Page 23 of A War of Crowns

Wild-eyed, the Fangtalker lunged at Calix with a howl bursting from his throat. But before the barbarian could ever reach his Son, Aldric speared the Kunishi clean through, back to front, with his glaive.

Calix was quick to dive out of the way of the blood spray. And Eisway, now on foot, stalked over to rip the dead Kunishi off the end of Aldric’s polearm. The Fangtalker pitched to the earth and disappeared within the mist swirling underfoot.

“It sounds like we may have lost a brother,” Rakon rumbled when he rode up to rejoin them, his face now streaked with blood and fresh cuts. “If the Fangtalker’s to be believed.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Aldric snapped, wheeling Mourn back toward the camp.

Tendrils of smoke traced the sky. One of his other Sons must have already set the tents ablaze, as was protocol. But a sudden sense of unease stirred at the back of Aldric’s mind.

That had been easy. Too easy.

Where were the Kunishi shieldmaidens? Where was their warlord? Why weren’t these people truly fighting back?

No Kunishi warband would yieldso swiftly.

A sudden cry of, “Oi! Father!” from Leif pierced the night. “Looks like we got a bit of a problem here!”

Aldric thinned his lips and urged Mourn deeper into the smoldering ruins of the encampment, following the sound of his eldest Son’s voice. Calix and Rakon joined him.

Eisway hunted for his wayward horse.

The smoke was thick, and it choked the air with its acrid sting. But the camp was quiet now. The screams were gone. All save for one.

The scream of a child.

Aldric’s blood ran cold when he drew Mourn to a halt before the one tent left untouched—the tent around which all the rest of his Sons gathered, save for Beck, Sven, and their medic, Kyn. When Leif looked up at him, the confusion written on the older man’s face matched the unease churning his own stomach.

Never before had a raiding party brought children with them.

Harnessing his glaive, Aldric swung his right leg off of Mourn and gripped the side of the saddle to carefully lower himself down.

Hobbling over, he asked Leif, “What is it?” But he could see well enough for himself what it was the moment he looked past the tent’s flap.

Within it huddled many women and children—too many for him to count. Some quietly sobbed. One wailed so loudly, his ears buzzed from the pain of it all. Quite a few simply glared. One even babbled at Leif in rapidfire Kunishi, too quick for Aldric to understand.

There was only one man there to protect the lot of them, and he stood between the Sons and the group of women and children. He was an old man, his hair more silver than black.

An old man wielding a spear that looked more fit for fishing than killing.

Aldric’s frown deepened. Many of the clan tattoos he saw differed from the others. Yet more strangeness. The Kunishi clans rarely mingled except when they warred against each other.

“Speak slower,”Aldric implored the babbling woman. His brow furrowed.“I can’t understand you.”

The woman’s eyes blazed a trail straight for him and she peeled back her lips to snarl,“You may imitate our tongue, Little Demon, but you will never truly understand us.”

The old man stepped between him and the woman. The spear in his hands shook when he stammered,“Please, Little Demon, forgive my daughter. She knows not what she says—”

“I know exactly what I say,”the woman shouted over the old man’s shoulder.

Behind Aldric, Calix demanded, “Drop your weapons and yield. Now.”

“Calix,” Aldric snapped, though his eyes remained upon the Kunishi before him.“What are you doing here? You do not look like raiders—”

The Kunishi woman laughed.“The foolish demon cannot tell the difference between a refugee and a raider.”

“Silence, Akemi,”the old man pleaded. To Aldric, he continued,“We flee from the one called the Bonesinger. Please, Little Demon, let us go and we will trouble you no longer.”

That was a strange word he had never heard before. Bonesinger.

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