Authors: Morgan Rice
Tags: #scifi, #epic fantasy, #juvenile, #Adventure, #teenage, #dragon, #Magic, #Series, #Fiction, #teen, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #fantasy series, #YA, #sword, #sorcerer, #action, #Monsters
A Charge of Valor (22 page)
They flew over the countryside, heading North, and Thor wondered where Estopheles was leading them.
“
Where are we going?” Reece called out behind him. “King’s Court is destroyed. My brothers and sister are back there. We must save them!”
“
No,” Thor said. “King’s Court is no more. Estopheles is leading us elsewhere. I sense, to them. We must follow her.”
They flew and flew, heading all the way North, along the edge of the Canyon. As the weather grew colder and they lost Estopheles in and out of the Canyon’s mist, Thor was beginning to wonder if they were heading in the right direction—when finally, they reached it.
There, perched at the edge of the Canyon, sat a huge, red city.
Silesia.
Thor had seen paintings of it as a child, but had never seen it in person. The sight of it took his breath away. It was magical, blanketed in the swirling mist of the Canyon, with its two cities, one on the Canyon’s edge and one built into the Canyon itself. It looked as if it sat on the edge of the world.
Even more startling, it was occupied by Andronicus’s army. There must have been a million soldiers down below, covering the ground like locusts, camped out as far as the eye could see, and filling the entire city. It was unlike anything Thor had ever seen.
This city, unlike King’s Court, had not been completely destroyed; nor was it empty of humanity, as King’s Court was. Instead, down below, Thor saw hundreds of MacGil and Silesians, alive, bound to each other, slaves to Andronicus.
He also, as he looked carefully, saw something which gave him hope: there was a small group of soldiers, attacking a huge group of Empire. They were vastly outnumbered, clashing with a vast army of Empire soldiers pouring in through the gates. They were fighting bravely and holding their own for now—but within minutes he could see they would be outnumbered and overpowered.
As they flew closer, Thor looked down and saw Kendrick leading the pack. His heart quickened.
“
DOWN!” Thor yelled.
Mycoples dove down, so close she nearly grazed Kendrick’s head with her talons. Then she craned back her neck, opened her mouth, and breathed fire on the Empire soldiers, again and again and again.
Hundreds of Empire soldiers caught fire, shrieking, collapsing to their deaths.
Mycoples kept flying, lifting over the city gates, then diving down and breathing fire on the thousands of Empire soldiers camped outside it. Thor cut huge swaths through the crowd, destroying entire regimens within seconds.
The Empire soldiers who were not killed turned in a panic and fled, running for the hills. The entire army began to run, like a pack of migrating gazelles, farther and farther from Silesia. Many trampled each other to death in the chaos.
Thor circled back, and Mycoples flew back over Silesia and dove down and landed in the center of the courtyard.
They landed to the bewildered faces of Kendrick and the others, all of them in a panic at seeing a dragon. Then their panic turned to relief upon realizing that the Dragon was not going to harm them. And then, finally, it morphed to excitement and gratitude, as they all saw that it was Thor and the others, having returned from the Empire, dismounting from its back.
Thor dismounted from the dragon, and he wheeled the Destiny Sword. He raised it high, overhead, a light shining from it. As he did, the faces of all those around him froze in shock and awe.
There were still hundreds of Empire soldiers left inside the courtyard, and Mycoples purred and Thor sensed she wanted to attack.
“
No,” Thor said to her. “I’ve got these.”
Thor burst forward on foot, raising the Destiny Sword high, and ran out by himself to meet the hundreds of Empire soldiers remaining.
As he charged, wielding the Sword, he felt different than he’d ever had in his life. It was like the Sword was a part of him. It was like it was lifting him up in battle, making each foot step lighter and faster. He didn’t feel as if he was wielding the sword: he felt as if the sword were wielding him.
Thor met the enemy and swung the Sword, and as he did, a magical light shone forth from it. The Sword seemed to stretch out from his hand and he killed a dozen men in a single stroke. He raised the Sword again and again, charging right into the thick of the army, and swung relentlessly.
Within minutes, he had killed all of the men. Hundreds of them, all corpses, lying dead at his feet. And he wasn’t even tired: on the contrary, the Sword filled him with energy.
Thor turned and walked back to his people, standing dumbfounded in the courtyard, watching the scene in shock.
