CHAPTER XVI
THE KING’S WRATH
Everyone that resided in Castle Dankworth was all right. Shaken up, but alive and alright. The humans that lived in the city, however, could not say the same.
Dankworth burned to the ground.
The human homes and shops that were constructed of wood were easily set to flame by Sir Merrick and his men.
He guided nearly a thousand soldiers out of the city, terrorizing the people out of their homes as they made their ride out.
Humans were slain brutally as they tried to exit their flaming doors, taking broadswords to their chests in a single sweep.
Others were pierced with arrows as they ran through the roads, looking for lost family members and friends amongst the smoke.
This was all told by the humans who survived Merrick’s attack in the days that followed, with many of them also noting the laughter that came from the soldiers.
The men were everywhere, they told the King, as if shooting down humans was a sport to them.
But not all of the Discerni in Dankworth were as vicious.
The commotion that consumed the human part of the city was so strangled and helpless that their cries for help were received.
Resident Discerni from the neighboring borders rushed to pull families from their burning homes and were quick to form lines of support as they carried pails of water down the roads.
It was said that Canon was seen drawing large bodies of water from deep within the wells, summoning the liquid through the sky before dropping it onto homes in which families were trapped inside.
Stories came back of Keane using his own summoning to pull thick blankets of dirt from the ground, smothering the flames until they died from lack of air.
It was depressing, then, to learn that another large portion Discerni here in Dankworth came to no aid at all.
Many families of the soldiers who rode with Merrick were packed and ready to leave when the men rode through the city, abandoning their homes to travel as a large group that was now rumored to be moving to La Cour.
Which path the Woodlands Discerni of Dankworth would take was still yet to be seen, with Keane writing to all of the Lords swiftly within Knowledge and Warrior on his way back to the castle, alerting them of what transpired and readying them for more battle.
The small army from I’Nir was to move swiftly into the Road of Silver, to camp before Etter and protect the small village if the group decided to ride east. Alexander and Crisjan were to ready the guards they already had in the village towards their northern back, to protect any incoming men that may move down from Airea.
If the men from Dankworth chose to ride north on the Road of Gold, they would run into the full force of Brassard’s Warrior army and Fensby’s own city guard. Fensby, to its credit, was quick to announce its defection from Woodlands Court after word of what happened reached the Lord.
Keane, as Hirovale told me, was indeed busy in his own battles in the thick of Dankworth.
While we were dealing with everything in our tower, he ended up catching the tail-end of the army as they moved towards the entrance gate.
Him and Sandam took out as many of the men as they could, while trying their best to simultaneously stop the onslaught of fire and blood.
The whispers that followed the King in the next few days spoke in awe of his strength.
The stories were hushed, whispered as rumors, yet said aloud with the knowledge that they were indeed true.
They were unlike anything I had ever heard before in my life, and left me glancing at Keane with my own sense of wonder and pride.
The stories told of him single-handedly taking out just under two hundred soldiers in one single move, sending shards of earth through their bodies that pierced up from the ground with an easy flick of his wrist. They spoke of him ripping apart the flaming wooden homes that were no longer habitable and sending the fiery slats flying through the air, also piercing the men in their ride out.
He was quick to move, maneuvering through the roads in a Discerni speed that no one thought possible as he cut down the men before they could even understand what was going on.
And when calls made their way to Merrick up front about the savagery that was terrorizing his men in the back, the Sir swiftly began his ride out of the city, ending the trek of mayhem on the humans to get out of Dankworth before more men were lost.
The King, however, did not stop his onslaught, continuing to take out the soldiers in painful groupings that did not end their lives quickly.
He caught up with Merrick trying to flee into the woods beyond the front gates of the city, drawing a large spear of stone into his hand before he tossed it straight at the back of the man’s neck.
The Woodlands Lord dropped in an instant from his horse, his full body flown with the spear straight to the ground.
Even without the use of green agate, there was no coming back from your brain being severed from your spine.
Without Merrick, the Woodlands soldiers of Dankworth found themselves without their unifying leader, without the man who rallied them for their departure.
