ToH - The Cradle of War: Prologue

Tales of Halen

The Cradle of War

A fantasy novel  inspired by

George R.R. Martin's „A Song of Ice and Fire“

and the Pen & Paper Game „Das Schwarze Auge“

Prologue

The night had been cold and if there had not been the hearth slicing the air with cracking sounds it would have been deadly silent as well. Anthony rubbed his hands together. He hated their hideout. An old ruin of a house. The roof had been ripped open by the last storm, the windows and doors had rifts through which the cold air could slip in. It was never warm. Not by the fire, not under fur, not even with the girls they used to take to their beds. But still they stayed here. It was safer then meeting in one of their homes. None of the king's men ever checked the ruins in the ghettos. They only ever opened doors behind which they would find a man bribing them or a woman giving herself to them. And if gold or company didn't come easily they would not hesitate to take it by force. Anthony spat on the ground.



„Would you stop that?“, Catherine snarled at him.

She was the only wench in the group. And if Anthony would have had anything to say that would have been all she was. A girl to warm his bedside and play with his rod, that's all he wanted from her. But Catherine Rawley was the sister to Thomas Rawley, the group's brave swordman. A mountain of a man and he had a temper. If Anthony did as much as look at him sideways, Thomas would shove him and bark at him like a mad dog. Wretched bunch, these Rawleys, he thought.

„Shut up, woman! I won't take orders from you!“ Anthony spat at Catherine's feet. „If you want something from me,“, he grabbed his crotch, „give these a lick and maybe I'll listen!“



„Maybe I'll bite them off!“ The wench had her brother's guts. Anthony spat again. Bugger them! Once it's done, I won't have to deal with them anymore.



„Don't you two ever stop quarreling?“, Jack sighed. That was one Anthony couldn't make sense of. Jack Allister was a short man with broad shoulder and a distinctive jaw. His gaze always seemed unnervingly calm and his long black hair made him seem more like an elf than a human. When Anthony first saw him he had even asked him, if he had pointy ears. Jack had chuckled and said: „Maybe I do.“ Anthony knew better by now. He had seen his ears. Round as any man's would be. But  Jack Allister was not any man. He was smart and cunning when it came to plotting and swift and fierce in battle. The sickle-shaped sword he carried seemed light as a feather when Jack swung it through the air. But the one time Anthony had tried to swing it, his arm felt as if it was about to come off. Jack Allister had everything Anthony expected out of a leader. Strength, Intelligence, Charisma. He had been the reason Anthony joined the group. Because he believed that Jack Allister could do it. Could fight the king, kill the king. But he was not the captain. He was the right hand man.



„They never do.“ A voice rang through the room from the door. There he was. Damien Cavendish and his squire Joseph O'Sullivan by his side. Damien was no knight but he dreamt of being a king. And this group, these six people were going to be what would make the dream a reality. That's what they were here to do. After months of planning and plotting the day had finally come.



As their captain entered, Anthony and the other three, the Rawleys and Jack Allister, sunk to one knee and called out to their king. „Your Grace!“ They had agreed to call him that from this day on, as this would be the day they slew the old king, took the crown from house Caylen and sat it upon the head of a Cavendish. Anthony had been against the idea. He had called it folly to challenge fate like that. „If you call yourself a warrior before you even know how to swing a sword, you will lose your head sooner than you like.“ he said. „Well, I will surely lose my head sooner than I like, because I don't really fancy losing my head at all.“ Always witty and smart-alecky was Damien Cavendish. And this is our king. A fool. But it was better to be a man of the next king than to die starving in the gutters. And if anything went wrong maybe Anthony could grab some of the king's gold and run. If there's a gold coin in your hand, you don't care who gave it to you, Anthony knew.



