Морган Райс
A Vow of Glory
Only one person remained, lingering behind the others.
Lord Kultin.
Just he and Gareth were alone in the room. He walked up to Gareth, stopping a few feet away, and examined him, as if summing him up. As usual, his face was expressionless. It was the true face of a mercenary.
"I don't care what you did or why,” he began, his voice gravelly and dark. “I don’t care about politics. I'm a fighter. I care only for the money you pay me and my men.”
He paused.
“Yet I would like to know, for my own personal satisfaction: did you truly order those men to take the sword away?"
Gareth stared back at the man. There was something in his eyes that he recognized in himself: they were cold, remorseless, opportunistic.
“And if I did?” Gareth asked back.
Lord Kultin stared back for a long time.
“But why?” he asked.
Gareth stared back, silent.
Kultin’s eyes widened in recognition.
“You couldn’t wield it, so no one could?” asked Kultin. “Is that it?” He considered the ramifications. “Yet even so,” Kultin added, “surely you knew that sending it away would lower the shield, make us vulnerable to attack.”
Kultin’s eyes opened wider.
“You wanted us to be attacked, didn’t you? Something in you wants King’s Court destroyed,” he said, suddenly realizing.
Gareth smiled back.
“Not all places,” Gareth said slowly, “are meant to last forever.”
Chapter Five
Gwendolyn marched with the huge entourage of soldiers, advisors, attendants, councilors, Silver, Legion, and half of King’s Court, as they all made their way – one huge, walking city – away from King's Court. Gwen was overwhelmed with emotion. On the one hand, she was thrilled to finally be free from her brother Gareth, to be far from his reach, surrounded by trusted warriors who could protect her, with no fear of his treachery or of being married off to anyone. Finally, she would not have to watch her back every waking moment from fear of one of his assassins.
Gwen also felt inspired and humbled to be chosen to rule, to lead this huge contingent of people. The huge entourage followed her as if she were some sort of prophet, all marching on the endless road to Silesia. They saw her as their ruler – she could see it in their every glance – and looked to her with expectation. She felt guilty, wanting one of her brothers to have the honor – anyone but her. Yet she saw how much hope it gave the people to have a fair and just leader, and that made her happy. If she could fulfill that role for them, especially in these dark times, she would.
Gwen thought of Thor, of their teary goodbye at the Canyon, and it broke her heart; she saw him disappearing, walking across the Canyon bridge, into the mist, on a journey that would almost surely lead to his death. It was a valiant and noble quest – one she could not deny him – one she knew had to be taken for the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of the Ring. Yet she also kept asking herself why it had to be him. She wished it could be anyone else. Now, more than ever, she wanted him by her side. In this time of turmoil, of huge transition, as she was left all alone to rule, to carry his child, she wanted him here. More than anything, she worried for him. She could not imagine life without him; the thought of it made her want to cry.
But Gwen breathed deep and stayed strong, knowing all eyes were on her as they marched, an endless caravan on this dusty road, heading ever farther North, towards the distant Silesia.
Gwen was also still in shock, torn apart for her homeland. She could hardly fathom that the ancient Shield was down, that the Canyon had been breached. Rumors had been circulating from distant spies that Andronicus had already landed on McCloud’s shores. She could not be certain what to believe. She had a hard time grasping that it could have happened so quickly – after all, Andronicus would still have to send his entire fleet across the ocean. Unless somehow McCloud had been behind the theft of the sword, and had orchestrated the downing of the Shield. But how? How had he managed to steal it? Where was he taking it?
Gwen could feel how dejected everyone was around her, and she could hardly blame them. There was an air of despondency among this crowd, and for good reason; without the shield, they were all defenseless. It was only a matter of time – if not today, then tomorrow or the day after – that Andronicus would invade. And when he did, there was no way they could hold back his men. Soon this place, everything she had grown to love and cherish, would be conquered and everyone she loved would be killed.
As they marched, it was as if they were marching to their deaths. Andronicus was not here yet, but it felt as if they had already been captured. She recalled something her father once said: conquer an army’s heart and the battle is already won.
