King Jamie looked terrible. He'd lost weight, his hair was long and ragged, and the bags under his eyes were bruised and purple. If anyone asked, he merely smiled and blamed it on the sleepless nights with the new infant princess Aurella. No one believed it, however, as he spent more time training in the yard with his knights than in a bed. Rosella was not oblivious to her husband's decline. As she watched their daughter grow, the queen felt herself gripped with conflicting emotions. She was so happy to have her beautiful child. However, she'd already decided that once the babe had reached 6 months of age she would leave to become apprentice to Lady Severna. She hadn't told Jamie as much, but she knew his growing anxiety would not stop until the curse upon them was lifted. She was beginning to worry that he wouldn't last another month until the child could be partly weaned.
Jamie knocked his squire to the ground for the third time. The boy's skill was growing, but there wasn't a knight present who could defeat Jamie in the mood he was in now. Thankfully for his men, and the squire, they were training with wooden swords today. The squire scrambled towards the edge of the ring, never quite regaining his feet. Jamie eyed his men, but none of them met his gaze. They must have sensed he'd reached his end.
There was no way he was going to just sit by and watch as his wife left to become the slave to that depraved witch. It was time to fight back. Jamie had been spending as much time as he could with his wife and daughter, but it wasn't how he'd spent the majority of the last 5 months. Instead, he'd been punishing his knights with brutal training exercises. It was important that they grew to fear him, because he was about to ask them to do something impossible. They were about to go to war.
Turning his back on the knights he walked into his armory and lifted down his sword. He hadn't used it since slaying the dragon, and he could still see flecks of dried blood dotting the surface. Although he'd had to destroy the tunic he'd used to wipe the blood, and the scabbard, the blade itself hadn't suffered at all from the dragon's searing flesh. He rather suspected that some of the blood still belonged to the sacrificed slave. Whatever spell Severna had cast not only made the blade sharp enough to sink into the dragon, but strong enough to survive the serpent's blood. At first Jamie had simply displayed it, proud to show anyone who would look the glittering specks of gore donning the blade. Now, however, he knew that this would be the blade he would take into battle. This would be the blade he would use to enact his vengeance, and save his family.
Walking back to the yard, the knights were just getting out of their armor and stretching sore muscles. Stephen stopped midway in placing his breastplate onto the ground. He hadn't meant to, but when he looked up, he'd stared straight into the king's eyes. Stephen took a deep breath before nodding. Jamie didn't have to say a word, the blood speckled sword said it all.
"Ready yourselves, men! The time has come for you to protect your kingdom!"
Jamie's squire ran to the stable while the others replaced their masters' armor. Most of the men were ready when the young man returned with the horses. Jamie mounted and waited for the 24 other men to do the same. Once the last man had gotten his seat, he turned his horse, still without saying a single word, and rode towards the gate. Dimly he could hear Rosella calling his name as he rode out of the castle, he pleas for him to wait ringing through the dull thud of hooves against the packed dirt. Soon enough, however, they had ridden far enough that he could hear nothing above the thunder of his own heart.
* * *
The knights were assembled at the entrance to Lady Severna's castle. Jamie had thought about bringing a wizard, some catapults, trebuchet, anything to even the odds. However, a late night drink with Stephen had convinced him otherwise. The two men had been nursing a bottle of whiskey, trying to come to some kind of battle plan if they ever go the nerve to attack. They'd talked through and imagined so many scenarios it seemed entirely plausible they might actually be able to win. Then Stephen, beginning to slip into a drunken stupor, drowned all their hopes with his last shot of whiskey before passing out drunk on the table.
"You know, she'll probably just cast some spell on the men and we'll all just go mad, burn our weapons to the ground and throw ourselves from a cliff."
Jamie had been pretty drunk, but not enough, apparently. He sobered up very quickly when he realized that Stephen was right. It didn't matter what they did, what they had, she had magic that no other mage had been able to beat for hundreds of years. There was no plan that would so much as even the odds. Jamie had stared at the back of his friend's head, watching it bob gently with each heavy snore. The best they could do was pray for a miracle.
Now, staring at the craggy gates of the mountain fortress, Jamie simply couldn't bring himself to pray. He knew there was only one hope to end this, one hope to win, and he was the only one who could bring it about. Tapping his heels to his horse's flanks, Jamie urged the nervous stallion in front of the group. He raised the visor on his helmet and took a deep breath.
"Come on out, you filthy cunt! Don't you want another fucking from your favorite king? This time I get to make [i]you[/b] beg!"
Jamie's words echoed in the crisp morning air. They almost seemed to hang there, taunting them all, as if thrown back to them. Jamie wondered if he'd blown it, or if she merely needed more goading. Then the gate to the fortress opened. Blazing blue light streamed through the cracks as each door slowly swung wide. He could just make out the silhouette of the witch within the glare. Her laughter sprang across the space between them, spearing each man with fear. From the bright light within, dark shapes began to emerge. Skulls and bones were flying through the air, pulling themselves together to form skeletal bodies, which marched into lines in front of the sorceress. They held knives, swords, lances and spears. Jamie remembered the bones plastered to the wall behind the throne. The bones of a hundred fallen warriors. The bones of the men she'd killed.
