Morgan Rice - A Rite of Swords

She no longer felt afraid. Not of these men, not of anyone, and not of death. Life felt less precious to her than it had, and no threats could get to her.

A heavy silence hung in the air, horses prancing and snorting, as Gwen took her time to respond. She was prepared to signal all of her men to charge, and knew that with the slightest gesture they would—and havoc would break loose.

“Whoever said we decided to surrender?” she responded coldly.

Gwendolyn’s heart pounded, and she could feel the knuckles tightening on the hilts of the swords of her men. In just a moment she would wave her hand and mark the signal to begin the battle that would surely lead to her death, and to everyone else’s. She was not afraid of death. Only of dying poorly. And this time, at least, she would die with her honor intact.

Slowly, Tirus’ face fell, his arrogant smile beginning to drop as he realized from her expression that she was serious.

“Stupid girl,” he said. “Have you come then to tell me that you have signed your death sentence?” he asked coldly, his voice filled with hostility.

As Gwendolyn raised her eyes to survey her men, to prepare to give the signal, she noticed something on the horizon, on the hills behind Tirus’ men; something caught her eye, something she did not expect. Something gleamed in the light, where it shouldn’t. It was the reflection of a shield. But it was not of her men. Or of Tirus’.

Then there came another shield.

Then another.

Over the ridge, there appeared several thousand shields, shining, gleaming in the light.

At first, Gwen was confused. Another army had arrived here, on this battlefield.

But as they got closer, as their banner hoisted over the hill and came into view, she recognized the emblem. Her heart soared. It couldn’t be.

It was.

It was the banner of the Duke of Savaria. Those were his men—along with thousands of others. And leading the pack, she could recognize by his armor, the shiniest silver armor in the kingdom, was her father’s champion. Erec.

Erec had returned. And he had brought with him thousands of men.

And Tirus had no idea.

Now it was Gwen’s turn to smile. She looked back at Tirus and she realized she was going to enjoy this, very, very much.

“On the contrary,” she said calmly back to Tirus, “I believe it is you who you who have signed your death sentence.”

Tirus glowered in anger as his expression morphed into a scowl.

“You are a stupid girl,” he said. “You are about to send many men to their deaths. And you are about to learn what it means to suffer.”

“I have already learned far more about suffering than you will ever know,” she countered. “I am through with trivialities. I will give you one chance to surrender.”

Tirus looked at her in shock, then leaned back his head and laughed with derision.

“You mock me, girl. Either that, or you are completely mad.” He laughed heartily, as did his men. “Why should I surrender when I outnumber you two to one? When your forces are weak, and mine are strong?”

Gwendolyn smiled wide.

“Because if you look behind you, you will see twice as many men as yours over that ridge behind you. You will recognize the armor: those shields belong to the Duke of Savaria and to the champion of the Silver, Erec, and all of his knights. He has returned home, to serve my father faithfully—something you have never done. And if that does not suffice, you can look to your right and to your left, and within those woods you will see thousands more of my men, flanking you from both sides, bows drawn and awaiting my signal.”

Gwen smiled wide.

“So you see, my uncle, it is you who are completely surrounded.”

Tirus grimaced.

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to turn and look at imaginary ghosts on the landscape? This is one last act of desperation on your part,” he said.

But his four sons turned and looked, and as they did, their faces lit with fear, and their horses pranced.

“Father, she speaks the truth,” one of them said.

Grudgingly, Tirus turned and saw himself surrounded, on all sides, by thousands and thousands of men. Erec held the high ground, his thousands of soldiers sitting proudly, lances held high—and at his sides Gwendolyn’s men emerged two thousand archers at the ready.

Tirus turned and looked back at Gwen, this time with an expression of utter shock. His face turned pale, and he slumped a bit, losing his arrogant posture.

Kendrick and the others in her convoy drew their swords, the ring cutting through the morning air.

“Drop your weapons, all of you,” Gwen commanded darkly. “If not, with the slightest wave of my hand I will have a thousand archers release their tension. Now it is you who has a choice to make.”

Tirus’ face finally crumpled in humility and fear. He dropped his weapons down to the ground and gestured for the others to do the same. All around them, his convoy dropped their arms, all hitting the cold ground with a clanging noise.

“I know when I’ve lost,” he said. “You have outwitted me today. I surrender my forces to you.”

“I know that you will,” she said. “It is easy to surrender when you face a sure death. The question for me is whether I choose to accept your surrender, or whether I just take your life instead.”

Tirus swallowed, for the first time seeming truly afraid.

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded, his voice nearly cracking. “Do not kill us. We never meant you any harm.”

Now it was Gwendolyn’s turn to laugh.

“Never meant us any harm?” she asked. “You only sought to sack our city and destroy our men?”

Tirus nearly burst into tears.

“Please, my lady. We are family.”

“ Family ?” Gwen echoed in derision. “Is this how you treat family?”

“Kill them, my lady,” Kendrick said. “Tirus is a pig, and a traitor to his kin. He deserves to die. He has committed treason to the Ring, and violated our sacred law.”

“Kill him, my lady,” Srog said. “He is not to be trusted. If you let him live, he will kill us another day.”

Gwendolyn sat there, and considered her options.

“Father, do something!” one of Tirus’ sons called out. “Please, don’t let us die!”

Gwen breathed deep.

“I should kill you uncle,” she said. “And all your men with you. But I will not.”

His face, and the faces of all his men, rose in relief.

“Like my father, I choose to be a gracious ruler, and to offer mercy even when it is undeserved. I also believe you can be of some use to us, and it is a shame to waste such good men, especially in these times. So, I will give you one chance. Either I will have all your men slaughtered here right now, or you can all join our forces, and become part of our army, answering to me, and to Kendrick and Srog and Brom. Your men will join us as we fight Andronicus and free Thorgrin. The choice is yours.”

Tirus dismounted, dropped to his knees, and clasped his hands.

“I see what it means to be a true ruler here today,” he said. “You have taught me, my lady. I am ashamed of my actions and grateful for your mercy. Thank you. Of course we shall join you. All of my men. And we shall ride anywhere you say.”

Gwen looked down, saw the earnestness in his face, and decided. She raised one hand and motioned for her men to lower their arms.

A horn sounded, one of Tirus’ men raised a white flag, and Tirus turned to his men and screamed out:

“WE SURRENDER!”

Flag bearers raised more white flags, and all up and down the ranks, men dropped their arms.

Shouts of joy erupted from all sides.

The battle was over.

Srog’s huge castle chamber was packed with hundreds of people celebrating, members of MacGil’s army, the Silver, the Legion, Silesians, the Duke’s army, Erec and his men, and freed members of the Western Kingdom of the Ring. Joining them were Tirus and his elite warriors, along with his sons and all the MacGil cousins. Gwen, in her wisdom, had extended an olive branch and decided to let them join them; after all, if they were going to fight together, they were going to have to get to know and trust each other.