Free Sir Kendrick and the Castle of Bel Lione by Chuck Black Page A

warriors approached with scowls on their scarred faces. Each grabbed one of his upper arms, their powerful fingers nearly piercing his skin. None of the revelers seemed to notice as the warriors dragged Duncan across the castle yard into a chamber on the southeast side of the castle.
    Once Duncan was inside and the door closed, the warriors slammed him up against the gray stones of the wall. One of them drew a long dagger and held it to his throat. Duncan tried to swallow against the steel of the blade, but could not do it without cutting his throat. A fear hehad never known welled up within him as he looked into the warrior’s vicious eyes.
    “Lord Ra will want to see him
before
he is unable to speak.” The voice came from a darkened corner of the room. Sir Casimir stepped forward and into the light.
    The warrior holding the dagger snarled and looked at Casimir, then back at Duncan.
    “Tell Lord Ra we have him,” Casimir said. The other warrior left.
    Casimir approached Duncan. He slowly shook his head and said with a wry smile, “You will die here, foolish knight.”
    The warrior pressed the dagger further against Duncan’s skin and began to chuckle in anticipation. Duncan tried to turn his head away, but he could press no further into the stone wall. He began to gasp for each breath as the reality of his impending demise bore down on him. The distorted face of the warrior before him left no shred of hope beyond that of a quick death.
    The door to the hall opened, and a dark figure entered. Even from across the room, Duncan could feel the evil power it emanated.
    Casimir bowed low as Lord Ra strode past him toward Duncan, his black cape snapping behind him. He was outfitted in partial armor that was dark gray with red etchings. Duncan sank deeper into despair as he recognized the image engraved on Ra’s breastplate—the same dragon he had seen on the Vincero medallion. Ra stepped nearer, and Duncan gazed into darkened eyes that made him tremble.
    “Gorrock, that’s no way to treat a guest.” Lord Ra’s deep voice reverberated through the chamber.
    “Forgive me, my lord.” The warrior pulled the dagger away from Duncan’s throat and stepped aside.
    Duncan slumped, his hand about his throat as he took his first deep breath in a long time. Ra reached for Duncan’s shoulder and straightened him to an upright position. Then he lifted Duncan’s chin slightly, inspecting him as one would a horse before making a purchase.
    Duncan willed himself to look back—or up, for Lord Ra was as tall as his guards and perhaps even a bit broader. Glossy black hair hung down to just above his shoulders and only partially hid a deep scar that ran diagonally from above his left eye to his cheek. There was no question in Duncan’s mind that Ra was a lofty and dark power in Lucius’s evil regime.
    “So this is one of His followers.” Ra smirked. “He looks as puny as the rest of them.” Ra looked over at Casimir. “Are you sure?”
    “I am,” Casimir responded.
    Without looking back, Ra moved an enormous hand to Duncan’s throat and slowly began to squeeze. Panic washed over Duncan, followed by an uncanny sense of calm. From somewhere came the realization that Ra and his minions feared only one thing … the power of the Prince. And he belonged to the Prince.
    “I am a Knight of the—” Duncan began, but Ra’s grip tightened and stopped his words.
    “There is no Prince here, knave!” Ra’s face was a grotesque contortion of evil. “I rule this region, and Lucius rules this kingdom. The feeble efforts of the Prince through His pitiful knights will only make us stronger, and He will one day bow before
us
in humiliation!”
    Duncan strained against Ra’s grip with both hands but could not break his hold. Ra leaned closer, fixing Duncan with a glare of hate and loathing. Then he released his grip and threw Duncan to the floor.
    Gasping, Duncan raised himself up to one knee. “I will … tell you nothing,” he