by Morgan Rice
"We are all heading towards our deaths anyway, Luanda," Gwendolyn said calmly. "The question is not if we die. It's how we live. And yes, to answer your question, I am capable of leading this people," she said, a new strength rise within her, actually feeling capable for the first time, now that she was defending herself. "I don't have to explain myself to you. As Kendrick said, if you don't like it, our gates are open for you to leave.”
Luanda flushed, turned, and stormed away.
Bronson stood there, shifting, clearly embarrassed.
"I am sorry for her," he said. "I am sure she does not mean it. We have been through an ordeal.”
“She does mean it,” Gwendolyn said. “She has always meant it. That’s who she is.”
Bronson lowered his head.
“I, for one, am most deeply grateful for your having us here. I will speak with her. She will come around.”
Bronson quickly bowed, and hurried after her.
There was a sudden commotion down below, and Gwen looked down over the parapets to see a woman come running up to the gates, hysterical. Two guards tried to hold her back, and she screamed, flailing, trying to push past them.
“Let me pass!" she shrieked. “You must let me pass! I must see the Queen!”
“Let her through,” Gwendolyn called down.
The guards turned and looked up at her and released their grip on the woman.
As soon as they did, she ran through the gates and up the spiral stone staircase, right for Gwendolyn, weaving through the group of soldiers, crying. She stopped before her, knelt and lowered her head. The woman was sobbing and shaking, and Gwendolyn’s heart broke; she reached down, and gently helped pull the woman up.
“You needn’t kneel before me,” Gwen said compassionately.
"My lady," the woman heaved, between sobs. "You must help me! You must! Please!”
"What is it that troubles you?” Gwen asked.
"My village—it has been evacuated. They say the Empire is coming. Everyone ran. But my daughters are back there, in the House of the Sick. They cannot walk. I could not carry them with me—and the others left too quickly. I have no one to help me. Please! They are my babies!”
Gwen’s heart broke inside, hardly able to comprehend this woman’s suffering.
"We are hearing similar reports from across the Ring, of villages being raided,” Srog said.
"I am sorry,” Gwendolyn said to her. “And what would you have us do?”
"Please, send your men, before it’s too late. Fetch my daughters, bring them here. I can't imagine their dying all alone, at the hands of those savages. It’s too cruel.”
“We might all die here, too,” Kolk said.
“If they are to die, let them at least die here, with me,” the woman said. “Don't them die alone out there. Please. You are a woman—you understand. You must help me!”
The woman reached out and grabbed Gwendolyn’s hand roughly, and Steffen stepped forward and threw her hand off.
"Do not lay your hands on our Queen," Steffen rebuked, standing between them.
"It's okay," Gwendolyn said.
She reached up and stroked the woman’s hair.
"This woman has been made mad by her grief,” Gwen continued. “I understand the touch of grief, all too well.”
Gwen thought of her father, and kept back tears.
“I empathize for your daughters,” Gwen said. “I really do. But you must also understand that we are receiving reports of villages being pillaged, people murdered, from all corners of the Ring, and that we cannot spare our men to send out to each and every one. We are also in the final stages of securing our gates and locking down this city, for the good of all the Silesians and the remainder of King’s Court, and the thousands of lives here. We need every hand we have. Most of all, if we were to send a party out there now, for your girls now, they would not make it back alive. The Empire is too close at this point. Our men would die, and your girls would die with them.”
Gwendolyn sighed. She hated having to make these decisions, but she felt that she had an obligation to look out for the good of her people.
"I'm so sorry,” she concluded. “I pine for your daughters. I really do. But war is among us. And hard decisions need to be made.”
"NO!" the woman shrieked, breaking out into a wail. She threw herself face-down to the floor, shrieking and wailing. "You can’t let my daughters die!”
Gwendolyn looked away, out to the horizon, wishing she had never met this woman. She was beginning to feel what it felt like to be a ruler; she did not like the feeling.
"I will go for them," came a voice.
Gwen turned and saw Kendrick step forward, hand on his hilt, standing nobly, proud and unflinching.
Gwendolyn looked at her brother, touched and inspired.
"You understand that if you leave, we cannot reopen the gates for you,” she said softly. “You will die out there.”
He nodded gravely.
“What better way to die than in a service such as this?" he replied.
Gwendolyn breathed sharply, taken aback by his chivalry, his fearlessness. She loved her brother more than ever in that moment; yet she also felt profoundly sad at the thought of him on this mission.
All the other soldiers stared grimly, no one able to rebut him.
"I will join you," Atme said, stepping forward beside Kendrick.
Kendrick nodded back at his friend.
“Thank you! Thank you!” the woman cried, rising to her knees and kissing their hands.
Gwendolyn sighed.
"Kendrick, I cannot say no to you. You lead by example, as you always have. You do our father's name great honor to accept this mission upon yourself. You have my blessing. Go, and save these girls. I will keep these gates open for you as long as I can—up until the very last second when Andronicus attacks.”