Gwen knew it was up to her to inspire them all, to make them feel a sense of safety, of security – somehow, even, of optimism. She was determined to do so. She could not let her personal fears or a sense of pessimism overcome her at a time like this. And she refused to allow herself to wallow in self-pity. This was no longer just about her. It was about these people, their lives, their families. They needed her. They were all looking to her for help.
Gwen thought of her father and wondered what he would do. It made her smile to think of him. He would have put on a brave face, no matter what. He had always told her to hide fear with bluster, and as she thought back on his life, he had never seemed afraid. Not once. Perhaps it was just show; but it was a good show. As leader, he had known he was on display at all times, had known it was the show that people needed, perhaps even more than the leadership. He was too selfless to indulge in his fears. She would learn from his example. She would not either.
Gwen looked around and saw Godfrey marching beside her, and beside him Illepra, the healer; these two were engaged in conversation, and the two of them, she had noticed, seemed to take an ever-increasing liking to each other, ever since Illepra had saved his life. Gwen longed for her other siblings to be here, too. But Reece was gone with Thor, Gareth of course was gone from her forever, and Kendrick was still in his outpost, somewhere in the east, still helping to rebuild that remote town. She had sent a messenger for him – it had been the first thing she had done – and she prayed he would reach him in time to retrieve him, bring him to Silesia to be with her and help defend it. At least, then, two of her siblings – Kendrick and Godfrey – could take refuge in Silesia with her; that accounted for all of them. Except, of course, for her oldest sister, Luanda.
For the first time in a long time, Gwen's thoughts turned to Luanda. She had always had a bitter rivalry with her older sister; it had not surprised Gwen in the least that Luanda had taken the first chance she could to flee King's Court and marry that McCloud. Luanda had always been ambitious and had always wanted to be first. Gwendolyn had loved her, and had looked up to her when she was younger; but Luanda, ever competitive, had not returned the love. And after a while, Gwen had stopped trying.
Yet now Gwen felt bad for her; she wondered what had become of her, with the McClouds invaded by Andronicus. Would she be killed? Gwen shuddered at the thought. They were rivals, but at the end of the day, they were still sisters, and she did not want to see her dead before her time.
Gwen thought of her mother, the only other one in her family left out there, stranded at King's Court, with Gareth, still in her state. The thought made her cold. Despite all the anger she still had for her mother, Gwen did not want her to end up like she did. What would happen if King's Court were overrun? Would her mother be slaughtered?
Gwen could not help but feel as if her carefully built-up life was collapsing around her. It seemed like only yesterday it was the height of summer, Luanda’s wedding, a glorious feast, King’s Court overflowing with abundance, she and her family all together, celebrating – and the Ring impregnable. It had seemed as if it would last forever.
Now everything had splintered apart. Nothing was as it once had been.
A cold autumn breeze picked up, and Gwen pulled her blue wool sweater tight over her shoulders. Fall had been too short this year; winter was already coming. She could feel the icy breezes, getting heavier with moisture as they headed farther North along the Canyon. The sky was growing darker sooner and the air was filled with a new sound – the cry of the Winter Birds, the red and black vultures that circled low when the temperature dropped. They cawed incessantly, and the sound sometimes grated on Gwen. It was like the sound of death coming.
Since saying goodbye to Thor they had all headed alongside the Canyon, following it North, knowing it would take them to westernmost city in the western part of the Ring – Silesia. As they went, the Canyon’s eerie mist rolled off it in waves, clinging to Gwen’s ankles.
“We are not far now, my lady," came a voice.
Gwen looked over to see Srog standing on her other side, dressed in the distinctive red armor of Silesia and flanked by several of his warriors, all dressed in their red chain mail and boots. Gwen had been touched by Srog’s kindness to her, by his loyalty to the memory of her father, by his offer of Silesia as a refuge. She did not know what she and all these people would have done otherwise. They would still, even now, be stuck in King's Court at the mercy of Gareth’s treachery.
Srog was one of the most honorable lords she had ever met. With thousands of soldiers at his disposal, with his control of the famed stronghold of the West, Srog had not needed to pay homage to anyone. But he paid homage to her father. It had always been a delicate power balance. In the times of her father’s father, Silesia had needed King’s Court; in her father’s time, less so; and in her time, not at all. In fact, with the lowering of the Shield and the chaos at King’s Court, they were the ones who needed Silesia.
