” Riasean said, disappearing into the trees.

Gall looked back toward Britta, but she sat on horseback, surrounded by soldiers, talking to them and gathering together the lesser nobles. She will need advice on what to do, but it won’t come from me.

Riasean reappeared, this time on horseback. With a last glance toward Britta, Gall turned away and spurred his horse east. Riasean followed, and together they rode toward the Preytar’s camp. His task of replacing Edwyn was complete, and he hoped that Britta would be up for the challenge. Perhaps she would be ready to lead the country against Faline in a month if she resurfaced. But whether the she-witch would reappear was still an open question. Nevertheless, Edwyn was gone. The killing would stop.

He would see what this young man wanted, return to Wolfbern, and reunite with Larah. The thought brought a smile to his face.