A Reign of Steel

by Morgan Rice

  The crowd cheered.

  “Our home is here! If there is to be danger here, then we will die here,” another shouted.

  Another cheer.

  “You cannot make us go!” another shouted.

  There arose a chorus of cheers, as her people became increasingly emboldened.

  Gwendolyn knew she had to do something. She stood on her cart, high above the masses, and held out her hands for silence.

  Slowly, her people quieted, as all eyes turned to her.

  “No,” she boomed out, “I cannot make you go. You are right. But I am your Queen, and I ask this of you. I promise you, there is good cause. And I promise you, that if you stay here, you will die.”

  The crowd jeered, heckling her, and Gwendolyn’s cheeks flushed, as she felt what it was like to be hated as a ruler. For the first time, she wished she was not Queen.

  “To King’s Court!” a man screamed.

  The people turned and began to head back in her direction, away from the bridge. She saw her men losing control, saw that they could not stop them.

  As Gwen stood there, heart pounding in her chest, clutching Guwayne, wondering what to do next, there came a sudden horrific shriek in the sky, one loud enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of Gwen’s neck.

  Her people stopped shouting and instead stood there, looking up to the skies. Gwen turned and looked east, toward the horizon, already having a sinking feeling of what it could be.

  No, Gwen thought. Not now. Not when we’re so close to leaving.

  There was another screech, then another, and then another. She knew this screech anywhere. It was a primordial cry, the most powerful cry in the world.

  It was the cry of a dragon.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Reece sat in the hold of the Queen’s ship, the sound of the rain slamming against the wood filling the air, his back against the wall, nursing his leg wound and happy to be alive. Beside him sat Stara, Srog, and Matus, drinking hot ale and nursing their wounds, each of them tended by one of the Queen’s healers. Reece grimaced as a healer sewed up the gash on his thigh left after she’d pulled out the arrow. It stung, but he was relieved the arrow was out, and relieved that he had taken it while protecting Stara.

  Beside him Stara was taking her stitches bravely, barely even wincing, her healer finishing up with the last stitch, then applying various salves. Reece felt a cold sting as his healer draped a cold cloth on his leg filled with ointments; he felt the cool gels slowly infiltrate his wound. After a few seconds, it brought relief, and he relaxed and began to feel better.

  Reece took another long drink from his ale, the hot liquid feeling good on this cold and rainy night, and going right to his head. He could not remember he had last eaten. As he sat there, Reece felt incredibly relaxed after the harrowing events of the night, and grateful that they had reached the ship against all odds. Reece realized how lucky they were to have escaped with relatively minor wounds. Even Srog, the most wounded, was now receiving the healing he needed, and for the first time, Reece saw the color returning to his cheeks, as several healers worked on his injuries and assured him he would be okay.

  Sitting opposite them all was Wolfson, Commander of the Queen’s fleet, a grizzled warrior with a beard streaked with gray, a lazy eye, and the broad and hardened face of a warrior. He wore the uniform of a Queen’s sailor, adorned with all the medals and honors befitting his rank. He was a fine commander, Reece knew, one who had served his father through many wars at sea. Reece was relieved that they had reached his ship.

  As soon as they had all boarded, Reece had warned Wolfson immediately of the fiery arrows being prepared that would set his fleet aflame as soon as the rain stopped. Wolfson had jumped into action, raising the anchors for his entire fleet and sailing them further out to sea, out of range of any arrows from shore.

  Now here they all sat, anchored nearly a mile offshore, in rougher ocean waters, getting slammed by the rain, the ship rocking in the waves. Again and again, they had gone over the details of what had happened, and what next steps they must take.

  “You saved us all this night,” Wolfson said. “If it were not for you all, we would have been caught by surprise, and our ships would all be aflame as soon as the rain stopped.”