They stood there, mouths agape, as he approached them, walking alone, holding the Sword at his side. Kendrick, Brom, Atme, Srog, Godfrey and the others, dozens of members of the Silver, all famed warriors—they all looked to him with awe.
Thor stood there proudly, and he held the Sword high above his head in victory.
As one, all of the men raised their swords in a great cheer:
THORGRIN!” they yelled out.
Erec charged into the thick of the soldiers in the gulch, packed shoulder to shoulder, swinging his war hammer and turning it sideways to block blows, fighting ten men at once, using every ounce of his skills, every training he had ever received. He was beyond exhausted, but he would not give up. He only needed to gain a few more feet, to cut his way through this crowd, to reach the lodged boulder. If he could just knock it down, he could seal up the gulch and spare all his men from the tide of Empire. Without that, they could never win.
Erec fought with all he had, wheeling and swinging, ducking, leaping, kicking, elbowing and even head-butting. He received a great many blow, punches and kicks and elbows, shields smashing against him, swords slashing and bouncing off his armor. He was losing stamina as he struggled forward, never losing sight of the boulder. He fought for every inch.
Just a few feet away, Erec was stuck. He was simply too exhausted to fight back the tide of men, and he felt himself about to lose ground.
Please, God. I am willing to die on this day. Just let me reach the boulder first. Just give me one last burst of strength.
Erec summoned all the years of training he’d had. He thought of King MacGil, and his heart burned with a desire for vengeance. Not just for himself. But for the MacGils. For the entire Ring.
Erec screamed a great battle cry, and summoned a final strength from somewhere deep inside him, some place he did not know. He roared and rushed forward, knocking back two men at once and pushing his way the final few feet all the way to the boulder.
As he reached it, Erec raised the two-handed hammer high, and brought it down right on the center of the rock.
There came a great cracking noise as the boulder began to split.
Erec did it again and again, and finally, the boulder split in two. He smashed it one last time, and the boulder came tumbling down in a great pile of debris and dust, filling the gulch and completely cutting it off. The tide of Empire soldiers stopped. Finally, the gulch was blocked.
From behind Erec there came a great cheer of victory from his men, who had witnessed the scene.
But Erec suddenly felt a horrific pain in his back. It was the feeling of steel puncturing his flesh.
Erec collapsed to his knees, in agony. He turned to see one remaining Empire soldier still on this side of the debris. He had hidden in the corners, and Erec had missed him.
There came a shout, and Brandt rushed forward and stabbed Erec’s attacker in the heart, killing him and sparing Erec from further injury.
Still, Erec felt the hot blood pouring out, and already felt the life force ebbing out of him.
“
Erec!” Brandt cried out in concern.
Brandt reached down and grabbed Erec and picked him up, draping an arm over his shoulder as several of the Duke’s soldiers rushed forward to help. They all dragged Erec out of the gulch, Erec feeling the pain with each step.
Erec lay there, blood trickling from his mouth, breathing hard, as they laid him down. It hurt to move. He felt his body growing colder, and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer.
A horse came charging up, and as Erec looked up he could have sworn he saw Alistair, dismounting and running over. He wondered if her were seeing things. Alistair? How could she possibly be here?
She knelt down beside Erec, and held him in her arms. Erec could feel her love for him as she sobbed, the tears dripping down onto his face.
She held his face in her palms, leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“
My Lord,” she said, sadly.
As Erec felt the world grow lighter, whiter, the last thing he saw was Alistair, looking down at him with kind, compassionate eyes. He saw her lift her palms, and saw an intense blue light radiate from them. It was the most intense light he had ever seen, and he watched as she closed her eyes and laid her palms on his wound.
As she did, he felt his entire body filling with light and warmth. He felt his wounds healing within him, felt himself being brought back from the dead.
All the soldiers looked over at Alistair as the intense light grew brighter and brighter, encapsulating them both in a magic orb of light.
Erec, feeling stronger by the second, looked up into Alistair’s mystical eyes and got lost in them. As he felt himself drifting into a healing sleep, he had enough energy for one final thought was:
Who is she
?
THIRTY
Gwendolyn opened her eyes slowly, her head throbbing from the welt on her temple where she had been hit by the thieves. She looked around, and realized she was sitting on the forest floor, bound to a tree with coarse ropes. She wiggled, but they would not give. Sitting across from her, perhaps ten feet away, was Steffen, bound to a tree as well.
