01 - Empire in Chaos Read Free Page A

arm of
the one holding him was turned until the elbow was facing the sky. With a sharp
downward strike the elf shattered the joint of the soldier’s overextended arm.
    A heavy mallet smashed into the back of the elf’s head, and his body went
limp. Swearing, blood pumping from his nose, the first of the fallen men rose to
his feet with a dagger in his hands and murder in his eyes. He stepped towards
the slumped elf, but Horst stopped him with a hand on his chest.
    “We will make sure his suffering is long and drawn out,” he hissed. The man
sheathed his knife with a curse, and spat upon the elf.
    The barely conscious elf, blood covering the back of his head, was dragged to
the torturous man-shaped cage. He was pushed within the tight confines, and the
cage door slammed shut. A rusted old padlock as large as a man’s head was
clamped shut, sealing him within. He had no room to move. Half unconscious and
bleeding, the elf was hauled up into the air. Rocks and rotten food pelted him.
    Not wanting to see any more, and anxious to be with her father, Annaliese
pushed against the crowd around her, panicked and sickened at the hate, fear and
murderous intent she saw on the faces of those around her. Tears in her eyes,
she pushed free of the frenzied mob, and ran back up through the snow towards
her home.
    Annaliese slammed the door behind her, breathing hard, wracking sobs rocking
her body. She could still hear the muted shouts of the villagers, a dire sound
of venomous hate fuelled by fear and despair.
    Moving to the small kitchen adjoining the main room, she plunged her hands
into a bucket of water and washed her face. The water was icy cold, and an
involuntary shiver ran through her. She brushed her long blonde hair back away
from her face and took a deep breath, calming herself.
    If the elf truly did murder those families, then he deserved death, she
thought—but not a long, torturous death. That was savage and barbaric.
    She took another deep breath. That’s when she heard the first screams.
    Running through the cabin, she burst through the front door to see a very
different scene than that she had just left. People were running in all
directions, and she saw blood splashed across the snow. There was screaming and
shouting, and her first thought was that the elf had somehow escaped, or that
his allies had come to rescue him. But no, she could still see his caged form
hanging aloft above the bloodshed below.
    She saw a warrior dressed in the yellow and black of a state soldier in the
pay of the Elector of Averland rolling in the slush, fighting with a drably
dressed villager. Two other plainly clothed men dragged another to the ground,
their hands around his throat. Others were knocked to the ground by the press of
bodies seeking escape. What was going on? What madness was this?
    There was a solid thump that shook the floorboards, and Annaliese started. It
had come from her father’s room, and a moment later there was a scrape of wood
on wood, and a crash. It sounded like the chair by her father’s palette being
pushed back and toppling to the floor. Tearing herself away from the insane,
murderous savagery below, she stepped warily into the centre of the living area
to better see into her father’s room, her heart pounding in her chest.
Floorboards creaked beneath her feet.
    Dimly she perceived a low hanging mist coiling within the dark room. She saw
the dark shape of a man on all fours beside the palette, and her heart skipped a
beat. Her father was alive, and up out of his bed!
    “Father!” she cried as she rushed to his side. As soon as she entered the
room the temperature fell markedly. The fire that had been raging when she had
left the cabin earlier had died away completely, and a ribbon of smoke rose from
the blackened logs.
    Annaliese dropped to her knees, putting an arm around her father’s bony
shoulders. His flesh radiated an icy chill through the rough linen undershirt