by Morgan Rice
In all the countries, in all the territories of the world that he had conquered, Andronicus had always followed one simple rule: crush and kill and destroy everyone and everything in sight. Leave no survivors. Take no prisoners. Burn everything down to the ground, so that there would be no one left to try to resurrect the old way. There would only be the new way. His way.
And it had worked. They had conquered city after city, country after country, and his empire had grown to millions. His soldiers were in the millions, and his slaves were millions more, all of them obedient to a fault. He could dispatch armies simultaneously to any corner of the world to crush anyone who dared to rise up against him. Nothing gave him more joy.
Now it was time to make this McCloud king pay. McCloud had made the grave mistake of crossing Andronicus, of refusing to cooperate with him when he’d had the chance. Of course, Andronicus’s offer had been a duplicitous one, and if McCloud had allowed him to cross the Canyon, he would have taken his first chance to destroy all that was McCloud’s. But at least he would not have done so right away. He would have given McCloud a little bit of time to think he was free, before he ambushed and butchered him and his family.
But McCloud had not gone along with it, and that put Andronicus in a rage. Now, to send a message to the rest of his empire, he would not just destroy McCloud and his loved ones, but torture them first. He smiled as he imagined dismembering them slowly, carrying their body parts to all four corners of the empire. Yes, he would shrink their heads and preserve them, and maybe even replace his current necklace with McCloud’s shrunken head. He reached out and fingered the shrunken heads dangling at the base of his throat, and he enjoyed the thought immensely. He already started to imagine the type of chain he would bore through McCloud’s head.
Andronicus’ men caught up to him, fifty paces behind, charging with a scream into the village of flames and slaughtering the villagers who ran out of their homes. Andronicus looked back and smiled, as he could already see blood filling the streets. It was gearing up to be a fabulous day.
This was the tenth McCloud village they had ravaged today, and the second sun had barely risen in the sky. They had landed earlier in the morning on the McCloud shore, Andronicus leading a fleet of ten thousand ships. As his feet had touched down on the sand, he’d marveled that he was back here in this place, on the outer shores of the Ring, twice under a single moon. This time, though, he had come prepared for war, not for talk. He had brought along the McCloud prisoner who held the key to breaching the Canyon. This time he would not meet with McCloud. This time he would lead his men across the fifty mile wasteland of the McCloud’s outer territory, ride right to the Canyon itself, and use the McCloud prisoner to show him how to breach it. His men would cross the Canyon, onto the other side, and he would surprise McCloud and burn his court down to the ground. He looked forward to the look of surprise on McCloud’s face when he saw Andronicus in his own backyard, across the Canyon. It would be priceless.
And when Andronicus finished destroying the McClouds, he would then turn to his real target: the MacGils. Once inside the Ring, he would cross the Highlands, bring his million man army to MacGil’s front step, and wipe out any memory there ever was of King’s Court. When he was through, it would be a distant memory, a pile of rubble. He could already see the smoke and ashes and fumes in his mind’s eye, could already see the MacGil land, once so choice, nothing but a desolate ruin, a sign for all those who dared to fight him. The thought made him smile.
Andronicus charged, not pausing any longer to terrorize this village, but focusing instead on the looming Canyon. His men caught up, charging beside them, and they raced across this desolate wasteland, populated with random McCloud villages, foolish frontiersman who had been dumb enough to live outside the Canyon. It served them right. They should have lived inside the Canyon. Did they all really think they would be safe here forever from the reach of the great Andronicus?
They rode west for hours, getting closer to the Canyon, ravaging several more villages along the way. As the second sun grew long in the sky, finally, they rounded a hilltop, and Andronicus saw it: the great Canyon. It was as awe-inspiring now as it was when he had seen it as a boy. It perplexed him to no end, this wonder of the world, with its magic energy shield which had kept his people at bay from the Ring for generations. It was the one place left on the planet that his army could not breach, and it vexed him to no end.
