A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,79

already see the next town, its steeples visible even from here. This town, he could see, was larger than most, a small city, a sure sign that they were getting closer to King’s Court.

As they neared it, McCloud could tell from the walls that this was the last major city before the direct approach to King’s Court. They were still a good three days ride away, far enough away that the MacGils could not reinforce them quickly. They stood no chance against McCloud’s Army.

They galloped harder. The sound of horses’ hooves rose in his ears, the dust rose off the road, filling his nostrils, and he could see townsmen scurrying to close the gate, lowering the huge iron bars. McCloud was almost impressed. Most of the other towns had no stone walls, no iron gates—just a lame set of parameters. This town was larger, more sophisticated, prepared for a siege.

But as McCloud studied its walls with his professional soldier’s eye, he saw that, most importantly, it was devoid of soldiers. It was guarded by just a handful of boys and elder men, posted at stations spread too far among the wall. The holes were plentiful. McCloud could tell that they would overrun it within minutes.

They might try to surrender, as others had. But he would not give them that chance. That would take away half the fun.

“Charge!” he screamed.

Behind him, his men screamed in approval, and together, they sprinted for the town, McCloud riding out front as he always did. As they got close to the city gate, McCloud reached down, yanked a huge spear off the horse’s harness, and chucked it.

It was a perfect strike, planting in the back of the boy who had been running across the courtyard, trying to close the gate. He had succeeded in closing the gate—but that would be the final success of his young life.

That iron gate could not keep them out. As they rode up to it, McCloud’s men, well-trained, pulled their horses up before it, while others dismounted, jumped on top of their fellow’s horse, and allowed themselves to be picked up and thrown over the wall. One at a time, McCloud’s men landed on the other side, and then finally unlocked the gate for the rest of them.

His army charged through, a thousand men strong, poring through the small opening.

McCloud was the first to gallop through, determined to be the first to wreak bloodshed. He drew his sword and chased down men and women as they ran. How many men, in how many towns, he mused, would run from him like this? It was the same scene in every place he visited. Nothing in the Ring could stop him now.

By rote, McCloud grabbed a small throwing axe from his waist, leaned back, took aim at the center of a man’s back he decided he did not like, and let it fly. It tumbled end over end, and impaled the man with a satisfying noise, like a spear entering a tree.

The man shrieked and fell flat on his face, and McCloud had his horse trampled over him, making sure he ran over his head. McCloud felt a thrill of satisfaction as the horse ran over him. He would come back for his axe later.

McCloud singled out a particularly young and beautiful woman, perhaps twenty, as she ran for her house. He kicked his horse at a full gallop and bore down on her. As they pulled up alongside her he jumped off and landed on top of her, tackling her down to the ground, her soft body and large bosom cushioning his fall.

She screamed and cried out, dazed from the attack, as they rolled on the ground. He backhanded her, silencing her.

He then lifted her over his shoulder as he got to his feet, and made his way towards the first empty dwelling he could find. He smiled as his army galloped past, as he heard the screams, saw the bloodshed all around him. This would be a wonderful night.

*

Luanda wept as she rode on the back of Bronson’s horse into the walled town of her homeland, the town of her sister’s mother, and watched the McClouds ravage it, as they had so many towns along the way. She’d had no choice but to ride along with them, all these days, and she had learned to keep her mouth shut, had been disciplined one too many times by the elder McCloud. She had done her best to keep quiet, to try