Hi!
I'm back. First and foremost I would like to address the horrible incident that took place in Manchester. It was horribly inhumane and I am disgusted at the events that took place. My condolences to anyone related to the attack and may the souls of those who were killed rest in peace. Ave Atque Vale.
Secondly, thank you- 1425bbit for reviewing and everyone who favourited/followed, I am so grateful for you support.
Love, BookwormWRITINGwhiz
P.S. I didn't have time to proof read this, so please excuse any stupid mistakes.
Mark Blackthorn was not having fun, he hadn't the faintest idea what he expected when he signed up for the King's infantry, but it wasn't this. Marching next to tax collector carriages as the fat men shouted orders at him. He was the son of a Lord, for god's sake, albeit an illegitimate one, but he thought he definitely ought to have a better post.
And so trudging at the back of the caravan, he was so lost in his thoughts and self pity, he didn't realize they were being followed. As they made their way through a small passage, with the river to their right and a thick clump of trees to right, several figures appeared at the end of the passage, three at the back and a dozen from the woods.
All of a sudden they were surrounded.
A young woman in leather body gear stepped forward. Her fire-y hair cascaded down her back in a tight pony tail. Beside her stood a tall, lean man with hair as white as snow. And immediately, Mark understood that they were dead. Staring at the Morgenstern siblings, he tried very hard to stop himself from trembling, but by the grin that spread across Hellcat's face he knew she had noticed.
Her green eyes gleaming, she said, "Well, aren't you an unlucky lot." Her brother shifted his weight and pulled out a broadsword before saying to his men, "Leave no survivors."
And then, all Hell broke lose.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Clary loved the thrill and adrenaline rush that came with battle, it made her feel alive. Although this was more a scrimmage than a battle. It was clear that the King's men were out-numbered and out-skilled. He really should invest in better guards, she thought belatedly as she threw a knife in the chest of a blonde man maneuvering a short sword with ill ease. He immediately fell, his blood tinging the earth red.
Soon enough it was all over. As the last man fell, she made eye contact with her brother, before gazing at the other fighters, making a mental tally of the people she cared about. Simon was okay, his gear was covered with blood, but it clearly wasn't his. He was helping Maia up. Someone had got a pretty bad hack at her shin but it would heal. There was one casualty on their side. Stupid Alaya Starkweather had been trampled by one of the stampeding horses. Clary wasn't going to mourn her.
Looking back at her brother, Clary saw that bastard, Sebastian Verlac standing beside him. Her vision clouded with rage. Taking deep breaths to control herself from killing her brother's right hand man she stalked towards them.
She immediately said, "I thought I told you to take care of him."
Jonathan looked puzzled for a moment before saying, "I did. I made him come."
"That's not a punishment." She whispered harshly.
"Fine. What do you suggest we do?" Jon asked, scowling slightly.
"Let me handle it."
She immediately turned around and faced the smirking man. He looked too confident for his own good. Clary said, "What do you have to say for yourself?" Everyone immediately diverted their attention to the showdown and Simon, after helping Maia sit on one of their horses, made his way to stand behind Clary.
"Nothing." Replied Verlac.
"Did you or did you not send Starkweather's corpse to the Castle?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because", Clary growled and the man shrugged. Pulling a whip from her belt the redhead wrapped it around the man's right wrist and continued, pulling him close to her face. "Because, that means, my brother's right-hand-man is going to lose his right hand."
Sebastian's eyes widened comically as Clary snapped back, the whip in her hand fastened around the separated hand, Verlac let out a moan of pain as he slumped onto the ground. He wheezed out, "Because now they know about the spy. About Lucian Greymark." Clary's gaze narrowed and her eyes became cold as Sebastian continued, "Check mate, Clarissa Morgenstern."
In a flash a dagger was embedded in his throat and his body joined that of their enemies. The sentence for treason was death.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Jace didn't want to watch, but his father couldn't be present, so he remained standing in the corner. Lucian Garroway was pulled kicking and screaming into the torture chamber in the lowest level of the palace. The torturer, a tall, merciless man called Malachi, sharpened his daggers with a wicked smile.
As soon as the former Captain of Guard was secured to the shackles on the wall, he said, "I won't tell you anything. I'd rather die."
"Why, Luke?" asked Malachi.
"I refuse to betray my family. Do what you like, Malachi. Do your fucking worst!"
Jace nodded to the man who at the signal picked up a thin wire like device and started his job. The screams of the tormented echoed around the cellar. Scarcely ten minutes later, Jace told him to stop. He hated this. The young prince turned to the man and had to stop himself from flinching as he saw the grotesque display.
In a soft voice Jace said, "Tell me, Luke."
"Never."
"Why? Why join the rebellion, you should have know that they do not care for you, for anyon-"
"No. You do not care. The kingdom doesn't care. Hell, the King doesn't care!"
"That is not true. My father is a great rul-"
"You do not know of the things he has done, Prince-ling. You haven't the faintest clue of your father's sins. Your father is a-"
A dagger pierced his gut and the man was silenced. Jace looked back at Malachi who shrugged at him, not apologizing for what he had done, "He was a traitor and liar, Your Highness. Those were all lies."
Jace only nodded before walking out the dungeon, his ears still ringing with a dead man's words. They were on his mind even as sleep overtook him. Waking up the next morning, Jace heard the sounds of hustle outside his room. Immediately, he opened the door and taking a knife from the wall proceeded to the noise.
He was greeted with a very unpleasant sight. The bodies of the tax collectors and soldiers protecting them were piled up at the gate of the castle with people crowding around them. As he walked to the commotion, Jace realized the reason for the unrest. For at the top of the mound was the body of Mark Blackthorn, son of Sir Blackthorn, one of the most distinguished knights in the kingdom and stuck in the young man's chest was a golden flag.
And written on that flag in blood was a single word.
Erchomai.
I am coming.