Ghoulslayer

Chapter Twenty-Three The Ascension of King Galan

‘The Wolf is with us!’ cried King Galan as he felt his steed changing beneath him, its bones snapping and elongating and its muscles swelling. He could feel the undeniable power of his lord as the horse became a sinewy armoured drake, with vast taloned wings and powerful reptilian jaws. The creature pounded its wings and lifted him from the road, up over sun-drenched wheat fields. On his back he could feel the weight of his ancient longsword, Rancour. He had sworn not to draw it until he had the leader of the rebels kneeling before him. The sword had been blessed by Shadow Priests on the eve of the war, impregnated with the might of the Wolf, but he would not fritter its sorcery on any old warrior – he would unleash it with great ceremony on the head of his would-be usurper, with the Hounds of Dinann witnessing his righteous fury.

Nia and Lord Melvas were with him, their steeds elevated by the same miracle as his own. Other lords of the Dinann followed quickly after, laughing in wonder as their horses’ hooves became claws and their flanks sprouted wings. They left the road and began racing through the air, trailing tails through the early dawn as their riders raised spears and howled.

The same miracle had occurred at each of the previous battles, but Galan still felt his pulse racing as he looked down at his army, charging into battle below him.

‘One last time!’ cried Nia, grinning at him from a few feet away.

‘One last time!’ he laughed, gripping his spear as he rushed towards the battlements.

The traitors were so awed by the miracle of the Wolf that Galan landed on the walls to find them already abandoned. The rogues who had seized the castle were scrambling for cover, tumbling down the steps and fleeing across the courtyard.

Some of them had managed to injure themselves in their desperation to escape, and as King Galan rode down the walls, he reached a group of bloodied, terrified wretches who tried to crawl away at his approach.

‘I offered you mercy at every turn,’ he said, pointing his spear at one of the gibbering wrecks, who was slipping and stumbling towards him, shaking his head.

The soldier muttered and cursed, unable to meet his eye, and Galan finally understood what was happening. He could not believe he had not suspected it before. The glorious victories, miracles like the drakes, the terror in the eyes of his victims – they all pointed to one thing: he was ascending. The oldest of all the prophecies had come to pass – the prophecy of the Wolf Lord. This was why the Shadow Priests had imbued Rancour with such power. This must be why his later years had been so quiet and lacking in glory. The Great Wolf had been waiting for this moment to raise him up and show him the glory that had always been his due.

Nia’s drake landed beside him on the wall, and she leant out from her saddle, slamming her spear into the man’s chest. He staggered away, dazed, then fell as she wrenched her weapon free. ‘Not much of a fight,’ she said with a smile, glancing around at the few wounded soldiers left on the walls. They were all flinching and cowering, as though attacked by invisible foes.

‘I’m changing, Nia,’ Galan said, his voice trembling with the glory of his revelation.

She looked at him in shock. Then she clearly saw the pride and power in his face, and her smile broadened. ‘As are we all, my love.’

She drove her horse on down the wall, drawing her longsword and cutting down everyone in her path as the other lords landed, looking around in wonder at the abandoned battlements.

‘There is still work to do!’ cried Galan, pointing his spear down into the courtyard and the streets beyond. There were hundreds of wounded and fleeing soldiers. Lots were running into buildings to hide, but many were crawling into sewers, fleeing underground like rats. ‘The traitors refused every entreaty to peace. Show no mercy!’

He clicked his heels and his drake leapt from the wall, hurtling down towards the crowds. Figures scattered as he landed, not even trying to defend themselves.

‘What is this?’ called Nia, landing near him. ‘They battled so hard to hold the outlying keeps, and now, now that we reach the capital, they have no fight in them.’

Galan sat back in his saddle, watching the slaughter. ‘They know they’ve lost.’ He looked around the castle. ‘It’s even bigger than I expected.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe this is a more suitable place to rule from?’

‘No,’ replied Galan. ‘I will make an example of this city. I will leave no brick standing. I will raze it to the ground. And if anyone considers challenging my rule again, they will only need to look here to see what their fate will be.’

He pointed to a bright, gleaming needle of white stone. ‘Make for the central keep. The ringleaders will be there.’

Galan turned to the lords who were landing in the courtyard behind him. ‘Open the gates, assemble the men. Gather the war machines. Bring this city down.’