the ground, and reached up with an open palm, as if to ask his son to give him a hand up.
Bronson hesitated for just a moment; it appeared as if he were debating whether or not to trust his father. But Bronson had always been too naïve, too trusting. That was his downfall.
Bronson relented. He reached down with an open palm, switching hands with the sword, to give his father a hand up.
McCloud saw his chance. He reached over, grabbed a handful of dirt, and swung around and threw it in his boy’s eyes.
Bronson screamed out, raising both hands to his eyes, stumbling back, and McCloud jumped to his feet, kicked his son hard in the chest, knocking him to the ground, and pounced on him.
“Soldiers!” he screamed out.
In a moment’s notice several of his loyal soldiers appeared, pouncing onto Bronson, holding back Luanda, who tried to come to his rescue.
“Bring him to the post!” McCloud commanded.
They dragged Bronson, struggling, sand still in his eyes, to a huge wooden post, and bound one of his arms roughly to it. McCloud then grabbed his son’s free arm and tied it to a wooden beam, stretched out before him.
Bronson looked back at his dad, helpless, fear in his eyes.
“Men, gather around!” McCloud screamed.
The thick mob of soldiers gathered within feet of them, and McCloud took his sword, and raised it high overhead.
“No, father, don’t do this!” Bronson screamed.
But McCloud grimaced, wielded his two-handed sword high above his head, and brought it down with all the strength in his body.
Bronson shrieked, as the sword cut through the flesh of his wrist. Blood squirted everywhere, as his hand fell limply to the ground.
Luanda, behind him, shrieked and shrieked, and she broke free of her attackers and pounced on McCloud, grabbing at his hair. He turned and elbowed her hard, right in the nose, breaking it, and knocking her flat, unconscious.
“THE IRON!” he screamed.
Within moments, a scolding hot iron poker was put into McCloud’s hand, and he reached back and jabbed it into his son’s stump.
Bronson shrieked even louder, louder than he ever thought possible, as the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. McCloud held the poker steady against the stump, until the bleeding stopped. He didn’t want his boy dead. He wanted him alive. He wanted him maimed. He wanted him to suffer, and to remember this event. He wanted all of his men to remember. And to fear him.
“I promised you that the girl was not to be touched,” he said to his son, who stood there, limp, hunched over, breathing hard. “And I am good to my word. She will not be touched—she will be killed!”
McCloud leaned back and roared with laughter, hardly able to catch his breath. This day was not as bad as it seemed. No. It was not so bad at all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Thor strolled with Gwen hand in hand through the meadows in the early morning light, Krohn by their side, on the way back from her mother’s castle. It had been a magical night, beyond his wildest dreams. He had never awakened before feeling so peaceful, so content, so at one with the world. He felt as if he had found his place in the world, beside Gwen, and he never wanted to be anywhere else. He didn’t care where she led him, where they might go, as long as they were together.
Thor also felt immensely relaxed after finally having had a good night sleep. It had been days on his feet, of battle, of riding, and he felt as if it were the first time he had slept in a month. He had strange dreams all night long, of battle, of soldiers, of swords and shields—and even of his having a child. If Krohn hadn’t awakened him, licking his face in the early morning, he felt as if he might have slept all day.
As they strolled, Thor wondered what the future might look like with Gwen. He had his duties to fulfill for the Legion, yet he also wanted to spend time with her. He wondered how they could build their life together. He knew he wanted to be here, in King’s Court, but in the back of his mind he knew that as long as Gareth was king, that was not possible. There was too much danger here for them both.
As they strolled hand in hand, a nice fall breeze picking up, the world alive with every shade of fall flower, Gwen smiling beside him