A Clash of Honor Read Free Page A

main army sweeps through the city and confronts the army. It is unlikely any McCloud soldiers will come this way, and you will be mostly safe here. Take positions around it, and stay here until we say otherwise. Now move!”
    Forg kicked his horse and charged up the hill, and Thor and the others did the same, following him. The small group rode across the dusty plains, kicking up a cloud, with no one in site as far as Thor could see. He felt disappointed to be removed from the main action; why were they all being so sheltered?
    The more they rode, the more something felt off to Thor. He couldn’t place it, but his sixth sense was telling him that something was wrong.
    As they neared the hilltop, atop which sat a small, ancient keep, a tall, skinny tower that looked abandoned, something within Thor told him to look behind him. As he did, he saw Forg. Thor was surprised to see that Forg had gradually dropped behind the group, gaining more and more distance, and as Thor watched, Forg turned around, kicked his horse and without warning, galloped the other way.
    Thor could not understand what was happening. Why had Forg left them so suddenly? Beside him, Krohn whined.
    Just as Thor was beginning to process what was happening, they reached the hilltop, reached the ancient keep, expecting to see nothing but wasteland before them.
    But the small group of legion members pulled their horses to an abrupt stop. They sat there, all of them, frozen at the site before them.
    There, facing them, waiting, was the entire McCloud army.
    They had need led right into a trap.

CHAPTER FOUR

 
 
    Gwendolyn hurried through the winding streets of King’s Court, Akorth and Fulton carrying Godfrey behind her, pushing her way as she cut a path through the common folk. She was determined to reach the healer as soon as possible. Godfrey could not die, not after all they had been through, and not like this. She could almost see Gareth’s self-satisfied smile as he received news of Godfrey’s death—and she was intent on changing the outcome. She only wished she had found him sooner.
    As Gwen turned a corner and marched into the city square, the crowds became particularly thick, and she looked up and saw Firth, still swinging from a beam, the noose tight around his neck, dangling for all to gawk at. She instinctively turned away. It was an awful site, a reminder of her brother’s villainy. She felt she could not escape his reach, wherever she turned. It was odd to think that just the day before she had been talking to Firth—and now he hung here. She couldn’t help but feel that death was closing in all around her, and was coming for her, too.
    As much as Gwen wanted to turn away, to choose another route, she knew that heading through the square was the most direct way, and she would not shirk from her fears; she forced herself to march right past the beam, right past the hanging body in her way. As she did, she was surprised to see the royal executioner, dressed in black robes, blocking her way.
    At first she thought he was going to kill her, too—until he bowed.
    “My lady,” he said humbly, lowering his head in deference. “Royal orders have not yet been given as to what to do with the body. I have not been instructed whether to give him a proper burial or throw him in a mass pauper’s grave.”
    Gwen stopped, annoyed that this should fall on her shoulders; Akorth and Fulton stopped right beside her. She looked up, squinted in the sun, looking at the body dangling just feet from her, and she was about to move on and ignore the man, when something occurred to her. She wanted justice for her father.
    “Throw him in a mass grave,” she said. “Unmarked. Give him no special rites of burial. I want his name forgotten from the annals of history.”
    He bowed his head in acknowledgment, and she felt a small sense of vindication. After all, this man had been the one who had actually killed her father. While she hated displays of violence, she