The castle had fallen, there was no doubt of it. A huge, dark battering ram with its leathered frame afire had broken down the golden gates. A dark tide of enemy soldiers rushed in, crashed against the last phalanx like a howling, blade wielding wave. I stood on one of the highest parapets of the keep, one paw on a cold crenel, watched the battle turn.
Behind me my king was sobbing. The cloth of gold collar of his resplendant robe was wet with tears and snot. His crown, studded with enough gems to buy a town, was askew. The collie had a jeweled dagger in his paw, a fop's toy, though the edge was sharp enough. I'd watched him hold it to his throat three times since they'd breached the fortress, yet each time his nerve had failed him.
Did he know how much harder it would be if they captured him alive?
As for the state of the keep itself there were traitors in our ranks. Someone had sabotaged the drawbridge gears, blocked the porticullus from falling and locking in place with cement paste. There would be no final defense. The opposing general was wise and tenacious, paying those mystery men. The siege could have gone on for months more if not for such foresight.
Something exploded down there, the violent power of it making the heavy stones beneath my boots shiver. A mushroom cloud rose orange and acrid, illuminated the blood soaked abattoir of the courtyard in the chaotic light of flames. Shortly thereafter came a storm of screams.
The petard reserve? Probably. Someone had put a torch to it, probably, and-
I felt the old collie's paw on my shoulder, saw the gilded dagger loom in my vision. It was curved, one side serrated, as long as a raptor's claw in reality yet just then it seemed to possess the size of a greatsword. For a split second I thought my king meant to kill me.
That was stupid, though. His wrist was trembling, the dog was panting, his eyes were full of pitiful panic. "Rif...loyal Rif. I can't do it."
My hackles went up at his touch, yet I didn't pull away. I watched the flames dance in his eyes, forced myself to calm. I could smell his fear through the smoke, sour and acrid. The animal in me saw his weakness and resented it, yet the human in me...
He was my friend, always had been, and to see him that way broke my heart. He had already slipped poison to his two daughters, knowing-
"You have to do it," he said.
Time stopped. I opened my mouth and no words came out.
He pressed his head to my chest, whispered what he'd said again. You have to do it.
It's surreal. I'm a fox, a very fast one, and I'm a swordsman. I didn't take his toy. With one step back I was far enough away. With a single stroke I cut his head off.
It's strange. The crown rolled, gold ringing hollowly against the castle stone, then bounced and was lost to the night. Looking back I guess that's right. I wonder who found it down there, or if sits at the bottom of the moat still, green with slime and its glint clouded by fish shit and silt.
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