The Darkest Knight (Guardians of Camelot Book 3) by Victoria Sue

Author:Victoria Sue [Sue, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Charles was wet and cold, and so damn relieved when he’d heard the alarm sound. He clutched a sword he’d stolen and ran after the men on the ground. Most were on horseback, but there was a good number of foot soldiers, and he joined the throng, desperately hoping Kay was safe somewhere but in reality knowing he would be in the fight. The difficulty was getting close enough to Uther to stop the sword being taken. The Saxons were more distinctive than Arthur’s troops. Fur-lined capes and boots on the obviously wealthier ones, but many of the foot soldiers had fur pelts slung around their shoulders while clutching long vicious pikes. Arthur’s men were best at the bow and arrow, but that didn’t help at close quarters, and the Saxons had gotten too close for Arthur’s men to use them. At this range they would hit as many of their own.

The trouble was the Saxons had fought the Romans a hundred years previously and held off the Picts. Fresh with recent victories and full of perceived righteousness, there was only Arthur stopping their advance to Mercia and all England.

Charles raised his head long enough to spy Uther’s column, and he looked around for a horse. Not that being on a horse didn’t make him an even bigger target and without armor, but if he had any hope of getting near the royal party, he needed one.

He pushed on, slogging through the melee using his sword when he had to, and it wasn’t that he shied away from battle, this just wasn’t his fight. He also worried killing the wrong person might alter something. A horn was blown up ahead a second time, and cries rose. Charles slashed as a Saxon came too close with his pike and managed to avoid him. Charles swerved to avoid a sword and yanked one of their men backward in time to avoid a blade, and then suddenly he was battling three.

Two were little better than berserkers with no skill, only sheer temper, but the third was young and filled with a righteous passion. Charles didn’t want to kill him. He really didn’t, but when he also proved to have skill along with his passion, he became a different threat entirely, and Charles’s stolen sword was inferior.

The man sideswiped suddenly, and Charles had an inch spare if that, but his missed thrust brought him a little closer, and Charles managed to nick him on his sword arm, but in a flash he tossed the sword to his other at the same time as another Saxon roared and ran toward them both. Not expecting the change of direction, Charles was a moment too slow. A painful, breath-stealing moment as he felt the sword puncture his side. The man—scenting victory—drew it roughly from Charles’s skin which was a thousand times more painful, then seemed to still and topple. The soldier that had killed him from behind didn’t even have time to glance at Charles until another

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