A Vow of Glory

by Morgan Rice

  “Admit it, Gwen. You know the truth. You know that he is gone. That he is never coming back. That he has left you alone. So, you see, now there is nothing left between us. Now it is time for us to marry. If not me, then who else? You will be left alone in this world. Don’t be scared. You can admit your true affections for me.”

  Gwen seethed.

  “I'm only going to say this once," she said slowly. "Listen closely this time, because this is the last time you will ever hear these words. I have no love for you. I don't want to see your face. I don't want to hear your voice. If you come before me again unannounced, I will have you arrested. Now leave me.”

  With that, Gwen turned her back on him, and took two steps forward, looking back out over the parapets, surveying the Canyon. Her heart was pounding inside, and she prayed that this time he would get the message, would leave, and that she would never see his face again. She was shaking with anger at his presumptuousness, and she didn't want to do anything rash.

  Gwen did not hear his footsteps retreating. She was about to turn and look, when suddenly, she felt a strong hand covering her mouth, and another reaching around and grabbing her by the chest. Alton held her tight, even as she struggled, and he was surprisingly strong for a thin and bony boy. He took several steps forward with her, leaning her forward over the edge of the parapet.

  Gwen's heart plummeted, as she looked straight down at the fall, and realized how close she was to being pushed over the edge.

  "Do you see that drop before you?” Alton cried. “Do you see what I can do? Admit your love for me. Admit it! If you do not, I will—"

  Gwen suddenly remembered all that her father's fighters had taught her. She remembered that she wore boots with wooden heels, and she raised a foot high, and stomped down swiftly on Alton’s toe.

  He screamed out like a girl, losing his grip, and she freed one arm, pulled it forward, and then elbowed him in the solar plexus.

  He gasped, and knelt down, wheezing.

  Then he looked up at her, death in his eyes, and stood, preparing to charge again.

  Gwen reached for the dagger in her belt, prepared to draw it.

  But Alton suddenly screamed out and dropped to his knees.

  Gwen saw Steffen standing there, and realized he had just punched Alton hard in the small of his back. Steffen grabbed Alton by his hair, pulled his head back to the sky, pulled a dagger from his waist, and held it firmly to Alton's throat.

  "Give me word, my lady," Steffen said, "and this piece of trash will be gone from the annals of the MacGils.”

  "Please, please!" Alton whimpered. "Please don't do this! I didn't mean it. I just wanted to be with you!”

  Alton looked pathetic, kneeling there, whimpering, begging for mercy.

  "I should have him cut your throat right now," Gwendolyn seethed, still reeling from being pushed over the edge like that. It scared her to think of how close she had come.

  "Please!" Alton pleaded. "You can’t kill me! I am royalty after all! It is forbidden for you to touch me!”

  There was a sudden commotion and several men burst onto the roof. Srog led the way, along with Kolk, Brom and several members of the Silver. They all ran up to her, and several soldiers grabbed Alton roughly, yanking him to his feet and holding him in place.

  "My lady," Srog said, breathing hard, looking embarrassed, "please accept my most humble apologies. Somehow this boy slipped past the guards. He told them he was royalty, that he was related to you.”

  Gwen was still shaking from the encounter, but she dared not show it.

  "I thank you for your concern," she said, trying to use her queenly voice, trying to step into the role they expected of her. "But I am fine. He is but a foolish boy, and Steffen was here to help.”

  Srog nodded gratefully to Steffen.

  "Silesian law demands that any person who lays a hand on a king or queen must be put to death,” Srog said.

  "NO!" Alton screamed, weeping like a child. "Please! You can’t!”

  Gwen looked down at him, shaking her head. As pathetic as he was, she couldn't stand the thought of killing him—even if he deserved it.

  "My lord," Gwen replied to Srog, "I am new here, so I ask a favor. This one time, I would ask to bend your law. In this one case I do not wish to have him killed. I would rather some lesser form of judgment.”

  "As you will, my lady," he said. "What did you have in mind?”

