King's Vengeance by Ronald Coleborn

Vultures filled the skies that had recently been dotted with ghastly winged lizards. They wheeled in circles above the castle, eyeing the bodies that littered the courtyard and filled the frozen neck ditch that plunged thirty feet below the castle’s drawbridge. Blood pooled beneath the corpses and streamed away in rivulets, and entrails spilled out from ruined torsos like bloody, dead serpents. The smell of death hung in the air, but the vultures kept their distance as a small group of castle servants moved among the dead, selecting bodies to be removed. Overseeing their grisly work was an even smaller group of knights, the last remnant of the king’s Inner Guard. The siege and battle that had filled the courtyard and moat with dead bodies had destroyed the rest of knights’ ranks.
    Such was the business without. The business within was of a different nature. Nerus Vayjun, the former primus of the sapient order in the east, practically glided on air as he moved through the halls of Storms Reach Castle, a train of sapients and armed guards following behind. He had killed the reigning king before a throng of onlookers, most of them loyal to his cause, and before them he had proclaimed himself king. The Council of Elders, the body that decided on matters of royal succession, had granted him their blessing, and all now seemed in order. Only one item of business remained.
    Vayjun parted the embroidered draperies that partitioned the Lords and Ladies Chamber and scanned the room. Empty chairs, upholstered in heavy brocade, were set at odd angles, and across from them stood a large wooden bed, its canopy pulled back. Sunlight streaked across the floor and touched the edge of the bed, whose linens were undisturbed.
    â€œWhere is the queen?” demanded Vayjun, his back to the group of men who had trailed him for the past half-hour.
    A seasoned sapient, Porul Lejrik, stepped forward and spoke directly into the ear of the new king, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “As was said earlier, your grace, every room and nook of the castle has been searched, but we have yet to locate the rest of the Vames, save the eldest daughter, Ellyssa, who remains imprisoned.”
    His back still to the group, Vayjun craned his neck and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “There are two things I will not tolerate. The first is insubordination. My authority is to be respected as though it flows from the Grand Ancients.”
    â€œOne would argue that it does indeed, your grace,” said Sapient Lejrik, with a deep bow.
    â€œThe second is incompetence,” Vayjun continued, still gazing at the ceiling. “I found Hertrigan Vame to be an incapable king, therefore he was removed from the office. Such will be the fate of any and all who lack the physical and intellectual ability to do as I command.” Silence filled the hall behind him, and when his retinue of protectors and advisors failed to voice their thoughts, he added, “Lejrik, find the queen and her daughter, and bring them to me. Alive.”
    Sapient Lejrik offered another deep, unnoticed bow. “As you will, your grace. I shall see to it immediately. But I will need men. Whoever you can spare.”
    Vayjun looked away from the ceiling and glanced over his shoulder. “Take who you will, only leave the men you see here.”
    Sapient Lejrik straightened himself and nodded.
    â€œKnow that you have one week,” Vayjun said. “If you fail me, you will not set eyes on the new moon.”
    Lejrik studied Vayjun’s profile a moment and allowed the words to bore into his mind. Then he turned away and moved through the group, which silently parted to let him pass.
    Savage plainsmen moved among the castle servants or stood at the entrances of the keeps and towers in the bailey, many of them bare-chested despite the biting cold, as was their custom. In their hands were crude weapons of war, poorly forged blades that had been dulled in battle and