Lady Evelyn was quick to command a large portion of the men, urging them into the forest through sobbing eyes as the riders quickly made their way under the cover of the forest. The group was not pursued, as Dankworth was still rocked by the flames that consumed its city.
It was at this point in the story when the rumors of the King grew to hushed whispers.
Apparently, when Keane returned within the city walls, he trapped a grouping of Discerni soldiers inside that aimed to leave with Merrick.
The people of Dankworth spoke of Keane squaring off against fifty Discerni men, all of them armed with green agate broadswords and bows as they surrounded the King.
The rumors that consumed the city told of the King grinning at the sight of them all, his back pressed against the gate as the men moved in on him.
He offered no truce, let no man live, and in the single flick of both wrists swallowed all fifty men into the ground with their horses.
Even I wasn’t sure if I believed it.
Hirovale stayed with the four of us in the room until the early morning light began to grace the windows from outside.
It was then that Keane returned with Sandam, Canon and Cal, all four men dirty and rugged though walking through the field with a fire in their eyes.
Another man was with them as well, the one Sandam brought to the meeting yesterday to lead the army of Dankworth in Merrick’s place.
All men walked swiftly into the castle, the sky behind them deep and black from all the smoke of the night.
Keane, Canon and Cal’s boots all bounded up the tower, the three men frowning at the sight of fourteen dead Woodlands men placed neatly at the entry.
The King’s eyes found mine instantly from the open doorway as I turned to him from the window, the intensity stopping my heart in my chest. I hadn’t even taken a breath before he was on me, hands fisting rough in my hair as he pulled my body into his, the smell of blood and sweat and fire surrounding us both.
Ancients, he was all right.
We were all right.
For now.
“We have the Airea brothers, Starc and Mal,” I whisper in his hold. “They came with twenty men.”
Keane stiffens, hand dropping to the back of my neck as he tilts my head forward.
“And you?”
“Fine,” I hold that intense gaze, watching his jaw flex. “We held our own. Hiro is here.”
The King turns quickly back to the room, not even noticing the Ancient’s presence in his hurried entry. He grips my neck in another embrace, dropping his lips to the top of my head before he walks over to Hirovale, the two of them tense.
“Keep an eye on the older,” the Ancient’s golden gaze flicks to the two blondes bound on the ground, “he’s been using his summoning on the wood here.”
Those grey eyes that haunted me from beyond the door now turn to the King, watching him in silent hatred. The two brothers’ hands are tied in front of them with an invisible force, Hirovale’s own summoning keeping their wrists bound and bodies pressed to the floor.
“I need to visit Heysan,” the Ancient takes a step with Keane towards the men, “are you good here?”
“Yes,” the King nods coldly.
Hirovale watches Keane quietly, the King’s fingers flicking at his side as he calls forth his own summoning, wrapping the men’s hands in tight vines of marble pulled from the castle.
“I’d like to take Golem with me,” Hiro’s calm voice draws Keane back to him. “He sustained heavy damages in his guard over Alexis. He’ll require Nolan’s healing priests in Alston to recover. The magic that needs to be used on him is old, King, and not something you can remedy on your own.”
Keane turns a troubled gaze to our magical friend made of clay, frowning as he notices Golem still seated on the ground.
“Are you in agreement with that, Golem?” the King asks softly.
Our magical friend gives a slow nod and takes Keane’s outstretched hand, letting him help him to his feet.
Keane leans towards his packs thrown on the ground, reaching for Golem’s jar inside with a frown. I quickly move to my own small traveling bag on the floor and rummage through it, dumping the marbles that I bought for Willem out of the small silk carrier to pass to Keane.
Keane nods softly before he places a hand on Golem’s shoulder. “Thank you, Golem. Rest now. We’ll see you again when you’re whole.”
The magical creature looks at the King, his features drooping and tired as he walks slowly towards the back of the room and angles himself for the shadows. Keane turns quietly back to Hiro, fingers screwing Golem’s jar tight before he drops it in the small bag.
“No one but you or Sianoa handles this,” he tells the Ancient.