Of course, the Silver and Legion were the finest warriors there were – as were the thousands of troops accompanying Gwen, that comprised half of the King's army. Yet Srog, like most other lords, could have simply lowered his gates and looked after his own.
Instead, he had sought Gwen out, had paid allegiance to her, and had insisted on hosting all of them. It had been a kindness which Gwen was determined to somehow, one day, repay. That is, if they all survived.
"You need not worry," she replied softly, laying a gentle hand on his wrist. "We would march to the ends of the earth to enter your city. We are most fortunate for your kindness in this difficult time.”
Srog smiled. A middle-aged warrior with too many lines etched into his face from battle, red-brownish hair, a strong jaw line and no beard, Srog was a man's man, not only a Lord, but a true warrior.
"For your father, I would walk through fire," he responded. "Thanks are not in order. It is a great honor to be able to repay my debt to him in service of his daughter. After all, it was his wish that you should rule. So when I answer to you, I answer to him.”
Near Gwen also marched Kolk and Brom, and behind them all was the ever-present clatter of thousands of spurs, of swords jingling in their scabbards, of shields brushing up against armor. It was a huge cacophony of noise, heading farther and farther north along the Canyon's edge.
"My lady," Kolk said, "I am burdened by guilt. We shouldn’t have let Thor, Reece, and the others head out alone into the Empire. More of us should have volunteered to go with them. It will be on my head if anything should happen to them."
“It was the quest they chose," Gwen responded. "It was a quest of honor. Whoever was meant to go has gone. Guilt does no one any good.”
"And what should happen if they don't return in time with the Sword?” Srog asked. “It won’t be long until Andronicus’ army appears at our gates.”
"Then we shall make a stand," Gwen said confidently, raising as much courage in her voice as she could, hoping to put others at ease. She noticed the other generals turn and look at her.
"We will defend until the last blow,” she added. “There will be no retreat, no surrender.”
She sensed the generals were impressed. She was impressed by her own voice, the strength rising up within her, surprising even her. It was the strength of her father, of seven generations of MacGil kings.
As they continued to march, the road curved sharply to the left, and as Gwen turned the corner she stopped in her tracks, breathless at the sight.
Silesia.
Gwen remembered her father taking her on trips here, when she was a young girl. It was a place that lingered in her dreams ever since, a place that had felt magical to her then. Now, laying her eyes on it as a grown woman, it still took her breath away.
Silesia was the most unusual city Gwen had ever seen. All the buildings, all the fortifications, all the stone – everything was built of an ancient, shining red. The upper half Silesia, tall, vertical, replete with parapets and spires, was built on the mainland, while the lower half was built down into the side of the Canyon. The swirling mists of the Canyon blew in and out, enveloping it, making the red shine and sparkle in the light – and making it seem as if it were built in the clouds.
Its fortifications rose a hundred feet, crowned in parapets and backed by an endless row of walls. The place was a fortress. Even if an army somehow breached its walls, it still would have to descend to the lower half of the city, straight down the cliffs, and fight on the edge of the Canyon. It was clearly a war no invading army would want to wage. Which was why this city had stood for a thousand years.
Her men stopped and gaped, and Gwen could feel that they were all in awe, too.
For the first time in a while, Gwen felt a sense of optimism. This was a place they could stay, away from Gareth's reach, a place they could defend. A place where she could rule. And maybe – just maybe – the MacGil kingdom could rise again.
Srog stood there, hands on his hips, taking it all in as if seeing his own city for the first time, his eyes shining with pride.
"Welcome to Silesia."
Chapter Six
Thor opened his eyes at the crack of dawn to see the gently rolling waves of the ocean, rising and falling in huge crests, blanketed by the soft light of the first sun. The light yellow water of the Tartuvian sparkled in the morning mist. The shipped bobbed silently in the water, the only sound that of the lapping waves against its hull.
Thor sat up and looked around. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion – in fact, he had never felt this tired in his life. They had been sailing for days, and everything here, on this side of the world, felt different. The air was so thick with humidity, the temperature so much warmer, it was like breathing in a constant stream of water. It made him feel sluggish, made his limbs feel heavy. He felt as if he had arrived at Summer.
