Morgan Rice: A Sea of Shields

As they went, the dragons dove down and rained fire on the Wilds, destroying miles of forest, decimating the creatures that lived on this side of the canyon. The dragons flushed the creatures out of the woods, and hordes of them, shrieking, charged right for Romulus and his men.

Romulus rushed forward, sword held high, and chopped off the head of one wild beast after the next, as all of his men joined in. It was a bloodbath, the men destroying everything in their path like a plague of locusts, killing whatever the dragons had left over. Romulus had not had this much fun since he was a boy.

Romulus marched and marched, feeling victorious, triumphant, prepared for the greatest victory of his life. In moments, he would destroy the Shield, invade the Ring, take King’s Court, and murder Gwendolyn. He would have what his predecessors, even Andronicus, never had: complete dominion of the world. He would enslave and torture everyone in sight.

Romulus smiled and breathed deep at the thought. He could almost taste the bloodshed now.

The sorcerer had prophesied that Romulus would destroy the Shield—but he had not specified exactly how. Romulus could only assume that, with all these dragons in his power, their joined force would ram it, destroy it, and lead the way for him to cross the canyon, into the Ring. After all, how could the strength of the Shield stand up to these dragons?

Romulus finally rounded a bend, and as he did, he breathed deep, in awe at the sight which never got old: there, before him, was the vast canyon, its mists rising up, luring him to approach. There was his destiny.

Romulus marched right up to the edge of the canyon crossing, the vast bridge spanning the two worlds, and as he did, he looked up to the skies and waited. He closed his eyes and commanded his host of dragons to race forward, right for the invisible Shield.

He opened his eyes and watched as they all flew overhead, right for the gaping canyon, his heart pounding with excitement. He braced himself for the destruction. For his moment.

But as Romulus watched, he was shocked to see all the dragons slam into the invisible wall and bounce back. The dragons shrieked in fury, circled around, and bounced into it again and again and again.

But they could not get past the Shield.

Romulus stood there, baffled, crushed with disappointment. How could the Shield possibly withstand the power of all these dragons? He was meant to enter the Ring. It had been prophesied. What had gone wrong?

Romulus, burning with frustration, knew he had to test the Shield another way. He reached over, grabbed one of his men, and hurled him into the invisible Shield.

The man flew into it face first and as he did, he shrieked as he was eviscerated, burning up, landing in a pile of ashes at their feet.

Romulus fumed. It couldn’t be. What had gone wrong? Had he been led astray? Would he have to turn back, in humiliation, once again? The thought was too much for him to bear.

It made no sense. He was lord of the dragons. There was nothing on this planet—nothing—that should be able to stop him.

Romulus stood and stared, the mainland of the Ring looking so far away. As he stared, all of his hopes and dreams began to melt. For the first time, his sense of unstoppable power began to feel shaken. What was he missing?

As Romulus stood waiting, watching, realizing with humiliation he would have to turn around, abandon his plans once and for all, suddenly, slowly, something appeared in the distance. It was a woman. She walked slowly, on the far side of the canyon, and stepped foot onto the bridge.

She moved tentatively at first, one step at a time. She held her arms out to her side, and with each step she took, she came a little bit closer. Romulus recognized her.

Could it be? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

It made no sense. A woman was voluntarily crossing the bridge, toward his side of the Ring. A woman he recognized. The one and only woman he needed most in the world:

Luanda.

Luanda stood before the vast bridge spanning the canyon, and with a cold, hardened heart, numb to the world, she looked out at the sight before her. On the far side of the canyon, in the land of the Wilds, there were thousands of Empire soldiers, led by Romulus, standing there, hoping to cross. Above them hovered a host of dragons, screaming, flapping their wings against the invisible Shield that held them out. Romulus himself stood before the far end of the bridge, hands on his hips, watching.

Luanda felt ready to end it all as she took her first step onto the bridge, all alone, with nothing left to live for. A gust of wind met her in the face, icy despite the summer day, matching her mood. With Bronson dead, Luanda was cold, embittered, her heart dead inside. She knew there was a baby in her stomach, but now it was a cruel joke, a baby without a father, a baby doomed by fate. What other cruel tricks would life have for her? Would it take her baby from her, too?

It was time, she felt, to leave this world. To leave this Ring. To leave this planet.

But before she did, she first, more than anything, felt a burning desire for vengeance on Gwendolyn. She felt a need to wreak destruction on Gwendolyn and the MacGils, on her former family, on King’s Court, and everything good left in the Ring. She wanted them all to suffer, to know what suffering felt like, as she had. She wanted them to know what it felt like to be an outcast, an exile.

Luanda, numb, took another step onto the bridge. Then another.

She knew that Romulus wanted her to cross. She knew she was the key. She knew that when she crossed to the other side, the Shield would lower. Romulus would enter the Ring with his men and his dragons, and he would crush it forever. And that was exactly what she wanted. It was the only thing left that she wanted.

Luanda took another step, then another. Halfway across the bridge, she closed her eyes and held her arms out wide, held her palms out to her side. She continued to walk, eyes closed, leaning her head back, up to the heavens.

Luanda thought of her dead father, her dead mother. Her dead husband. She thought of all that she had once loved, and how far away all of it was for her now.

She felt the world move beneath her feet, heard the cry of the dragons, smelled the cool moisture of the swirling mists, and she knew that in just moments, she would be across, in Romulus’s arms. Surely, he would kill her. But that no longer mattered.

All that mattered was that she had not been there in time to spare her husband from death.

Please, Bronson, she prayed. Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Reece, on the Upper Isles, in Tirus’s castle, walked slowly down the long, red carpeted aisle leading to a massive throne—atop which sat Tirus. Inside, Reece was burning up with emotion, hardly able to believe he was here. The vast chamber was packed with hundreds of Tirus’s loyal subjects, his men in arms lined up on either side of the room, along with hundreds of Upper Islanders, all packed into the hall to witness the moment. To witness Reece’s apology.

Reece walked slowly, feeling hundreds of eyes on him, taking each step deliberately. He looked in the distance and saw Tirus staring down at him triumphantly, clearly relishing the moment. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. With each step Reece took, his spurs jingled, the only sound in a room completely frozen in silence.

Gwendolyn had sent Reece here on this humiliating mission, to bring a truce between the two MacGils, to unite the Upper Isles, to fulfill her greater agenda, whatever that was. He loved and respected his sister more than anything, and he knew that she needed this. She needed this for her whole kingdom, for the Ring, for her loyal subject, Srog, who was injured, and whom Reece could see even now, bound beside Tirus, along with his cousin, Matus. Reece’s apology would free them both. It would bring a truce between the kingdoms. It would help Gwendolyn’s greater plan, would unite the Upper Isles. And it would free the other half of Gwendolyn’s fleet held hostage in the rocks below, and the thousands of sailors aboard, surrounded by Tirus’s men. Reece knew what had to be done, however much his pride told him otherwise.