  Gwen thought, trying to devise a way to rid Alton from her life for good.

  "Well, seeing as this boy claims he is royalty, let's give him the royal right of fighting with the soldiers. Give Alton armor and weapons, and send him out in the field with the common troops to fight on the front lines.”

  "No, my lady!" Alton screamed. "I am not a fighter!”

  "Then you shall learn to be one,” Gwen said. “Maybe you can take your martial skills out on our enemy, instead of on a defenseless girl. Take him away," Gwendolyn ordered.

  The guards rushed to do her bidding, dragging Alton away as he screamed in protest the entire way.

  "A wise decision my lady," Srog said in admiration.

  "My lady, onto more important matters," Brom stepped forward. "We are receiving reports of the mobilization of Andronicus' army. It is hard to separate truth from rumor. But if most reports be true, we may not have as much time to prepare as we think. We must make our final preparations and lock down this city immediately.”

  "This city was built with an outer layer of defense,” Srog added, “built for times like this. We can seal up our outer gates as well—but once we do, they cannot be opened. No one can come in or out.”

  Gwen thought; she knew they needed to prepare, but she wasn't ready to seal the city just yet.

  "My brother Kendrick is still out there," she said. "And so is Thorgrin and the other brave Legion members. I don't want to seal the city until they've had a chance to arrive.”

  "Yes, my lady," Srog said.

  Gwendolyn hoped beyond hope that Thor could return before they sealed the city gates; yet she knew, with a pang of sadness, that that would likely be impossible. She hated the idea of shutting him out.

  "My lady, there is one more matter," Srog added, clearing his throat, hesitating. "This city was built with escape tunnels, deep beneath the surface. If we are in dire circumstances, there is a way for a few of us to get out. For you to get out. If we are completely surrounded, and our fortifications give way, Andronicus will destroy us all. We can get you to safety. Beyond the walls. Far from here.”

  Gwendolyn was touched by the offer, but slowly, she shook her head.

  "I'm deeply grateful," she said, "but I would never abandon any of you. Or this city. You have taken me in. I will treat it as my home. If Silesia goes down, we will all go down together. There will be no escape. Not for me.”

  The men all looked at her with a new look, and she could see the respect in their eyes. For the first time, she was beginning to feel like a ruler. A true ruler. This was what it meant to rule, she felt. To lead by example.

  Gwendolyn turned and looked out over the Canyon, at the swirling mists, lit up by the setting sun, and she thought once again, of Thor.

  Please Thor, she willed. Come home to me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Thor followed the boy closely, the others beside him, as they all finally emerged from the thick foliage of the jungle, the second sun long in the sky. It had been an arduous hike back up from the bottom of the crater, where the mudslide had taken them. It had felt as if they would never stop sliding, Thor and the others completely covered in mud as they slid hundreds of feet into a huge mud pit. They’d had to fight their way back up to the top, and it had taken too long.

  Now it was almost dark, the boy more anxious than ever, constantly watching the sky, and the boy seemed immensely relieved as they entered the large clearing in the jungle, the first that Thor had seen. For a while he had been sure that they’d never surface from that mud pit—and that they’d never get out of t
his jungle.

  Thor was surprised to see the large clearing before them, perhaps a hundred feet in each direction, and in the center of it, a small cottage. Smoke rose from its chimney, which Thor could understand, since the temperature had plummeted over the last hour, as night began to fall. It was startling to see this cottage here, a dwelling in the midst of such a vast wilderness, bordered by trees that reached into the sky. Thor and the others exchanged a look of wonder. Who could live here, Thor wondered, in this lone house in the midst of this wilderness? It was so unexpected.

  "My grandpa doesn't take to most people,” the boy said, turning to them. “Wait here, let me speak to him. Hopefully we'll catch him in a good mood and he’ll let you stay the night here.”

  "Thanks,” Thor said, “but we don't need to stay the night here—"

  Before he could finish speaking, the boy was gone, entering his grandpa's house.

