Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

“Mobilize your men at once, and ride with me,” Romulus added. “We ride to fight Andronicus’ forces and to oust him together.”

“But sir…” the general said, stumbling, clearly unsure what to do. “We never received any such orders. We cannot kill Andronicus…he is our commander!”

Romulus knew he had to take definitive action. He stepped forward, grabbed the general with both hands and yanked him in, pulling his chin so close to his that they were almost kissing. He scowled down, his face trembling with rage.

“I will say this once,” Romulus growled. “I am Supreme Commander now. Address me any other way, and I will have you killed, and install a new general in your place. Do you understand?”

The general gulped.

“Yes, Supreme Commander.”

Romulus threw him down to the ground, then turned and scanned the soldiers’ faces; they all immediately looked away, everyone afraid to meet his gaze.

“FOLLOW ME!” Romulus screamed, as he mounted his horse and kicked it, charging down the road.

Within moments, he heard behind him the sound of a thousand horses, rushing to do his will. A great battle cry rose up, and Romulus smiled wide.

He had his army.

Gwendolyn stood atop the ridge of ice, staring down in wonder and disbelief at the fantasy land spread out beneath her. The world before her was a frozen wonderland, sparkling with every color, soft shades of purples and violets and pinks, a million points reflecting off the small mounds of ice. It looked like the world a day after a snowstorm, frozen in silence and peace, everything shiny and perfectly still. It was vast and overwhelming, stretching as far as the eye could see, a desert of light and ice.

She sensed that Argon was down there somewhere, trapped, and she felt more of a burning desire to free him than ever.

Krohn whined beside her, and Gwen looked over and saw Alistair, Steffen, and Aberthol, the five of them all shivering, frozen to the bone, weary from the journey. One lost all sense of time in this place, and Gwen felt as if they had been trekking in the Netherworld for years. While Gwen had hoped to see some sign of Argon when they crested the ridge, instead, there appeared yet another vast landscape before them. She had hoped their trek would end here; but now it seemed as if was just beginning.

“It is endless,” Steffen observed, standing beside her, looking out.

“The Ice Mounds,” Aberthol said, eyes wide in awe. “I never thought to lay eyes upon it in my lifetime.”

“You know of this place?” Gwen asked, surprised.

Aberthol nodded.

“A place of profound magic. A place frozen in time. A place even the gods will not venture. It is a place to trap men’s souls. A place that defies magic.”

“But what is it, exactly?” Alistair asked, also looking out in wonder. “It is not a desert, nor is it a city. It seems like…nothingness.”

“At least the snow and the wind have stopped,” Steffen observed. “At least we can see clearly before us.”

“It is not what it seems,” Aberthol said. “It is a world of illusion.”

“Is Argon here?” Gwendolyn asked him.

Aberthol slowly shook his head.

“There is no way of knowing.”

“There is one way,” Gwen replied. “We find out for ourselves.”

Aberthol shook his head.

“Look beneath you. The decline is too steep. It is solid ice. We could never hike down that. And if we did, this place is too dangerous. We would never return. It was folly to come here, but we should cut our losses. We must turn back now.”

“But there must be a way—” Gwendolyn began.

Before she could finish her words, there came a cracking noise, and the ground beneath her suddenly gave way.

All of them screamed as they fell on their backs and slid straight down the icy slope. Gwendolyn could barely breathe they were moving so fast, the world whizzing by her as they went sliding, the ice scraping her arms. With nothing to slow their descent, they slid hundreds of feet, gaining speed. Gwen flailed, reaching out to grab something, anything, to slow or stop the fall—but there was nothing. Beside her, Krohn stuck out all four paws, trying to stop himself, but he could not. He slid headfirst, with the rest of them, all of them flailing, helpless. She felt they were sliding downward to their deaths.

Gwen braced herself as they approached the bottom, heading for a wall of white. She raised her hands to her face, expecting to hit a wall of ice and be crushed by the impact.

Gwen screamed and gasped as she hit the wall; but to her immense relief, she did not feel pain. She only felt a soft, wet cold, immersing her entire body. Gwen realized they had slid into a mound not of ice but of snow, and had come out the other side. She was dazed, and freezing, her entire body covered in snow—but unhurt.

Gwendolyn sat there, shocked, at the bottom of the valley, and looked over, and saw the others were, stunned, too.

“Are you okay?” she asked Aberthol, who looked shaken.

Aberthol blinked several times, checked his body, and nodded back. She saw that Steffen and Alistair were okay too, and even Krohn was walking. It had been scary, but they had made it. Their decision had been made for them.

Slowly, each of them got to their knees, then to their feet. Gwendolyn turned and looked back up the slope, saw the steep ridge from which they had descended, and could hardly believe it. She could not possibly imagine climbing back up there.

“Well, it seems we’re stuck,” Steffen said.

“At least we found a way down,” Alistair said.

Gwendolyn turned and looked at the landscape before her. Down here, the ice mounds seemed larger, more imposing. They were spread out, like a thousand camel humps dotting the landscape, each tinged with a different color. They sparkled, and were beautiful. This place was so exotic, and Gwen had no idea what to expect.

“Now where?” Steffen asked.

“There is no way but forward. We must take the path before us,” Gwendolyn said.

“But there is no path,” Aberthol said.

“Then we shall make our own,” Gwen replied.

She set off, walking through the field of mounds, and the group followed. They all walked forward, between the mounds of ice, all of them on edge as they traversed the strange landscape.

As they entered deeper and deeper into this place, Gwendolyn felt an increasing sense of foreboding, and wondered again if this had all been a bad idea. Was Argon even down here? And if he was, would they ever find him?

The blinding wind and snow had stopped, and at least the sky was visible, and Gwendolyn was grateful for that. But she was covered in bruises and bumps, her entire body aching, and she felt cold to the bone, weary from marching. She did not know how much longer they could all last. Eventually, they would have to make camp, and try to light a fire in this godforsaken place. She did not know if it was possible, and she had visions of them all freezing to death, lost forever here in this valley of trapped souls.

She needed to shake these dark thoughts from her mind; she needed to distract herself somehow.

“Tell me a story,” she said, turning to Steffen as they walked, through chattering teeth. She was desperate for something, anything, to take her mind off the cold, off thoughts of danger. Sometimes, she realized, stories could be just as nourishing as food, or water, or heat.

“A story, my lady?” Steffen asked, his teeth chattering, too.

Gwen nodded, too cold to get out the words.

“Anything,” she said.

They continued walking in silence, their boots crunching on the ice, silent for so long that Gwen wondered if Steffen would ever reply.