Mercy's Prince by Katy Huth Jones Page A

the curtains and
bedclothes were dyed royal purple. Orland sat in his dressing chair wearing a
simple white robe.
    “Yes, what is it, Valerian?”
    Valerian held out the sheet of parchment.
    “I have decreed a punishment for the Brethren.”
    Orland stood, took the parchment and scanned
the brief decree. He met Valerian’s gaze, and to his relief Valerian Saw his father’s surprise and pleasure.
    “This is brilliant.” He tapped the parchment.
“I did not want to have to execute so many able-bodied men. Now I can put them
to work in the mines or on a large farm in the south so others will be free to
fight with us.”
    Before either of them could say more, there was
a sharp rap at the door. Orland sighed and said, “Enter.”
    A squire ran in and bowed low. Kieran followed
and exchanged a worried look with Valerian.
    “Your Majesty, an army approaches from the
east.” The young man lifted his head. “The Horde is about to attack.”
    “Why didn’t the scouts give us warning?” asked
the king.
    “Sir Caelis believes they must have been
captured or killed.”
    “Sound the alarm,” the king told the squire.
“Prepare for battle. Have everyone assemble in the castle yard.”
    Valerian and Kieran rushed to gather helmets,
weapons, and horses, and stood with the rest of the men. Sir Caelis led men and
women from the armory, each carrying several of the newly designed spears. King
Orland gestured for Caelis to speak. The knight held up one of the spears.
    “Since our first encounter with the Horde, the
armorers have worked day and night to improve our spears. They have added a
grappling hook below the blade to aid you in deflecting the Horde’s
battle-axes. I regret there has been no time to practice. I will demonstrate.”
He nodded to one of the armorers, and the man lifted a Horde battle-ax to
strike Caelis. The knight caught the blade with the hook and twisted the ax out
of the man’s grip.
    Then Orland led the way to the Keep’s gate,
riding past the armorers so each man could take a hooked spear until there were
no more and simple spears had to be issued instead. The army rode through the
town just below the Keep, adding to their ranks townspeople armed with bows or
quarterstaffs or pitchforks.
    While Valerian rode out the town’s eastern
gate, he saw the dust kicked up by the approaching Horde. Their army appeared
to number several hundred.
    “Why,” he muttered so only Kieran could hear,
“do we keep engaging them in the field rather than force them to lay siege
where the Keep’s defenses would be far superior to the battle-axes and even the
poisoned arrows?”
    “The glory of war, Sire.” Kieran’s smile was
grim.
    “Glory?” There is no glory here , only
blood and suffering and death . But when King Orland ordered the charge,
Valerian shouted along with the rest over the pounding of his heart and the
pounding of Theo’s hooves while his faithful warhorse plunged into the fray.
    It wasn’t difficult to use the new hook on the
spear and twist a battle-ax out of the scaly hands of a Mohorovian. Valerian
worked with Theo to cut down one enemy at a time. They kept coming, and
Valerian’s arms ached with the continual effort. He struggled to get his spear
in position, and a Mohorovian grabbed the grappling hook, pulling Valerian out
of the stirrups. He fell off Theo hard enough to knock the wind out of him. By
the time he stood up, disoriented, the Mohorovian advanced on him.
    “Valerian!” Kieran shouted as he wheeled his
horse to come around.
    The Mohorovian swung his ax in an arc that
would cut Valerian in half. Valerian backed away but stumbled on a rock, and
the ax sliced across his belly with such force that it cut through the mail,
the leather tunic, and into his flesh.
    Kieran shouted again as his horse trampled the
Mohorovian, and then he impaled the creature with his spear. He leaped off the
horse and ran to Valerian.
    Valerian felt no pain, only spreading warmth in
his midsection.