Slaves to the Sword Read online

  Back at the village, Zuberi and Furaha were observing their children. Furaha asked her husband, “Is Amri going to be okay?”

  “Yes, he will be fine. He has the spirit of a warrior.”

  “He was so close to death. I am amazed he is walking and playing with Endesha again.” A tear released its grip from the corner of her eye.

  “We are fortunate to have a child with such a strong desire to live. We should not worry so much about him anymore, he is a man now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That attack was Amri’s transformation, he is no longer a child,” Zuberi said as he held the spear that now belonged to Endesha.

  “Soon he will want to go back into the wilderness to challenge the land and regain confidence in his abilities.”

  “Challenge? Do you mean he wants to find a lion to slay?”

  “No, if another lion challenged Amri, I would fear for the lion,” Zuberi said confidently.

  6

  I n a remote portion of a rainy southern forest in England, a band of soldiers stumbled onto a fascinating sight—four maidens standing back to back in a creek with only their long hair covering their nude bodies. One of the soldiers thought he was seeing things in the heavy downpour, but as he gazed harder those thoughts were dashed.

  “Keymus! Look at those whores down there in the marsh,” the solder said while pointing down the hill at the group of women.

  “I see them,” he replied to the soldier. Keymus was the first officer of the Carpenter’s Army, and he could not resist the opportunity to capture and rape these vulnerable women. “Let’s introduce ourselves.” He laughed to his group of seven soldiers.

  They marched down to the marsh where the women were still standing back to back with their arms behind them. The sun was shining at the same time as it was raining—producing an almost angelic image to the soldiers. After a few moments of gazing at the women, Keymus became tired of waiting. “Why are you just standing there in the wet like this? Surely, you are seeking men like us to take you to our camp?” he declared.

  “Not exactly,” said one of the maidens softly while looking down into the water.

  “What do you mean, whore? You are standing in a marsh nude, surely you are looking for something.” Keymus barked at the women.

  “Indeed, we do want something,” a second maiden replied. “Your lives.”

  Suddenly, from behind their backs, the women brandished bows with arrows nocked, and fired them into the group of soldiers with deadly accuracy—striking four of them in the face.

  “Attack!” Soldiers of the Red Guard burst from the waters of the marsh, and emerged from the adjoining muddy walls of the hill.

  “Ambush!” Keymus screamed as he drew his two-handed broad sword.

  The maidens scrambled to withdraw as the captain of the Red Guard, Stuart Miles, brandishing his long sword, attacked the remaining enemy soldiers. Stuart could see Keymus in the distance, and quickly moved toward his position. He engaged one of Carpenter’s soldiers with a downward strike with his sword. The opposing soldier blocked the strike with his buckler and returned with a crossing strike with his broad sword.

  Stuart, a master swordsman, dodged the enemy soldier’s crossing strike, countered with a blow to his midsection with his sword’s pommel, and a deadly downward slash to the back of the enemy soldier’s neck, killing him. Keymus stood behind his remaining two soldiers and commanded them to retreat.

  “This is not over, Stuart Miles!” Keymus screamed as he and his wounded soldiers turned to run away.

  “Should we go after them, Your Highness?” asked a soldier of the Red Guard.

  “No, let them run. Our mission is done here,” Stuart said. “Gather our sisters, and let us ride to Harkstead.”

  Harkstead Castle was the home of the Red Guard and the heart of the Midland Kingdom of Southern England overseen by King Phillip Miles.

  The king’s Red Guard was unique to the House of Miles in that every soldier was an orphan from different parts of the kingdom. * 12 [Soldiers, both men and women, were trained from young children and into adulthood to become the kingdom’s most elite fighters. However, until they reached the age of thirty-five years old, they were not allowed to marry. After this coming of age the king allowed them to live within the kingdom and marry whomever they chose.]

