The Weight of Honor

by Morgan Rice

  Tarnis shook his head.

  “More than a truce,” he insisted. “A victory. Your victory. A victory never before achieved. After all, the great Pandesia has never backed down in its history, has never before conceded, as they are willing to do to you. They will leave our shores. There will be no more bloodshed. Victory will be yours. At dawn, their Lord Governor has vowed to me he will appear before you and accept defeat before you and all your men.”

  Duncan stared back, skeptical.

  “And what is their price in return?”

  “A safe retreat,” Tarnis replied. “Nothing more. They want to spare the remainder of their army and ensure them safe passage from our borders.”

  Tarnis paused, as Duncan let it sink in.

  “Don’t you see, Duncan?” Tarnis pressed. “I am handing you a complete victory.”

  Duncan felt unsure.

  “It sounds too good to be true,” Duncan replied.

  “Does it?” Tarnis asked. “They know we have their men surrounded. They know we have momentum. They have many important Lord Governors still here. They fear for their lives, and they have petitioned Pandesia, too. They know Escalon is difficult to hold—and they have more important kingdoms to conquer. They have already taken from our land the best that they can take, and they are ready to move on.”

  Duncan stared at Tarnis long and hard, debating. His heart began to warm thinking of handing his people a victory, of no more bloodshed, of Escalon being free.

  “If it is as you say, an unconditional victory,” Duncan began slowly, thinking, “then yes, I shall allow them to retreat. I have no reason to slaughter troops who have conceded defeat. Indeed, my honor compels me to make sure they retreat unharmed.”

  Tarnis smiled.

  “A wise decision,” he said.

  Duncan studied him.

  “And what about you?” Duncan asked. “What compels you to care so much to broker a truce for a new King who has ousted you?”

  Tarnis furrowed his brow.

  “I love my country,” he replied. “As do you. We just have different ways of showing it.”

  Duncan waited, sensing more.

  “And yet,” Tarnis continued, “aside from the general welfare of Escalon, there is one small thing I would ask of you for my brokering this truce.”

  Duncan stared, wondering, while Tarnis took a deep breath.

  “It is no command, old friend,” Tarnis continued, “but a request. A small favor. I know I stand in no position to make requests, but I appeal to your love and your mercy and our once-strong friendship.”

  “Tell me,” Duncan urged, curious.

  “I have a daughter Tarnis finally announced.

  Duncan stared back, shocked. He knew the King had a son—an impetuous and unlikable young man—but he had never heard any word spoken of a daughter.

  “A daughter?” Duncan asked.

  Tarnis nodded.

  “My only daughter. Illegitimate. My only surviving issue outside of my son. I could not allow her to be raised here. Her existence would have been a threat—I have always kept her location secret. You are the only one I’m telling.”

  Duncan stared, wondering.

  “What is it you wish from me?” he asked.

  “Her safety,” Tarnis replied. “You are the only one I trust. She means more to me than all I have left in the world.”

  Duncan could see Tarnis’s expression, and for the first time since he had known him, he detected true sincerity in his words.

  “Where is she?” Duncan asked.

  Tarnis took a deep breath and looked around, as if afraid someone might be listening.

  “At the tip of the Devil’s Finger,” he said, his voice low. “In Knossos.”

  Duncan was shocked to hear it; Knossos, he knew, was an extreme, remote place, inhabited by warrior monks in the Tower of Kos, and not much more. It was nearly impossible to reach and as secluded from Escalon—and the world—as any island could get.

  “I trust you with my life,” Tarnis added. “Because she is what remains of my life. I do not ask you to reinstate my title—nor do I ask for freedom. I will serve you as King. I ask only that you find her. And protect her. I fear word has leaked of her existence, and that nefarious forces close in on her even now.”

  Duncan took a deep breath, satisfied Tarnis was genuine, and approving of his love for his daughter. It made him think of Kyra.

  “Consider your daughter safe,” Duncan said. “You may have made mistakes, but you are a fine man, in many ways. I am glad I did not kill you.”

