Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) by Guy Antibes Page B

stable boys. Villagers had cleared the inn of their injured as the fight proved to be over and Histron’s guards had won. The guards bundled them all in the wagon and were taken back to the camp of the night before. The wizard, at least, had been beaten senseless and had to rest. That gave her one more day.
    She lay in the wagon, wrapped up in her blanket listening to more sobbing. She’d get her chance on the morrow. Perhaps this would be the last night of her life. It would be, if they discovered her secret, but at least Unca had the Bloodstone. Histron wouldn’t get that from her. She drifted off to sleep amid complaints of no evening meal. At least she had the foresight to fill her stomach when the others didn’t.
    The morning dawned too early. Sallia had already been awake for some time. The guards took their time fixing themselves breakfast, bragging about their exploits in the village fight. The boasts didn’t reflect the true nature of the conflict. The villagers fought bravely, but cudgels and staffs were no match for soldiers with edged weapons. They were finally told to wake up and rub the sleep out of their eyes on their way back to the inn.
    Sallia worried about the two young men who came to her aid. The one with the sword in the shoulder had fought valiantly, but he didn’t have the skill needed to press the soldiers. He had fought bravely against overwhelming odds and had fought hard enough to keep the guards at bay until one of them came up from behind. The man with the battle staff might have fought off all of the men if someone hadn’t have hit him in the head.
    Neither would probably come to their rescue today, so Sallia would be ready. A fork, knife, perhaps she’d even use the poker hung by the fireplace. She’d fight and make them kill her.
    The wizard had recovered only too well and looked them over as they filed into the inn. “Sit on the floor. I’ll be casting a spell to remove any glamour that has been placed on you.” The man wouldn’t even give them a shred of dignity. He would be her first target. They sat next to the fireplace and the sharp-ended poker was within reach.
    She grabbed the poker and sat on it, waiting for her turn. At least someone had sharpened the point. She noticed the man with the battle staff, stood in the shadows, now armed with a pitchfork. Perhaps she could at least distract attention from him.
    “You!” the wizard said.
    Sallia realized that her turn had come. She rose and hid the poker within the folds of her dress. He invoked the spell. His eyes grew when Unca’s magic had been released and her eyes must have changed color. She grabbed the poker as tightly as she could and jammed it into the magician’s stomach.
    “That’s the princess!” one of the guards said. She backed up as the guards advanced on her. The man with the pitchfork began to fight the guards. Weapons began to clatter on the floor as villagers, looking from the door came to help. This time they had brought better weapons.
    The magician rose and pulled the poker from his stomach. It hadn’t gone in as far as she had wanted. The fighting had moved from them and Sallia was exposed to his wrath. He growled and raised the bloody weapon, but closed his eyes and yelled. The poker had turned yellow hot and she could hear the sizzle of flesh. Sallia spied a sword on the floor, left by a disabled guard and ran the magician through.
    “Traitor.” The words came unbidden to her lips. The wizard and these men were all traitors to the Red Kingdom. She wished she could have executed all of them, but her strength left her and she collapsed into a chair, the bloody sword still in her hand.
    Where the previous day, the villagers had suffered a defeat, today, they were victorious. Sallia breathed easier. Today might not be her last after all. She couldn’t help but smile with relief amidst all of the carnage. She had made it through.
    “Bind those that still live,” The man with the battle staff