Albion Lost (The Exiled Fleet Book 1) by Richard Fox

Author:Richard Fox
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Triplane Press
Published: 2017-01-31T07:00:00+00:00

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Lucan took a rifle from a dead soldier and checked the charge—eight shots left. King Randolph leaned against the same boulder Lucan used for cover. The King held the dead Queen’s hand, his breathing strained, uneven. Lucan’s gestalt sent him a readout of the King’s condition. Broken ribs had pierced his left lung with bone fragments. He’d last for several more painful hours before succumbing to his wounds.

Another thunderclap bent the doorway to the gardens. Lucan knew the King’s injuries were almost irrelevant. The enemy would break through in minutes.

“Lucan…Royce’ll protect my boys. He will.” The King gently put his wife’s hand down and raised his pistol.

Lucan aimed his rifle over the boulder. The pathway Thorvald and Salis used to escape with the Prince was just beneath the rock. The longer he kept the Daegon away, the better chance they had to reach someplace safe. He wouldn’t tell the King who was in Royce’s armor. Genevans believed it was better to die with hope in one’s heart.

“Aim for the neck of the big one,” Lucan said to the remaining soldiers. The King grunted and tried to get up, but Lucan pushed him back down. “Stay there, My Lord. We’ll get you out of here soon as we can.”

The doors buckled beneath a blow that split the air loud enough to pop Lucan’s eardrums. A siege warrior ducked beneath the doorway and charged forward. Daegon came behind him, roaring war cries and with bayonets levelled at the Albion soldiers.

Lucan took careful aim, timed the hammer-wielding giant’s steps, and fired. His shot smashed through a glowing eye lens. The shot rattled inside the helmet, batting the warrior’s head from side to side. The giant pitched forward and dug a shallow trench through the garden’s soil before coming to a stop. The Daegon continued their charge.

“For the King!” shouted a soldier next to Lucan as he fired on the invaders.

“For Albion!” King Randolph hauled himself to his feet and shot a Daegon in the forehead.

Lucan fired his last shot, then grabbed the rifle by the red-hot barrel and raised it over his head. That the Daegon weren’t firing as they charged meant only one thing to him—they wanted the King alive.

The Genevan swung the rifle down and onto the hands of a charging warrior. The butt hit with a satisfying crack of armor and bone, deflecting the serrated bayonet to the side. Lucan shoulder-checked the warrior, knocking him into the legs of two Daegon behind him. A warrior stumbled forward and into Lucan’s reverse stroke. The blow crushed the warrior’s throat.

Lucan grabbed the dying warrior and jerked him into the path of a lunging bayonet. The blade stabbed through his back and out his chest. The Daegon holding the impaled rifle held on as the weight of his fellow dragged him forward.

The Genevan grabbed the invader by the front of his faceplate and rammed his head into the boulder with a crunch. Lucan whirled around and parried a bayonet strike, sending the blade bouncing off the rock.

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