  The old King laughed heartily, smiling wide, a look of relief crossing his face for the first time.

  “As am I,” he replied. “To victory, my friend.”

  Tarnis reached out his forearm, and Duncan reached out and clasped it. As he did, he thought of the truce to come, and he felt a sense of imminent victory welling up inside of him as a new dawn began to break over Escalon.

  Finally, victory was his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Dierdre hurried out the forge with the others as the horns of war sounded. They echoed throughout the streets of Ur, again and again, each blast sending a chill up her spine. They were horns of warning, horns of danger, horns she had not heard since she was a child, last sounded only when Ur had been invaded by Pandesia. They were horns that could only mean one thing: a Pandesian warship had arrived.

  Dierdre’s heart slammed as she ran outside, followed by her girls, the boys and men from the forge dropping their weapons-in-progress and racing into the crowded streets. She was jostled as all around her the streets filled, the masses flocking for the canals, all eager to see. Dierdre pushed her way to the water’s edge, shoving people aside, and beside her Alec did the same, joined by his friend Marco and the others. She could not help but wonder about him, as she had from the first moment she had seen him. There was something different about him, some sense of tragedy lurking behind his eyes. She felt he was a kindred soul, could sense that he had suffered as she had.

  As closed off as Deidre was to the world, and especially to men, she had to admit there was something about this boy that she liked. She tried to suppress her feelings, knowing she was in no mood to be in love, not after what she had been through. Not to mention, now was not a time to love—but a time for vengeance. For doing to Pandesia what they had done to her.

  Dierdre shook these thoughts from her mind as she finally reached the water’s edge. She leaned forward, craned her neck, and caught sight of what everyone else was gaping at—and her heart fell at the sight. There, at the far end of the canal, sailing into the city, was a massive, gleaming black Pandesian warship, flying their banners, dozens of cannons at its side, being sailed by hundreds of soldiers in full armor, weapons at the ready. Dierdre looked behind them and saw no other ships following and she was thankful, at least, for that. It seemed to be a lone ship, leading the way, perhaps, for the fleet. The horn sounded again and again, and as they sailed deeper into the heart of the city, unmistakably toward them, their visors drawn, these men clearly had come for a reason. Dierdre felt a pit in her stomach as she knew instantly why they had come: for her.

  While the entire city flocked to the canals, Deidre strengthened her grip on her staff, resolved not to be taken captive. She would kill them, or die trying. There would be no running for her—not anymore.

  Sensing motion, she turned and watched Alec run off into the crowd, disappearing.

  “Alec!” Marco called out. “Where are you going!?”

  But Alec did not respond as he vanished, leaving Dierdre wondering, too. He did not seem the type to run from danger.

  “They’re coming for you,” Fervil said, coming up beside her, concern in his face. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  “Go to your father,” he urged. “He’ll be gathered with his men. A war is about to start, and you’re going to be in the middle of it. I’m sure he is looking for you.”


  Dierdre realized he was right, and without hesitating, she turned and ran, pushing her way through the thick crowd, rushing to find her father.

  The throng thinned as she made it farther from the canals, and finally she had room to run through the streets. She turned down familiar alleyways, left and right, and as she heard footsteps behind her, she turned and was surprised to see the girls she had liberated following her.

  She stopped and looked at them all, breathing hard.

  “Go back,” she urged. “Stay with the others. You will be safer. Take shelter in the forge.”

  But they shook their heads adamantly.

  “Wherever you go,” said one, stepping forward, “we go.”

  “Wherever you fight,” said another, “we fight.”

  “We are through running, too,” said another.

  Dierdre, seeing they would not be deterred, felt a rush of gratitude for their loyalty. She turned and ran and the girls joined her, all navigating their way alongside the canals, as she led them toward where her father and his men would surely be amassed.

