Morgan Rice - A Vow of Glory

Kendrick reached the top and stood on the narrow, circular platform with the others, and followed the scout’s finger as he pointed at the horizon. It was a clear, blue and yellow day, no clouds as far as the eye could see, with perfect visibility. Kendrick could see for miles, and he looked east, towards the Highlands, towards the McCloud border. As far away as they were, on this day, Kendrick could see the faint outline of the Highlands, the mountain ranges spotting the horizon, shrouded in mist.

As he looked closer, Kendrick, to his surprise, spotted something, too.

“There, my lord,” the scout said, pointing to his right.

At first Kendrick did not see exactly what the scout was talking about. But as he scrutinized the horizon, he began to see it, too. There was a small, faint cloud, in the very distant horizon, appearing a tiny bit thicker than the others, and appearing slightly lower to the ground. As Kendrick watched, it seemed to grow ever thicker, darker.

“It looks like smoke,” the scout said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Kendrick nodded. He was right: it didn’t make any sense. Why would there be a fire on the McCloud side of the Ring? None of his people had launched a raid, as far as he knew.

“Perhaps it is a random fire that has broken out in one of their cities,” one of Kendrick’s men, beside him, volunteered.

Kendrick nodded, thinking. While that was a possibility, he felt it was not the case. He sensed that something was wrong, that something bigger was happening. Something he did not understand.

Kendrick stood there, wondering, debating what his next move should be. He had been gearing up mentally to leave these borderlands, to return to King’s Court; to lead an expedition now to go and investigate this would take he and his men nearly a full day’s ride in the opposite direction, closer to the Highlands. It was not something he wanted to do unless there was good cause.

There came a sudden commotion, and Kendrick turned to see a lone rider approaching the town from the long road that led in the direction of King’s Court. His heart soared as he recognized the rider immediately: his horse and armor gave him away. It was a man he had known and fought with since the time he could walk. His close friend of the Silver, Atme.

It warmed his heart to see him; but as Kendrick watched him gallop for the town gate, he could tell by his urgency, by his posture, that something was wrong. This was not a casual visit. Atme had urgent business, and Kendrick sensed it was bad news.

He braced himself as Atme charged through the town gate, spotted him, rode to him and dismounted, running up the stone steps for Kendrick three at a time.

“The last time I saw you run like that, you were running from your debts,” Kendrick said with a smile as his old friend arrived, gasping for air, and they embraced. An attendant rushed over and handed Atme a bucket of water, and he took a long drink, then dumped the rest on his head.

“The Empire, the Canyon,” Atme breathed, gasping. “The shield is down.”

Kendrick’s heart stopped at his words. Coming from anyone else, at any other time, he would have assumed it was a joke. But not coming from Atme, and not at this time.

Kendrick could hardly process the implications. The Shield was down. It was not possible. Not with the Destiny Sword in King’s Court.

“What of the Destiny Sword?” Kendrick asked.

Atme shook his head gravely.

“It is no more,” he said. “It’s gone. Stolen.”

Kendrick’s breath froze.

“Stolen,” he gasped. “How could that be?”

“A large group of men stole it in the night. They crossed the Canyon with it, boarded a ship, and they’ve taken it to the Empire.”

It all felt surreal. The Destiny Sword, the life-force of MacGil Kings for centuries, stolen. In Empire hands. The Ring unprotected. Somehow, he sensed that Gareth was behind it.

Kendrick turned and surveyed the new town wall he had just built, and realized that it had all had been for nothing. Without the shield, the entire Empire could invade—and nothing, certainly not this town wall—could stop that.

Immediately, Kendrick thought of his family, of Gwendolyn, Reece, Godfrey. He thought of King’s Court, vulnerable to attack.

“King’s Court must be fortified at once,” Kendrick said.

Again, Atme shook his head ominously.

“There has been a rift. Your sister has left King’s Court and has taken half the people, the ones we care about. They march now for Silesia. The MacGil kingdom is fractured in two. King’s Court is Gareth’s domain now. Gwendolyn sent me for you.”

“We must to my sister, then,” Kendrick said. “To Silesia.”

Kendrick surveyed the townsfolk below.

“Without the shield, these folk will be defenseless,” he said. “These fortifications are designed to hold against McCloud’s troops—not against Andronicus’ million man army. These people will never survive an Empire invasion.”

Kendrick turned to Atme.

“Go to my sister. Ride ahead of me. Tell her I am coming. I can’t return without these people.”

Atme’s face flashed in concern.

“It is noble of you,” he said, “but they will be slow-moving. If you wait to accompany them, you may not reach Silesia in time.”

“That is a chance I must take,” Kendrick said.

Atme stared at his old friend, and nodded slowly.

“I expected no less,” he said. “That is a chance I will take with you. I ride by your side. Always!”

“My lord!” came the panicked voice of the scout, tapping Kendrick on the shoulder.

Kendrick turned and followed his finger as he pointed at the horizon. This time, something distinct came into view.

At first, Kendrick blinked. It was something he had never seen in his entire life. Something which took his breath away—even he, a hardened warrior.

As he watched, the entire horizon morphed to black. It looked as if an army of black ants was slowly covering the globe. It was like all of humanity spilling across the world. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers, wearing the black of the Empire, spread across every inch of the horizon, moving like a swarm towards them.

Andronicus.

His million man army had arrived.

Gwendolyn was in awe as she looked up at the soaring gates of Silesia, its ancient scarlet stone rising into the sky in an arch, its red iron spiked gates sharp and massive, its meticulously paved red cobblestone road lined with guards in perfect formation, all at attention, all wearing the scarlet red armor of Silesians. It was like entering another world.

Lending it an even more surreal feel was its backdrop, the Canyon right behind it, the endless stretch of open sky, the swirling mists. The city was perched right on the edge of the Canyon, as if balancing on it, half of the city built above ground, and the other half built below, right into the granite cliffs of the Canyon itself. It was like two cities in one. It had survived for centuries, had always been known to be the one insurmountable city in the Ring—and everything Gwen had ever heard about it still did not do it justice. Seeing it now, as an adult, dwarfed even her childhood memories.

Silesia’s stone walls rose a hundred feet, were as thick as ten men, and were replete with arrow slits every ten feet, behind which stood a score of Silesian soldiers, bows at the ready. Up top, in the rows of staggered parapets above, were hundreds more soldiers, armed with spears, small boulders, and manning, every twenty feet, huge iron cauldrons, filled with boiling tar. There were even small catapults on the walls, for firing down flaming balls at attackers. This was a city that had been carefully thought through.