by Morgan Rice
As she stood there, Gwen was confused. Godfrey and Firth were supposed to be waiting for her here, to meet her and walk in together. She had gone over the plan with Godfrey several times-she could not understand where he was. They had both been precise about it. Without them there, how could she proceed?
“My lady?” a guard asked. “I’m afraid a Council session is in progress.”
“Has my brother been here? Godfrey?” she asked.
The guards looked at each other, puzzled.
“No, my lady.”
Gwen’s heart pounded. Something was wrong. Godfrey wouldn’t not show up. Where could he be? Had he reverted to his ways, had he gone back to the taverns? Was he drinking? And where was Firth? She sensed deep down that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
She stood there, torn, and debated what to do. She couldn’t walk away. Not now. There was too much at stake, and no time left to lose. If she had to do this on her own, then she would.
She was about to command the guards to let her in, when suddenly there came a great rumble of footsteps from down the opposite corridor. She and Thor spun, and saw approaching them a contingent of a dozen soldiers, Brom leading the pack. He wore a deep scowl and a look of grave concern, and he marched quickly, the others on his tail, all members of The Silver, famous warriors each.
“Open these doors at once,” Brom commanded the guards.
“But sire, a Council meeting is in session,” said one of the guards tentatively, looking very nervous.
Brom quickly moved one hand to his hilt, menacing.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” he growled.
The guards exchanged a glance, then quickly stepped aside and yanked open the doors.
Brom, furious, marched right past them, into the Council chamber, followed by his men.
Gwen and Thor exchanged a puzzled look, then followed them in.
Gwen was baffled; this was not going as she had planned. She had to find out what was going on, and to decide if now was the right time to confront Gareth.
As they followed them in, the big doors slammed closed behind them, and a dozen councilmembers, seated in a broad semi-circle, in ancient, oak chairs, all turned. Gareth sat in the center of the room, on his throne, and looked up, surprised. Gareth scowled.
“Well, well,” Gareth said. “If it isn’t Brom. If I recall, you quit this council.”
“I have come to deliver dire news,” Brom said hastily. “Our men tell us of a breach of the Highlands. A full scale invasion of the McClouds. Entire villages wiped out. It seems the McClouds have found their opportunity in your reign. They are murdering our people even as we speak. War has begun.”
Gwen felt the wind taken from her; she could hardly believe this news, as she stood several feet behind them, watching the whole thing. She watched Gareth’s face transform, to one of shock. He sat there, frozen, not responding.
“What do you propose we do?” Brom prodded.
“What do you mean?” Gareth asked, nervous.
“I mean, what is your command? What is your strategy? How do you plan to meet their forces? Which formations will you choose? Which armies will you send out? Which will stay at home? And what will be our counterattack? How many fortifications will be manned? And how do you propose we defend the villages?”
Gareth sat there, opening his mouth to speak several times, then closing it. He looked stumped, flustered, clearly in way over his head.
“I…” he began, clearing his throat, then stopped. “I think…maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“Wait and see what happens?” Brom echoed, aghast.
“We can always deal with it later, if they get too close,” Gareth said. “It’s probably just a raid, and they’ll go back home soon. Besides, we have a festival coming up, and I don’t want the preparations for our parties disturbed.”
Brom stared back at him with a look of shock and disgust. Finally, his face turned a shade of purple.
“You are a disgrace to your father’s memory,” Brom said.
With that, Brom turned and stormed from the room, his men following.
Gareth rose and bunched his fists, red-faced.
“You get back here!” Gareth screamed. “Don’t you ever turn your back on your King! That is treason. I will have you arrested! You will do as I command! Brom! BROM! ARREST HIM!”
But the guards stood there, frozen, afraid to go near Brom.
Brom stormed out of the chamber, his men following, and Gwen and Thor turned and hurried out after them.
Back out in the open hall, the doors slammed behind them, Gwen hurried over to Brom as he began to march off.
“Sire!” she yelled.
Brom stopped and turned, still heated.
“My lady,” he said with deference, but impatience. “Your father would have never accepted that,” he added, still fuming.
“I know,” she answered. “My father never would have accepted many things happening here. What do you plan to do? About the invasion?”
“I must act. What other choice do I have? I can’t sit by and watch my homeland destroyed. I will act with or without the authority of the King. I will mobilize our forces on my own. I will take control of the army. It is heresy, but I have no choice. We must defend.”
“That is exactly what you should do,” she said.
He looked at her, and seemed to calm momentarily.
“I am glad to hear a member of the royal family say that,” he said. “It is unfortunate that you are not the one on the throne.”
“There is another member of the royal family you should care about,” she said. “My brother Kendrick sits wallowing in the dungeon. He would be a key asset to your forces. The men love him, and would rally around him. And as a royal family member, he would give you the authority and them the confidence they need to attack.”
He studied her, looking impressed.
“But Kendrick has been imprisoned for murder. For treason.”
Gwen shook her head.
“Lies. All of them. He is innocent. In fact, I have found proof absolving Kendrick of guilt. He was setup by the real murderer.”
