A Clash of Honor sr-4

by Morgan Rice

  He slammed her knocker several times, the only sound in the sleepy village, reverberating throughout its empty streets. It sounded way too loud, and as a dog began barking in the distance, he felt conspicuous, as if he might wake this whole town up.

  He slammed the knocker again and again, until finally he heard a voice.

  “All right all right!” came a sleepy voice behind the door.

  Reece stood back, suddenly realizing what he had done, suddenly realizing that he was slamming on her door at the crack of dawn-and he felt embarrassed. Now he wanted to turn and run-but it was too late.

  Selese yanked open the door and stood there, staring back at him in the early morning sun, wrapping a shawl tight around her shoulders, looking sleepy and very annoyed.

  “What has gotten into you?” she asked. “It is not yet sunrise, and yet you slam my door as if an army is advancing.”

  Reece stared back, tongue-tied.

  “So?” she prodded, annoyed.

  Reece stood there, forgetting everything he’d wanted to say.

  “I um…” he started, then stopped.

  Why did she have this affect upon him?

  “I came to say good morning,” he said.

  Her eyes opened wide.

  “Good morning?” she repeated, incredulous.

  Then she burst out laughing, right in his face.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she added.

  Now it was Reece’s turn to get mad.

  “Listen,” he began, no longer able to contain himself. “It’s not right what you’re doing here. Playing games like this. I need you to be honest with me. No more of this.”

  She looked at him, baffled.

  “No more of what?” she asked. “Are you dreaming?”

  “No more of this game we’re playing. I need you to tell me the truth.”

  “I’m not playing any games with you,” she said. “I don’t even know you.”

  He examined her, frustrated.

  “So are you telling me you’re not feeling what I’m feeling?” Reece asked, wanting to get to the point. He needed to know, for his own clarity of mind.

  She blinked, taken aback.

  “And what is it that you are feeling?” she asked.

  “Enough of the questions!” Reece demanded, at the end of his rope. “I came here because I love you. Do you understand? I love you. I’m not sick. I’m not delirious. I’m awake. I’m in my right mind. And that’s how I feel. And that’s the end of it!” he yelled, angry, his voice rising,

  She looked at him, surprised, as if looking at a crazy person; then, slowly, a smile formed at the corner of her mouth.

  “But you don’t even know me,” she replied. “How can I believe it’s true? How is such a thing possible?”

  Reece’s heart fell.

  “So are you saying you don’t love me then?” he insisted.

  “I don’t even know you,” she responded. “I’m not saying that I don’t love you. I’m not saying that I do. It is not a word I would use lightly. And not with a stranger.”

  “Well, how are you supposed to know me, if you won’t give me a chance?” Reece pressed.

  Now it was her turn to blush.

  “You are royalty,” she said. “I am a village girl. It would not work out between us.”

  “And how can you be so sure?” Reece demanded. “Because I think it could.”

  She looked him, her eyes growing serious for the first time, as if finally truly hearing him.

  “What are you asking?” she asked.

  Reece took a deep breath.

  “I’m asking you to come with me. I’m saying that I want to take you away from here. I’m saying that I want you to give us a chance. I mean what I say. I’m not a passerby. I take love very seriously. And I know how I feel about you. I’ve been up all night long-and I can think of nothing else.”

  Selese’s cheeks reddened, and she shifted, flustered.

  “Tell me,” Reece asked, calming. “Do you not think of me at all?”

  Selese looked down to the ground, reddening herself.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else since you left yesterday,” she said softly, looking down, as if afraid to admit it.

  Reece’s heart swelled. He felt like shouting from the rooftops. He could hardly conceive that she felt the same.

  “Then why do you resist me?” he pleaded.

  She looked up, her eyes wet.

  “You would tire of me in a day,” she said. “I would just be an oddity, the village girl brought to King’s Court. Everyone would gawk at me. You would move on to someone else. I won’t put myself through that.”

  “Nobody will gawk at you,” Reece insisted. “Least of all me. I could care less what others think. I want you there. I want you with me.”

  She looked into his eyes, and for the first time, he could really feel her feelings for him. He could not wait for an answer any longer: he leaned in, placed a hand behind her head, pulled her close, and he kissed her.

  She did not resist. She did not kiss him back, but she did not pull away, either. The feel of her lips on his was exhilarating, and he kissed her as long as he could, not wanting to let go. As he did, he felt transported to another place. He felt that this was the woman he was meant to be with.

  Suddenly, a horn sounded, cutting through the morning sky, and Reece turned as the whole village began to run, heading in one direction. He spotted a single man galloping towards the village center, in a hurry, coming from King’s Court. A messenger. He knew instantly that, whatever it was, it could not be good.

  *

  Thor stood in the early morning light of Sulpa, and turned with the rest of the village as he saw a lone messenger galloping towards him, riding across the wasteland from the road to King’s Court. Thor squinted into the light, wondering if it were an apparition, but the horns sounded all around him, and he knew it was real. At first he felt on guard for battle, but then he realized it was just a messenger, and his heart beat faster. Whatever it was, it could not be good. Not by the way this man was riding.