  The Red Guard was revered throughout the kingdom, and whenever the townspeople saw the red and orange flags of the House of Miles they cheered. Prince Stuart Miles was an orphan, as well. He was adopted by King Phillip as a young child and raised as a Midland prince. However, that meant, with a lack of royal blood, Prince Stuart could never be his father’s successor.

  As the leader of the orphan army, Stuart was painfully aware that the throne to the Midlands would never be given to him, and as they rode toward Harkstead Castle, he was reminded of this fact. Prince Harold, his younger, royal-blooded brother was waiting for him in the armory. “Did you kill many soldiers today, Brother?” asked Harold.

  “You are only eight years old and should not be concerned with such things, young brother,” Stuart answered.

  “Father is requesting your presence in the main chamber”

  “Tell him I will be there after I wash and change,” Stuart barked at the young prince.

  “I will.”

  Harold ran across the courtyard of the castle as he gazed at the large horses and workers in the area. The ground was still wet from the rains earlier in the day and Harold intentionally splashed in the puddles of water as he ran through the corridors of the centuries-old castle.

  He waved to the guards as he made his way through to the family’s private area, and upon reaching his father’s quarters, attempted to pull the massive iron door open. One of the guards at the door saw him struggle and moved to help the little boy. “I can do it!” Harold snipped. He propped both feet on the wall while he pulled the large round handle, and after a moment, it budged just enough for him to squeeze himself through.

  King Phillip heard his youngest son yell at the soldier and waited with a smile on his face for his true first-born to greet him.

  “Father, Stuart is back!” he exclaimed as he gave his father a hug.

  “Very good. Is he well?” Phillip asked.

  “Yes. He is well. He said he will come to you after he bathes.”

  “That is very good, Son.” The king smiled.

  “Father?”

  “Yes, Son?”

  “Can I be a soldier in the Red Guard like Stuart?”

  King Phillip paused and thought about how he should respond to his son. “Well, maybe you would do better here in the castle.”

  “The castle is boring. There are no adventures here in the castle,” Harold responded.

  The king could hear the disappointment in his young son’s voice. “There are many important things to do here at the castle, Son. You are not old enough to know this yet. Rest assured, when your time comes, you will have many adventures to tell your children, just like the ones I tell you in your bed chamber.”

  King Phillip was aware of Harold’s youthful enthusiasm and how talks of him succeeding Stuart for the crown could cause problems within the kingdom. The public did not know that Stuart was not the true heir to the throne, and if that secret were to ever get out, it could damage the stability of the Midlands. Stuart was a young child when King Phillip found him in an abandoned cottage. His late wife, Queen Jane Miles, cared for Stuart as if he was her own until she died shortly after Harold’s third birthday. Phillip loved Stuart dearly, but he was painfully aware he could never give the throne to him.

  Before long, Stuart arrived at his father’s chamber. “Hello, Father.”

  “Stuart, my son, how are things in the south?”

  “We were able to successfully ambush some of the rebel soldiers that had been attacking the villages, Your Majesty,” Stuart reported.

  “What of their leader?” Phillip said.

  “It was Keymus. He was with
several of Carpenter’s soldiers.” He sat across from his king at the alder wood table and reached for a large cobble of wine.

  “His involvement with Carpenter’s army is becoming a nuisance to our kingdom,” Phillip said with a stern look on his face. “We need to alert the outlying villages to be aware of the potential threat from Keymus and Carpenter’s Army.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “His behavior is too unstable. I am afraid if he gains too much power, he will defect from Carpenter’s Army and raise a fighting force of his own. Stuart, you must find Keymus and kill him before he becomes a threat to the Midlands. Order the cavalry to ride to the border villages of the kingdom to ensure their safety.

  While they are there, make sure they collect my taxes, and have a rider return to Harkstead with payment and word of any rebel activity.” Phillip stood and made his way over to his son. He laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You did well, my son.” The king’s praise was comforting to Stuart; he knew father valued his efforts for the kingdom.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Stuart rose and kissed his father’s hand.

