Morgan Rice - A Rite of Swords

The mood in the room was jubilant, everyone relieved not to be at war with each other, and Gwen and the others so relieved to have Erec, after all these months, return home. Gwen had never expected to see him here again, and having him back was like having a piece of her father back with her. It brought back memories. Her father had loved Erec like a son, and in many ways he felt like a brother to her.

Among them stood Steffen, Srog, Brom, Kendrick, Reece, Godfrey, Elden, Conven, O’Connor, along with the women: Selese, Sandara, Indra. The woman who was commanding the most attention of all, though, was Erec’s bride-to-be, Alistair. She was the most beautiful woman Gwendolyn had ever seen.

The tension of the battle behind them, Gwendolyn felt flooded with relief, though still on-edge about Thor and resolved to have him rescued as soon as her men regrouped. There was a stir in the room as Erec was being treated as the returning hero that he was, embracing Kendrick, Godfrey, Reece, and multiple members of the Silver. He was accompanied by Brandt, another hero of the Silver, and the room was filled with the satisfied shouts of reunion.

Gwendolyn held out her arms as Erec embraced her. It felt so good to see her father’s champion again, after all these months. She felt as if a piece of King’s Court had been restored.

“You have grown,” Erec said, leaning back and studying her. “You are not the same girl you were when I left. Now, you are a woman. A queen. Your father would be very proud.”

She studied him with a smile.

“As have you,” she said. “You look to be twice the warrior you were.” Gwen looked at Alistair, standing beside him. “And I see, most importantly, that your Selection Year has turned out to be a success.”

Erec stepped back and realized.

“My lady,” he said, bowing and clearing his throat, “may I present my bride-to-be, Alistair.”

A curious crowd gathered as Alistair stepped forward.

Alistair smiled and curtsied to Gwendolyn, and Gwendolyn smiled back.

“It is a great pleasure, my lady,” Alistair said. There was something about her voice that felt immediately familiar; Gwen could not explain it, but she felt as if she had known this woman her entire life.

Gwendolyn broke into a huge smile, stepped forward and clasped both of Alistair’s palms.

“Erec has chosen well,” she said. “A wife of Erec is a sister of mine.”

Gwendolyn looked at Erec.

“Erec, you are still the Champion of my father, of the Silver, and you have saved us here on this day. We owe you a great debt.”

Erec shook his head.

“The debt I owe your father is far greater,” he replied. “And I intend to repay that debt by serving his daughter with the same loyalty I have reserved for him.”

Erec turned and glanced about the room, the commingling of both sides of the MacGil family.

“Your wisdom is on display today,” he added. “Your father chose wisely. Any other leader would have ended this day in bloodshed. We are fortunate to have you as ours.”

Gwen surveyed the room and saw that her strategy was working: at first it had been an awkward commingling of both sides of the MacGils, but now the warriors merged happily, sharing drink and banter and battle stories. Looking at them, one could not tell the two sides apart. What could have been a day of bloodshed had turned into a celebration.

Now that the men had a chance to catch their breath and reunite, Gwen grew serious, thinking of Thor, imprisoned. She could hardly stand to be here while he was in danger, and she knew action had to be taken quickly.

“The time for idle talk has passed,” she said to Kendrick and Erec, as the others crowded in and listened. “We must turn our attention to Thorgrin.”

Her man gathered close, listening.

“We need a strategy for rescuing Thor,” she stated.

The men looked at each other, grim.

“Would you expect the few thousand of us to battle Andronicus’ half-million, my lady?” Tirus asked. “All for one man?”

“Thorgrin is more than just one man,” she said, her face darkening. “And yes, I do. I would risk our men for any of our brothers and sisters.”

Their faces grew grim.

“Even with the other MacGils here,” Brom said, “Tirus is right: we stand vastly outnumbered. No simple attack can yield a victory, as much as I hate to say it.”

“If we attack, we have little chance of surviving,” Srog said.

“Yet if we stay here,” Kendrick retorted, “we shall all surely die.”

“Whether we live or die, none of that matters,” Erec said.

All eyes fell to him, as his deep and confident voice commanded attention.

“All that matters is that we live and die with glory,” he added.

There came a grunt of approval among the men. They all fell silent, contemplating, and Gwen cleared her throat.

“Battles are lost because missions are broad,” Gwen said. “Our mission will be a narrow one: to liberate Thor and Mycoples. We will attack their main camp with a diversion, find out where Thor is, and free him. Once Thor is free, with the Destiny Sword and Mycoples on our side, the battle will turn. Do not think of this as a few thousand men against a half million; rather, think of it as a few thousand men liberating one man. The key will be to divide Andronicus’ men, and to create a diversion.”

“And how will we do that, my lady?” Brom asked.

“We will break our army into four smaller divisions, and attack them from all sides, creating a diversion and splitting their forces. Erec, you shall lead the Duke’s men, and half the Silver. Kendrick, you shall lead the other half, along with half of MacGil’s army. Tirus, you shall lead your men. And Godfrey, you shall lead the other half of the King’s men.”

Godfrey turned and looked at her, eyes wide in surprise.

“ Me , my lady?” he asked.

She nodded back.

“I do not know if I’m fit for the task,” he said, nervous. “I am not a warrior.”

“You are fit,” she said back firmly. “After all, it is you who saved us from Andronicus here in Silesia.”

“What I did I accomplished through wit, not through strength.”

“And it is wit that we will need to win this battle, especially in the face of greater strength,” she answered. “You shall lead the fourth division. Do you accept it?”

All eyes turned to Godfrey, and finally, he nodded.

“Good,” Gwendolyn said. “These four divisions will attack Andronicus’ main camp from four different routes. We will confuse and divide his men just long enough to reach Thor.”

“And you, my lady?” Steffen asked, turning to her. “Will you stay here?”

All eyes turned to Gwendolyn.

She shook her head.

“No. I cannot stay here, not with my Thorgrin out there. I will attack, too,” she said. “But in a different way.”

“How so, my lady?”

“They must be holding Thorgrin by some magical means,” she said. “We will need magic to help free him. There is only one person I can turn to. I must find him. Argon.”

“But Argon is gone from us, my lady,” Aberthol said.

“He lives somewhere,” Gwendolyn said. “I will find him. I will release him. And he will help us save Thor.”

Gwendolyn turned to the others.

“Let us wait no longer,” she said loudly, “Thorgrin awaits us!”

The crowd dispersed with a determined cheer, the men already breaking into divisions and preparing to leave.

As the room began to quiet and the crowd to thin, Gwen called out to Aberthol.

“Aberthol!”

He stopped and turned.

“You know all the ancient volumes,” she said. “They are burnt, now, but they live in your memory. I recall some of them myself. The Cycle of the Sorcerers. There was a volume, I recall, on the legends on the trapped.”