  “And yet we are still not safe here,” Matus said. “We are safe from arrows, yes, but do not think the Upper Islanders will rest on their heels. At first light, my brother Karus will summon his fleet from the far side of the island, and he will attack what remains of your fleet at open sea. They have dozens more ships than you, and you’ll be exposed here in the open water.”

  “Nor can you set foot on shore, with the army waiting for you,” Srog added.

  Wolfson nodded, as if he had already thought it through.

  “Then we shall go down fighting,” he replied.

  “Why wait for morning?” Stara asked. “Why wait for them to ambush us and attack us in the open sea? Why not set sail right now for the Ring?”

  Wolfson shook his head.

  “The last order Queen MacGil gave me was to keep our fleet here in this bay, and to hold our positions. I have no order otherwise. I will not abandon our post. Not unless the Queen orders me to retreat.”

  “That’s craziness,” Stara said.

  Srog sighed.

  “We are soldiers,” he said. “Queen MacGil ordered us to hold his island. We do not defy the chain of command.”

  “And yet she does not know the circumstances that have occurred here,” Stara pointed out. “After all, she did not expect her brother to kill King Tirus and spark a revolution.”

  Reece saw everyone look at him, and he reddened. He wondered if Stara was deliberately taking a dig at him, and if she hated him for killing her father.

  “He was a traitor,” Reece said, “he deserved death.”

  “Even so, your actions sparked a war,” she countered. “I think your Queen would understand our retreat.”

  Wolfson shook his head.

  “Without a direct order, we do not retreat.”

  All eyes turned to Srog, the Queen’s official voice on the island. After a long while he sighed, resigned. He shook his head.

  “I have no orders otherwise,” he said. “We cannot abandon our posts. We stay put and fight.”

  The men all nodded and grunted in satisfaction, all in agreement. They dug in, surveying their weapons, preparing mentally for the inevitable fight that would come in the morning.

  Srog and Matus joined Wolfson as he crossed the room, on a mission for more ale, each of them limping but gaining their feet, and Reece found himself alone with Stara, sitting side by side, nursing a hot cup of ale. Reece set down his mug and removed a stone from his belt and began sharpening his sword. He did not know what to say to Stara, or whether she even wanted to talk to him, so they sat there in the silence, the sound of the sword sharpening cutting gently through the room.

  Reece assumed that Stara was mad at him, probably over Selese, or probably over his killing her father, and he expected her to get up and cross the room with the others; he was surprised that she continued to sit there, a few feet away. Reece did not know what to feel around her; a part of him felt shame when he looked at her, thinking of Selese, and also of how he had broken his vow to return for her. He felt guilty even looking at her, given his incredible love and grief for Selese, which hung over him like a blanket. He felt a storm of emotions, and he did not know what to think. A part of him did not want to see her, given what had happened with Selese.

  Yet another part of him, he had to admit, wanted her to stay close. A part of him wanted her to talk to him, wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. But he felt guilty even thinking that.

  Clearly, Reece had messed everything up, in every direction. Stara probably hated him, and he could not blame her.

  “Thank you for saving me back there,” Stara finally spoke up, her voice so soft Reece was unsure he’d even heard it.

  Reece turned an
d looked at her, shocked, wondering if she had really spoken the words, or if he had just imagined them. Stara was looking down to the floor, not at him, her knees bent up to her chest, looking forlorn.

  “I didn’t save you,” he said.

  She turned and looked at him, her eyes aglow, filled with intensity; he was struck, as always, by how hypnotizing they were.

  “You did,” she said. “You took the arrows for me.”

  Reece shrugged.

  “I owe you as much as you do me,” he replied. “If not more. You’ve saved me several times now.”

  Reece went back to sharpening his sword, and she looked back at the floor, and they fell back into a silence, albeit this time a more comfortable one. Reece was surprised that she had spoken to him, and that she did not seem to harbor any ill feelings for him.

  “I thought you hated me,” Reece said, after a while.

  She turned and looked at him.

  “Hated you?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise.

  Reece turned to look at her.

  “After all, I killed your father.”