She heard muted laughter coming from somewhere, and she turned and looked over to see the group of a dozen thieves huddled over a small bonfire in the forest, roasting some sort of small animal, perhaps a rabbit. They shoveled food into their mouths and chewed with their mouths open, chasing it with sacks of wine, and laughing. They laughed too loud, elbowing each other, and were clearly all vulgar individuals.
“
My lady,” Steffen whispered urgently. “Are you okay?”
She nodded slowly back, getting her bearings.
“
I’m sorry I let you down,” he said, looking down to the floor in shame.
“
You fought bravely,” she said. “We were outnumbered.”
“
I have a plan,” he said. “Play along with it.”
Suddenly, the thieves turned their way.
“
What have we here?” one of them called out. “The Queen and the midget are awake! Good morning, sleeping beauty!”
A chorus of crude laughter erupted, and the group jumped to its feet and began strutting their way. Gwen could see the daggers sitting openly in their belts, while some held daggers to their teeth, picking out bits of food and spitting them on the forest floor.
One of them walked up to her and kicked Gwen hard in the calf, while another kicked Steffen in his ribs.
“
You too can talk all you want,” one of them said, using the crude accent of the Southern Ring. “But you’re not going anywhere. You see, will we finish this meal, and when we are done with our wine, we are going to take pleasure in torturing each of you. But first we are going to have a long night of pleasure with you, my lady,” one of them said, stepping back and taking off his hat in an exaggerated bow, to the laughter of them all.
“
Me first,” said one.
“
No you don’t,” said another. “You had the last one first. This one is mine.”
The two of them shoved each other, then cursing, wrestling each other to the floor; finally, one punched the other, knocking him out, and stood. He was a huge, crude brute, with a big belly and a bald head, and he licked his lips as he looked over at Gwendolyn.
“
I’m going to enjoy you,” he said to her.
“
You can have your way with us,” Steffen suddenly called out. “But that would be the biggest mistake of your lives.”
They all turned to him, then broke out in laughter.
“
And why is that, little man?” one of them asked. “Are you going to do something about it?”
“
It is not what I’m going to do,” Steffen said. “It is what you are going to lose.”
The thieves looked at each other with stupid, crude faces, lips hanging open, confused.
“
Lose?” one asked.
“
You see,” Steffen said, “Gwendolyn here is not just a princess. She’s a Queen. Of the entire Western Kingdom of the Ring. She has enough riches at her disposal to make all of you kings and queens yourselves, for the rest of your lives.”
The thieves all looked at each other, then turned and looked at Gwendolyn with a new respect. They seemed unsure.
“
And how is she going to produce this gold?” one asked. “She going to shake it from the trees?”
They all started laughing.
Steffen cleared his throat, undeterred.
“
We are on our way to the Tower of Refuge,” Steffen said. “I am sure you know of it. It is not far from here. The Queen’s attendants will be waiting to greet us. They have chests of gold there. More than enough to buy her ransom and more. That is,
if
she is untouched. If we arrive there hurt in any way, or if we never arrive at all, I assure you, there will be nothing for you. You choose. Bring us to the Tower and become rich men—or harm us and remain in this forest as thieves and paupers for the rest of your days.”
The thieves all looked to each other with a new expression. At first it was one of uncertainty; but then it morphed to greed.
“
He’s lying,” one said.
“
What if he’s not?” another answered. “With if the little dwarf is right?”
“
I can use that kind of gold,” said one.
“
So can I,” said another.
“
Forget the gold,” yelled the big man. “I don’t need more gold. What I want is to have my way with her. She’s the prettiest piece I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe ever.”
He began walking towards Gwendolyn, removing his belt—when another one of the thieves, unshaven with long hair, suddenly pulled a dagger and snuck up behind him and held it to his throat.
“
Don’t touch the girl,” he warned, as the bald man stood still for fear of the blade. “We’re getting that gold.”
The big man, deferring to this one’s authority, swallowed hard, and took a step back.
The leader with the long hair turned and pointed the tip of his dagger to Steffen.
“
For your sake, your words best be true. If not, I will cut off your jewels myself, and feed you both to the bears.”
