Sword of Audantei: An Artifact of Anarchy Novel (Artifacts of Anarchy Book 1) by Ashley Holmquist

Author:Ashley Holmquist [Holmquist, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2023-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

24

Danilo’s head throbs where the General’s armoured knuckles had cracked against his brow when he attempted to roll off the horse. He blinks back the pocked sunlight dusting across his eyes from beneath the sack over his head, flexing his jaw from the strip of cloth yanking at the corners of his mouth.

An overwhelming odour of manure and cattle entwines with the scents of bread and clay. Bartering merchants and idle chatter drown out the complaints passing through his gag. He tongues at the sandy fabric, grinding his teeth against it in reflex. The horses trot over the cobbled streets, their paths through the main roads effortless and fluid—aside from the bounce of the gelding’s rump against his ribs.

He’s tempted to roll free again. Though bound, gagged, and blinded, there’s little he could attempt. It would merely risk the civilians’ lives in his path. Not that any of them would rush to his aid when he’s a captive on the horse of the High General of Audantei.

Shouts whiz by as civilians leap from the horses’ paths. From the horse’s rump, lacking his usual military garments, he’ll remain unrecognizable until he faces the trials of Hanging Day. The onlookers will be content to watch his feet dangle alongside the others he’s placed with on the gallows.

When hooves move from clay to stone, his chest drops into his stomach. Though its halls are vast, atop the horses, they will reach the throne room in minutes. Shadows and lights flicker by rhythmically, arching posts of the open halls sailing past the cloth.

The horses lurch to a stop with a snort. Danilo twists his bound wrists, yelping when he’s shoved from the rump. His head connects with the stone floor, and he slumps, his sight wavering as he’s pulled up by the front of his shirt. The authoritative command of a Beseecher’s Best turns his stomach over with nervousness. As their titles suggest, these men served one purpose: to guard the Beseecher in everything he does; in politics, in bed, or in battle. While Danilo wonders if their skills are as renowned as professed, now, with his hands bound and blinded, is not the time to test his theories.

“You’re dismissed, General.”

“What?” Llodis’ voice gurgles from above Danilo’s head.

“He does not want your bias to take precedence in the room.” Armour clanks together as a soldier moves closer.

“Bias?!”

“Leave, General. Before you’re made to leave.”

Hands grapple Danilo’s upper arms and drag him into Kosymo Guerra’s quarters. Llodis cusses loudly, the word echoing over the ding of his helmet against the carved marble post. A door groans shut, dulling whatever choice words the General followed with.

Danilo’s head spins, distant from his shoulders with pain, as he’s forced to walk deeper into the room. Only after he’s shoved to his knees do the black spots fade. Wire digs tighter into his wrists when the man steps atop it. He hisses, leaning back to ease the chances of slicing them open. His fingers twitch when they brush a leather boot.

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