The city of Zarkone loomed before Luther. Archers waited along the walls, staring out at the Kroanian army. The large oak gates were closed, barred from the inside. The Kroanian soldiers were busy around Luther, preparing for the battle. Catapults were strategically placed throughout the army, loaded and ready. All that they waited for was Ardaric’s order to begin.


    Luther turned as Barstag approached. Ardaric had requested for Barstag to join him and his commanders in planning the assault. Wolfgang at Luther’s side stopped sharpening one of his swords.


    “What’s the news, Barstag?” Luther asked.


    “The attack is about to begin,” Barstag said. He looked at the city. “I hope you are ready.”


    “We are always ready for battle,” Wolfgang said. “Tell us, what’s our role in this attack?”


    “We are to be in the first wave of riders to storm the city after the gates fall. Along with the others, our aim is to take the palace and capture the king. Alive, if we can.”


    “Alive is no fun,” Wolfgang commented.


    “Are you saying you are not up to the challenge, Wolf?”


    Wolfgang laughed. “I will have the king in chains before you are even inside the palace.”


    “Something is bothering me,” Luther said to the others.


    “What is it?” Barstag asked.


    “The size of their army. It seems too small.”


    “Are you complaining?” Wolfgang asked.


    “No. But we know they have been training up more soldiers for a while, and the soldiers have gathered here. And yet, the soldiers seem to be spread thin.”


    “Maybe they have a trap planned inside,” Wolfgang said. “But they will still not stand a chance against us.” Luther let the issue go, but it still bothered him.


    A horn sounded from the Kroanian camp. Almost immediately, the catapults fired. The rocks rained down onto the city and the walls. A battering ram advanced slowly towards the main gate. Kroanian riders went with it, their arrows aimed at the archers on the walls. All around the city, Kroanians moved in to begin the assault on all entryways .


    Luther swung himself onto the horse at his side. Wolfgang and Barstag did the same. Luther pulled his long axe off his back, gripping it loosely in one hand. The battering ram had reached the front gate. The defenders dropped rocks from the wall, but they did little to damage the ram. Kroanians picked off any defenders who poked their head over the wall. The first blow crashed into the gate, the wood creaking. The gate cracked slightly as the ram crashed into it a second time.


    “See you in the palace,” Barstag said, his greatsword drawn in his hand. Luther grinned.


    The battering ram landed a third time, damaging the gate. After a fourth and final time, one side of the gate crashed inwards. Soldiers charged out from inside the city, cutting down the first few people who had manned the ram. Kroanians stormed them, outnumbering them easily.


    Luther rode forward, the rest of the riders with him. His axe bit into a defender’s shoulder as he rushed through the ruins of the gate. Kroanian foot soldiers already streamed into the city, turning to climb the wall, cutting down the soldiers who defended the stairs. Luther rode past them, his axe striking any defender who came close.


    He moved swiftly through the streets of the city, the other riders alongside him. Half-made barricades were scattered through the streets, but Luther rode past them without a problem. The doors into the buildings on either side were blocked, heads peeking out of windows at the invading army.


    The main square appeared ahead of him. The palace was beyond it. Across the road, a small wooden barricade had been built. Archers waited behind it, firing at the Kroanians as soon as they came near. Luther pushed his horse to go forward, the wind streaming by him. An arrow sunk into a rider at his side, the Kroanian falling off their horse.


    Luther neared the barricade, arrows flying past him. His horse leapt into the air, flying over the barricade. As it landed on the other side, Luther swung himself onto the ground. He caught a blade on the shaft of his axe, cutting down the nearest warrior with one blow. He ducked past another attack, his axe coming around to behead the soldier. More riders were jumping past the barricade, joining Luther in his battle. Soon, the defenders of the barricade were all dead.


    “Push this out of the way,” Luther ordered as he turned to face the palace. Some soldiers fought outside, but the Kroanians soon killed them. The large doors to the palace were ahead. Wooden crates and other bits of furniture were stacked in front of the door, allowing no one to enter or leave.


    A Kroanian strode towards the barricade built across the door. An arrow flew out of the palace from high above, striking the soldier in the chest. The archer ducked behind the cover before anyone could get a clear sight on him.


    “Surround the building!” Luther commanded the Kroanians nearby. “No one leaves. Any movement inside, you shoot.” Kroanians spread out from him, going around the side of the building. More constantly steamed into the square. “Clear the door!” Luther ordered.


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    Barstag and Wolfgang rode into the square behind Luther side by side. They dismounted as they approached Luther.


    “I’m glad you could join me,” Luther said, grinning.


    “We ran into a little trouble,” Barstag said, using a piece of cloth to cover a wound on one arm. He glanced around the square. “You seem to have managed fine without us.” Archers had taken up positions all around the front of the palace, bows scanning the windows. As Luther watched, a soldier appeared in one of the windows. Before he could shoot, half a dozen arrows thudded into him. His body crashed down onto the square far below.


    “Once the door is clear, we’ll be able to get inside and meet the king,” Luther said.


    “Let’s clear it, then, before the commanders arrive and steal our victory,” Wolfgang responded.


