Morgan Rice - A Charge of Valor

“Keepers of the Tower!” she called. “I have come to enter your walls!”

Gwendolyn waited in the silence, hoping, praying, that Argon was right. If not, she would be dead.

As time passed, Gwen’s heart pounded in her chest. She was afraid that this might all be for nothing, that she might have her throat cut at any moment.

Suddenly, to her immense relief, the door opened.

Out walked seven knights, donning shining, black plate armor, from head to toe, their faces obscured by face plates with long, pointed noses. The seven of them walked in silence, in perfect formation, side-by-side. They donned gauntlets covered in sapphires, the only variation on their all black armor, and they each stopped together and faced them, standing at attention.

The thieves looked at each other, puzzled.

“What the hell is this?” asked one.

“Oh Keepers of the Flame!” Gwendolyn called out, remembering all that Argon had taught her. “I am here to devote myself inside these walls.”

These were the sacred words that Argon had taught her to pronounce, the words that would gain one entry into the Tower of Refuge. Argon had told her about these men who stood guard: the Seven Knights. The Keepers of the Flame. They were seven magical nights, who, legend had it, had guarded the tower for centuries, prepared to keep out any and all enemies who dared to breach it. By Gwen’s recital of these words, she immediately became an inhabitant of the Tower. And that made it the Seven Knights’ sworn duty to protect her.

As Gwen finished pronouncing the words, as one, the knights silently strode forward, marching towards the thieves.

“Stay back!” one thief called out, his voice shaking.

The thieves were growing increasingly nervous, shifting, yanking on Gwen’s and Steffen’s ropes. One of them raised a dagger and held the blade close to Gwen’s throat.

The Knights kept coming closer.

“Any closer, and the girl dies!” a thief yelled. But his voice shook with fear.

As the knights neared, they lifted their face visors.

The sight struck fear into the heart of the thieves. Even Gwendolyn was afraid.

Because behind the visors there was nothing. No faces. No bodies. Nothing.

The magical nights lunged forward, raising their swords like a flash of lightning, and attacked the thieves. Gwen blinked.

When she opened her eyes, all that was left around her were the corpses of the thieves, bloody, at her feet.

Gwen felt her hands freed, and she turned to realize that the knights had severed her ropes, and Steffen’s too. The knights then stood back at attention, waiting beside her, as if for a command.

Gwen knew they were waiting for her. And she knew it was time to go.

She turned and looked at Steffen, and he stared back at her, still shocked.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye,” she said, turning and examining the open door to the Tower with a sense of apprehension. It felt so final. As if she would never come out.

“I guess it is, my lady,” he said sadly.

Steffen reached out and took one of her hands and kissed the back of it, bowing his head.

“And what will become of you?” she asked.

“Do not worry my lady,” he said, turning back towards the thick forest. “My duty here is complete. You are delivered safely. I will survive. I always have. But know this: I wait for you. If you should ever leave this place, I wait to be in your service once again, for the rest of my days.”

Gwen watched him go, disappearing into the forest. Then she turned and walked towards the open door of the tower. The Knights fell in behind her, accompanying her, and in moments, she was inside, the door slamming behind her. The finality of it echoed in every bone she had. She could not help but feel as if she had just been entombed forever.

Thor marched quickly through the lower city of Silesia, accompanied by the MacGils—Kendrick, Reece, and Godfrey, the three brothers united again—and by Srog, Brom, Atme and several other soldiers. He held the Destiny Sword at his side, and the small group of men fell in beside him as they led him towards the hiding place of their mother, the former Queen.

Kendrick had filled Thor in on the events that had transpired since he’d left, and Thor ran them all through his mind. Andronicus’ invasion; the destruction of King’s Court; the Silesian siege. Gwen’s becoming queen…. The only thing Kendrick hadn’t yet told him was the one question he wanted answered most: what had happened to Gwendolyn?

When Thor asked Kendrick and Godfrey, they had each lowered their eyes and looked away. They would not tell him. When he’d asked why, they wouldn’t say. And when he had asked where she was, all they said was that the last they had seen her, she had been in hiding in the lower city, and that she was rumored to have escaped. To where, they did not know. They had said that the former Queen knew, and Thor had insisted that they lead him to her at once.

The fact that they would not answer him left a weight in Thor’s chest. By their expressions, he sensed something bad had happened to her, and he needed to know what it was. He felt overwhelmed with guilt for not having been here, at her side, through all of this. He just needed, desperately, to know that she was alive, that she was safe, and well. Only then would he rest at ease.

They marched through the lower castle, littered with the corpses of Empire soldiers who had been slaughtered by the freed Silesians after Thor had repelled the invaders. They hurried up the palace steps, and marched down corridors, Kendrick and Srog leading the way, until they reached the Queen’s chamber. They all stopped before the door, now guarded by Silesian soldiers, and paused as the soldiers made way, then headed inside.

The Queen stood at the window, dressed in all black, looking mournful, more aged than Thor had ever seen her. She slowly turned and faced them, expressionless, stern.

As Thor examined her, he wondered. Here he stood, wielding the Destiny Sword. Did that mean that he, Thor, was a MacGil? Did that mean that the woman standing before him was his mother?

The thought of it sent a shudder through him. He knew how much she hated him. Was the reason why somehow connected to his lineage?

The Queen’s eyes immediately fell to the sword in Thor’s hands, and they widened in surprise.

“I need answers,” Thor said to her, firm, in a rush. “I need to see Gwendolyn, right away. Where is she? Is she safe? What is all this mystery surrounding her?”

The Queen turned and looked at the others standing around Thor, then cleared her throat.

“All of you, leave us,” she said.

The entourage filtered out of the room, except for Kendrick, Reece and Godfrey, who exchanged a confused look.

“What is it that you have to say to Thor that you cannot say in front of your own three sons?” Godfrey asked.

The Queen shook her head.

“It is not for your ears,” she said firmly. “Leave us now.”

The three of them slowly turned and walked out, closing the door behind them.

Thor and the Queen stood there, alone, facing each other. Thor’s heart pounded even more as he stood opposite her, wondering what awful calamity might have befallen Gwen.

Thor could stand it no more: he rushed towards her, and cried: “Answer me! Where is she? Is she alive?”

The Queen nodded somberly.

“She is alive, yes.”

Thor’s heart flooded with relief. That was all he needed to here.

“Where is she?” he pressed.

“Far from here,” she answered. “She has fled to the Tower of Refuge. In the farthest southern reaches of the Ring.”

Thor looked back, puzzled.

“The Tower of Refuge?” he asked.