  As they sky grew darker, strange night birds began to make all sorts of noises. Thor leaned back and looked up at the towering trees, reaching into the sky; they climbed so high, he could barely even see the top, and he felt overwhelmed by the immensity of nature here.

  There came a sudden shouting from inside the cottage, and Thor looked at the others, shifting uncomfortably, and wondered what to do. On the one hand, he did not want to stay the night here—he wanted to keep moving. Yet he also wanted to meet this old man and find out if he knew anything about the Sword before moving on.

  The door slammed open and out came a middle-aged man, ducking his head at the doorway. He was bald, with graying hair on both sides, a big nose, narrow brown eyes and a double chin, and was dressed in robes, frayed, hardly better than rags. He stopped before the group and stared directly at Thor, clearly annoyed.

  "What right did you have to press my grandson to bring you here?" he demanded, angry.

  "We did not press your grandson to do anything!" Thor protested. "He offered to take us—"

  "And how am I supposed to know that you are not of the Empire?" the man pressed, reaching down and gripping the hilt of his sword, resting at his waist.

  Thor and the others instinctively reached for their weapons, too, as they did not know exactly how belligerent this man would be.

  "Your dress seems to show you're not from here,” the old man said, “but what if it’s all a trick? What if you are spies for the Empire?”

  Thor sensed that the best way to deal with this wary old man was through kindness, and he raised his hands innocently and took a step forward.

  "Sir, we mean no offense," he said, in as gentle tone as he could muster. "We are not spies of the Empire. We have come here from the Ring. We seek a certain sword which was stolen from our kingdom. We mean you no harm. And if you wish to tell us which direction it was heading, we will be on our way. If you do not, then we shall just leave now, and leave you in peace. In any case, we thank your grandson for his kindness in saving us. We owe him a great debt.”

  The man stared Thor up and down earnestly for quite a while, then finally his hand relaxed; he let go of the hilt of his sword, and his face relaxed, too.

  "I hear it in your voice," the man said. “That accent. You are indeed of the Ring. It has been years, too many years, since I've been there. A beautiful place. I miss it dearly.”

  The man surveyed all of them, then finally relaxed his shoulders.

  "Forgive my haste in accusing you," he added. "We live alone out here, and one can never be too sure. Welcome. I wish for you to stay. Come quickly now," he said, gesturing with his hands, looking out at the trees as if afraid something might attack them.

  Thor looked at Reece and the others, who looked back and nodded, and as one, they all filed into the man's cottage, as he followed and closed the door, barring it behind them with a large metal pole.

  "Sit, please,” the old man said as he entered, tidying up.

  Thor surveyed the cozy cottage, and saw that it was roomy, enough to hold all of them. The floors were lined with furs, a small fire roared in the fireplace, and it smelled of food, making Thor’s stomach growl. Krohn must have smelled it, too, because he began to whine.

  The boy hastened to do his grandfather's bidding, hurrying over with a platter of fruits that Thor did not recognize. Thor and the others each grabbed one, and as Krohn whined, the boy took a piece off the platter, leaned down, and fed it to him. Krohn snatched it from his hand, wolfed it down, made a funny face, licked his lips several times, then whined for more. The boy laughed.

  Thor examined his piece of fruit. It looked like a fig, but was much bigger, red in color, and covered in a sort of moss.

  "What is it?" Thor asked.

  "It's a mooless," the boy said.

  “Try it,” the grandfather chimed in. "It's bitter but also sweet. It will give you energy after your long hike.”

  Thor raised it to his nose, and it smelled unlike anything he had ever encountered—like an onion crossed with a lemon. He could feel from his fingertips that it was sticking to his hand, and as the others, he lifted it and took a tentative bite.

  He was struck by the taste: it was delicious, and even this small bite gave him a burst of energy. He gobbled it down and licked his fingers, and already felt like a new man.