Thor looked around and saw that all of his friends, normally up before dawn, were all slumped on the deck, sleeping. Even Krohn, always awake, was asleep beside him. The thick tropical weather had affected them all. None of them even bothered to man the wheel anymore – they had given that up days ago. There was no point: their sails were always at full mast with a driving westerly wind, and the magical tides of this ocean constantly pulled their ship in one direction. It was as if they were being pulled to one location, and they had tried several times to steer or change course – but it was useless. They had all become resigned to let the Tartuvian take them where it would.
It's not like they knew where in the Empire to go anyway, Thor mused. As long as the tides took them to dry land, he figured, that would be good enough.
Krohn roused, whining, then leaned forward and licked Thor’s face. Thor reached into his sack, nearly empty, and gave Krohn the last of his dried meat sticks. To Thor’s surprise, Krohn did not snatch it from his hand, as he usually did; instead, Krohn looked at it, looked at the empty sack, then looked back at Thor meaningfully. He hesitated to take the food, and Thor realized Krohn didn’t want to take the last piece from him.
Thor was touched by the gesture, but he insisted, pushing the meat into his friend’s mouth. Thor knew they would be out of food soon, and prayed they reached land. He had no idea how much longer the journey could take; what if it took months? How would they eat?
The sun rose quickly here, growing bright and strong too early, and Thor stood as the mist began to burn off of the water and he went to the bow.
Thor stood there and looked out, the deck rocking gently beneath him, and watched as the mist dissipated. He blinked, wondering if he were seeing things, as the outline of a distant land appeared on the horizon. His pulse quickened. It was land. Real land!
The land appeared in a most unusual shape: two long, narrow peninsulas stuck out into the sea, like two ends of a pitchfork, and as the mist lifted, Thor looked to his left and right and was amazed to see two strips of land on either side of them, each about fifty yards off. They were being sucked right down the middle of a long inlet.
Thor whistled, and his Legion brothers arose. They scrambled to their feet and hurried beside him, standing at the bow, looking out.
They all stood there, breathless at the sight: the shores were the most exotic he had ever seen, densely packed with jungle, soaring trees clinging to the shoreline, so thick it was impossible to see beyond them. Thor spotted huge ferns, thirty feet tall, leaning over the water; yellow and purple trees that seemed to reach into the sky; and everywhere, there were the foreign and persistent noises of beasts, birds, insects, and he did not know what else, snarling and crying and singing.
Thor swallowed hard. He felt as if they were entering an impenetrable animal kingdom. Everything felt different here; the air smelled different, foreign. Nothing here remotely reminded him of the Ring. The other Legion members all turned and looked at each other, and Thor could see the hesitation in their eyes. They all wondered what creatures lay in wait for them inside that jungle.
It was not as if they had a choice. The current brought them one way, and clearly this was where they needed to disembark to enter the Empire’s lands.
"Over here!" O'Connor yelled.
They rushed to O’Connor’s side of the railing, as he leaned over and pointed down at the water. There, swimming alongside the ship, was a huge insect, a luminescent purple, ten feet long, with hundreds of legs. It glowed beneath the waves, then scurried along the water’s surface; as it did, its thousands of small wings started buzzing, and it lifted just above the water. Then it went back to gliding along the surface, then it plunged below. Then it repeated the process all over again.
As they watched, it suddenly rose up, higher in the air, to eye level with the boys, hovering, staring at them with its four large green eyes. It hissed, and they all jumped back involuntarily, reaching for their swords.
Elden stepped forward and swung at it. But by the time his sword reached the air, it was already back in the water.
Thor and the others went flying, crashing on the deck, as their boat came to a sudden stop, lodging itself on shore with a jolt.
Thor's heart beat faster as he looked over the edge: beneath them was a narrow beach made up of thousands of small jagged rocks, bright purple in color.
Land. They had made it.
Elden led the way to the anchor, and they all hoisted it and dropped it over the edge. They each climbed down the chain, jumping off it and landing on shore, Thor handing Krohn to Elden as he went.
Thor sighed as his feet touched the ground. It felt so good to have land – dry, steady land – beneath his feet. He would be fine if he never set sail on a ship again.
They all grabbed the ropes and dragged the boat as far onto shore as they could.
"Do you think the tides will take it away?" Reece asked, looking up at the boat.