Now, finally, he had the information he needed to cross it. He would accomplish what all of his ancestors before him had failed to do. He would enter the one last untouched, pristine part of the planet, and have his men soil every inch of it. He would crush it until it was entirely under his dominion. He could already savor the rush of power he would feel when he was done. There would be no place left on the planet he had not conquered.
Andronicus’s men rode up beside him and they all stopped as they finally reached the edge of the Canyon. They dismounted, and Andronicus took several steps forward, looking down at the vast divide. It was enormous, awe-inspiring, even for him, who had been everywhere in the world, who had seen everything, every natural wonder. This one was unique. An eerie, yellow mist hung in the Canyon, which seemed to stretch forever, and even from here Andronicus could feel the great energy force of the shield. He reached up a hand, into the air, towards the edge, and held it there. He knew that it was protected by an invisible wall and that if he extended his hand any further it would eviscerate him. It was like an invisible bubble blocking them out.
If it weren’t for the shield, he and his men could simply kill the McCloud warriors stationed on the bridge of the Eastern Crossing, or hike to the bottom of it, or build their own bridge. He imagined a thousand ways they could breach it. But he remembered when they had tried in the past, when they had set up camp for a full moon cycle, and had tried every imaginable way. Each time, as soon as they crossed the threshold, the energy shield eviscerated them, killing his men instantly and leaving no way to cross it.
This time would be different.
“Bring him to me,” Andronicus snarled, not looking back as he held out a hand, unraveling his three long claws.
Moments later his men hurried forward, and he saw the McCloud prisoner, bound, squirming, fear in his eyes, as they pushed him to Andronicus’ grip. Andronicus reached out and grabbed him with his three claws by his shirt, and pulled him close.
“Now is your chance, human,” he said to him. “You vowed to show us how to breach the Canyon. We are here. What is it?”
The human stood there, wide-eyed, looking from McCloud down into the abyss of the Canyon, shaking. Andronicus started to sense something wrong, and he did not like what he was sensing.
“I’m sorry,” the human yelled out. “I lied! I have no idea how to cross it. I just wanted to get out of jail. You had me down there so many years. I couldn’t stand it. I was desperate. I would say anything. I’m sorry!” he said, weeping. “I’m sorry!”
Andronicus looked down at this human with disbelief; then his disbelief changed to fury, a fury deeper than any he had ever felt. He had been tricked. By a human. He had rallied his entire army, had crossed the Ambrek sea, had looked forward to and reveled in this moment—all to be lied to by a pathetic little human.
Andronicus let out a unearthly shriek, and reached over, picked the human up high above his head, and using his incredible strength, he tore him in half. Blood squirted everywhere, all over Andronicus’ head and face, down his chest, as the human, torn into halves, shrieked and shrieked. He was still alive, the two halves of his body still squirming, as Andronicus reached back and threw them, hurling the body parts into the abyss of the Canyon.
The human shrieked as the two halves of his body tumbled end over end—but then all grew silent, as his body eviscerated as it crossed the invisible line of the energy shield. He disintegrated into ashes.
Andronicus leaned back and shrieked, a shriek of despair, of frustration, one that shook the entire kingdom of t
he Ring. He would find a way in, if it was the last thing he had to do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thor walked with Gwendolyn on the path leading out of King’s Court, through the arched Northern Gate, and onto the road that led towards the Kolvian cliffs, Krohn walking happily beside them. It had been a whirlwind since they had left the Hall of Arms, and Thor was still trying to process everything that had happened. There was the shock of Gareth’s new fighting force, loyal to him only; the shock of the Silver splintering off, having to stay in the regular army barracks; the divide between the kingdom, which he could feel growing greater over time; the traitor, Forg; Gwen being named the next ruler if Gareth should fall; and most of all, the Nevaruns who had arrived to try to steal Gwen away. Thor tried not to think of what might have happened if he and the other men hadn’t had been there when they had arrived. Would Gwen be gone from him even now? Was there no low to which her brother Gareth would not stoop to send her away?