  Stara scoffed.

  “That is all the more reason to like you,” she said. “It was long overdue. I’m surprised I did not kill him myself.”

  Reece looked at her, shocked. It was not the answer he had been expecting.

  “Then you must…hate me for other reasons,” Reece said.

  Stara gazed at him, puzzled.

  “And what might those reasons be?”

  Reece sighed.

  “I vowed to come back to you,” he said, getting it off his chest. “I vowed to call off my wedding to Selese. And I broke my vow. I let you down. And for that, I am ashamed.”

  Stara sighed.

  “I was disappointed, of course. I thought our love was true. I was disappointed to find out that it was not. That your words were empty.”

  “But my words were not empty,” Reece insisted.

  She looked at him, baffled.

  “Then why did you change your mind and decide to marry Selese after all?”

  Reece sighed, confused, not knowing what to say. His mind raced with conflicting emotions.

  “It’s not that I did not love you,” he said. “It’s that I realized that I also loved Selese. Perhaps in a different way. Perhaps even not as strongly as I loved you. But I loved her all the same. And I had given her my word. And as I sailed back, as distance came between us, I realized it was a word I had to keep.”

  She frowned.

  “And what of your word to me?” she asked. “And what of your love for me? Did that mean nothing, then?”

  Reece shook his head, not knowing what to say.

  “It meant a great deal,” he finally said. “And I know I broke your heart. I’m sorry.”

  Stara shrugged.

  “I guess it’s all too late for that now,” she said. “You made your choice. Your wife-to-be, the one you had decided to dedicate the rest of your life to, is dead. And I’m sure you blame me for it.”

  Reece considered her words, wondering if they were true. Did he really blame her? A part of him did. But a deeper part of him knew that he himself was the only one to blame.

  “I blame myself more than you,” he replied, “much more. It was my choice. Not yours.”

  Reece sighed.

  “And as you said, none of that matters now,” he added. “When Selese died, a part of me died with her. I vowed to never love again. And it is a vow that, this time, I intend to keep.”

  Stara looked at him, and he watched her face transform, watched her become crushed, once again. He could see something gloss over her eyes, like a severe disappointment. A resignation. He realized in that moment that she still loved him, was still hoping for them to be together. And he had, unwittingly, hurt her once again.

  Stara suddenly nodded, then got up wordlessly and walked away.

  Reece looked down, sharpening his sword, hating himself even more and trying to push it all out of his mind; but Stara’s footsteps, crossing the deck, echoed in his skull as she went farther and farther away, each step like a nail in the coffin of his heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gwen stood at the base of the Canyon and watched the horizon, frozen in terror, as slowly, out of the clouds, there emerged a host of dragons, huge, ancient, all breathing fire as they closed in on them. The screeches cut through the air again and again, shaking the ground, so intense that Gwen had to raise her hands to her ears. Watching them approach was like watching a nightmare come to life, and Gwen had the surreal experience of seeing the actual doom arrive that she had foreseen for so many moons.

  All around her, all of her people, so reluctant to cross the Canyon just moments before, suddenly burst into screams, turned, and ran for their lives, sprinting across the very bridge they had protested against. They ran for the lives to get as far away from the Ring as possible, taking, ironically, the same route that Gwen had wanted them to take all along.

  But now, it was too late. Gwen had been proven right. She had been right all along. But she felt little satisfaction.

  The dragons dove down, closer and closer, breathing fire. As a wall of flame approached, Gwen, already feeling the heat, knew that in just moments, she, and everyone she knew and loved, would be dead.

  Beside her stood all of her councilors, and behind her stood all of her knights, the faithful Silver, to their credit, none of them running, all standing beside her, holding up the rear to protect their people. Behind her, in the distance, she could hear the shouts of thousands of her people, running for their lives. If only they had listened to her earlier, Gwen thought. They would all be on ships by now, out to sea, on their way to safety.

