Fall of Knight Read Free Page B

jabbed the spear forward toward the base of the unicorn’s throat and, with practiced ease, pierced a large vein. This movement prompted a cheer from the onlookers, even though Lailoken flinched involuntarily when the spear penetrated.
    Blood immediately began to pour out of the gash, and the warlord brought the cup around and down. The blood was thick and slow, which was to be expected since the beast had been dead a few hours. It didn’t gush so much as it dripped in a thick, steady stream. The warlord held the cup steady, grinning, and there were continued whoops and cries from all around.
    Lailoken had not sat back down. Instead he stood there, his fists clenched. Without even bothering to look at his son, the warlord tossed the spear in his direction. People on either side scattered as the weapon wafted through the air. Lailoken twisted sideways, just to make sure he was avoiding the spearhead, and caught the shaft one-handed.
    The warlord watched with fascination as the cup filled with blood. It filled nearly to the top, then the warlord stepped back and held the vessel high, ignoring the slow stream of unicorn blood that continued to spill upon the floor. “To the unicorn! Gods willing, he’s learned his lesson!” He tilted the cup to his lips and began drinking the blood.
    Watching with disgust, Lailoken’s lips twitched convulsively, and a deep nausea began to rise up from his stomach. Concerned he was going to be sick, he gripped the spear firmly and started to turn away.
    That was when he heard something he’d never heard before…that no one in the warlord’s court had ever heard: the sound of the warlord screaming.
    He had just drained the cup, and there was still blood on the edges of his thick beard and mustache. Suddenly he let out a screech, and his eyes went wide with terror. Everyone was taken aback as he continued to howl, grasping at his throat. Stubbornly, even amazingly, he was still clutching his golden chalice. He tried to speak words, and they might have been cries for help, but it was impossible to be sure.
    Lailoken strode quickly forward, not sure what he could or should do. The warlord saw him coming and staggered toward him, reaching out without even looking as if he was aware of what he was doing. The cup began to slip from his fingers and, reflexively, Lailoken caught it.
    The instant he did so, he felt as if some sort of incredible current of energy was passing through him. It was unlike the burning sensation he’d experienced before at the time of the unicorn’s death. Instead it was far more powerful, unlike anything he would have thought remotely possible. Once, many years ago, he had witnessed a great, dark funnel of wind and fury descend from on high and go crashing through a forest, uprooting trees and boulders alike. High above it in the sky, blinding illumination had crackled across the clouds, and Lailoken knew that he was seeing the untrammeled fury of the gods unleashed. As horrifyingly fascinating as it was, he hoped he would never witness anything like that again.
    In this case, he wasn’t witnessing it at all. He was feeling it firsthand.
    Blinding flame erupted from both the chalice and the head of the spear. It was no natural color, but instead a combination of pink and purple, not unlike the unicorn’s horn. The two jets of fire did not go straight up. Instead they crisscrossed directly in front of Lailoken, merging and forming a massive fireball that would have blinded him if he’d looked directly at it.
    People were running, screaming, falling over each other, and even killing each other to try to get away. The warlord’s mouth was still open, but no noise was emerging from it. Instead he was standing there, arms out to either side, convulsing wildly, and Lailoken saw a last, desperate look in his eyes. Lailoken would spend the rest of his existence wondering what exactly that look was supposed to signify, or even if his father had the faintest idea that his