  As the messenger neared, Thor ran out to meet him, and his heart dropped further as he realized who it was. Steffen, the hunch back, the one who had saved Gwen’s life. He was charging hard, and his face was bloodied and covered in sweat, and clearly he had been riding all night. Thor could feel the urgency coming off of him, even from here, and every fiber in his being told him that something was wrong.

  Thor ran out to greet him, beyond all the other villagers, at the village gate, and Steffen dismounted, breathing hard, and hurried up to Thor.

  He half bowed.

  “My liege,” he began, gasping for air.

  “Bring him water!” Thor ordered, and a village boy ran up with a bucket of water. Steffen took it, leaned back and drank, gulping it down quickly, then dumping the rest of it over his head.

  He wiped his face with the back of his hand, took several deep breaths, and looked up at Thor.

  “My liege, something terrible has happened,” he began. “It is Gwendolyn.”

  Thor’s heart pounded.

  “We were ambushed by Nevaruns,” he continued. “At first, just a handful, and we managed to kill them. But then, a greater army came. They overwhelmed us. It was just Gwen and I and Krohn, alone on the hilltop. No one came to our defense.”

  Steffen broke into tears.

  Thor stepped forward, flooded with panic, grabbed the small man by his shoulders and shook him.

  “Tell me what happened!” he demanded. “Is she okay!?”

  Steffen shook his head.

  “She told me to come find you. I wanted to stay and fight to the end. But she insisted I come and get you. When I left, they were closing in on her. There was nothing else I could do. I don’t know if she’s even alive.”

  Steffen wept, and Thor stood there, overwhelmed with guilt. He hated himself for leaving Gwen alone, for not returning sooner. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being taken away, unprotect
ed, all by herself. He felt torn to pieces.

  And then he felt a new feeling rising up in his veins: a desire for vengeance, and a desire to save her, if she was alive.

  There was no time to waste.

  “TO THE HORSES!” Thor screamed out to his Legion brothers, who were already gathered around him, listening to every word.

  Within moments Thor was on his horse, as were his brothers, and he kicked it harder than he’d ever had in his life. He rode from this place, riding with everything he had into the wasteland, towards King’s court.

  He only prayed that Gwendolyn was still alive.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Thor galloped at the head of the small group of Legion members racing for King’s Court, all of them exhausted, riding all day, without a break, pushing their horses too hard. The second sun was now long in the sky as Thor charged across the drawbridge, through King’s Gate, and past the Royal Guard, not even slowing. His friends kept up with him as they charged beneath the tunnel and out the other side, creating a storm of dust as they entered into King’s Court.

  They kept charging, cutting across the court and out a gate on the far side, Steffen leading them to the field where Gwen had been surrounded. Thor’s heart was thumping in his chest as he prayed beyond hope that maybe, just maybe he would find her here alive. And Krohn, too.

  But the way Steffen described it, he knew the chances were slim. She could be dead. They both could be.

  Thor had to see for himself. He felt so grateful that all of his friends backed him up and rode with him on this journey, refusing to go elsewhere. Not one of them hesitated, even for a moment. He truly felt as if these were his brothers now.

  They rode and rode, across fields, up and down hills, and through an immense field of flowers. As they climbed a bend, Thor spotted Estopheles, circling high up, and he felt that they were close. They rounded another hill, and Thor’s heart stopped as he saw the carnage before him. He continued to charge, heading forward, as if into a nightmare.

  There, on the hilltop, were what appeared to be several bodies, Nevarun corpses, wearing their distinctive green and yellow armor. He could see the bloodshed even from here, and even more so, he could sense it, in the very fabric of the soil. A great calamity had happened here. And he hated himself for not being here to protect Gwen.

  Thor and his men charged to the hilltop, and as they reached the group of bodies, they all dismounted, Thor’s horse barely stopping as he jumped down and ran, searching all the bodies on the ground, desperate, tears flooding his eyes, hoping and praying one of them might be Gwen. He saw the frozen corpses of the Nevaruns, arrows piercing their throats, blood staining the field, and he could see what a vicious battle had happened. He could see at a glance that everything Steffen had told him was true, and he was more grateful than ever to Steffen for doing his best to defend Gwen.

  He scanned the faces desperately, as did his Legion brothers, running from one body to the next; but his heart already told him what he knew to be true: Gwendolyn was not here. She had been taken away.

  The realization hit him like a hammer. On the one hand he was relieved that he did not find her corpse. That meant there was at least some hope that she was alive. Yet on the other hand, he imagined her kidnapped, stolen from this place, and all the terrible things that might have happened to her since, and his body burned with a sudden desire to save her-and a desire for vengeance.

  As Thor continued to scan the bloody grass, he spotted something that made his heart sink: Krohn lay there, motionless, on his side, blood pouring from his head. Thor hurried over to him, dropped to his knees, and ran a hand along Krohn’s hide. He could see him breathing, shallow, and was greatly relieved. He saw the blood on his fangs, and glancing at the corpses, he could tell the damage that Krohn had done, and he felt overwhelmed with gratitude towards him for protecting Gwen-yet also overwhelmed with guilt.