  The dragons dove down in a fury, and Gwen knew that despite her people’s best efforts, soon they would all be dead—not just her, but everyone who tried to flee across the bridge. Dragons were too quick, too strong, too powerful. Nothing in the world could stop them.

  Gwen looked up and watched them get near, monstrous, beautiful creatures, their wings flapping, their immense teeth showing, and she knew that she was staring death in the face. She had only one regret before she died—that her love, Thorgrin, was not here, by her side. She wished to see him one more time.

  Gwendolyn clutched Guwayne tightly, holding his face to her chest, not wanting him to see this. She wished, too, that Guwayne could be far from here, anywhere but here, safe in another world. His life was too short, and too precious, to end this way.

  The dragons approached, their shrieks deafening, now so close that Gwendolyn could feel the hair on her skin bristling from the heat. Her men stood bravely beside her, but Gwen knew it was a futile effort. The wall of flame would melt their swords before they even had a chance to raise them.

  Gwendolyn closed her eyes and prepared to meet her fate.

  Please, God. You can take me. Just allow my people to safety. And my baby. Please. I offer myself up. Just save them.

  When Gwen opened her eyes she was surprised to hear a roar. It was a distinct roar, one different from the other dragons, one she knew well. It was a roar she’d become accustomed to hearing every day, and a roar she had not heard since the day that Mycoples had left.

  Ralibar.

  Gwendolyn looked up to see her old friend Ralibar fast approaching, flying over the Canyon from the west, racing to confront the oncoming dragons, a fury in his face unlike any she had ever seen. Ralibar, larger than them all, a loner, was a fearsome dragon to behold, even more fearsome than those approaching, and he was fearless as he faced an army by himself.

  All the dragons suddenly stopped breathing fire, stopped looking down at Gwen and the others, and instead they changed their focus, looking up to Ralibar. They flew faster and prepared to vanquish him.

  There came a tremendous crashing noise overhead, as Ralibar smashed into the lead dragon, his talons out; Ralibar leaned back and wrapped his talons around the dragon’s throat, and then continued flying, driving the dragon back,
farther and farther, like a cannonball through the air. Then Ralibar dove down, before the other dragons could reach him, and smashed the dragon down to the ground, the entire earth shaking as they tumbled.

  The other dragons turned around to aid their friend.

  “We must go!” Kendrick yelled out beside her, tugging on her sleeve. “Now, my Queen!”

  Gwendolyn knew he was right; this was their chance to flee. And yet she hated to leave Ralibar all alone like that—especially as all the other dragons turned and dove down to attack him.

  Yet still, Gwen knew she had no choice; there was nothing she could do to help defend Ralibar. Even if she tried to help him, it would be futile. And this was her only chance to escape, while the dragons were distracted.

  “Now, my Queen!” Kendrick implored, yanking her arm.

  Gwen finally turned and joined her men, all of them mounting their horses and carriages and charging across the bridge.

  They soon joined their people, thousands of them continuing their mass exodus across the bridge, and finally onto the other side of the Ring. They reached the Wilds, and Gwen thought of the road ahead, and thanked God she had the fleet awaiting them at the shores for the evacuation.

  Her people fled in a mass panic, and none of them stopped to look back. None, that is, except for Gwendolyn. As she reached the far side of the crossing, Gwen turned to take one last look, and her heart sank to see Ralibar being attacked from all sides. Ralibar fought brilliantly, pinning down one dragon after the next, using his talons, slashing, wrestling, using his great teeth, locking onto their throats. He fought viciously, taking down one dragon after the next.

  But there were just too many of them, and they attacked him from all sides. One after the other, they dove down at him, like angry birds, grabbing him, throwing him, clawing and biting, smashing him into boulders. Ralibar fought valiantly, but soon he was being pounded into the ground by one dragon after the next.

  “Gwendolyn, GO!” suddenly commanded a firm voice that she recognized.

  Gwendolyn looked over in shock to see Argon, and she wondered how he got there.