  Thor sat with the others on the pile of furs on the floor, spread out around the fire, Krohn coming up beside him, and resting his head in Thor's lap. Thor was surprised at how good it felt to sit, the achiness in his legs slowly subsiding. He had not realized how long they had been on their feet, how much his muscles hurt. They were also all bruised from their encounter with that animal. These furs were so soft and comfortable, Thor felt as if he could fall asleep sitting up.

  But he thought of the Ring, under attack, and knew they had urgent business to attend to, and did not want to waste any time. He leaned forward.

  "We are most grateful for your hospitality," Thor said to the old man, "but I'm afraid we haven’t much time. We are on an urgent journey. We must find the Sword. Please, tell us where it went so we can be on our way.”

  The old man took a seat, leaning back on a fur on the other side of the fire, beside the boy, and he looked back at them and shook his head.

  "You can't go back out there," he said. "Not now. Haven’t you seen? The second sun is about to set.”

  “I told them papa!” the boy said.

  “We appreciate your caution,” Thor said, “but as I said, we have urgent business, and we do not fear insects.”

  The old man snorted.

  "You don’t understand,” he said. “No one can be out there at night. No one. You would not last an hour. After nightfall, sometime during the rising of the first moon, the rains come. No one can survive outside during the rains.”

  "And why couldn't one survive a rainfall?" Reece pressed.

  The man turned and narrowed his eyes at him.

  "Because it is not a rainfall," he said. "It is not water that falls from the sky, boy, but Ethabugs.”

  “Ethabugs?” Elden asked.

  "A kind of spider, but larger and more deadly. In this part of the Empire, the sky rains them, every night. You'll hear them falling against our cottage. It will last for about an hour, then they scurry on their way. But if you are outside during that time, without shelter, you'd be finished. I've seen a grown elephant devoured by those things in five minutes. No, you will stay here. At first light, you can go.”

  Thor and the others exchanged a look of wonder, and he marveled at how different this place was. As he thought about it, he realized he was exhausted, and while his mind was in a rush to go, his body was not. His friends looked exhausted, too, and he did not blame them. Thor realized that being a good leader sometimes meant inspiring your people to go on—but sometimes it also meant allowing them to rest. And if this old man was not exaggerating—and Thor suspected he was not—then he was grateful to have found this shelter, and for the man's hospitality. He didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened if they had been outside during th
at time.

  "Then we are most grateful for your warning, and for your hospitality," Thor said. “Thank you for having us.”

  The old man shrugged.

  "It's nice to have company once in a while. Especially from the Ring. I spent the better part of my youth there. Lovely place.”

  Thor’s eyes opened wide in surprise; this man had been to the Ring?

  "And then what are you doing here?" O'Connor asked.

  The man looked down, waited several seconds, and lapsed into silence.

  "I'm sorry," O'Connor said. "I didn't mean to pry.”

  The old man remained silent for a while more, then finally, took a deep breath.

  "I was young, a tragedy struck in my life. I thought the best thing to do was to start clean. I thought I’d head out west, beyond the Canyon, sail across the Tartuvian for the Empire, head into the wilds. I suppose at the time a part of me had been hoping to get killed. My woes engulfed me, and it was the easy way out.

  “But that did not turn out to be the case. Somehow, I survived. And then I grew fond of surviving. I have lived here alone, for all these years—until the arrival of my grandson. Now I have something to live for. And despite all the animals, I have grown to like it here. I have traveled across the entire Empire, have seen places and things you can hardly imagine. It is a vast, vast Empire, dwarfing the Ring in comparison. You have not lived until you've seen it all. Not just the Empire proper, and not just the islands. But also the Land of the Dragons. And the Land of the Druids.”

  "The Land of the Druids?" Thor asked, sitting up, shaking off his sleepiness. "Have you been there?”

  The man nodded.

  "As close as you can come. It is a magical place. There are many magical places in the Empire. It has all been ruined by Andronicus, by his army, which is everywhere. His patrols are ever-present, which is why I had to come out here, deep in the jungle. Anyone caught by them is captured and taken either as a soldier or as a slave. His army of slaves is in fact bigger than his army of soldiers. He has to dominate everything, every last soul.”