  As he departed his father’s quarters, he was met by one of his officers in the hallway and Wayne Turner, a top-ranking member of the Midland Cavalry. “What are our orders, Your Highness?” asked Wayne.

  “Send one hundred of your cavalry to the border towns to collect taxes and search for any rebels.

  If they find any, they are to kill them, and send word back to Harkstead Castle immediately,” Stuart commanded.

  “Do you want an escort for the rider with the taxes?”

  “Yes, prepare your men to ride tonight. We will expect the riders to return throughout the week. The Red Guard will be prepared to support the cavalry if needed.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Turner replied, and with that. The officers left their captain in the main corridor of the castle.

  Stuart pondered on his feelings about not being truly the heir to the throne. I will never be King of the Midlands, he thought to himself. I don’t know what my future holds for me here in this kingdom.

  Indeed, his feelings were valid, and he would have liked to approach his father about his concerns, but Stuart dared not. King Phillip’s gentle touch extended to his children, and even though his rule was fair, he was never keen on anyone questioning his motives or actions. Family was not excluded from his temper when it came to issues like this.

  Stuart bit his tongue once again, and headed to his quarters to eat and rest. Three village maidens lustfully awaited him there, to ensure his comfort.

  ***

  In a small, remote village outside of the Midland’s borders, Keymus arrived with his remaining soldiers. Sore from the battle earlier in the day, he yearned for wine and rest.

  Thomas the Carpenter, leader of the rebellion, had been waiting for Keymus’ report, when the captain entered his cottage without the majority of the soldiers he had left with the day before.

  “It looks like you were thrashed today. A quarrel with some Midlanders perhaps?” Carpenter asked as he carved away at the tiny wooden horse resting in the palm of his hand.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Keymus responded.

  “Cavalry?”

  “No. It was Stuart Miles and a contingent of the Red Guard, Your Majesty.” Keymus stared down at the table, too uncomfortable to make eye-contact with his leader.

  “And what of the soldiers you had with you?” Carpenter asked.

  “They are dead,” Keymus replied in an aggravated tone as he drank wine from a large wooden cup. “It was an ambush.”

  “Oh, an ambush. I see.”

  “They used females to lure us into the marsh where they were waiting beneath the mud and water.”

  “Females?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, female soldiers.”

  “Let’s summarize this; you were with some of my best men, and yet, you were beaten by a group of females and some men hiding in the mud?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty… but they were not just females. Those whores were soldiers, and they were naked, and they—”

  “Silence, you fool! You led your men to their deaths because you did not think! Of course, the Red Guard has whores within their ranks.

  Phillip Miles has always stooped to such forms of trickery to gain an advantage over his adversaries, and your ignorance is justification of his plan’s genius!” Carpenter roared.

  Thomas the Carpenter was taller and larger than most of the men that followed him.

  His weapon of choice was a two-handed billhook that was almost as long as he was tall, and he could wield it with deadly efficiency. His long black hair with streaks of gray swayed behind him as he walked across the room toward his weapon. “You need rest Keymus, you had a difficult day today. Unfortunately, I no longer need you—you can join your soldiers in death!” He grasped his billhook and in midstride spun around and delivered a deadly strike to Keymus’ neck.

  The soldiers gasped in horror at the sight they had just witnessed. Keymus’ eyes were still open on his now decapitated head. “Let this be a lesson to all of you. Failure is a word I do not understand.” He wiped Keymus’ blood off of his ax. “Gentlemen, ensure you use better judgment in the future or face the same fate as Lord Keymus of Tawny. Lord Calvin!” Carpenter bellowed.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” Calvin replied.

  “Take your soldiers to Hainsbridge, and burn it to the ground.”

  “We will leave immediately, Your Majesty.”

  “Very well, I will ride to Remington Castle tonight. Send word of your victory to me by rider. I am hoping for better results this time.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. We will not fail you.” Calvin replied, and walked out of the cottage.

