The Final Redemption by Michael Manning (little red riding hood ebook free .txt) 📕

hera real pleasure to be around. Her tension had transmitted itself toboth Gram and their daughter Carissa, with the result being aconfusing chaos.

The strange message fromhis mother had been almost a relief, arriving just in time to helpextricate him from an awkward conversation. It still seems odd, though. Mother has never asked me to cometo the palace on such short notice before.

The only part that really bothered himwas that he had to change into his best clothes. His normal attirewas rather more ‘functional’, and the rest of the time he worearmor. While his more formal clothes were slightly more comfortablethan armor, they were just as hot, and he never felt quite as atease in them.

Rose had already begun loading thechildren in the carriage when the messenger arrived, so hechivalrously offered to walk to the palace instead. Despite theheat and the extra time, he felt he had definitely gotten thebetter end of the bargain.

The Grandmaster of theKnights of Stone had just turned the last corner, and now he couldsee the palace looming ahead, several blocks away. The road he wason ended at the front gate, but something about it botheredhim. The gate is closed. Why is the gateclosed? He increased his pace withoutconsciously thinking about it.

The guardsmen who werenormally posted outside by the street were conspicuously absent.Dorian’s eyes searched the top of the palace wall, but he failed tosee the sentries who should be patrolling. That didn’t mean muchthough; they might have just passed out of view. The gate botheredhim anyway. The gate is never closed, onlythe portcullises, he thought, and it wastrue—except in time of war. In fact, the gate was so rarely closedthat it merited special attention once yearly, to make still it wasstill in good working order.

He was within twenty yards now, so hedecided to call out, “Ho, the gate!” He slowed his steps as well. Along minute passed, and Dorian repeated his call several timesbefore a face appeared in one of the arrow slits immediately abovethe entrance.

“What do you want, making all thatracket!?” said the guardsman.

The man’s tone set Dorian’s teeth onedge. If he had been wearing a hat he might have thrown it to theground in anger, not that he was prone to such gestures. “I am hereto see the Queen! Why is this gate closed?” he shoutedback.

The stranger grinned, “The palace isclosed today. Come back some other time.”

“I will not come back! I was justsummoned,” said Dorian, hedging around the truth slightly. “Do youknow who I am?!”

“A pompous prick?” answered thegatekeeper with a snicker. Dorian could hear several other men inthe gatehouse begin to laugh as well.

“My name is Dorian Thornbear, and ifyou don’t let me inside immediately there will be hell to pay,” heinformed the men within.

The man at the windowstarted to reply when someone tugged on his sleeve. He leaned backand low whispers could be heard. When he reappeared, his expressionhad changed, “Do you mean theDorian Thornbear, as in, Sir Dorian Thornbear?”

“Yes!” Dorian answered inexasperation.

“I don’t believe you,” replied thestranger smugly.

Dorian’s eyes seemed to bulge outward,“Do you honestly think I would lie about that?” It had been wellover a decade since someone had called him a liar.

“Well, anyone couldsay they was DorianThornbear, but you don’t even look like him,” answered the guardseriously.

Dorian stared at the man for a longmoment, flabbergasted. “What am I supposed to look like?” he askedfinally.

“For one thing you should bebigger.”

“Everyone looks smaller when you’relooking down on them from twenty feet up!” shouted Dorian. He hadalready lost his patience. He was now trying to decide whether tofind it or do something questionable. This was the royal palaceafter all, and it didn’t do to assault the King’s residence, evenif the gatekeeper was an ass.

“Look. They say DorianThornbear once threw a rider andhis horse over his shoulder, so he’d have to bebigger than you,” said the man.

Dorian took a deep breath, “I’d liketo speak to your commander or anyone else, for thatmatter.”

The fellow above seemed offended. “Noneed to get touchy. If you’re really Dorian Thornbear, where isyour armor? They say Sir Dorian always wears shining plate, andthat he carries an enchanted greatsword that can cut throughanything.”

“I don’t normally appearbefore Their Majesties accoutered for war!” Dorian was thinkinghard now. Something terrible had happened. He had decided to keepup the blustering façade but inwardly he was certain that the manat the gate was most definitely notone of the King’s men, and that led to all sortsof bad conclusions.

“Fair enough.”

“Does that mean youbelieve me now?” asked Dorian. If I hadtwo of these daggers I could scale the wall easily,he pondered silently, thinking of the assault ofDoron’s god-ridden warriors on Cameron Castle. Unfortunately heonly had his longsword and one dagger, and while both wereenchanted, it would be difficult to use the sword forclimbing.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you going to open the gatethen?”

“One moment.”

The man vanished, andDorian wondered what would be next. Probably crossbowmen, hethought, that would be the obvious thing,and here I am without my armor. He wasconsidering making a dash along the street. If he was going to tryand scale the wall, it would be easier to do so somewhere wherethere weren’t people waiting inside to shoot him. He was visiblysurprised when the massive wooden gates began to open. The outerportcullis began rising as well.

The inner portcullis hadn’t moved,though.

“Come on in, your Lordship,” came thegatekeeper’s voice.

It was a classic strategy for a castleunder siege. The outer portcullis would be raised to allow some ofthe enemy into the entrance of the bailey, while the innerportcullis stayed down. Once they were between the two, the outerportcullis was dropped, and those trapped inside found themselvesin a very bad place. The ceiling of the entryway had many‘murder-holes’, openings that would allow the defenders to dropboiling pitch, molten lead, or in some cases to simply shoot theiropponents.

Dorian decided it was a complimentthat they felt the need to treat him as one might deal with anarmy. “I’ll have to decline your courteous invitation,” heannounced.

“Suit yourself,” said the manabove.

It was about then that Dorian heardthe sound of boots. It was a sound he was