Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

“It is your Ring,” Selese responded, undeterred. “It is your war.”

“My war is to stay alive—or to fight for anyone who pays the highest price. But I’ve heard enough out of you.”

He reached up and in one quick motion, grabbed Selese by her shirt and yanked her down.

Selese screamed as she went flying off her horse, landing hard on the ground, tumbling. She saw Illepra being yanked off her horse, too.

A soldier grabbed each of them and pulled them to their feet while the other two soldiers surrounded them. The leader leaned in, his face inches away from Selese’s, so close she could see the pockmarks in his face and smell his bad breath. The rough stubble of his chin rubbed up against her cheek.

“This is our lucky day,” he said. “We get two fine horses, and two fine girls to have our way with.”

“Don’t worry about your famed Silesia,” another said, “you won’t be seeing it for a long time.”

He laughed, and the others joined in.

“You are making a great mistake,” Selese said, her voice booming with confidence. “I’m on a journey to find Reece, the youngest son of King MacGil. The MacGils are a fierce and noble clan. If you harm us, and they find out what you’ve done, they will kill you all.”

“And who says they will find out what we’ve done?” he asked back, grinning.

The leader pulled a dagger, and began to raise it towards Selese.

Selese knew she had to do something, and quick. Clearly, these men would not listen to reason. They were out for blood, and she had no weapons at her disposal.

Suddenly, Selese had an idea. It was risky, but it just might work.

Selese quietly slipped her hand to her side satchel and ran her finger inside until she found a small vial of liquid, feeling it by touch. She closed her fingers around it and held it in her palm.

She suddenly changed her expression, smiling at the leader, and said, in a sweet and sexy voice: “I will do whatever you say. In fact, I would like to. I find you quite attractive.”

The leader leaned back and looked at her, surprised.

“All I ask is one thing,” she added. “Just kiss me first. I want to feel your lips on mine. The lips of a real man. A real warrior.”

The soldier looked back, confused and happily surprised. One of the others stepped up and patted him on the back.

“See, they listen to reason,” he said. “They always do.”

The leader grinned wide and brushed his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, tidying his appearance.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

“Selese, what are you doing?” Illepra asked, confused.

But Selese ignored her. She had a plan.

Selese pretended to yawn, raising her hand to her mouth, and placed the vial inside.

She leaned forward, grabbed the soldier’s face, and kissed him, putting her lips on his.

As she did, she spat the vial into his open mouth. She then reached up and clamped his mouth shut.

He stared back at her, wide-eyed, and tried to resist.

But it was too late. She raised both hands and clamped his mouth firmly shut, forcing him to bite the vial in his mouth. She watched as his face turned bright red, the veins popping in his throat; he reached up and grabbed for his throat, gasping, and a second later he dropped to his knees, then collapsed.

Dead.

Of course he would be. That vial contained Blackox—the deadliest poison she carried.

The other three soldiers looked on, confused—and Selese did not give them a chance to figure it out.

Selese reached into her satchel and searched for Apoth, a yellow powder which was an effective salve when mixed with water—but deadly if it entered the eyes in powder form. She grabbed two handfuls.

“You little wench!” one screamed out, as he drew his dagger and charged.

She threw a handful into his eyes, and he shrieked. Selese then stepped forward and threw the other handful into the other two soldiers’ eyes.

All of them shrieked, collapsing to their backs, writhing and foaming at the mouth.

Within seconds, they were all dead.

In the silence, Illepra looked at her, mouth open in shock, hardly able to conceive what had just happened.

Selese turned and looked back at her, hands shaking but feeling strong, determined. She didn’t know if she could have done that if it was for herself; but thinking of Reece had made her stronger.

“Let’s go,” she said, mounting her horse. “It’s past time we found Reece.”

Kendrick charged across the landscape, Erec, Bronson, and Srog at his side and thousands of liberated troops riding behind them, all of them free once again. They had been riding all night long, ever since they’d escaped the Empire camp, and had never slowed, putting as much distance between them as they could.

Now, finally, dawn was breaking. It had been a long and harrowing night, ever since Kendrick, Erec, Bronson, and Srog had freed thousands of their men, had massacred their captors, and had ridden off while the bulk of the Empire soldiers were still asleep. They had not wanted to get embroiled in a full-scale encounter with the vast Empire forces in the middle of the night; rather, they moved quickly and stealthily, killing any troops who stood in their way. They reclaimed their horses and arms, and took off. They wanted to fight another day, on their own terms.

Here, on the McCloud side of the kingdom, Bronson knew the terrain, and he led them expertly. Kendrick knew they were lucky to have him, as he was proving an invaluable guide to help hide them from the Empire. Kendrick and Erec had asked Bronson to lead them to a terrain where they could be well-hidden from the Empire, yet also from which they could attack a smaller division. They would have to switch tactics, and it was time for a new strategy now: instead of facing off with the entire Empire army, they would have to find smaller divisions—just a few thousand men, to match their own few thousand—and wage smaller battles, before retreating again. Being so outnumbered, the only way to success would be to wage a prolonged, guerilla war. They could stick to the mountains, stay well-hidden in the Highlands, and be a lethal fighting force, attacking strategically, like a snake, then retreating. They may not have the same numbers and strength, but they had the willpower to outwait the Empire.

They rode and rode, following Bronson’s lead as he turned off a steep trail, leading them right up one side of the Highlands. They had been following an old trail of the Empire, taking them past waves of destruction, from one McCloud town to the next. Finally, the trail stopped here, at the top of a particular peak.

They all slowed their horses and came to a stop.

“Highlandia,” Bronson called out, pointing.

From this vantage point, at a distant peak, Kendrick saw, across the mountain range, Highlandia, the small McCloud city, perched high up, on the very edge of the Highlands, straddling the Eastern and Western kingdoms of the Ring. Even in the dawn, he could see that Andronicus’ forces occupied it. He saw their fires still smoldering, noted the heads of prisoners on pikes throughout the city, and could tell that they had recently massacred the McClouds here.

There appeared to be several thousand men encamped about the city, and it was hard to tell how many more lay within. He could not tell if this was the bulk of the Empire army, or just a lone division.

“This might be a prime city for us to attack,” Kendrick said.

“Highlandia is a small city, but a strategic point at the peak of the Highlands,” Bronson said. “It makes sense that Andronicus would take it. From here, is a straight ride down to the Western kingdom, the roads branching in all directions. It would be his first stop to crush the McCloud resistance and launch a final attack on the Western Kingdom and dominate the Ring.”