  Carpenter set off to his personal estate, Remington House. He called it a castle, but it was by no means a proper castle. He had taken the property from a wealthy baron who had tried to put up a fight against him and his men.

  He was of the opinion that if the Baron of Remington wanted the property so badly, he could remain to fertilize the plants and trees and buried the man and his family alive on the estate grounds. Thomas Carpenter was truly ruthless.

  He had been an esteemed member of King Phillip’s advisory council, and brother to his late queen. When it was found out he had been stealing taxes throughout the kingdom and using his personal soldiers to threaten the victims into secrecy, the king banished him from Harkstead Castle. Had he not been the queen’s brother, his punishment would have been grave. Thomas Carpenter, upon learning his fate, broke free of the king’s soldiers, fled the kingdom, and disappeared into hiding.

  It had been seven years since that fateful event, and the two men had been bitter rivals ever since. Carpenter’s Army, with the promise of power and riches, was growing quickly. King Phillip, aware of his nemesis’ increased numbers, was not fretting one bit. He had something the banished man did not—two skilled, highly-trained armies. The question was—would they be enough to stop Thomas Carpenter?

  7

  L ater on that night, Lord Calvin and his small army of mercenary lancemen rode quickly to Hainsbridge. The thunder of their horses could only be heard minutes before their arrival. The villagers that were awake had few moments to wake up their loved ones out of their deep slumber. Those that did not awaken in time were consumed by the flames that rained down on them as Calvin’s men burned the entire village to ashes. Villagers screamed as they ran out of their homes—their bodies on fire. Calvin’s men were waiting with their swords and quickly killed all that breathed. Calvin did not burn everything. He kept all of the wine and treasures he could find, and, ordinarily, he would have kept a selection of local maidens for himself and his men, but this attack was going to be done properly as his Majesty, the Carpenter, wished. Knowing this, Calvin commanded his soldiers to leave nothing to chance, he ordered them to search every part of the village, and kill every person, in every home. He even slaughtered the village hounds.

  By morning light, the
town was a smoldering mess. Lord Calvin’s men were finishing their task and one soldier reported, “We are done here. Do you want to send a rider to Remington House?”

  “Yes. Send the rider, our work is done here. We shall ride on to Tawny to await further instructions,” Calvin commanded.

  The mercenaries departed, leaving behind one of the most horrific sights in the history of the Midland Kingdom. The stench of burnt flesh permeated the air; the streets of Hainsbridge were laden with the charred corpses of men, women, and children.

  Later that morning, the Midland Cavalry arrived in Hainsbridge, horrified by what they saw. A rider was quickly dispatched to Harkstead Castle to alert King Phillip of what had occurred. Word of the attack traveled quickly through the outer perimeter of the Midland Kingdom. This was what King Phillip had been afraid would happen. The attacks caused fear and instability, and it was only the beginning.

  Villagers from the outer perimeter became unwilling to pay the cavalrymen their taxes because they felt King Phillip was not keeping them safe. This was troublesome indeed for the king, and something had to be done soon.

  Back at Harkstead Castle, King Phillip was eating his morning meal with Harold and Stuart when a page banged his chamber door.

  “Your Majesty!” he yelled.

  “Come in,” King Phillip replied.

  “My King, Hainsbridge was attacked overnight.”

  “How is that possible? The cavalry was sent there yesterday.”

  “Yes, Father, but it takes longer for the cavalry to ride to Hainsbridge at night,” Stuart responded.

  “Your Majesty, the rider said there were no survivors,” said the page.

  King Phillip motioned one of the servants to take Harold out of the chamber as the page waited on his next order. Once the servant and Harold were out of the room the king lost much of his composure.

  “I want the entire kingdom on alert! Carpenter’s bloody army is not going to take my kingdom away from me. Assemble the advisory council immediately!” Phillip bellowed his commands.