Morgan Rice: A Sea of Shields

Gwen shook her head.

“You will die,” she said.

“Then I will,” Godfrey said. And for the first time, he was unafraid. Truly unafraid.

Gwen must have sensed the change in him, because for the first time in her life, she looked at him differently.

She reached out and laid an approving hand on his shoulder and looked him firmly in the eye.

“Father would be proud of what you’ve done today,” she said.

Godfrey felt himself warming with appreciation and love. It was the first time anyone in his family had ever approved of him, had ever viewed him as anything other than a drunkard.

Godfrey nodded back, his eyes glistening, and gave her one long, last look, hoping he would see his sister again one day. He feared he would not.

“Be well, my sister.”

Godfrey turned and sprinted down from the hall, determined, racing down the stairs and out the castle door, and right for the huge front gates of the city. He did not pause as he jumped in and helped a dozen soldiers struggling to close it. He came and put a shoulder into it, and it made a difference; due to him, the groaning iron gate finally closed all the way. As soon as it did, Godfrey helped the men hoist a thick iron bar and wedge it before the bars.

It was not a moment too soon. A few seconds later, the McCloud army reached the gates and slammed into them. They stopped short, unable to crash them.

Godfrey followed the other soldier, rushing up the stairs to the upper level of the fort and grabbing a bow with the others. He knelt and took a place amongst the ramparts with the others. He took aim and fired his first arrow, and it felt good.

He would defend this city. He would not win; in fact, he knew he would die on this day. But that no longer mattered to him; all that he cared about was that he go down in one great act of honor.

Gwendolyn stood on the upper ramparts of her castle, Guwayne in her arms, crying, Steffen beside her, and looked out at the horizon, facing east. Her heart ripped in two as she saw, filling the horizon, rows and rows of black banners, born by McCloud warriors, thousands and thousands of them on horseback, all charging right for King’s Court. In the distant horizon behind them, black plumes of smoke rose to the sky, clearly from villages they had already plundered.

It was a river of devastation—and it was heading right for her.

Horns sounded again and again, up and down the castle walls, and below, Gwendolyn’s people raced to evacuate King’s Court, as she had rehearsed all these moons. The evacuation was more orderly than she had imagined, no doubt because she had planned and rehearsed it so well, and as she looked below, she was satisfied to see that King’s Court was now nearly empty, all of her people flocking out through the back gates, onto the endless array of horses and carts that awaited them, to take them, as she had planned, toward the shore, toward a fleet of ships that would take them far away from here, to the Upper Isles. To safety.

There came the sounds of the McClouds slamming into her iron gates, again and again, and as the iron began to give, she looked down and realized the McClouds would destroy her city, everything that she had worked so hard to rebuild.

But they would not kill her people. While Gwen cried inside for what would happen to her city, she at least took satisfaction in knowing her people would not be harmed. The McClouds could have the city and all its riches; but her people would live another day.

“My lady, we haven’t much time,” Steffen said, beside her.

Gwendolyn scanned the skies, her stomach in knots, and wished now, more than ever, that Thor could be here, by her side, could arrive with Mycoples, and save them all.

But her husband-to-be was long gone, in some land far away, and who knew if he would ever return.

Thor , she prayed. Return to me. I need you.

Gwen closed her eyes, and silently, she willed for him to return. She also willed for Ralibar to appear. Deep down, though, she sensed he would not. Mycoples’s departure had done something to him, and she had not seen him since. It was as if he had fallen into some sort of depression; every morning he used to come to her, but now he did not come. She could not help but wonder if maybe he had abandoned her for good.

Gwen opened her eyes, hopeful—but the skies remained empty, filled only with the cries of men engaged in battle below. No Thor. No Ralibar.

She was on her own, once again. She knew, as she had always known, that she would have to rely on herself, and no one else.

“My lady?” Steffen prodded, his voice mounting with alarm.

“I commanded you to go,” she said to him.

Steffen shook his head.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he said, “but that is one command of yours which I must defy. I will not leave without you.”

Guwayne squirmed and cried in her arms, and Gwen looked down and felt all the love she possibly could for her child. She could not stand to leave her city—and yet she knew there wasn’t much time to get him to safety.

“This is my home,” Gwen said, clinging to this place, hanging on. “My father’s home.”

Gwen stood watching it all, and she could not stand to leave her city, this place where she was born. After all she had done to rebuild it, it would be at the mercy of these barbarians.

“It is time to find another home,” Steffen said.

Gwen searched the skies one last time, hoping for any sign of Thor or Ralibar. She searched the roads, hoping for any sign of the Silver. But the roads, too, were empty. She knew they could not come. They were all far away, deep into their Pilgrimage. The McClouds had timed it well.

Gwen breathed deep, and slowly let it out.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Gwen turned and, clutching Guwayne, who was now screaming, hurried with Steffen across the ramparts, down the spiral staircase. They soon reached the ground floor of the castle, hurried out the back, and they joined in with the rest of the stream of humanity, all heading out the back gates of King’s Court, toward the horses and the carts.

As Gwen and Steffen reached the rear gate of King’s Court, Gwen was touched to see that several attendants stood before it, keeping them open, waiting for her. In fact, all of her people were waiting for her, all sitting in their carts, none of them leaving until she appeared.

Gwen was the last person to pass through the gates. As she did, the attendants pulled back the heavy iron gates, slamming them shut with an echoing bang.

Gwen climbed into a waiting carriage with Guwayne, the last carriage to leave King’s Court. The driver whipped the horse, and she, and all her people, took off at a gallop.

Gwen turned and looked back over her shoulder as they went, and she watched as King’s Court disappeared from view. The sound of those closing gates, of the reverberating metal, echoed through her mind as she watched the city she loved get smaller and smaller, soon, she knew, doomed to become a pile of rubble and ashes. Everything she loved was about to be destroyed.

They were heading for the Upper Isles, for another hostile place, and who knew what sort of life would await them there.

Life, she knew, would never be the same again.

Romulus marched, leading his army through the smoldering forests of the Wilds, the sounds of thousands of boots crunching leaves behind him, the skies filled with the sound of dragons cries above, and he smiled in triumph. Here he was, invincible, having crossed the ocean with a fleet of ships, leading his army, and the dragons, on the last leg of their march, just moments away from reaching the canyon and being able to destroy the Shield. His time for vengeance, for complete control of the world, had come.