The Dread Lords Rising by J. David Phillips
*
Niam stepped painfully back, away from Joachim. The moment Eason looked down at the trall’s severed head and all but admitted his involvement in recent events, Joachim burst forward in violence. The Count of Kalavere looked up dumbly from the floor while Joachim smoothly drew his sword from its scabbard and pointed it at the prone man.
“Get up and fight me or get out of my province and face me in court,” Joachim said venomously.
Eason’s eyes widened as he clearly realized that a ring of Joachim’s troops had come in through the back door while he was too busy grandstanding to notice. Niam knew that they must have subdued the men guarding the back before entering. The arrogant count looked up at the Wizard’s Hammer accompanying him with the embers of humiliation burning behind his eyes, but the Hammer looked on as unperturbed as a rock in a rainstorm.
“Get this sack of dung out of here!” Joachim ordered one of Eason’s own men. Get him out and get the bloody hell out of my territory before my forces cut you and your men to pieces. Now!”
One of the officers rushed forward to help his fallen lord, but the bleeding count threw the soldier’s arm off of him and screamed, “Get your hands off of me! Get your filthy hands off of me or I’ll have you hanged!”
The soldier’s face whitened and he backed off. Before Eason said anything else, Joachim said loudly to his own captain, “Take the names of each member of Count Eason’s guard. If a one of them ends up missing when he answers for this in Pallodine, I will add more charges against him.”
Loud cries of approval and anger burst forth from the gathered onlookers. Amid shouts and jeers, Niam watched the Wizard’s Hammer named Dosir walk away from the gathering. The beaten count picked himself up, dabbing at the blood pouring from his ruined face. He looked at the door without making eye contact with anyone in the room. Livid red splotches of shame covered his features as he made his unsteady way out of the inn.
Niam let out a loud sigh of relief.
Joachim walked up to him and asked, “Out of curiosity, I thought we agreed you were supposed to hold the trall’s head up so everyone could see it. What on earth possessed you to toss it to the maggot?”
Niam looked up at the count’s chiseled face. “The thing stank. I thought it would be better off in his hands,” he said innocently.
Joachim smiled thinly. “Yes. I think it was.”