Chapter 9 - The Siege of Frosthold
Dawn broke over Frosthold like a jagged wound across the gray sky. Lord Malaphar’s fortress was a monolith of black stone, perched menacingly atop a frozen promontory. Inside the courtyard, Malaphar sat upon a fur-lined throne, drinking spiced wine while his captains reported on the expected ambush at the Iron Pass.
"The boy king will be walking into a slaughterhouse," Malaphar laughed, his belly shaking beneath his heavy velvet tunic. "By noon, his head will be mounted on a spike outside the city gates, and the crown will be ours for the taking."
Suddenly, a deafening explosion shattered the quiet morning air.
The heavy iron-reinforced outer gates of Frosthold buckled inward, splintering into a thousand pieces under an unseen, tremendous force. Alarms horns blared across the courtyard, sending Malaphar’s mercenaries scrambling into confusion.
Malaphar leaped from his throne, spilling his wine. "What is the meaning of this?! Sound the alarm!"
Through the smoking wreckage of the gate strode King Arthur. He did not wear a heavy helmet; his damp hair blew in the cold wind, and the crescent mark on his forehead shone with brilliant intensity. In his right hand, he held Caliburn, which blazed with a blinding golden radiance that seemed to push back the very shadows of the fortress.
Behind him poured Sir Gawain and the royal guards, alongside Lyra and dozens of armed warriors from the Mountain Clan who had slipped through the back posterns to unlock the gates from within.
"Lord Malaphar!" Arthur’s voice boomed across the courtyard, echoing off the stone walls with the resonance of thunder. "Your tyranny in the north is at an end!"
Malaphar’s face drained of color, replaced by an ugly mask of blind fury. "Kill him!" he shrieked to his mercenaries. "Kill the boy and bring me his head!"
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Dozens of heavily armored mercenaries rushed forward, swords drawn, eager to claim the bounty. Arthur did not flinch. He raised Caliburn, and with a sweeping arc of the blade, a shockwave of pure golden energy erupted outward.
The blast swept the mercenaries off their feet, sending them crashing against the courtyard walls like leaves in a gale. They groaned, disarmed and stunned, unable to stand against the divine power of the true king.