Brom looked back at her, wide-eyed.
“And who then is the murderer?” he asked.
“Gareth,” she answered.
Brom’s eyes opened wide in wonder. Finally, he nodded back knowingly.
“We will take care of Gareth when we return from battle,” he said. “In the meantime, you are correct. We will free Kendrick, and he will help lead us in battle. To the dungeons!”
The group of them turned and hurried down the twisting corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing like thunder. They descended down the spiral staircase, flight after flight, spiraling all the way down, until they reached the lowest level.
Several guards blocked an iron cell door, and they stiffened at attention at the sight of Brom and all The Silver.
“Open this door at once!” Brom commanded.
“My liege,” the guard said, shakily. “I’m afraid I can only open this on royal command.”
“I am commander of the seven legions of the Western kingdom of the Ring!” Brom threatened, resting a hand on his hilt. “I say open this door at once!”
The guards stood there, vacillating, looking at each other, nervous.
Gwen could see a confrontation was about to happen, so she stepped forward in the tense silence and stood between them.
“I am of the royal family,” she said calmly. “My father, bless his memory, was King not long ago. I act with his authority. Open this door.”
The guards looked at each other, then nodded, and slowly reached out and unlocked the door.
Brom and his group marched down to the very end of the corridor and stopped in front of Kendrick’s cell.
Kendrick rushed to it, and pressed his face against the bars, looking pale and gaunt. Gwen felt heartbroken to see him like this, and that she had not been able to free
him sooner.
“Open this door,” Gwen commanded the guard, who had accompanied them.
The guard stepped forward and unlocked the cell. The door opened slowly, and out came Kendrick.
Kendrick gave Gwendolyn a big hug, and she hugged him back, tightly.
Kendrick turned and looked at Brom. He saluted, and Brom saluted back.
“The McClouds have attacked,” Brom said. “You will lead one of our forces in battle. We must go at once.”
Kendrick nodded back, somber.
“Sire, it will be an honor.”
“Do you wish to have your squire back?” Thor asked, with a smile.
Kendrick turned and looked at Thor, and his face lit up with a smile.
“I have just returned from the Hundred, sire,” Thor said, “I am ready. And it would be an honor to ride by your side.”
Kendrick reached out and laid a hand on Thor’s shoulder. He looked him up and down, and nodded approvingly.
“I can see that you are. I would have no one else by my side.”
“Let’s move,” Brom said. “It’s past time we teach these McClouds what it means to invade our side of the Ring.”
The group turned and began marching back down the hall.
Soon they were upstairs and marching out the main front doors of the castle. As they exited, standing on Castle Bridge, Thor stopped and faced Gwen.
He looked at her with a look of concern and longing.
“I must join my brothers,” he said guiltily. “I hate to leave you. But I must defend our Ring.”
Deep down, her heart was breaking, but she did not show it. She nodded back.
“I know,” she said, trying to sound strong. “You must go.”
Selfishly she wanted him to stay, but she knew that his going was the right thing.
Thor reached out and touched her necklace, then reached up with the back of his hand and stroked her face. He leaned in and kissed her, and she held it as long as she could.
“I will think of you every minute,” Thor said. “I will return as soon as I can. And when I do, I want to ask you a question.”
Gwen smiled, puzzled.
“What question?”
Thor smiled back.
“It is one, I think, that will change our lives. Depending, of course, on your answer.”
He grabbed her hand, pulled it up and kissed her fingertips, then turned with a smile, and trotted off to join the other men, Krohn following, already running for their horses.
Gwen watched him go with a sense of longing and admiration. She prayed with all she had that she would see him again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Erec galloped through the back streets of Savaria, racing to the tavern. He was eager to pick up Alistair, to rescue her from this place and to ride off with her. He was exhausted from the day’s battle, covered in bruises and cuts, weak from hunger and thirst-but still, he could think of nothing but her. He could not stop, could not rest, until he had her with him.
Dressed in his chain mail, Erec pulled up before the tavern, jumped off his horse and hurried through the door. It burst open and he walked in expecting to see Alistair there, waiting for him.
But he was baffled to see that she was not. Instead, he saw only the bartender, surly, standing behind the bar. Ten large, seedy types sat at the bar before him.
Erec looked everywhere, but saw no sign of her. The patrons grew quiet, however, and the room grew thick with tension. Erec did not understand what was going on.
The bartender nodded to an attendant, who turned and ran through the door to the back room. A moment later, the innkeeper exited, waltzing out with a swagger, and a crooked smile on his face. Erec did not like the look of this.
“Where is my bride?” he demanded, stepping forward.
The innkeeper strutted out towards him.
“Well well well, look who it is,” he said.
As he marched towards him, Erec noticed several of the burly miscreants get up and follow in behind him.
“If it isn’t the knight in shining armor himself,” the innkeeper mocked.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” Erec said. “Where is she?” he pressed, his anger rising.
The innkeeper’s smile broadened.
“Well, it’s funny you should ask. You see, the large sum of money you handed me gave me an idea. I figured if Alistair was worth something to you, maybe she was worth something to somebody else, too. And I was right. Probably one of the better business deals I’ve made,” he said, licking his lips and laughing, as the men laughed around him.