  “Krohn,” Thor said softly, nudging him. His body was still warm, but Krohn did not respond.

  “Krohn,” Thor urged, shaking him. “Wake up! Please!”

  Thor shook Krohn harder and harder, until finally Krohn opened one eye, just a crack. Then the eye closed again. Thor could see that he was suffering, that he was badly injured. He sensed that if he did not get help soon, he would die.

  Thor wasted no time. He picked up Krohn him, surprised at how heavy he had become, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him over to Steffen’s horse, draping him along the back of it. Krohn lay there, limp, like a saddlebag.

  Thor turned to Steffen.

  “Bring him to the healer. Right away. Waste no time! Tell her to use everything in her power to save him. GO!”

  Without wasting a moment, Steffen remounted his horse, Krohn draped across the back of it, and galloped off down the hill.

  Thor turned and faced the Legion members.

  “I have to find Gwen,” he said grimly. “Her blood is on my head. I cannot wait another minute. If there’s any chance she’s alive, every moment counts. I don’t expect any of you to come with me. I will be up against the entire Nevarun army, and will be vastly outnumbered.”

  Reece stepped forward, and clutched the hilt of his sword.

  “Just the kind of odds I like,” he said.

  “And I,” Elden added.

  “And I,” O’Connor chimed in.

  “And we,” chimed in the twins.

  “We would never leave you to face an army alone,” Reece said. “Not after all we’ve been through. After all, Gwen is my sister too. And one day she will be your wife.”

  “Your blood is our blood,” Elden added.

  Thor nodded back, understanding and overwhelmed with gratitude. He would have done the same for any of them.

  “Are you sure this is a chance you wish to take?” Thor asked. “This is my battle. I do not want to drag you into it.”

  “If you ever think we would let you go alone,” Reece said, “you’re crazy. So let’s stop wasting time and bring back my sister.”

  Thor looked at the faces of his Legion brothers, saw the determination. In his time of great despair, he had never been so appreciative.

  As one, they all mounted the horses; Thor kicked his into a gallop, racing through the field of flowers, down towards the distant road that led farther and farther away from King’s Court. As he went, Thor unconsciously checked all of his weapons at his waist, the ones strapped to his back, on his saddle, all along his horse. He was fully armed. That was good. Where he was going, he would need every single one of them. It was a suicide mission.

  And if he had to die this way, trying to save Gwen’s life, then so be it.

  *

  Thor rode harder than he ever had, his Legion brothers at his side, charging farther and farther south, heading towards the distant province of the Nevaruns. He had followed the tracks left by the hordes of warriors who had trampled the fields of flowers, leading them back onto the main road leaving King’s Court. It appeared from the markings that they had come for Gwen with a band of at least a hundred warriors, by the width and breadth of the crushed grass, the broken branches, the horse prints left in the dirt. It was clear the direction they were heading, and the markings still looked fresh, giving Thor hope. Maybe he could catch her in time.

  As Thor continued to ride, kicking his horse yet again, he prayed he could catch them before they entered their fortified city. They had to overcome them on the road if there was to be any hope. He hoped that the group of invaders would slow at some point, giving Thor a chance to catch up. He assumed that they must; after all, once they were far from King’s Court, what could this army of a hundred Nevaruns, fierce, savage warriors, have to fear from anyone? They would probably slow to a trot, or even a walk, and take their time heading back to their province with impunity. The thought of Gwen being among them burned Thor alive; it was too much to bear. He hated Gareth with a passion unlike he’d ever felt, and vowed to take revenge.

  Thor knew that Gwendolyn was strong, fier
ce and proud. He saw the damage she had done back in the battlefield, with Steffen, and he had been impressed, though not surprised. He prayed that somehow she could draw on that strength to stay calm as they took her away, to have faith that Thor would come get her. He assumed they wanted her alive, as a trophy wife, to rub it into the face of the MacGils for all time.

  Thor was determined to change that.

  They charged and charged, the second sun nearly setting, Thor and his men out of breath, their horses out of breath, charging harder and longer than he ever had in his life-and finally, they reached a plateau, high up on a hill, from which they were afforded a commanding view of the countryside. Thor saw spread out beneath them the vast array of the southern provinces of the Ring, rolling hills and valleys against an awesome fall sky, clouds streaking every color, trees of every color swaying. And there, on the horizon, he spotted the huge entourage of Nevaruns, riding south, cutting through the fields. Thor was encouraged to see that they had slowed their pace, and were now moving along at a trot.

  For the first time, he knew they could catch them.

  Thor kicked and screamed at his horse, and the others did too, and as one, they all charged down the hill, keeping the Nevaruns in sight as they followed their trail. Thor rode faster than he ever had, down rolling hills, over dirt roads, across meadows, and through a winding forest. They got closer and closer, the Nevaruns just a few hundred yards away.

  As they got within bow and arrow range, Thor caught his first sight of Gwendolyn, just for a brief moment and was immensely relieved to see she was alive. She rode on the back of their leader’s horse, her wrists bound, her head down in shame, as he rode triumphantly in front of her, an arrogant smile on his face. They rode at the head of the contingent, several feet in front of everyone else, as the man led his victorious army home.