Morgan Rice - A Cry of Honor

She broke into a wide smile.

“I would like that,” she said. “I would like to start life over again.”

Alistair leaned in and kissed him, and they held it for a long time, as a light breeze caressed them.

“Every night,” she said, “in my servitude, I prayed for a man like you. Someone to appear and rescue me from all of this. But I never dreamed someone as great as you would arrive. Every prayer I have ever had has been answered in you, and I shall spend the rest of my life in your devotion.”

They kissed again, and as twilight rose, they lay down on the grass, kissing in each other’s arms. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Erec felt as if everything were right in the world.

Erec woke at the crack of dawn, sensing something was off. He looked all around, alert. He still held Alistair in his arms, as he had all night long, and could see the content smile on her face. He felt deeply relaxed having her with him. The trees were still, the lake gentle, and all he could hear was the sound of the first birds beginning to wake.

Yet still, the warrior instinct within Erec told him that something was wrong.

He jumped to his feet, threw on his chainmail, and walked over to Warkfin, who was prancing just the slightest bit, his ears tilted back. Warkfin sensed it, too: something was off.

As Erec stood there, he began to feel the slightest tremor in the earth, and he knew something was happening. He quickly hurried over and roused Alistair.

“What is it, my Lord?” she asked, waking with concern in her eyes.

“I do not know,” he responded. “But we must move quickly.”

He picked her up and mounted her on the back of the horse, then jumped up himself, mounted on the front, and kicked it.

They rode down the forest trail, to the top of a small hill, where he had an advantageous lookout over the hills below. As they reached the top he stopped, and was shocked by what he saw.

Hundreds of men in armor rode in his direction, wearing the distinctive shiny green armor of the Lord from Baluster. They had followed his trail. They were not letting it go: they wanted vengeance. This Lord was even more powerful than Erec had thought: even in death, his men would not let it go.

Erec realized in an instant that he had a war on his hands.

He dismounted, turned and looked up at Alistair.

“Listen to me carefully,” he instructed, intense. “You must ride far away from here, before this army arrives. Take the path through the forest, and stay north. It will bring you to Savaria. Seek out the Duke and my old friend Brandy. They will take care of you. You will be safe there.”

She sat there on the prancing horse and looked down at him with terror.

“But what of you, my Lord?” she asked.

“I must stay here and confront this army,” he said.

Her eyes opened wide in panic, as she looked from Erec to the horizon and back again.

“But my Lord, you are terribly outnumbered,” she said. “You cannot survive!”

He shook his head grimly.

“Whether I survive or not makes little difference,” he said. “What matters is that you survive. If they kill me here, today, they may be satisfied and turn back; and if you are safe within the gates of Savaria, they will not pursue you. But if you stay here with me, you will die – or worse, be captured. If I die, I will die content, knowing you are safe.”

She looked down at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“My Lord, please don’t do this!” she pleaded. “Why can we not flee together?”

Erec shook his head.

“I swore an oath of honor,” he said. “As a member of The Silver, honor is my badge. I can never run, from any foe, for any reason. I am sorry, but my honor obligates me.”

He came close to her, his heart breaking to see her distress.

“Know how much I love you,” he urged. “Now go!” he called out, and slapped Warkfin hard, startling him and forcing him to take off, Alistair hanging onto the reins, but looking back over her shoulder, weeping.

“MY LORD!” she screamed.

Warkfin was well-trained – he knew what Erec wanted and would not stop until he took her far from here, to the Duke’s Palace. Erec felt a sense of ease watching her ride off, knowing she would be far from the battle.

Erec turned, looked back out over the hill, and surveyed the army, getting closer and closer. The rumble could be heard even from here, and he steeled himself for battle.

He drew his sword, the clang reverberating in the hills. High up he heard the screech of a bird. It was days like this that he had been born for. He might die on this day, he knew. But he would at least die facing the enemy, fearlessly, in one great clash of honor.

Thor stood with the huge entourage of Legion and Silver as they all finished gathering their weapons from the Hall of Arms, gathering their belongings from the barracks, and preparing to leave King’s Court for good. It was a huge and growing force; Reece, O’Connor, Elden, and the twins joined Thor, Gwendolyn and Godfrey as they all spent their final moments gathering whatever they could carry. Together, they all walked from the hall, out the great doors for the last time, Krohn whining at their side.

The huge, armed group wound its way into the plaza of King’s Court, toward King’s Gate, beyond which was the drawbridge and the road that would lead them away from King’s Court forever. As they went, a small army in and of themselves, the very face of what would be the new MacGil court, people gathered all around and watched them go, eyes opened with wonder and fear. Word had spread of the rift, and as they went, some people watched in wonder, while others joined their group, deciding to abandon Gareth’s court and go with them. It was heart-wrenching. Thor felt as if the kingdom were being split in two with each passing step.

As they neared the stone gate, the final exit, Thor took one last look back over his shoulder at King’s Court, at this place he had grown to love, to call home. He hated that Gareth was ruling, that he had ruined this place for all of them, had usurped it as his own, this place that had been ruled by MacGils for seven hundred years. There was nothing that they could do about it.

Gwen squeezed his hand, and Thor looked into her eyes and could see her relief to be leaving, and to be with him. He felt the same. At least she was safe. They walked together, hand in hand, proudly, walking through the archway.

“Do you think we shall ever return?” he asked Gwendolyn.

She looked out sadly.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Not with this King,” Reece chimed in. “If we ever return, it will be on our terms.”

Suddenly a horn sounded, and pandemonium broke out all around them.

Thor spun with the others, and saw people swarming about in every direction, as an agitated buzz spread through the streets. Several messengers, out of breath, came running towards Thor and the others.

“The Sword!” one of them screamed, frantic. “It’s been stolen!”

An outraged gasp spread through the crowd, followed by a long murmur.

“Speak clearly man,” Kolk yelled at the man. “What do you mean?”

“The Destiny Sword! It’s gone! And the Canyon – the Shield is down!”

An outraged cry rose up through the streets, a cry of panic, as all the soldiers turned and looked at each other. Thor could see the fear in their faces, and he felt it too.

The shield was down. They were all vulnerable, defenseless. The entire Ring. There was no longer anything standing between the Empire and them. The Empire’s million-man army could enter, could attack at any moment.