Read Online Within the Hollow Crown by Daniel Antoniazzi - Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Antoniazzi
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before impact, they would fly wide, or wobble off course. The arrows never made it to within arm’s reach of the assailants.
The Royal Guards grabbed the King and shoved him out the back of the canopy, heading for the Keep. Those who remained behind prepared to engage the assailants. By the time Gerard and Sandora reached the canopy, the King and his Guards were almost at the moat. It was only then that it occurred to anyone that the King might not be the target.
Noble turned to Anthony. “Anthony, listen to me: I need you to go with my squire here. Sam, take him to the East Tower.”
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, taking the boy’s hand.
“Into the thick of things,” Noble answered, mounting his horse and grabbing a lance.
Noble kicked his steed into action, charging across the distance to the King’s canopy. He had hesitated too long, he knew, but he could still do some good when he got there.
The assailants reached the canopy. They cut through the Guards like so much warm butter. Noble never would have imagined members of the Royal Guard could be so easily bested. Once the guards were down, a few Nobles d rew their ceremonial swords, but the Turin were making quick work of them.
Noble was still another ten seconds away when he saw the Queen being pulled out of the canopy. Unfortunately, she would be dead in eight. Gerard grabbed her under the arms and held her. She struggled something fierce, but there was little she could do against such a well-trained man. Gerard held her still while Sandora stabbed her. She didn’t die when the sword went in. She died when Sandora pulled the sword back out.
Noble lowered his lance and charged. That woman would pay for killing the Queen. But Gerard saw him just in time. The Turin swept his hand across his body, as though swatting a very slow fly. As his hand moved, so did the horse. It was as though his mount had been the subject of a very strong, but unfelt wind.
Noble was tossed from his saddle and rolled across the ground, bashing his arms and legs on every bump in the grass. He lifted himself, one limb at a time, to his feet. Gerard and Sandora were abandoning the Canopy in pursuit of the King. But before she left, Sandora left Noble with a parting gift.
She slashed her heavy sword against the support beam of the canopy. The wood cracked, folding under the weight of the tent. It was about to crash down.
Noble leapt to the Canopy, shouting, “Everybody out!” He sidestepped chairs and dead bodies, reaching the ailing support beam just in time. He dropped his sword, holding the beam up with his own two arms, giving the survivors time to drag themselves to safety.
But he couldn’t hold on forever. The support beam creaked and splintered, giving way. Noble tried to get clear of the falling structure, but he tripped on a dead body and, once again, his body slammed to the floor.
The body belonged to Princess Helena, the King’s second child. She was hugging the body of her husband, Caerwil, also very much dead. Noble’s face cringed. The Royal Family was getting smaller and smaller.
Noble rolled onto his back, pawing at the ground, trying to find his sword. There it was. He stabbed up, tearing a hole in the canopy. He forced his way out of the silky womb, standing and taking in the scene.
The Royal Guards were shoving the King over the drawbridge, crossing the moat. Behind them, but catching up fast, Gerard and Sandora kept running. Tireless. Intimidating. Deadly. Noble took a couple of deep breaths. His horse was rearing, back on its feet, ready to go. Noble staggered to his horse, but then he heard something, and his heart almost stopped.
It was a scream. But unlike any scream Noble had heard before. It was complicated. It was made of two parts pain, two parts terror, five parts despair, and one part death . It chilled Noble to the bones. He turned to the bridge, from where the scream had emanated.
At the bridge, o ne of the Royal Guards, the owner of
The Royal Guards grabbed the King and shoved him out the back of the canopy, heading for the Keep. Those who remained behind prepared to engage the assailants. By the time Gerard and Sandora reached the canopy, the King and his Guards were almost at the moat. It was only then that it occurred to anyone that the King might not be the target.
Noble turned to Anthony. “Anthony, listen to me: I need you to go with my squire here. Sam, take him to the East Tower.”
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, taking the boy’s hand.
“Into the thick of things,” Noble answered, mounting his horse and grabbing a lance.
Noble kicked his steed into action, charging across the distance to the King’s canopy. He had hesitated too long, he knew, but he could still do some good when he got there.
The assailants reached the canopy. They cut through the Guards like so much warm butter. Noble never would have imagined members of the Royal Guard could be so easily bested. Once the guards were down, a few Nobles d rew their ceremonial swords, but the Turin were making quick work of them.
Noble was still another ten seconds away when he saw the Queen being pulled out of the canopy. Unfortunately, she would be dead in eight. Gerard grabbed her under the arms and held her. She struggled something fierce, but there was little she could do against such a well-trained man. Gerard held her still while Sandora stabbed her. She didn’t die when the sword went in. She died when Sandora pulled the sword back out.
Noble lowered his lance and charged. That woman would pay for killing the Queen. But Gerard saw him just in time. The Turin swept his hand across his body, as though swatting a very slow fly. As his hand moved, so did the horse. It was as though his mount had been the subject of a very strong, but unfelt wind.
Noble was tossed from his saddle and rolled across the ground, bashing his arms and legs on every bump in the grass. He lifted himself, one limb at a time, to his feet. Gerard and Sandora were abandoning the Canopy in pursuit of the King. But before she left, Sandora left Noble with a parting gift.
She slashed her heavy sword against the support beam of the canopy. The wood cracked, folding under the weight of the tent. It was about to crash down.
Noble leapt to the Canopy, shouting, “Everybody out!” He sidestepped chairs and dead bodies, reaching the ailing support beam just in time. He dropped his sword, holding the beam up with his own two arms, giving the survivors time to drag themselves to safety.
But he couldn’t hold on forever. The support beam creaked and splintered, giving way. Noble tried to get clear of the falling structure, but he tripped on a dead body and, once again, his body slammed to the floor.
The body belonged to Princess Helena, the King’s second child. She was hugging the body of her husband, Caerwil, also very much dead. Noble’s face cringed. The Royal Family was getting smaller and smaller.
Noble rolled onto his back, pawing at the ground, trying to find his sword. There it was. He stabbed up, tearing a hole in the canopy. He forced his way out of the silky womb, standing and taking in the scene.
The Royal Guards were shoving the King over the drawbridge, crossing the moat. Behind them, but catching up fast, Gerard and Sandora kept running. Tireless. Intimidating. Deadly. Noble took a couple of deep breaths. His horse was rearing, back on its feet, ready to go. Noble staggered to his horse, but then he heard something, and his heart almost stopped.
It was a scream. But unlike any scream Noble had heard before. It was complicated. It was made of two parts pain, two parts terror, five parts despair, and one part death . It chilled Noble to the bones. He turned to the bridge, from where the scream had emanated.
At the bridge, o ne of the Royal Guards, the owner of
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