Morgan Rice - The Gift of Battle

Erec stood there, atop the fort, breathing hard, his men beside him, and took stock in the silence. The battle was over. Down below, it took a minute for the dazed villagers to process what had happened, but soon enough they did.

One at a time, they began to cheer, and a great cheer rose up in the sky, louder and louder, as their faces filled with pure joy. It was a cheer of freedom. This, Erec knew, made it all worth it. This, he knew, was what valor meant.

Godfrey sat on the stone floor in the underground chamber of Silis’ palace, Akorth, Fulton, Ario, and Merek beside him, Dray at his feet, and Silis and her men across from them. They all sat gloomily, heads lowered, hands across their knees, all knowing they were on a death watch. The chamber trembled with the thumping of war up above, of the invasion of Volusia, the sound of their city being sacked reverberating in their ears. They all sat there, waiting, as the Knights of the Seven tore Volusia to pieces above their heads.

Godfrey took another long drink from his sack of wine, the last sack left in the city, trying to numb the pain, the certainty of his looming death at the hands of the Empire. He stared at his feet, wondering how it all could have come to this. Moons ago, he was safe and secure inside the Ring, drinking his life away, with no other worries but what tavern and what brothel to visit on any given night. Now here he was, across the sea, in the Empire, trapped underground in a city under ruin, having walled himself into his own coffin.

His head buzzed, and he tried to clear his mind, to focus. He sensed what his friends were thinking, could feel it in the contempt of their glares: they never should have listened to him; they should have all escaped when they’d had the chance. If they had not come back for Silis, they could have reached the harbor, boarded a ship, and now been far from Volusia.

Godfrey tried to take solace in the fact that he had, at least, repaid a favor and had saved this woman’s life. If he had not reached her in time to warn her to descend, she would certainly be up above and dead by now. That had to be worth something, even if it was unlike him.

“And now?” Akorth asked.

Godfrey turned and saw him looking back at him with an accusatory look, voicing the question that was clearly burning in all of their minds.

Godfrey looked around and scanned the small, dim chamber, torches flickering, nearly out. Their measly provisions and a sack of ale were all they had, sitting in one corner. It was a death vigil. He could still hear the sound of the war up above, even through these thick walls, and he wondered how long they could ride out this invasion. Hours? Days? How long would it be until the Knights of the Seven conquered Volusia? Would they go away?

“It’s not us they’re after,” Godfrey observed. “It’s Empire fighting Empire. They have a vendetta against Volusia. They have no issue with us.”

Silis shook her head.

“They will occupy this place,” she said somberly, her strong voice cutting through the silence. “The Knights of the Seven never retreat.”

They all fell silent.

“Then how long can we live down here?” Merek asked.

Silis shook her head as she glanced at their provisions.

“A week, perhaps,” she replied.

There suddenly came a tremendous rumble up above, and Godfrey flinched as he felt the ground shaking beneath him.

Silis jumped to her feet, agitated, pacing, studying the ceiling as dust began to filter down, showering over all of them. It sounded like an avalanche of stone above them, and she examined it as a concerned homeowner.

“They have breached my castle,” she said, more to herself than to them.

Godfrey saw a pained look in her face, and he recognized it as the look of someone losing everything she had.

She turned and looked at Godfrey gratefully.

“I would be up there now if it weren’t for you. You saved our lives.”

Godfrey sighed.

“And for what?” he asked, upset. “What good did it do? So that we can all die down here?”

Silis looked glum.

“If we remain here,” Merek asked, “will we all die?”

Silis turned to him and nodded sadly.

“Yes,” she answered flatly. “Not today or tomorrow, but within a few days, yes. They cannot get down here—but we cannot go up there. Soon enough our provisions will run out.”

“So what then?” Ario asked, facing her. “Do you plan to die down here? Because I, for one, do not.”

Silis paced, her brow furrowed, and Godfrey could see her thinking long and hard.

Then, finally, she stopped.

“There is a chance,” she said. “It is risky. But it just might work.”

She turned and faced them, and Godfrey held his breath in hope and anticipation.

“In my father’s time, there was an underground passage beneath the castle,” she said. “It leads through the castle walls. We could find it, if it still exists, and leave at night, under the cover of darkness. We can try to make our way through the city, to the harbor. We can take one of my ships, if there are any left, and sail from this place.”

A long, uncertain silence fell over the room.

“Risky,” Merek finally said, his voice grave. “The city will be teeming with Empire. How are we to cross it without getting killed?”

Silis shrugged.

“True,” she replied. “If they catch us, we will be killed. But if we emerge when it is dark enough, and we kill anyone who stands in our way, perhaps we will reach the harbor.”

“And what if we find this passageway and reach the harbor, and your ships aren’t there?” Ario asked.

She faced him.

“No plan is certain,” she said. “We may very well die out there—and we may very well die down here.”

“Death comes for us all,” Godfrey chimed in, feeling a new sense of purpose as he stood and faced the others, feeling a sense of resolve as he overcame his fears. “It is a question of how we wish to die: down here, cowering as rats? Or up there, aiming for our freedom?”

Slowly, one at a time, the others all stood. They faced him and all nodded solemnly back.

He knew, at that moment, a plan had been formed. Tonight, they would escape.

Loti and Loc walked side by side beneath the burning desert sun, the two of them shackled to each other, as they were whipped by the Empire taskmasters behind them. They trekked through the wasteland and as they did, Loti wondered once again why her brother had volunteered them for this dangerous, backbreaking job. Had he gone mad?

“What were you thinking?” she whispered to him. They were prodded from behind and as Loc lost his balance and stumbled forward, Loti caught him by his good arm before he fell.

“Why would you volunteer us?” she added.

“Look ahead,” he said, regaining his balance. “What do you see?”

Loti looked ahead and saw nothing but the monotonous desert stretched out before them, filled with slaves, the ground hard with rocks; beyond that, she saw a slope to a ridge, atop which labored a dozen more slaves. Everywhere were taskmasters, the sound of whips heavy in the air.

“I see nothing,” she replied, impatient, “but more of the same: slaves being worked to their deaths by taskmasters.”

Loti suddenly felt a searing pain across her back, as if her skin were being torn off, and she cried out as she was lashed across her back, the whip slicing her skin.

She turned to see the scowling face of a taskmaster behind her.

“Keep silent!” he commanded.

Loti felt like crying from the intense pain, but she held her tongue and continued to walk beside Loc, her shackles rattling under the sun. She vowed to kill all of these Empire as soon as she could.