  Finally, Dierdre emerged from a narrow alleyway and burst out into a wide, open square of cobblestone, framed by ancient buildings on all sides, at the canals’ end. It was where the ships must stop, leading to the deepest point in the city, and as she suspected, Dierdre saw her father at its edge, surrounded by his men. There he stood, a hundred warriors behind him, facing the canal and watching it anxiously as the Pandesians approached.

  Dierdre pushed her way through the crowd, the men parting ways for her and the girls, until she reached her father’s side.

  He turned at the sight of her, and his face fell in relief.

  “Dierdre,” he exclaimed. “Are you okay? My men were searching for you everywhere.”

  She could see the genuine concern his eyes, and it helped her forgive him.

  “I am, Father.”

  “Have you seen them coming?” he asked urgently. “Have you heard the horns? You know they come for you.”

  She nodded back, stoic, resigned.

  “I do.”

  “They will surely demand I turn you over. You know this,” he said, more of a statement than a question. She could hear the anguish in his voice.

  She nodded, wondering what he would do.

  “And will you?” she asked.

  He sighed, looking exhausted, irritated.

  “Would you have me sacrifice our entire city to save one girl?” he asked.

  Dierdre’s heart sank. Had he not changed after all?

  “I would have you be my father,” she replied coldly.

  “Death is coming,” her father said, setting his jaw, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t want you staying here. Take these girls, and flee. My men will escort you. We have many safe tunnels and forts in which to hide you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t you understand, Father? Have you not listened to anything I said? I do not wish to run. I do not wish to hide. I wish only for a chance at justice. A chance not to back down in the face of men.”

  Her father sighed, anguished; and yet she could also see the pride in his eyes. As he stared, horns sounded, again and again.

  “That ship is but a messenger,” he continued. “Behind it lie a million more. We cannot defend this city. Do you realize what will happen once they are victorious?”

  “I do not fear death, Father,” she said, meaning it. “I’ve already faced it. Now, all I fear is not living proudly.”

  He looked into her eyes long and hard, and slowly, he smiled.

  “You truly are my daughter.”

  His words meant the world to her.

  “And you, Father?” she asked. “What will you do when they come for me?”

  She searched his eyes, and she could see that he was grappling with this himself.

  The horns sounded again, more urgently, and she turned and saw the Pandesian warship suddenly close, looming down on them. Its cannons aimed at them, dozens of archers training bows on them, and dozens more men holding spears, it was a floating army, ready to attack.

  Dierdre felt a cold dread as they approached. The ship came to a stop perhaps twenty yards away, near the end of the canal, its huge masts rising to the sky, casting shadows down upon them. Thousands of citizens of Ur flocked to the edge, looking up at it, gathered to watch the confrontation.

  A heavy silence fell over the city as Dierdre stood beside her father, looking up at the ship, waiting. The ship floated there in the water, its wood creaking, as the soldiers stared down ominously, weapons at the ready. Dierdre could feel them all pointed at her and knew she could die at any moment. Yet somehow, she was unafraid.

  The Pandesian commander finally stepped forward, his armor clinking, and stood at the edge of the bow, hands on his hips, the sun behind him, his hundreds of men behind him, looking down at them like a God from the sea. His armor gleamed in the sunlight, and from this angle, looking up, the warship seemed indomitable. And somewhere out there, Dierdre knew, were thousands more ships, waiting to arrive. Yet still, she was determined to make a stand.

  The commander began to speak, his voice booming.

  “His Glorious Ra, The Supreme Lord Emperor, ruler of all the great cities of Pandesia, God of the South and Titan of the West,” the commander boomed, his voice echoing with authority, “has commanded us, the legion of the fourth of the fleet of Pandesia, to enter Ur first, and to give you one chance. Behind us, a fleet of death spreads across the Sorrow. Hand over the girl now, she who has defied Pandesia, who has murdered our Lord Governor, and we shall spare this entire city the destruction it so deserves. It is a supremely generous offer,” he added, “and we shall not make it twice.”

  He paused.

  “Defy us,” he continued, “and we shall rain down ash and fire on this city until, a fortnight from now, it is but a memory.”

