Morgan Rice: A Reign of Steel

But how was it possible? she wondered. When they’d left, there was no hope of victory, much less survival, her precious city overrun by McClouds, with no one left to stand guard.

Gwen spotted, on the distant horizon, a banner being raised, higher and higher. She squinted, and again there was no mistake: it was the banner of the MacGils. It could only mean that King’s Court was now back in the hands of the MacGils.

On the one hand, Gwen felt elated, and wanted to return at once. On the other hand, as she looked at the road they had traveled, she thought of all Argon’s predictions, of the scrolls she had read, of her own premonitions. She felt, deep down, that her people still needed to be evacuated. Perhaps the MacGils had recaptured King’s Court; but that did not mean that the Ring was safe. Gwendolyn still felt certain that something much worse was coming, and that she had to get her people out of here, to safety.

“It seems we have won,” Steffen said.

“A cause for celebration!” Aberthol called out, approaching her cart.

“King’s Court is ours again!” called out a commoner.

A great cheer arose amongst her people.

“We must turn back immediately!” called out another.

Another cheer rose up. But Gwen shook her head adamantly. She stood and faced her people, and all eyes turned to her.

“We shall not turn back!” she boomed to her people. “We have begun the evacuation, and we must stick to it. I know that a great danger lies ahead for the Ring. I must get you to safety while we still have time, while there is still a chance.”

Her people groaned, dissatisfied, and several commoners stepped forward, pointing to the horizon.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” one bellowed, “but King’s Court is my home! It is everything I know and love! I’m not about to cross the sea to some strange island while our city is intact and in the hands of the MacGils! I’m turning back for King’s Court!”

A great cheer rose up, and as he left, walking back, hundreds of people fell in and followed him, turning their carts, heading back down the road toward King’s Court.

“My lady, should I stop them?” Steffen asked, panicked, loyal to her to a fault.

“You are hearing the voice of the people, my lady,” Aberthol said, coming up beside her. “You would be foolish to deny them. Moreover, you cannot. It is their home. It is all that they know. Do not fight your own people. Do not lead them without good reason.”

“But I have good reason,” Gwen said. “I know destruction is coming.”

Aberthol shook his head.

“And yet they do not,” he replied. “I do not doubt you. But queens plan ahead, while the masses act on instinct. And a queen is only as powerful as the masses allow her to be.”

Gwen stood there, burning with frustration as she watched her people defy her command, migrating back to King’s Court. It was the first time they had ever openly rebelled, had openly defied her. She did not like the feeling. Was it portending things to come? Were her days as queen numbered?

“My lady, shall I command the soldiers to stop them?” Steffen asked.

She felt as if he was the only one left still loyal to her. A part of her wanted to say yes.

But as she watched them go, she knew it would be futile.

“No,” she said softly, her voice broken, feeling as if her child had just turned her back on her. What pained her the most was that she knew their actions would only lead to their harm, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “I cannot prevent what destiny holds for them.”

Gwendolyn, despondent as she trailed her people in the return to King’s Court, rode through the rear gates of King’s Court and already heard the distant cheers of celebration coming from the other side. Her people were elated, dancing and cheering, throwing their hats into the air as they all poured through the gates, returning to the courtyards of the city they knew and loved, the city they called home. Everyone rushed to congratulate the Legion, Kendrick, and the victorious Silver.

But Gwendolyn proceeded with a pit in her stomach, torn by mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was of course elated to be back here, too, elated that they had conquered the McClouds, elated to see that Kendrick and the others were safe. She took pride in seeing the McCloud corpses littered all over the place, and she was thrilled to see that her brother Godfrey had managed to survive, sitting off to the side nursing a wound, head in hand.

Yet at the same time, Gwendolyn could not quell her deep sense of foreboding, her certainty that some other terrible calamity was coming for them all, and that the best thing for her people to do was to evacuate before it was too late.

But her people were swept up in victory. They would hear no reason as she was ushered, with thousands of others, into the sprawling city she knew so well. As they entered, Gwen was relieved to see that, at least, the McClouds had been killed quickly, before they’d had a chance to do any real damage to all of her careful rebuilding.

“Gwendolyn!”

Gwendolyn turned to see Kendrick dismount, rush forward, and embrace her. She hugged him back, his armor hard and cold, as she handed Guwayne to Illepra beside her.

“My brother,” she said, looking up at him, his eyes shining with victory. “I am proud of you. You’ve done more than hold our city—you have vanquished our attackers. You and your Silver. You embody our code of honor. Father would be proud.”

Kendrick grinned as he bowed his head.

“I am grateful for your words, sister. I was not about to allow your city, our city, father’s city, be destroyed by those heathens. I was not alone; you should know that our brother Godfrey put up the first resistance. He and a small handful of others, and even the Legion—they all helped hold back the attackers.”

Gwen turned to see Godfrey walking over at them, a beleaguered smile on his face, holding one hand to the side of his head, caked with dried blood.

“You became a man today, my brother,” she said to him in earnest, draping a hand on his shoulder. “Father would be proud.”

Godfrey smiled back sheepishly.

“I just wanted to warn you,” he said.

She smiled.

“You did far more than that.”

Alongside him came Elden, O’Connor, Conven, and dozens of Legion members.

“My lady,” Elden said. “Our men fought valiantly here today. Yet I’m sad to say, we have lost many.”

Gwen looked past him and saw the dead bodies all over King’s Court. Thousands of McClouds—yet also dozens of Legion recruits. Even a handful of Silver were dead. It brought back painful memories of the last time her city was invaded. It was hard for Gwen to look.

She turned and saw a dozen McClouds, captives, still alive, heads down, hands behind their backs.

“And who are these?” she asked.

“The McCloud generals,” Kendrick replied. “We’ve kept them alive. They are all that remains of their army. What do you command we do with them?”

Gwendolyn looked them over slowly, staring them in the eye as she did. Each one stared back at her, proud, defiant. Their faces were crude, typical McClouds, never showing remorse.

Gwen sighed. There had been a time when she had thought that peace was the answer to everything, that if only she could be kind enough and gracious enough to her neighbors, could show enough goodwill, then they’d be kind to her and her people.

But the longer she ruled, the more she saw that others only interpreted overtures of peace as a sign of weakness, as something to be taken advantage of. All her efforts at peace had culminated in this: a surprise attack. And on Pilgrimage Day no less, the holiest day of the year.