Siege of Night by Jeff Gunzel Page A

he was now sitting up on the side of the bed was a victory in itself.
    He inhaled deeply while looking around the room that had housed him for days. A hand-carved, solid oak dresser with a dark, rich stain stood in the corner. An extra-large wooden washbowl with flower-scented water and tiny rose petals floating about lay on its base. The flowery scent in the air was strong enough to determine the water was fresh and must have been filled recently. A large, oval, standing mirror with ornate golden patterns swirling around the glass stood on a silver three-pronged stand right next to the thick wooden door. He carefully leaned to the side to get a good look at his reflection.
    His normally brilliant green eyes seemed dull and drawn in. His thick, black beard looked more wild and tangled than usual—a feat in itself. He let out a windy sigh. I feel old . The door opened suddenly as he slowly raised his eyes to the unsuspecting company.
    In walked a young serving girl with short blonde hair matted tightly against her head by a transparent hair net. She was holding a stack of white fluffy towels folded up across her wrist and never even seemed to notice Morcel. That is, not until she had closed the door behind her with her head down and turned to meet those green eyes staring back. She let out a shriek as towels flew through the air.
    “It’s OK, little lady,” he said in a weak, gravelly voice while trying to hold his open hand out toward her innocently—yet another simple physical feat he just couldn’t seem to manage.
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over in a squeaky voice as she scrambled to pick up the scattered towels. After a few more muttered apologies, she darted from the room as if it were on fire. He let out a deep sigh. Well, this is a good start to my day .
    Then the door opened once more, only slowly this time. Azek peeked his head in before entering all the way. Even with his graying hair, the man’s lean, hard frame, combined with the piercing dark eyes of a hawk, looked every bit the right-hand man of the queen. “And how are you feeling, my friend?” he asked in that surprisingly youthful voice that just didn’t match his grizzled looks.
    Morcel just gave a quick chuckle that was followed immediately by a coughing fit. “Like many different things tried to kill me at once,” he finally spit out when he could gather enough air.
    Azek smiled at the big man. “The girl running from your room as if she had seen a ghost cued me in that you might finally be among the living,” he said before taking a seat on the bed, next to the weakened man.
    Morcel chuckled once more before grabbing his side and groaning. “You have never told a joke in your life, and you start now just because you know laughing hurts me. I see no honor in that,” he said, trying to make a joke of his own.
    Azek grinned as he glanced around the room. “You know, my friend...we owe you a great debt.” Morcel slowly turned his head as best he could. “You were ready to give your life for a cause not of you own. In my book, that level of sacrifice makes an individual a king amongst men.” Azek stood up and faced the big man. “What you did for those kids...” He shook his head at his own statement. They were indeed just kids, yet somehow the weight of the world had been placed on their shoulders. “Well, let’s just say it will never be forgotten.”
    Morcel said nothing. His gaze seemed to suddenly find the floor quite interesting. The whole thing seemed trivial to him. His thanks had certainly come from the heart, but in reality Azek would have done the exact same thing, and Morcel knew this for certain. The more he thought about it, the more odd it seemed. Giving his life to ultimately save the lives of millions was an easy choice by all measures—one any man surely would have made.
    Suddenly they both looked to the doorway, as they could clearly hear some sort of commotion going on in the hall. Morcel