The uncrowned king laughed and told them to rise and so they did. Besides the title and the plans for what would come after the coup d'état, Cavendish made sure that everyone felt equal to the other. He made Allister believe he was as much king as him, he made Catherine believe she was as much warrior as her brother, he made Thomas believe he was as smart as Jack, he made naive Joseph believe he was useful beyond handing him his chain-scythe. The only thing he made Anthony believe was that he would sever his head from his shoulders with that vile weapon if he even dared as much as to deny Cavendish. He is harsh and stern. But also arrogant and haughty. Anthony wasn't sure if he believed in Cavendish, but anything had to be better than the way it was. People dying of hunger in the streets that the king and his peers didn't care for. Talks of bringing the occult and magical back into the world, and war threats left and right. King John Caylen, second of his name, seemed to be turning out just like his father did. The king the people lovingly called the „Father of Enmities“. He had been the one to cut down the elves' Silveroak Forest and raid the Deeps of the Dwarves. He was the one to plunge the realm into fifty years of war. And ironically the son who had killed him and appeased the warring lands, was starting to show resemblance to his father. As Anthony looked at Cavendish again he nodded. I'd rather have this fool rule me, than die in a pointless war. Or even worse, starve.



Joseph pulled the table close to the hearth at placed six chairs around them. The young man was tall and lean, but he was quick and a decent archer. Anthony knew, they could have found a better one, but he was friends with Cavendish, so he was part of the group. It always seemed to him that he was the only one, Cavendish didn't like. He never showed him any disdain, but Anthony still knew. Jack and Joseph were friends of Cavendish and the captain fancied Catherine's cunt. Thomas was just the icing on the cake. „Love“ they called it. Anthony had laughed out loud when Jack had told him. „So we're keeping the wench around, because the captain likes to dip his rod in her?“ „Catherine is our comrade. You ought to speak politely of her, Anthony.“ Jack always was too serious to jape with. „Also, if you say that to loud the captain may cut your head off. Or worse, let Catherine deal with you herself“ And he meant that. The wench didn't only have her brothers guts and temper, she was vicious too. Not that she could actually beat a man in a fight, Anthony was sure, but she could hurt you nonetheless. Maybe his grace likes it rough. Anthony had to giggle. That earned him a cold look from Thomas. Anthony tightened his mouth and sat down. The others did so too until all were seated but the would-be-king. He produced a paper scroll and rolled it out on the table. It was a sketch of the royal keep. They had paid good money for it, Anthony remembered. I hope it was worth it. It was a risky plan. Only six people. There was only one man to kill, but over a thousand men of the royal guard stood between them and the king's head. Their plan had to be perfect as well as it's execution or else they would find their heads on spikes by dawn.



„We'll enter here!“ Cavendish pointed at a tower, called the Old Guard on the sketch. „It's an old tower in ruins. There are large cracks and holes in the tower. If we can get to the holes in the walls, we'll be in and pass all but a tenth of the Royal Guard.“

„That still leaves us with hundred men.“ Catherine said. „I thought you had this planned through! We can't kill a hundred men all by ourselves!“



„We could, if we wanted“ her brother spouted out. Idiot. Anthony thought, but held his tongue.

Jack was the first to disagree. „We might. But at what cost. If we fight a hundred man and kill them in battle, no, even if we kill them in their sleep, their screams will alarm the king and, more importantly the rest of the Royal Guard. We must be quick and quiet. Anthony, you have the  crossbow. You and Joseph will take out the men at the Old Guard. With the first shot. If they have time to see the bolt or the arrow, they will give the alarm and the whole castle will be awake. Take your time and aim. First shot must take them out. There are only two men guarding the top of the tower, if these are out, we can set up a ladder and get in. Once we're in we take out the guards inside the tower silently. Anthony and Joseph, you will follow once you see the ladder move again. Then we will use the stables as covers. Any guards that might catch us, will be either choked out or shot with the first shot. Again, Anthony, Joseph, if you're not sure at taking the shot, don't do it. The stables lead us to the King's Tower. Once we get inside, we kill the guard on duty and bar the door. Then we hurry. Inside the King's Tower should be twenty guards. They will hear us bar the door. We keep them at bay, Damien goes on to kill the king, while we take the royal family hostage. With them in our hands, we'll have them call the high priest and under his and prince Robert's blessing we'll have Damien be crowned the new King of Halen.“



Silence filled the room. The Rawleys nodded at each other, Jack looked at Cavendish, whose eyes wandered between them. Anthony studied young Joseph, trying to imagine him landing a shot at first try. If you miss, I won't. Anthony thought.