*
Gwendolyn and Steffen were marched side-by-side, wrists bound with rope, led by the group of a dozen thieves, shoved as they stumbled forward, approaching the Tower of Refuge. They all emerged from the woods and entered the clearing surrounding the tower. The tower was immaculate, ancient and mysterious, built of a shining black stone. It was narrow, perhaps only a hundred feet in diameter, and it soared hundreds of feet high into the sky, a magical structure in the middle of nowhere.
Gwen felt the energy radiating off of it. This was clearly a sacred place.
The tower was built with but a single door, an arched, black door with no markings and no handle.
The thieves all prodded them into the clearing and closer to the door, until finally the leader stopped them, about twenty yards away.
“
We’re not going any closer,” he said to Steffen, “until your people come out now—with the gold. You got one minute. Otherwise, we kill her. And you.”
Steffen swallowed hard, then looked to Gwendolyn. She nodded back, understanding.
“
I will summon my attendants,” she said to the thieves.
Gwen recalled what Argon had told her, about how to summon the Keepers of the Tower. She leaned back and called out.
“
Keepers of the Tower!” she called. “I have come to enter your walls!”
Gwendolyn waited in the silence, hoping, praying, that Argon was right. If not, she would be dead.
As time passed, Gwen’s heart pounded in her chest. She was afraid that this might all be for nothing, that she might have her throat cut at any moment.
Suddenly, to her immense relief, the door opened.
Out walked seven knights, donning shining, black plate armor, from head to toe, their faces obscured by face plates with long, pointed noses. The seven of them walked in silence, in perfect formation, side-by-side. They donned gauntlets covered in sapphires, the only variation on their all black armor, and they each stopped together and faced them, standing at attention.
The thieves looked at each other, puzzled.
“
What the hell is this?” asked one.
“
Oh Keepers of the Flame!” Gwendolyn called out, remembering all that Argon had taught her. “I am here to devote myself inside these walls.”
These were the sacred words that Argon had taught her to pronounce, the words that would gain one entry into the Tower of Refuge. Argon had told her about these men who stood guard: the Seven Knights. The Keepers of the Flame. They were seven magical nights, who, legend had it, had guarded the tower for centuries, prepared to keep out any and all enemies who dared to breach it. By Gwen’s recital of these words, she immediately became an inhabitant of the Tower. And that made it the Seven Knights’ sworn duty to protect her.
As Gwen finished pronouncing the words, as one, the knights silently strode forward, marching towards the thieves.
“
Stay back!” one thief called out, his voice shaking.
The thieves were growing increasingly nervous, shifting, yanking on Gwen’s and Steffen’s ropes. One of them raised a dagger and held the blade close to Gwen’s throat.
The Knights kept coming closer.
“
Any closer, and the girl dies!” a thief yelled. But his voice shook with fear.
As the knights neared, they lifted their face visors.
The sight struck fear into the heart of the thieves. Even Gwendolyn was afraid.
Because behind the visors there was nothing. No faces. No bodies. Nothing.
The magical nights lunged forward, raising their swords like a flash of lightning, and attacked the thieves. Gwen blinked.
When she opened her eyes, all that was left around her were the corpses of the thieves, bloody, at her feet.
Gwen felt her hands freed, and she turned to realize that the knights had severed her ropes, and Steffen’s too. The knights then stood back at attention, waiting beside her, as if for a command.
Gwen knew they were waiting for her. And she knew it was time to go.
She turned and looked at Steffen, and he stared back at her, still shocked.
“
I guess this is where we say goodbye,” she said, turning and examining the open door to the Tower with a sense of apprehension. It felt so final. As if she would never come out.
“
I guess it is, my lady,” he said sadly.
Steffen reached out and took one of her hands and kissed the back of it, bowing his head.
“
And what will become of you?” she asked.
“
Do not worry my lady,” he said, turning back towards the thick forest. “My duty here is complete. You are delivered safely. I will survive. I always have. But know this: I wait for you. If you should ever leave this place, I wait to be in your service once again, for the rest of my days.”
Gwen watched him go, disappearing into the forest. Then she turned and walked towards the open door of the tower. The Knights fell in behind her, accompanying her, and in moments, she was inside, the door slamming behind her. The finality of it echoed in every bone she had. She could not help but feel as if she had just been entombed forever.
