Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

Romulus turned, faced the bridge, and draped the cloak over his shoulders. He felt it buzzing, vibrating, felt an energy race through him that he had not felt before. He was certain it was going to work; he would single-handedly take down the Shield. His heart pounded with anticipation.

Romulus reached down and with one arm grabbed Luanda by the waist, hoisting her up and carrying her through the air like an unruly child. He began marching with her onto the bridge.

Luanda bucked and screamed, trying with all her might to get loose. But he held her tight this time, and there was no escape.

Romulus took his first step onto the bridge, and it felt good. Soon he would be across; and despite all the flailing and screaming in the world, there was nothing Luanda could do to stop him.

Soon, the Ring would be his.

Gwendolyn rode beside Argon, Alistair, Aberthol, and Steffen, Krohn at their feet, the five of them on horseback, charging across the northern landscape of the Ring, racing south for their homeland, for Thor. Gwen was elated to be back in her homeland, back on this side of the Ring and out of the Netherworld. It was like a dream. She had been certain she’d never find Argon, that she’d never escape the Netherworld. And now, here they were, all back home again and so close to being back with Thor.

Gwendolyn kept replaying in her mind the moment Argon had opened his eyes, had come back to her, had come back to life. Tears still poured down her cheeks as she thought of the sacrifice she had made, the dreadful choice she’d had to make to defy fate and bring Argon back. She knew that one day, the time would come to give up what she had promised for Argon’s life. Thorgrin’s life, or the life of her child.

But that day, at least, was not today.

Gwen’s stomach pained her as she rode, the baby turning and turning, as he had been ever since they’d found Argon. It had all been a blur, ever since Argon had been freed. The revived Argon was more powerful than ever, and he used his power to cast a great bubble; Gwen and the others found themselves caught up in it, floating with Argon in the air, skirting over the ground at faster and faster speed, carrying them all the way back through the Netherworld, to the edge of the Canyon—and then floating them harmlessly across it. It had been shocking for Gwendolyn to fly through the air like that. It made her think of her time with Thor on the back of Mycoples.

Gwen recalled looking down as they crossed the Canyon, marveling at the swirling mists beneath her, the depths of the Canyon which never seemed to end. She wondered if there was even a bottom.

Finally, Argon had set them down back on this side of the Ring, his bubble reaching the end of its power now that they were back safely on this side. They had set down near a group of wild horses they had found roaming the countryside, and they had not stopped riding since.

They raced south and east, heading for the battlefield where Argon had told her he sensed a great battle was taking place. He’d sensed that it was an epic battle for the very heart and soul of the Ring, and that the very future of the Ring was at stake. Surely, she knew, this was where Thor must be. And everyone else she loved and cared for.

Gwen felt a race against time, desperate to get there before it was all too late, before Thor was killed, or anyone else whom she loved. She could sense in every ounce of her being that they were all on the edge of a great calamity. Had she been too late in finding Argon? Had it all been for nothing?

There came a screech high above, and she looked up to see Estopheles, circling, leading them.

Gwen kicked her horse harder. Beside her, Krohn snarled, and raced to catch up.

They rode and rode, crossing the Ring, hour after hour passing, all of them knowing what was at stake and none of them even stopping to catch their breath. The sun grew long in the sky, and Gwen’s tears never stopped. She felt an awful tragedy was about to happen. Had she sacrificed too much?

They rode deeper and deeper into unknown territory, the Highlands looming large on the horizon. There was a single city striding the peaks, and she recognized it at once from the history books: Highlandia. The McCloud stronghold. The city between two kingdoms.

On the steep mountain slope coming down from Highlandia, Gwen could see the broad trail of an army charging down. And as she followed that trail, and crested a ridge herself, she finally stopped, seeing it. She was shocked.

Stretched out below them, in an immense valley, were thousands of warriors, fighting on both sides. It was the largest battle she had ever seen. On her side, she recognized at once the armor of thousands of Silver and MacGils and Silesians.

But across the valley, she saw they faced a much larger army, a vast number of Empire, tens of thousands of troops pouring in, and an endless stream of reinforcements behind them. Gwen could see even from here the larger-than-life figure of Andronicus, his head rising up in the battlefield, wielding two swords and wreaking havoc as he cut his way through the field. Her people were falling by the hundreds, all before her eyes. They were simply outnumbered.

Worst of all, she saw the clearing in the center of the battlefield, the epic one-on-one battle between two great warriors that all the other warriors seemed to stop and watch. There, alone in the center of the battlefield, fighting one-on-one, was her father’s champion, the greatest knight of the Silver: Erec. Normally, she would not fear for him, no matter who he was up against.

But as she looked closely, her heart stopped and her blood ran cold to see his opponent: it was Thorgrin. Her love.

Thor looked like a man transformed, fighting in a blur, faster and stronger than she had ever seen him. He was fighting with all he had, and her heart fell to realize that he aimed to kill Erec.

What had happened to Thor? How could he possibly fight for Andronicus? She could not comprehend it.

Clearly, he was under some sort of magic spell. Gwen felt more confident than ever that finding Argon had been the right thing to do. Clearly, up against this sort of magic, all of them, the entire Ring, would be helpless. Magic was needed to fight magic.

Gwen kicked her horse and the others beside her followed. She aimed right for the thick of battle, for the clearing, for Thor. She had to get to Thor in time. She had to save him. She had to save Erec.

“My lady, it is not safe!” Aberthol called out beside her, as they rode. “You charge for battle! Those are real men, with real weapons! You must stop here! You will not reach Thor! You will be killed!”

But Gwendolyn ignored him. She feared not for her own safety. Only for Thor’s and for that of the Ring.

“I go where Thor is,” she called back. “I fear no man’s sword. If you don’t want to follow, do not.”

“My lady, I am with you!” Steffen said.

“As am I!” Alistair called out.

“I will fight for you, and clear a path for you through those men,” Steffen called out. “You will reach Thorgrin!”

Argon rode silently beside her; he did not say anything, but she knew, she saw from the look in his eyes, that he was ready for battle himself.

Gwen’s heart pounded and her throat went dry, her baby turning like crazy in her stomach as she neared the impact of battle. Her ears were filled with the clang of metal, of men’s death cries, and she could smell the dirt from here. She braced herself as she galloped, not slowing her horse.

Gwen charged into the thick of battle, Steffen leading the way and taking out several men with his arrows. As she rode, MacGils and Silver and Silesians all recognized her and shouted out with enthusiasm, rallying to rush to her and to part a way for her through the crowd. She was their beloved queen, after all, and now she was a returning hero, with their beloved Argon freed and at her side.