An Insurrection Read Free Page A

and handed over his garden tool.
    Desh looked down at his feet and shook his head. ‘The irony of it all.’ The king looked at him puzzled, Desh twirling the pitchfork in his left hand.
    ‘What?’ The king said vocalizing his confusion and looking down at Desh with wild contempt.
    ‘Better a pitchfork at your side than a sword in the chest.’ Desh said cocking his head to the side with a wide grin on his face.
    The king made a breathy sound, full of fear and horror. He’d remembered the words between them. Thought he’d be the victor this day. The mercenaries he’d hired ended all hope of that outcome. Gold. It had a funny way with a man’s heart. Thurstan wet his lips to speak, but a fight for his life was upon him.
    Without warning Desh slammed his sword through the king’s chest. He could hear the crunch of bones and then the rumble of stone having used all his might to plunge his sword into the king’s chest. ‘All the battle hardened warriors have tucked tail and run,’ Desh said bursting out into laughter, watching Morn bang the sword deeper into the king. The stone behind him gave way as Morn hammered it. Thurstan kicked his feet, and grabbed at the sword’s blade in a futile attempt to pull it out.
     ‘Gurghk,’ Thurstan choked on his own blood and his arms dropped to his sides.
    ‘It is far too much to see Thurstan the Mighty nailed to his own wall,’ Brack said with a hearty grunt. He’d said the same thing when Khan fell, knowing the men’s heart might turn to mush. ‘Shame really.’ Brack scratched his baldhead.
    ‘What is?’ Desh asked confused.
    ‘His army lost heart before you skewered him to the wall with your blade,’ Brack said grunting again as he began to laugh.
     ‘This victory should have been Khan’s.’ Desh looked puzzled as he listened intently to a sound that was all too familiar. His expression stopped Brack from speaking as Desh turned to face the castle.
    ‘More killing…’ Morn said, seeing Desh’s surprise. His eyes were overflowing with lust again as he listened to the throng of men cheering all around them. Dozens of them had already begun flooding into the castle. The spoils had to be had. That was the way of war. Hungry men would feed themselves in victory.  Fear was in the air. The screaming of women and children echoed from inside the castle walls.
    Desh turned hard and began to push through the crowd of men cheering his name. Those who could see Desh marching toward the castle doors pushed others back, making a way for him to walk. Morn and Brack had made their way to his sides, watching intently those around them. In war, you could never be too careful.
    A half dozen other men fell in behind Morn and Brack. Brack turned to see who was following and recognized one as Beld Slimhand. The other men wore his sword-in-skull emblem upon their armor. They embraced, clutching hard at one another’s forearms. That’s how warriors greeted. Takes a lot more pressure to crack the arm bones than it does the hand. One could never be too careful in the company of killers.
    The great hall was filled with women, children, and old citizens, far too unfit for combat. Armored guards sworn to defend them had surrendered their weapons to Desh’s men long before he’d heard the screaming. Three of them lay dead, clean swords on the floor near them. Another clung to life, reaching up as Desh approached. Stepping over the man coolly, Desh strode forward toward the unoccupied throne at the back of the hall.
    Setting himself down upon the red cushioned chair adorned with jewels, he leaned to one side, resting his chin on a balled fist. Brack walked slowly up the short set of steps onto the dais and stood on Desh’s right. Beld Slimhand quickly found himself upon the dais on Desh’s left and ordered his men to stand guard before the stairs.
    From the throne Desh could see everyone in the hall below him. The citizens of Lorencia stood against the wall clutching one another in