The Golden Maze
The arrow took him in the shoulder. He felt it before he saw it. A hot spike. Then a cold bloom. He did not fall. He gripped the hilt of his sword. The steel was slick with sweat. The air smelled of iron. And rot. He was in the hall. The King’s hall. The banners were red. The torches hissed. Rain lashed the glass. It was a siege. Or a feast. He could not tell. The noise was a wall. Shouting....
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