"My lady, I admire Kendrick’s courage, and I don’t disagree with his mission,” Srog said gravely. “But I must warn that it takes time to seal the outer gates. It will not be easy to do with such short notice. You must realize that you jeopardize the entire city to agree to this mission, and to keep the gates open as long as you will.”
Gwen turned and looked out at the horizon. Somewhere out there were this woman's daughters, sick, alone. She could not stand the thought of it.
“I thank you for your counsel, my Lord,” she said softly to Srog. “I do understand the consequences. I will not jeopardize our people. The gates will be closed when necessary.”
She turned to Kendrick.
"Go. Find these girls, and return quickly. I do not wish to close these Gates with you outside them.”
Kendrick nodded gravely, then turned and hurried down the parapet, Atme at his side.
The other men dispersed, and Gwen turned and walked by herself down a stone embankment at the far end of the parapets, so she could have some time alone, to process it all—and so she could have a better vantage point to watch Kendrick and Atme ride off. She stood there, at the very edge of the fortifications, watching them ride away into the horizon, raising a great cloud of dust.
As she stood there, feeling more alone than ever, she craved for Thor. She felt increasingly that they were facing a battle they could not win, and deep down, she felt that their only hope was Thor, the Destiny Sword, getting the shield back up. If she was going to die, she wanted to die with Thor at her side.
She closed her eyes tightly and prayed to God with all she had that Thor returned to her.
Please, God. I know I have asked you too much already. But I ask you one more thing: return Thor to me.
"God has a mysterious way of answering."
Gwendolyn did not need to turn to recognize the voice.
She turned and saw, standing there, Argon. He stood a few feet beside her, looking out at the horizon, watching Kendrick ride off, his eyes aglow.
Her heart lifted to see him.
“I never thought I would see you again,” she said.
&n
bsp; "Why? Because you are in a new place? Physical barriers don't mean anything to me.”
"So then will you be here with us? During the siege?” she asked hopefully.
"I am always here with you. Sometimes not always physically.”
Gwen was burning for answers.
"Tell me,” she said, “I beg you. Is Thor safe?”
"He is now.”
"Will he be?” she pressed.
"That is always the question, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to her and smiling mysteriously. “His destiny is murky. It is set—yet it can be changed. As with all of us.”
"Will he live?” she asked. "Will I ever see him again?”
She braced herself for the answer, hoping and praying it was a yes.
“If not in this world,” Argon said slowly, “then in the next.”
Gwendolyn felt her heart sinking.
"But is not fair!” she protested. “I must see him again!”
"He chose his destiny,” Argon said. “You chose yours. Sometimes destinies cannot intertwine.”
"And what of the Empire?” Gwen asked. “Will they attack this place?”
"Yes," he said flatly.
"Will we be victorious?”
"Victory is relative," he answered. “There are all types of victory. The red walls of Silesia have stood for one thousand years. But even these walls are meant to fall.”
She felt an increasing sense of foreboding.
"Does that mean this city will fall?”
She had to know. But he would not answer, looking away.
“But surely there must be some way to stop them!” she said.
“You focus too much on the here and now," Argon said. “But there are other centuries. Centuries before yours—and centuries to come. We are but a speck in the wheel of time. People will die—and people will be born. Places will fall, and others will be built. Nothing lasts forever. Not even destruction.”
Gwendolyn stood there, thinking about all he said. She wondered if that meant there was hope.
"I feel inadequate," Gwendolyn said. “As if somehow this is all my fault. As if all of these people would benefit from a ruler greater than me.”
He turned and looked at her, his eyes searing.
"The Ring has never had a ruler greater than you,” he said. “And it may never again.”
Her heart soared and she felt a great sense of encouragement at his words. For the first time, she felt legitimate.
"Tell me,” she said, desperate to know. “How will it all end?”
Slowly, Argon shook his head.
"Sometimes before the greatest light, there comes the greatest darkness.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Krohn whined and licked Thor’s face until finally, slowly, Thor opened his eyes. He discovered himself lying face-first on the sand; sand was in his lips, on his tongue, in his eyes.
Thor blinked several times, then slowly sat up, wiping away the sand and reaching over and kissing Krohn and stroking his head. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, to remember where he was.
Beneath the muted light of the first sun, Thor saw all of his friends spread out on the beach, supine in the sand around him. Thankfully, they all looked alive—and after doing a quick head count, he saw they were all there. All of them, plus one: a girl, with long, tousled hair spread out on the sand.
Thor tried to remember. Suddenly, it came rushing back: the slave girl, the one Elden had saved. He sat up, squinting, stretching his aching muscles, trying to remember exactly what had happened.
The last thing he remembered, he was on fire, jumping into the icy-cold water of the rapids. Luckily he had been but a few feet from the water when he caught fire, and it all happened so quickly, he had landed in the water before the flames could burn him. He checked his skin, and while he was sore, his muscles aching, and all bruised up, he was not burnt. He sighed in relief.
Thor remembered the wild ride downriver, all of them tumbling end-over-end in the rapids, thrown downstream. He remembered glancing back, once, right before his head impacted with a log, and seeing the group of Empire soldiers, already far upriver, all consumed by an enormous burst of flame.
