It was the middle of the night, at the darkest time of the moon and the perfect night for an ambush. Crouched in the shadows, you could just make out six dark clad figures. They waited tensely. They could hear the clatter of horses hooves. The air was rich with anticipation. Around the bend they came, twenty knights on horseback in shining black armor, and in their midst, gleaming like the moon itself was the Queen. She wore silver armor that shimmered in the moonlight, rode a white horse, and upon her head was a crown with a small black swan upon it. The Queen was strikingly beautiful in her shining armor. She rode with an air of authority that only someone of high birth could carry.
The men hidden in the shadows readied their bows. There was a hissing sound. Then suddenly the Queen’s horse reared and sent her flying to the ground. The horse fell dead with six arrows in its chest. The Queen jumped up and in a wicked voice screamed, “After them, you fools!.”
The Knights, in disarray from the surprise attack, formed a ragged line and charged in the direction from where the arrows came. Again, a hissing sound and a line of charging knights fell from their horses. The knights reached the spot where they had seen the figures but there was no one there. They looked around in confusion. Then suddenly, the dark clad figures leaped out of the trees scattering the knights. They wore blackened chainmail, carried long, black swords, and wore full-length green cloaks with large cowls that obscured there faces. The knights, surprised by this sudden attack from an unknown enemy, fled off down the road.
The figures ran over to where the Queen had fallen, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Darn we lost her
e,” said one of the
figures, the tallest of the group.
“Its fine. Look what she left behind,” said the one with a crest on his cloak. He held up a small silver key hanging on a gold chain.
“Is that,” said the tall one.
“Yes it is,” said the other, cutting him off as he placed the key in a pouch on his belt. ”Come on,” he said. “Lets get back and tell Gilan what we found.”
Gilan was not a big man, but he was strong from years of fighting in the wars. He sat at the counsel table in the rebel stronghold located in the Brutties fief. It was a large castle, one of the biggest in the country with a citadel, on top of a mountain, defended by seven great walls. It was virtually invincible. Gilan had been leading the rebel resistance for the past five years through many victories and very few defeats. Gilan was a genius and mastermind of battle strategy, and not a bad fighter ether.
“Where are they. “They should have been back by now”. “Sir, I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” said his chief advisor Arold.
Gilan waited impatiently. Just then a soldier came running in.
”Sir, Justin and his group have just returned.
“At last,” sighed Gilan “well, they certainly took there time.”
As Justin and his group walked in to the throne room, Gilan greeted them warmly like old comrades.
“So how did things go?” asked Gilan.
“Well unfortunately we didn’t get the Queen, but we did find this.” Justin held up a small silver key.