Thor looked at it; it seemed secure in the sand.
“Not with that anchor,” Elden said.
"The tide won’t take it," O’Connor said. "The question is whether someone else will.”
Thor took one long last look at the ship, and realized his friend was right. Even if they found the sword, they might very well return to an empty shore.
"And then how will we get back?" Conval asked.
Thor could not help but feel as if, every step of the way, they were burning their bridges.
"We shall find a way," Thor said. “After all, there must be other ships in the Empire, right?"
Thor tried to sound authoritative, to reassure his friends. But deep down, he was not so sure himself. This entire journey was feeling increasingly ominous to him.
As one, they turned and faced the jungle, staring at it. It was a wall of foliage, blackness behind it. The animal noises rose up in a cacophony all around them, so loud that Thor could hardly hear himself think. It felt as if every beast of the Empire was screaming out to greet them.
Or to warn them.
* * *
Thor and the others hiked side-by-side, warily, each of them on guard, through the thick, tropical jungle. It was hard for Thor to hear himself think, so persistent were the screams and cries of the orchestra of insects and animals around him. Yet when he looked into the blackness of the foliage, he could not spot them.
Krohn walked at his heels, snarling, the hair standing on his back. Thor had never seen him so alert. He looked over at his brothers-in-arms, and saw each, like he, with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, all of them on-edge, too.
They had been hiking for hours now, deeper and deeper into the jungle, the air becoming hotter and thicker, more humid, heavier to breathe. They had followed the traces of what appeared to once be a trail, a few broken branches hinting at the path the group of men who had arrived here may have taken. Thor only hoped it was the trail of the group who had stolen the sword.
Thor looked up, in awe of the nature: everything was overgrown to epic proportion, every leaf as big as himself. He felt like an insect in a land of giants. He saw something rustling behind some of the leaves, but couldn’t actually make out anything. He had the ominous feeling they were being watched.
The trail before them suddenly ended in a solid wall of foliage. They all stopped and looked at each other, puzzled.
"But the trail can't just disappear!" O'Connor said, hopeless.
"It didn't," Reece said, examining the leaves. "The jungle just grew back on itself.”
"So which way now?" Conval asked.
Thor turned and looked all around, wondering the same thing. In every direction was just more of the dense foliage, and there seemed to be no way out. Thor was beginning to have a sinking feeling, and felt increasingly lost.
Then he had an idea.
“Krohn," he said, kneeling down and whispering in Krohn's ear. "Climb that tree. Look for us. Tell us which way to go.”
Krohn looked up at him with his soulful eyes, and Thor felt he understood.
Krohn sprinted for an enormous tree, the trunk as wide as ten men, and without hesitating pounced on it and clawed his way up. Krohn sprinted straight up then leapt out onto one of the highest branches. He walked out to its tip and looked out, his ears standing straight. Thor had always sensed that Krohn understood him, and now he knew for certain that he did.
Krohn leaned back and made a strange purring noise in the back of his throat, then scurried back down the trunk and took off in one direction. The boys exchanged a curious look, then all turned and followed Krohn, heading off into that part of the jungle, pushing back the thick leaves so they could walk.
After a few minutes, Thor was relieved to see the trail pick up again, the telltale signs of broken branches and foliage showing which way the group had went. Thor leaned down and patted Krohn, kissing him on the head.
"I don’t know what we would have done without him," Reece said.
“Nor do I," Thor responded.
Krohn purred, satisfied, proud.
As they continued deeper into the jungle, twisting and turning, they came to a stretch of new foliage, with flowers all around them, enormous, the size of Thor, bursting with every color. Other trees had fruits the size of boulders hanging from the branches.
They all stopped in wonder as Conval walked over to one of the fruits, glowing red, and reached up to touch it.
Suddenly, there came a deep, growling noise.
Conval backed away and grabbed his sword, and the others all looked at each other anxiously.
"What was that?" Conval asked.
"It came from over there,” Reece said, gesturing to another part of the jungle.
They all turned and looked. But Thor could see nothing but leaves. Krohn snarled back at it.
The noise grew louder, more persistent, and finally, the branches began to rustle. Thor and the others took a step back, drawing their swords, and waited, expecting the worst.
