Free The Queen's Gambit by Deborah Chester

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    Hacking with his sword, Talmor had no time to marvel at the raiders’ foolishness in not wearing armor or even carrying shields. Yet they didn’t fall back. They kept on fighting as though as well equipped as he. A club thudded into his back with such force he nearly toppled off balance. Robbed of breath, Talmor twisted in the saddle to evade another blow and brought his sword up and over with a blow of retaliation that took off the man’s arm. Screaming, the savage fell back, blood spurting from his wound, while another raider came swarming up into the saddle with Talmor.
    Taken by surprise, Talmor felt the sting of a dagger driven through his chain mail into his ribs. He could not use his sword at such close quarters. The raider was right in his face, orange eyes glowing as he twisted the dagger and gibbered hatred at Talmor. Grimacing, Talmor smashed his sword forearm into the Vvordsman’s nose, breaking it with a splatter of blood, then drew his dagger and stabbed the man through the heart.
    He fell, but three others swarmed Talmor on all sides. He fought them off, taking the punishing blows of clubs although by now a wicked, piercing pain in his side warned him he might have ribs broken. His dagger wound felt numb, and he could not tell how much blood he was losing. Ignoring these problems, he fought on with gritted teeth.
    Then Sir Banjermel appeared at his side, swearing loudly with every blow of his sword. “Talmor, fall back with me!” he called out over the din of weapons and war cries.
    â€œNay! We stand!” Talmor shouted back in refusal, but now he saw that the majority of the raiders had landed farther along the beach and divided their forces. Some hit the village, already looting and burning the modest houses of thatch andwood. The rest were streaming toward the hold, screaming fiercely.
    Sir Banjermel yelled something else that Talmor couldn’t hear. He understood, of course, that it was time to retreat. He’d accomplished the delay that Lord Pace had asked for. Shooting his companion knight a look of gratitude, Talmor waved his arm as a signal for the other knights still alive and fighting.
    A swift glance gave him an imperfect count. He thought he still had twenty men. Who they were he couldn’t tell at this moment.
    â€œFall back!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “To the hold! The hold!”
    They clustered together and began to retreat, still fighting every step. When they finally gained a tiny respite, Talmor sent his mount hopping over the bloody bodies of slain foes and spurred him toward the hold.
    It rose before him on the hillside, a pretty palace that rambled past its defense walls. Lord Pace’s banner flew bravely from the turret, but the raiders were already storming it. Fire blazed from an upper window, and in dismay Talmor urged his horse faster. He headed toward the weakest part of the wall, where the fighting looked heaviest, hoping to crush some of the attackers from behind and pin them against the knights defending the hold.
    As Canae crested the ditch where the pikes were supposed to serve as a deterrent to invaders but could not hold because of the soft ground, he heard Sir Moule shout a gruff warning behind him.
    Talmor was still turning his head when something hard and powerful hit him from his left side. He saw a black shape, the blur of something moving fast at his head.
    The world exploded in a rainbow of colors and fire. He felt himself flying through the air, his horse and saddle left behind. Then the fire went black inside his skull, and he knew nothing else.

Chapter Four

    In her mother’s carriage, Pheresa curled her hands into fists beneath the concealment of King Verence’s cloak. She was intensely angered by what the princess had just said, so furious that she could not find words to reply. She could not even bear to look at her mother, who was so different from her, so contrary, so cold . Not for the