Book three is getting there…

Here is a teaser of what is coming…

Later in the day, Sean was startled to hear loud noises outside his office. His staff called to him that a large crowd of people were marching up the street chanting.

“Get away from the windows, they have crossbows,” Tyrone called out. Sean rushed to the front office and saw a crowd of people advancing on the entrance. It was not a large crowd, but many carried crossbows. He recognized the man in front as his cousin Edmond’s oldest son, Thomas. He noticed Sheila was at the back of the crowd with her son Padraig, and many other family members. They were not carrying weapons. Tyrone grabbed him as he started to go out the front door.

“Didn’t you hear me, they have crossbows and they are chanting Bartmore.” A man ran out of the Healers headquarters still dressed in the loose-fitting clothes given those who were seriously ill. It was Desmond O’Brian, his predecessor as prince.

O’Brian ran up the steps of Sean’s office. He turned and confronted the crowd. “Tom, what are you trying to do?” He called to his nephew who seemed to be leading the crowd.

“Our of our way, Uncle Desmond,” his nephew Thomas Bartmore said. “You were not man enough to do this, so we are doing it for the good of Utopia.” He pointed his loaded crossbow at the former ruler.

“Violence is never the answer, Tom,” O’Brian said. “I don’t know what your Aunt Sheila has told you but, I was sick and now I’m better. What she had planned is against everything our ancestors believed.”

“You’re a weakling fool. The Bartmore’s should be in charge. And we will be soon. We will rule. I don’t like you and I won’t mind putting one of these bolts in your gut. Get out of our way.”

The distinct snap of a crossbow broke the silence. Thomas Bartmore toppled over with a bolt protruding from his right eye, a poisoned bolt. His own crossbow fired erratically into the wall near the door.

“Place your weapons on the ground now!” A command rang from the roof of the administration building. Two of the crowd swung their bow up and began scanning the building’s roof for the shooter but were shot themselves. The rest of the armed crowd quickly complied with the command. Healers rushed from their building to the three who had been shot. There was nothing they could do. The other two had been hit as precisely as the first. All three were dead.

From the streets around the small square, members of the Rangers surrounded the crowd. The crossbows were quickly collected and those who had been holding them were herded towards the detention room at the head adjudicator’s office.

“At this rate, we’re going to need a real prison,” one of the young rangers said to his partner.

“Hope this is the last of it,” the woman answered.

Douglas Stewart, head of the Rangers, rappelled off the roof of the healers building and motioned his other rangers to come down. Tyrone allowed Sean to come to the open door when he saw Stewart.

“Lord Johnson, my apologies for not warning you, but we wanted to catch them in the act. Lord O’Brian, I was not going to use this much force but when he threatened you, I did not believe I had a choice.”

“I wish my life had not cost so much, Doug. They are all three relatives. I have known them all their lives.” O’Brian’s face was wet with tears.

“Sheila,” he called to his former wife. “This is what you started. You will answer to your brother for the death of his eldest and his daughter. For Ludden’s son too. I hope you’re proud, Sheila. You started this.” One of the healers talked softly to him and led him back to the healer’s building. Sheila had pushed to the front of the crowd and stood staring at the bodies until her son pulled her away. She was heard to tell the few supporters still in the square to go home. That was what she was going to do.

A small part of book three of Charlie’s Legacy, coming soon to Amazon Digital. ©Sulfur Creek Enterprises 2024