What stepped forward from the jungle exceeded even Thor's worst expectations. Standing there before them was an enormous insect, five times Thor’s size, resembling a praying mantis, with two rear legs, two smaller front legs that dangled in the air, and long claws at the ends of them. Its body was a fluorescent green, covered in scales, and it had small wings which buzzed and vibrated. It had two eyes at the top of its head, and a third eye on the tip of its nose. It reached around and revealed more claws – hidden under its throat – which vibrated and snapped.
It stood there, towering over them, and another claw came out from its stomach, a long skinny arm, protruding; suddenly, faster than any of them could react, it reached out and snatched O'Connor, its three claws expanding and wrapping around his waist. It lifted him high in the air, as if he were a leaf.
O'Connor swung his sword but was nowhere near quick enough. The beast shook him several times, then suddenly opened its mouth, revealing row after row of sharp teeth, turned O'Connor sideways, and began to lower him towards it.
O'Connor shrieked as an instant and painful death loomed.
Thor reacted. Without thinking, he placed a stone in his sling, took aim and hurled it at the beast’s third eye, at the tip of its nose.
It was a direct strike. The beast shrieked, an awful noise, loud enough to split a tree, then dropped O'Connor, who fell end over end and landed on the soft jungle floor with a thump.
The beast, enraged, then turned its sights on Thor.
Thor knew that making a stand and fighting this creature would be futile. At least one of his brothers would get killed, and likely Krohn, too, and it would drain whatever precious energy they had. He felt that maybe they had intruded on its territory, and that if they could get out of there quick enough, it might just leave them be.
"RUN!" Thor screamed.
They turned and ran – and the beast began to chase after them.
Thor could hear the sound of the beast’s nails cutting through the dense foliage right behind them, slicing through the air and missing his head by a few feet. Shredded leaves flew up into the air and rained down around him. They all ran as one, and Thor felt that if they could just gain enough distance, they could find a way to take shelter. If not, then they would have to make a stand.
But Reece suddenly slipped beside him, falling over a branch, face-first into the foliage, and Thor knew he wouldn’t get up in time. Thor stopped beside them, drew his sword, and stood between him and the beast.
“KEEP RUNNING!" Thor yelled over his shoulder to the others, as he stood there, ready to defend Reece.
The beast lunged for him, shrieking, and swung its claw for Thor's face. Thor ducked and swung his sword at the same time, and the beast let out a horrific shriek as Thor chopped off one of its claws. A green fluid sprayed all over Thor, and he looked up and watched in horror as the beast re-grew its claw just as quickly as it had lost it. It was as if Thor had never injured it.
Thor swallowed. This would be an impossible beast to kill. And now he had angered it.
The beast swiped down with yet another arm, coming out from somewhere else on its body, and swiped Thor hard in the ribs, sending him flying and landing in a clump of trees. The beast then lowered another claw for Thor, and Thor knew he was in trouble.
Elden, O'Connor, and the twins rushed forward, and as the beast came down with another claw for Thor, O'Connor fired an arrow into its mouth, lodging in the back of its throat, making it shriek. Elden took his two-handed ax and brought it down on the beast’s back, while Conven and Conval each threw a spear, lodging on either side of its throat. Reece regained his feet and plunged his sword into the beast’s belly. Thor leapt up and swung his sword at another of the beast’s arms, chopping it off. And Krohn joined them, leaping into the air and sinking his fangs into its throat.
The beast let out shriek after shriek, as they all did more damage than Thor thought possible. It was incredible to Thor that it was still standing, its wings still vibrating. This beast just would not die.
They all watched in horror as, one at a time, the beast reached over and pulled out the spears and swords and the ax lodged in it – and as it did, its injuries all healed before their eyes.
This beast was undefeatable.
The beast leaned back and roared, and all of Thor’s Legion brothers looked up in shock. They had all given it everything they had, and couldn’t even dent it.
The beast prepared to lunge at them again, with its razor sharp jaws and claws, and Thor realized there was nothing else they could do. They were all going to die.
“OUT OF THE WAY!" came a sudden scream.
The voice came from behind Thor, and it sounded young. Thor turned to see a small boy, perhaps eleven, run up behind them, carrying what appeared to be a jug of water. Thor ducked and the boy threw up the water, splashing it all over the beast's face.