Thor was so grateful that he had been there to stop them, and so grateful he’d had the support of his fellow soldiers. He felt so proud of her that they all wanted her to rule, and indeed, he felt that there would be no better ruler than her.
But he also felt that their time together was precious now, with the Legion preparing to be dispatched again to help rebuild the towns ravaged by the McCloud raid. He knew it was only a matter of time until he was summoned, sent forth with the others, and he wanted every minute he could have with Gwen.
Most of all, there was the question that still burned front and center in his mind: would she marry him? As they walked through the fields, making their way slowly past the cliffs, hand in hand, Thor’s heart was pounding, his throat dry. He was ready to ask her; he wanted to ask her; and at every turn, he asked himself if this was a good place to ask the question that would change their lives forever. He felt ashamed that he did not have a jewel or a ring or anything of worth to give her; all he had was his love. And he was still afraid that she might say no. Then what would become of their relationship? Was he over-reaching? Did she still think that he was beneath her somehow? Did she ever truly believe that?
Thor wanted to think that she did not, that she would say yes, but a part of him was still unsure.
Still, the time had come to ask, and at every turn, he wanted to. But he just could not tell when the perfect moment was.
“You seem preoccupied,” Gwen said, as they walked.
Thor snapped out of it.
“Do I?” he asked.
“Yes, you do,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Tell me where you are taking me.”
“I already told you,” she said, a smile at the corner of her lips. “You really aren’t present, are you?”
He blushed.
“I’m sorry. Please, tell me again.”
“I wanted to bring you to a place that is important to me. You said you wanted to know more about me. And this place tells it all. It is where I spend most of my time when you are away. It means everything and more to me. And I wanted to share it with you.”
“I am honored,” he said. “What is it?”
Gwen’s smile broadened.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
She squeezed his hand harder, and they stepped up their pace, Krohn yelping beside them, as they continued through the fields, and up the gradual terrain of a vast hill, covered in flowers.
“Our time together is short,” Thor said, clearing his throat, sweating as he began his warm up to proposing. “Soon, I will be dispatched, with the rest of the Legion, to help rebuild.”
“I know,” she said, her face darkening. “But the rebuilding won’t take long. You’ll be back in a matter of days.”
“When I return, I am hoping things will change,” he said, nearly stammering.
“How so?” she asked.
He cleared his throat several times, blushing. He felt like a fool for being so embarrassed, so fearful in this arena.
“There is a question I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he finally managed to say.
Her smile broadened.
“And?” she asked. “What might that be?”
Thor opened his mouth to speak several times, but each time, his throat went dry. He reddened, embarrassed. He’d never asked a girl to marry him before, and he did not know the right way to do it.
“Um…” he said then began again, “um… I was wondering……”
Gwen finally laughed.
“I haven’t seen you at such a loss for words since I first met you,” she said laughing and laughing.
Thor blushed even more, now not sure if he should proceed. He felt as if he had already ruined the moment.
They reached the top of the hill at that moment, and as they did, a building came into view before them. They both stopped, staring at it, and Thor was taken aback in wonder. It was one of the most beautiful structures he had ever seen. It was shaped in a perfect circle, built low to the ground, may be only twelve feet high, and built of ancient, worn stone, a glowing white. Its roof was completely flat, covered in a shining gold plate which reflected in the sun. Its door was low and arched, made of the same reflective gold.
“It’s beautiful,” Thor said. “What is it?”
“Have you never been here before?”
Thor shook his head, feeling ashamed, ignorant.
“It’s the House of Scholars,” she explained. “It contains the most precious and rare volumes of our kingdom. It houses the Royal Library—which are, in my view, the greatest treasures our kingdom has.”
Gwen held his hand and led him to the door, and as she did he knew the time had passed to ask her. He was kicking himself; he would have to ask her later.