    Kroanians had already started on moving the barricade out of the way. Luther joined them, tossing crates off to the side. The archers behind provided cover, taking out anyone who threatened them. More soldiers arrived by the moment, all of the gates to the city overrun by Kroanians. Luther could hear the fighting in the streets and on the walls of the city, and the screams of the injured. He concentrated on moving the barricade.


    Finally, Luther stepped back. Only a few crates remained. He picked up his axe and waited. A Kroanian pushed the last crate to the side. Almost instantly, the doors flew open, pushed from the inside. Soldiers streamed out, their battle cry filling the air.


    The soldiers cut down the nearest few Kroanians quickly. Luther charged them, his axe swinging. He sliced down defender after defender, forcing his way into the palace. The rest of the attackers were with him, overpowering the soldiers of Zarkone. Luther entered a large hall, spotting an ornate door across the room with guards in front.


    Luther charged for the door, Wolfgang at his side roaring. The guards came to meet them, but they never stood a chance. Luther sliced down one after another, pushing them backwards. A sword scraped across Luther’s arm, drawing blood. Luther barely felt it, wheeling around to kill the man. Wolfgang chopped off the hands of the final guard, kicking him backwards, sending the door flying open.


    Luther strode into the chamber. A large throne was just ahead of him, empty. The handless guard was sprawled across the floor, struggling to move until Wolfgang thrust his sword through his back. Beside the throne, a man cowered. He wore elegant clothes, and had no weapon. He looked up in fear as Luther approached.


    “Where is the king?” Luther demanded, grabbing onto the man with one hand. “Where is King Torbain?”


    “Please, please don’t hurt me,” the man wailed. “Please, I’m just a steward, let me live.”


    “Tell me where King Torbain is, now!”


    “He’s gone. Please, don’t kill me, please.”


    “Gone? Gone where?”


    “Ralpor, to the north. Please, don’t hurt me. All I know is that he took most of our soldiers and ships and sailed north a few days ago, after the Kroanian lord was killed. He left me to defend the city. I tried, I really did. Please, that’s all I know.”


    “He went north? To Skadi?”


    “Yes, yes. He said he had important business with Skadi.”


    “So, he’s gone to war.”


    “No, it was in peace. At least, that is what I was told. He wants to ally with her. Please, let me live.”


    “Tie him up,” Luther ordered the Kroanians who had entered the throne room after him. He released the man. “Lord Ardaric will want to talk with him.”


    ***


    Luther placed his plate onto the table and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and folded his hands behind his head. The fighting had finished hours ago, the soldiers giving up after the palace fell. The steward from the throne room had been taken to Lord Ardaric, who got all the information he wanted from the man before killing him. Around the city, the army relaxed. The surviving defenders were rounded up and imprisoned. The Kroanians took what they wanted from the city, leaving most of the noncombatants in peace. Luther, Wolfgang and Barstag had taken an empty chamber in the palace as their own to gather and relax.


    “What does Ardaric plan to do now?” Wolfgang asked Barstag.


    “He’ll return to King Ulrik in a few days,” Barstag said. He had been present when Ardaric had questioned the steward.


    “Is he sending soldiers north?” Luther asked, opening his eyes, taking his feet off the table.


    “Nay. I suggested it, but he isn’t concerned with that.”


    “Why should he be?” Wolfgang drawled. “It’s not like the man who executed one of our lords has gone that way to meet with an unknown power for an unknown reason.”


    “I tried telling that to him, but he would not listen. He thinks this is justice enough for Lord Helgon.”


    “He cares not at all about this Skadi?” Luther asked.


    “He just wants to return to Ulrik and report a successful journey,” Barstag said. “He doesn’t think Skadi will be a problem.”


    “No one thought Torbain would be a problem until he killed Helgon. And we knew something about Torbain. Is he willing to let Skadi go unnoticed until she becomes a real threat?” Wolfgang asked.


    “I don’t know why you are telling me this, Wolf. I agree with you. But what can we do? Lord Ardaric isn’t sending soldiers.”


    “We could go ourselves,” Luther said quietly.


    “What?” Wolfgang asked.


    “We could go ourselves,” Luther said, sitting forward. “Think about it. Are you not curious to find out what is going on in the north?”


    “Ardaric won’t send us,” Barstag said.


    “Why would he stop us? Practically our whole group was wiped out. We are some of the only survivors. Us three will make little difference to Ardaric, whether we live or die. And although he doesn’t want to send a large amount of soldiers, he won’t stop us from going ourselves.”


    “We would have to go alone. He won’t send anyone with us.”


    “Does that scare you, Barstag?” Luther asked, grinning. “The three of us should manage just fine. Come on, don’t you think we owe it to Helgon? He was our lord for the last ten years, and he always treated us well. He willingly accepted the consequences of our capture and died so the rest of us would be spared for a little longer. If he hadn’t we might all be dead along with him. Don’t you think we should find out why he died?”


    Barstag looked at Wolfgang. “I’m in if you are, Wolf,” he said.


    Wolfgang grinned. “Let’s do it.”


    Barstag nodded and turned back to Luther. “It’s settled then. We will talk to Ardaric about our decision and we head north. For Helgon.”


    “For Helgon,” they echoed.