TKATP: A Coronation of Blood

Prologue

The shrieks of the dying vibrated off of the hard pine walls of the motte-and-bailey keep of Asilu de'Corasares. The pine-scented smoke choked his nostrils and clawed at Soccaro's eyes as he sprinted down the dark, burning halls, fleeing the bloodbath at the gates of the keep. The weight of leather and mail multiplied with each step he took as he barreled toward the Big Hall. But no matter how hard he ran, the screams caught up to him.

His feet were pounding on the floor. He turned violently to the left. Out of control, he slammed into the wall. Damnit damnit damnit, his mind screeched. Not wasting another second, he threw himself onto his feet and continued his mad dash.

There! Just ahead! It was the Big Hall. Soccaro ran straight to the musty doors of the hall and pounded his fists. "It's me! Me! Soccaro! Let me in or I'll make damn sure to gut you all in hell!" The doors rattled for what felt like an eternity before they opened to reveal a group of two dozen corsairs milling about with their hands shaking as they gripped their weapons so tightly that even the darkest toned of them seemed to turn their knuckles white. They were led by Wildy, one of Soccaro's lieutenants.

"Captain!" one of them called out. A boy, no older than sixteen. Probably picked up on the recruiting rounds that had been done in the slums of Abetia. "What is happen'n?"

If Soccaro told them of the slaughter at the gates of the keep, his men would lose heart. Likely mutiny and surrender him to the enemy. Refuse to tell them, and they would get suspicious which would lead to a whole slew of other issues. He had to take the risk. "Nothing, boy. Now shut the hell up and block that damn door with anything you can grab."

As his corsairs got to work, Soccaro hurried over to a window to glance out at the battlefield below the motte-and-bailey. The harbor was a sea of fire, for debris and bodies blanketed the once murky-blue waters of the cove. Streaks of fire coated the sky as ships fired flaming shots from their ballistae, crashing into any of Soccaro's ships which remained afloat in the harbor.

It was only out of the corner of his eye that Soccaro saw the blazing bolt rocketing towards him.

A scream tore from his throat as he dove away from the window. The bolt ripped through the wooden walls and sent shrapnel flying everywhere. Soccaro felt nearly a dozen cuts form on the back of his head and his unprotected legs. His men screamed as large shards of wood punctured their bodies. As he glanced up from his fetal position on the floor, he saw three of his men laying on the ground. All three were screaming and cursing; one of them had but a gash on his arm, the other had a shallow cut on his leg, but the last one had a piece of metal from the bolt in his eye. He thrashed and screamed and sobbed in pain.

"Captain!" yelled the boy. "They're firing at the keep!"

"No shit!" Soccaro bellowed.

"What the hell is going on!" Wildy demanded.

Boom! A stone crashed into the keep. Debris flew everywhere. This time, they were prepared. Soccaro hit the floor and covered his head. More cursing.

"Take cover!" someone shouted. A frantic rush began as the corsairs looked for any place safe from the bombardment as stones and bolts rained down on them.

"Fire!" someone screamed. Soccaro smelled the smoke. "Put it out, put it out, damn it!" he roared.

In the midst of the panic, Soccaro failed to notice the shadow lurking behind the chair which he would sit upon during the gatherings in the Big Hall. He dove under a table to escape the falling shrapnel and projectiles and there he sat for what felt like hours but was only fifteen minutes. And then, finally, the bombardment stopped. For moments after, it was as if the whole room held their breath in anticipation... but nothing. Just as Soccaro released his sigh of release, he heard the twang of a flatbow followed by the hiss of an arrow slicing throw the air and the thud which signified it lodging in the throat of one of his men.