Erec was seething, turning a shade of purple.
Through clenched teeth, he growled: “This is your last chance. Where-is-she?”
The innkeeper smiled, reveling in the moment.
“Well, it seems she was worth even more to someone else than she was to you. I sold her to a slave trader, willing to buy her for five hundred pence. He had been coming through town, looking for some whores to add to his sex trade. Sorry. You’re too late. But thanks for the idea. And I’ll be keeping your sack of gold anyway, as compensation for insulting my friends the other night.”
The innkeeper stood there, grinning, hands on his hips.
“Now you can be on your way,” he added, “before we all do you more harm than you wish.”
As Erec studied this miscreant’s self-satisfied eyes, he could unfortunately see that everything he was saying was true. He could not believe it. His Alistair. Taken away from him. Sold into slavery, into the sex trade. And all of this because of this disgusting human being before him.
Erec could stand it no longer. He was overwhelmed with an urge not only to fight, but for vengeance.
The innkeeper’s men lunged at Erec, and Erec wasted no time. He had been trained to fight with multiple men, on multiple occasions, and was used to situations like this. These men had no idea who they were attacking.
As a huge man grabbed him, Erec tucked himself into a role, grabbing his arm, and throwing him over his shoulder. Without hesitating, Erec spun around and back-kicked another in the groin, wheeled around and elbowed one in the face, then leaned forward and head-butted the fourth, the bartender. The four of them fell to the floor.
Erec heard the distinct sound of a sword being drawn, and looked over to see three more miscreants coming at him, swords drawn.
He didn’t waste any time: he reached down and extracted a dagger from his waist, and as the first man lunged at him with his sword, he plunged into his throat. The man screamed out, gurgling blood, and Erec reached over and grabbed the sword from his hand. He spun around, chopped off one man’s head, then turned and plunged the sword into the heart of the third.
The three men fell, dead.
Seven men on the ground, not moving, and the innkeeper, the last one left, looked at Erec now with fear.
He stumbled back two steps, realizing he had made a big mistake-but it was too late. Erec charged, jumped into the air, and kicked him so hard he went flying back, over the tables, crashing to the ground.
Erec took a wooden bench, lifted it high, and shattered it into pieces over the man’s head. The innkeeper collapsed, blood coming from his head, and Erec landed on top of him.
The man tried to pull a dagger from his waist, but Erec saw it coming and stepped on his wrist until he screamed, then kicking the dagger away with his other foot.
Erec leaned down and choked him. The man gurgled.
“Where is she?” Erec demanded. “Where exactly was the slave trader going?”
“I will never tell you,” the man gasped.
Erec squeezed harder, until he turned a shade of purple. He took his dagger, held it between the man’s legs, and began to press harder and harder, until the innkeeper screamed, a high-pitched noise.
“Last chance,” Erec warned. He pushed even harder, and the man screeched, and finally yelled out.
“Okay! The man was heading south, on the Southern Lane. He was heading towards Baluster. He
left early yesterday morning. That’s all I know. I swear!”
Erec scowled down at him, satisfied he had told the truth, and pulled back the dagger.
Then, in one quick motion, he thrust it into his heart.
The innkeeper sat up, eyes bulging wide, gasping for air, and Erec turned the dagger deeper and deeper, pulling the man close, and looking into his eyes as he died.
“That is for Alistair.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Gwen had no time to lose. She had to see if Godfrey and Firth were waiting for her now, outside the Council chamber, to confront Gareth. Perhaps they had been delayed, and were standing there. She could not let them go in alone. They had to make their case now, while the Council was still in session. If Kendrick and Thor and Brom and all the others could risk their lives in battle for their homeland, the least she could do is take an example of their bravery and risk her safety on the home front to stop Gareth. After all, if a new ruler was crowned, it would help the army greatly. Including Thor.
Gwen ran up the steps then down the castle corridor, until she reached the huge doors to the chamber. To her dismay, Godfrey and Firth were still not there. She had no idea what could have happened to them. The doors to the Council chamber were open, and as she glanced inside, she saw that the Council had already left, the session ended. The only person who remained in the vast, empty chamber was Gareth. He sat there, alone on his throne in the cavernous room, rubbing its arms.
It was just the two of them now, and Gwen decided that now was the time. Maybe being alone, she could pound sense into him and get him to step down quietly. The men she loved were out there in battle, fighting for her and all the others, and she felt she had to fight, too. She could not wait. She would confront him with what she knew, and hopefully, he would voluntarily step down. She didn’t care if he went quietly, without fanfare; she just wanted him out.
Gwen walked through the doors, her footsteps echoing as she entered the huge chamber, as she walked towards her brother, in the ancient, enormous room, light pouring in through the stained-glass windows behind him. Gareth looked up at her with cold, soulless black eyes, and she could feel the hatred he held for her. She could see in that paranoid stare of his what a threat she was to him. Perhaps it was because their father loved her more. Or perhaps he was just born to hate.