„Is the plan clear?“ the uncrowned king asked. Everyone nodded, but it was Thomas Rawley who actually answered: „Yes, your grace!“ The others echoed him. „Good. Then as always. This meeting never happened. We leave this ruin as poor low born vermin in the eyes of the King. But by the morrow we emerge as a King and his council. From one king to another the crown shall go. And with it shall come a better day.“ With that Cavendish rose and put on his cloak, his silver chain-scythe hidden beneath. Anthony followed, together with young Joseph, Jack and the Rawleys. They all left the ruin behind, hoping to never have to return to it again.



Anthony missed the cold room with the small hearth as soon as he had gotten into position on a rooftop near the castle walls. Beside him the naive Joseph, drawing his bow and readying an arrow. Anthony grabbed him by the sleeve to get his attention. „Watch the wind and wait for my signal. If you don't shoot together with me, the one left standing wil scream.“ He studied the two guards on the top of the tower. He thanked god, that there were torches placed on some of the battlements, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to see them at all. He aimed at the guard to the left. He couldn't help but glance at Joseph again. If he misses I'll throw him off this bloody roof. But Joseph didn't. On signal he let the arrow fly and just as the iron bolt from Anthony's crossbow penetrated one guards temple, the arrow entered the others throat. Both fell without making a sound. For a moment Anthony feared one of them had been knocked off the tower. But the silence that followed calmed him. The Rawleys crossed the street, ladder in hand and quickly placed it against the tower, before any of the guards on the castle walls could see it. It was just large enough to reach to the cracks in the tower. Everything was going just as planned.



The next minutes felt like hours as Anthony and Joseph had to wait patiently until their friends gave the sign. Anthony was anxious and Joseph’s nervousness didn't help to calm him. „I-I think the ladder just moved! Th-that was the sign!“ Joseph stuttered. „No, it didn't! Calm down and wait!“ Anthony was pissed off. Joseph was a liability to him. If the nervous moron made a mistake, they both would have to pay for it. Finally the ladder did move and the two of them started to climb down from the roof. They waited for the guards on the walls to turn away from the street before quickly crossing it, like their comrades had done. Once they were inside they found them crouching, dead guards around them, their blades bloody. It took you quite some time. Anthony wanted to say, but he dared not make a sound, out of fear anyone could hear him.



They moved quick and quiet, just as Jack had told them. And a few unlucky guards later, they were in front of the door to the King's Tower. Only one problem. A guard in front of the door. He had to die, they all knew. And Anthony had to do it, he knew. They couldn't risk Joseph missing the shot now and they couldn't leave their cover until this man was dead. Anthony loaded, aimed and killed. Silent and swiftly. When did it become so easy? ,he wondered. Cautiously they left their cover and gave the dead guard no more attention than a slight shove to get him way from the door. Anthony reloaded. There were many more going to die tonight, he knew.



It was this moment that they could recover for a short while. Would-be-King Cavendish studied his troop. „We almost did it. The hardest part is done. Now we do, what we have done for the past year to get to this point. We kill the king's men. All of them. And I kill the king. Bar the door!“ „Yes, your grace.“ they all whispered. Joseph and Jack started to move a large wooden board in front of the door. It came down with a loud clash. Anthony and Joseph aimed their weapons at the stairs and saw torches light the upper ranks. Here they come. The Rawleys stood behind them, swords in hand. „We'll fight them here. They all have to squeeze into the stairway. We hack and shoot them down until the way is free!“ the uncrowned king didn't care to whisper anymore. He yelled his commands, as voices and steps echoed down the steps. It didn't take long before the first man was pierced by Anthony's crossbow. Joseph landed shots that injured but didn't kill. But the men fell either way. If they didn't die from that, they were trampled to death by their brothers in arms. Fools, like lambs to slaughter. Anthony thought, as he shot down another. As the first of them threatened to reach Anthony or young Joseph, the Rawleys jumped in front and started hacking away at the guardsmen. Screams of fury and clashes of steel filled the room. Anthony turned around for a moment to see, what the new king and his hand were doing. It so appeared that they had built a ramp out of the furniture in the entrance hall. Cavendish ran up and soared over the fighting crowd with a huge leap, his chain-scythe twisting in the air, taking one man's head as he came down. He looked back at Anthony and the others one more time before fighting his way up the stairs to find the king.