They reached the building and Gwen opened the door naturally, as if she owned the place. Thor walked inside, Krohn following.
As they entered, Thor was in awe. While the outer wall was made entirely of stone, the inner wall was made entirely of glass, and in its center lay a circular grass courtyard, with a single tree, a rare flowering fruit tree, in its center. Sunlight flooded in through the glass, lighting it up from the inner courtyard.
All along the inner walls, as far as the eye could see, were spines of books—ancient books, big, thick, with leather and silver and gold bindings, the most exotic and precious volumes he had ever laid eyes upon. They glistened, looked like works of art.
“This place is magnificent,” Thor said. “Have you read all of these books?” he asked, in awe.
Gwen threw her head back and laughed.
“I wish,” she said. “I have certainly tried. It is where I spend the better part of my days. My siblings always made fun of me for being a bookworm. But it is a big part of my life.”
Suddenly, something occurred to Thor.
“That is why your father chose you to rule,” he said. “He thought you were the smartest.”
Gwen looked back, blinking, as if considering that for the first time. She shrugged.
“I don’t know. My siblings are pretty smart, too.”
But Thor could see that she was just being humble. Seeing her in this place, how at-home she was here, he saw her in a new light; he saw for the first time how learned she was, could see the intelligence shining in her eyes, and suddenly it all made sense. He could see that Gwendolyn had her own source of power. Knowledge. Wisdom beyond what Thor could ever hope to attain. It was inspiring. And he would never have expected it from her, given how beautiful she was, and given that women were rarely given such a scholarly education in this kingdom.
“You are late for the day’s lesson,” came a voice.
Thor turned to see an old man walking towards them, his face covered in wrinkles, his head covered in gray hair, wearing the royal purple and green robes of the Royal Council. He walked with a limp, slowly, hunched over just a bit, using a cane to help him go, the golden tip echoing as it touched down on the stone floor. He smiled warmly at Gwen, his face folding into a million lines.
Gwen cleared her throat.
“Thor, meet Aberthol. He is the Royal Scholar. He was of counsel to my father, and to his father before him.”
“And to his father before him,” Aberthol added in his hoarse voice, smiling. “But not to the new MacGil king,” he added, growing serious. “Not anymore, anyway.”
Gwen looked back at him, in shock.
“Really?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Not as of yesterday. It was too much. I could suffer no more of his indignities. He has surrounded himself with a new Council anyway. Young folk. All of whom seem bent on ill-advising him. I still sit at the council meetings, but it is just a formality now.”
Aberthol shook his head sadly.
“Your father would be turning over in his grave,” he said. “This does not bode well for the Ring. It does not bode well at all. When knowledge and wisdom are replaced with ignorance and haughtiness, it is only a matter of time until the court collapses—and the kingdom with it. For after all, what are a court and a kingdom built on, if not on knowledge and wisdom? All else—arms and soldiers and wealth and power—all else follows that. Wisdom is the foundation of any kingdom. Never forget that Gwendolyn.”
She nodded back to him, and he studied her.
“I hear that you will rule,” he added.
Gwen opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“How did you hear that?” she asked.
He smiled back.
“I’m not without my resources,” he said, “even for an old man. Word travels quickly in King’s Court. Too quickly. Yet in this case, it is word I am happy to receive. I always knew you would make a great ruler. Even greater than your father.”
Gwen blushed and looked down to the floor.
“I am not ruler of anything yet,” she said. “My brother still reigns. And there is no sign of his stepping down.”
Aberthol shrugged.
“An apple with a rotten core can only last so long,” he said. “Either he will fall, or the kingdom will first. Both cannot endure. Discard your humility. Begin your preparations. Our Ring needs you. Now is not the time for meekness. Now is the time for a show of strength. Embrace your role. Allow your fellow countrymen to take strength in you. Do as your father wished for you to do. It is no longer about you. Is about them. The people. The ones without a ruler.”