  Dierdre glanced at her father and could feel the torment and anguish within him. She saw all the citizens looking to him for a response, and she knew this would be the defining moment of his life—and of her relationship with him. She watched the emotions flash across his face, and her heart pounded. Would he do it again? she wondered. Would he cave and hand her over?

  If so, she resolved, she would not go. She clenched the spear in her hand tighter, and knew that if he tried to hand her over, she would let it fly, and kill at least one before they took her.

  Finally, after a long, tense silence, her father cleared his throat.

  “You have thousands of arrows trained upon us,” he boomed back, “and thousands more spears. Behind that, you have every manner of weaponry.”

  He paused.

  “And my answer is no,” he continued. “I shall not turn over my daughter—or any of our daughters. Not now, and not ever. You can take our lives. You can destroy our city. But you will never have what you truly want—our freedom.”

  The crowd gasped, and Dierdre felt a rush of admiration for her father and, finally, a sense of vindication. Her father had come back to her, the man she had always loved and admired and looked up to.

  She watched with glee as the face of the Pandesian commander reddened.

  “It is your graves!” he called out, then turned to his men.

  “SAIL FORWARD!” he shouted.

  The sails were hoisted, and the great ship began to move again, closing in on them.

  “ARCHERS!” the commander shouted.

  The archers raised their bows, and Dierdre’s heart slammed, bracing herself. The ship sailed closer, and Dierdre knew they would soon reach the edge, disembark, and engage in a bloody hand-to-hand war—assuming the arrows and spears did not kill her first. She stood there, beside her father, awaiting a certain death, when suddenly, an unexpected noise shattered the silence.

  Dierdre looked down to the water, wondering what was happening. It sounded like a rattling of chains at the bottom of the canal, and as she peered down below into the canals, she was shocked to find A
lec and several boys on one side of the canal, down below, hidden out of sight, and Marco and his friends on the other.

  “NOW!” Alec yelled out.

  Alec and the boys beside him gave a great tug, while Marco and the other boys tugged on the far side of the canal, and Dierdre watched in amazement as a huge iron chain emerged from the water, spikes spread out alongside it. A tremendous noise of cracking wood followed, and Dierdre watched in awe as the hull of the massive warship floated right into the spikes.

  Alec and the others quickly wrapped the iron chain around iron footings in the harbor, again and again, then let go, right before the chain went taut. The Pandesian ship continued to sail into it, still gaining speed, unable to maneuver, its men dumfounded, still not understanding what was happening.

  The ship lurched and rocked violently and its men stumbled forward. The cracking grew louder and the boat listed sharply as water rushed into its hull, and it began sinking, bow first, into the canal.

  The air suddenly filled with the shouts of hundreds of Pandesian soldiers, suddenly upside down, sliding down the deck, falling into the waters. The ship nearly vertical, there was little to stop their fall, and those holding weapons dropped them, sending them falling harmlessly straight down into the waters. Men shrieked as some fell a hundred feet, from the stern to the bow, breaking ribs, then landing in water. They flailed like ants as they splashed in their armor, their great ship shattering to pieces all around them.

  The people of Ur, realizing, let out a jubilant shout of joy, as they all rushed forward toward the canal’s edge.

  “ATTACK!” her father yelled.

  His men rushed forward, leaned over the edge, and threw spears down into the water at the Pandesians, who grabbed onto the sides of the canal and tried to scramble up. Dierdre rushed forward, too, as did all the girls that were with her. She kicked a Pandesian in the face as he reached the surface, sending him backward into the water, while the girls beside her fired arrows. Her father and his men hurled spears, and Dierdre watched as men cried out and the waters turned red.

  Dierdre grabbed her spear, tightened her grip, and took aim for the Pandesian commander, bobbing in the water amidst his men, not so proud anymore. She stepped forward, raised her spear, took aim, and threw it. She watched, heart pounding, as it sailed through the air—then had a great feeling of satisfaction as it hit him in the chest. He raised his hands to the sky, fell back, and sank into the waters.