„Keep them at bay!“ Jack shouted. „His grace will need all the time he can get!“ Anthony repositioned himself, as did Joseph. They aimed long to make sure not to hit their comrades. Jack joined the fray and their long fight began. Twenty men were not much but enough for five people. But as Jack had once told Anthony, organized troops are worth ten times as much as unorganized ones. Looking at it like that, they clearly outnumbered them. Their commander was in another tower; they had just woken up and had hurried down the steps not expecting their foes to be at their door step. Now they were caught. If they stayed, their king would die. If they left, they would find blades, bolts and arrows following them. They were more stepping back and forth than fighting. Out of three strikes their tired bodies only ever landed one, while having to take all three from the Rawleys and Jack and maybe even an arrow or a bolt. They fell quickly, as the steps of the King's Tower were painted red. „We're winning! Long live King Damien!“ Joseph shouted. That was the last thing Anthony heard before the bells began to ring.



They were loud and strident. They don't ring bells for intruders. It was then that he smelled the smoke from the door. He remembered the guard in front of the door. The one they had shoved over to get to the door. He had carried a torch. The hay! The stables are burning! He frantically looked at the door then back to his comrades. „FIRE!“ he shouted. „The stables are on fire! This tower will be soon too! We need to get out!“ Anthony pleaded. „We can't leave without the royal family as hostages!“ Jack's voice was full of anger. „But, we'll burn alive!“ „Then run, coward!“ Thomas was as unfazed as he was stupid. „If a little fire scares you, run! We will get the royal family and have the Royal Guard save us personally!“



„You moron! You think they will lovingly embrace us? They'll let us burn!“ Anthony couldn't take it any longer. He shoved the board away from the door and shoved it open. It was as bad as he had imagined. The entire yard was ablaze. Horses running about, horrifying cries hit his ears and the smell of burned flesh crept into his nose. He retched a little as he saw the guard that had held the torch. His flesh was melting in the flames it seemed. From the other towers guards and maids came to throw water at the flames, but they raged on and started to consume the castle. This place is dying. Anthony's head started to spin. We came in to kill the king, but we end up killing the castle. I can hear it scream. It's dying. He stared blankly into the flames until a firm grip on his shoulder shook him awake. „Anthony! Hey! Don't lose faith! Our king is fighting for us!“ Joseph's stupid smile made Anthony retch again. „Bugger that! And bugger you!“ He shoved Joseph off of him. He stumbled and fell. It was a matter of seconds before Joseph was screaming in the embrace of the flames. Anthony gave the fool an empty stare as he lied there, dying in the fire. Thomas Rawley shoved Anthony to the side and pulled Joseph out of the fire, only setting himself ablaze as well. As Anthony looked at them stumble back into the King's Tower, he saw the wench crying for her brother and Jack looking at him with a sad and resigned expression. He knows he'll die here. For his king. A fool king. Anthony saw Cavendish run down the stairs, clutching his bleeding gut. He's dead too. But at that moment Cavendish' eyes met Anthony's. They were cold. With a deadly intent. Anthony did not remember how fast he ran, he didn't remember how he got back to the Old Guard. He didn't remember if he had kicked the ladder off on purpose or not. He didn't even know if Cavendish had chased him. All he knew was that he was alive. He remembered Jack's eyes. We followed a fool, my friend. A dead fool.