Thor reached up and felt a big lump on his head, sore to the touch, and realized he must have passed out along the way. They all somehow made it to this shore, and must've slept the night here. It was a narrow, smooth white beach, beside a raging river. The sound of the raging water was relentless, and Thor rose and turned and looked in all directions, wanting to see what else was out there.
On the other side of the beach stood a grove of trees, and behind it the river forked, splitting off in a calm, peaceful current. The grove led into a deep and broad forest, a winding trail leading into it. They seemed to have washed up at an intersection of sorts.
"And we thought you were going to sleep all day," came a voice which Thor dimly recognized.
Thor spun, as did Krohn beside him, and could not believe who he saw standing there, behind him. Three boys, legion members, dressed in shiny new armor, bearing new weaponry, and staring down at him with a look he’d encountered his entire life.
It was the three people he had been raised to believe were his three brothers: Drake, Dross and Durs.
Thor was speechless.
Thor couldn’t imagine what they were doing here, and he rubbed his eyes, wondering if he were dreaming. But they were still there, and he realized it was real.
Thor rose to his feet, eyes wide with wonder, trying to comprehend it all.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "How did you get here?”
All around Thor, his Legion brothers began to arise, the slave girl, too, slowly gaining their feet, brushing off the sand, and gathering around Thor. They all looked back at Drake, Dross and Durs with equal looks of wonder.
"We came here to help," Drake said. "We were sent by Kolk, shortly after you left. We followed your trail. After you left they felt bad, the six of you going it alone. They wanted to send you reinforcements.”
"They also received new information,” Dross said, stepping forward with a scroll in hand, “from a thief they caught connected to the theft of the Sword. He confessed as to where in the Empire it was being taken. He drew us a map.”
Dross rolled out the scroll before them, and they all gathered around and examined it.
"We know where they're going,” Durs said. “We've come to lead you there. And to help you make it back alive.”
"And why didn’t you volunteer to help us sooner?" Reece shot back, defensive.
"You come now,” Elden added, guarded. “Only when you are commanded to."
"We are doing just fine without your help," O’Connor said.
"Are you?" Drake asked, looking them up and down with contempt. “It looks to me as if you're lost, all washed up and bruised from battle.”
“You’ve even managed to pick up baggage along the way,” Dross added, looking contemptuously at the slave girl.
Thor, though guarded, appreciated their being here, and wanted to diffuse the argument.
"How did you find us?" Thor asked.
"A good tracker and plenty of King’s Gold," Dross answered. "We managed to follow your trail. Quite a calamitous one. Amazing that you escaped from Slave City the way you did. We circumvented it ourselves, but luckily the rapids lead but one way, and we had only to follow them to lead to you. Hard to miss: the seven of you sprawled out on the sand like a bunch of drunks. I’d say you are all hardly inconspicuous.”
The three brothers laughed derisively.
“Way to set up camp,” Durs added.
Thor reddened, and saw his Legion brothers seething.
"Like they said," Thor said, assuming authority. "We don't need your insults. Or your help. We made it this far on our own—and without a map, without a tracker, and without King’s Gold.”
The three brothers looked at him with something like surprise, and Thor was impressed by the authority in his own voice. His entire life h
e had been bullied by these three boys, and he wasn't about to be bullied by them now, to have them assume control of the mission. He knew their nature—and it was not kind. Whatever help they were offering, he was sure it was only because they were commanded to, or only for their own personal gain upon their return. He knew that, deep down, they didn’t truly care for him.
He expected their faces to harden, for them to argue with him, as they always did, to try to demean him. But to his surprise, Drake’s face softened and he stepped forward and lowered his voice.
"Thor, we understand you’re upset with us. In fact, it is warranted. We were not kind to you as brothers. For that, we apologize. We are not here to demean you, or to undermine your authority. We realize you have command of this mission. We sincerely wish to help you. Please. The fate of the entire Ring is at stake, and the map we hold is invaluable.”
Thor was caught off guard by Drake’s kind tone, at his deferring to his authority. He had never seen them like this. It was surreal, as if he were not looking at the same three people.
He thought of what he’d said, and it made sense. The fate of the Ring was what was most important, whatever personal differences they had. And despite the past, Thor was always willing to give someone another chance—especially if they seemed sincere.
Slowly, he nodded back to them.
"In that case,” he said, “we shall be pleased to have you.”
The three of them nodded back, pleased. Thor looked past them, at the fork in the river, and saw their longboat anchored at its shore; it looked like a long canoe, large enough to hold maybe a dozen.
"To reach the thieves’ destination,” Dross said, looking down at the map, “we must get back on the river and take it south. It will bring us to a great lake, and then to other channels. It is the most direct way to find them, cutting them off and gaining us time. If you agree, let us leave at once—we haven't any more time to waste.”
They all began to turn and head for the boat—when the slave girl stepped forward.
"You are wrong!" she yelled out.
They all stopped and turned and looked at her.
"The thieves would not have gone that way,” she said. “I don't care what your map says. I know my native land better than you. Do you see that forest?" she asked, turning and pointing to the grove of trees. "That is where they went.”
