Morgan Rice - A Vow of Glory

“WAIT!” Kendrick screamed.

They all waited, the groaning of carts growing louder, Gwen’s heart pounding, as the slew of ladders came ever closer. They were just a few feet away, and every impulse in her screamed out for the soldiers to employ the torches. But she deferred to Kendrick, allowing him, a veteran of battle, to command his men.

She waited and waited, watching the ladders lean up against her wall, sweat forming on her brow.

“NOW!” Kendrick finally screamed.

The Silesians rose up with a great shout, leaned over, and lit the ladders. One by one, the wooden ladders began to burn.

But not all the Silesians were successful: several of them, as they stood, were shot through the chest and eyes and throat with arrows; others were killed by spears and javelins. Gwen watched in horror as dozens of her men toppled over the edge, hurling down in a chorus of screams.

Many ladders were on fire—but many had also made it to the walls, already filled with Empire soldiers scrambling up like mad.

The Silesians broke into action, led by Kendrick, as he ran to the nearest ladder, raised his axe and swung, chopping it and sending it crumbling to the ground.

But Kendrick paid dearly for it: he shouted out in pain as an arrow pierced his bicep, blood squirting everywhere. He reached over and yanked it out, with another great scream.

His attendant was not so lucky; an arrow pierced him through the throat, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Soldiers up and down the parapets ran for the ever-increasing number of ladders, trying to fend them off. Godfrey, to his credit, stood and ran for one, screaming in his first battle cry; he seemed as if he had overcome something within him. As he approached, an Empire soldier was just reaching the top, about to climb over the stone wall, when Godfrey charged and ran his spear right through him.

The Empire soldier shrieked, staring blankly Godfrey, who stared back, equally shocked; he hesitated for a moment, then began to fall backwards. But before he did, he reached out and grabbed Godfrey by the shirt and yanked him back with him.

Godfrey screamed as he went rushing towards the edge. He reached out at the last second and grabbed the stone, bracing himself before he went over. He was struggling with all he had, but his grip was slipping. Gwendolyn saw that he was about to die.

Gwendolyn, without thinking, rushed into action. She sprinted forward, grabbed a forgotten sword from the ground, its hilt bloody, and right before her brother lost his grip, she rushed forward, raised the sword and chopped off the soldier’s hand which was grabbing Godfrey.

The soldier, screaming, fell backwards down the ladder, taking several men with him. Godfrey stumbled backwards, free from the grip, and looked over at Gwen wide-eyed, in shock.

“The ladder!” she screamed.

She ran forward and grabbed one end of the ladder, and he snapped out of it and grabbed the other. Steffen, right behind her, came up in the middle. Together, the three of them heaved and pushed the ladder off the wall, sending it crashing down to the ground.

But there were too many ladders and not enough men to be everywhere at once; the first bunch of Empire soldiers jumped over the parapets, and soon, the parapets were filled with them. Gwendolyn’s heart pounded as she saw men running towards her from all sides.

“SWORDS!” Srog screamed out to his men.

Hand-to-hand fighting broke out all around her, preoccupying her men and forcing them to abandon attacking the soldiers below. This left the Empire men freed up to concentrate once again on ramming the iron gates of the outer defenses; again and again, the battering ram shook the walls, with enough force to make Gwen and the others stumble.

The gates were riddled with huge dents, and beginning to buckle.

“My lady, we have to get you inside, to safety!” Steffen yelled, frantic.

But Gwendolyn did not want to leave her men; she was about to look over the wall, to assess the damage being done to the gates, when suddenly an Empire soldier jumped over the railing beside her, reached over and backhanded her, sending her flying backwards. Gwen’s world filled with pain as she reeled from the sting of the blow on her face, shocking her.

The soldier then pounced on her; Gwendolyn rolled out of the way at the last second, as the soldier went to punch her and just missed, punching stone. She drew a dagger from her belt, spun around, and thrust it into the back of the soldiers neck. His body went limp.

Gwen felt numb; she could scarcely believe she had just killed a man. It made her sick. Inside, she was shaking.

But she had no time to consider it: another soldier approached and swung his sword down right for Gwendolyn’s face. She had no time to react; she braced herself, raising her hands for imminent death.

At the last second there came a great clang; she opened her eyes to see Steffen beside her, blocking the blow with his sword, only a few inches to spare, struggling mightily to keep it from her. Gwendolyn rolled out of the way, grabbed a loose shield, spun around and smashed the soldier in the side of the head. Steffen then kicked him, leapt to his feet, and stabbed the man in the throat.

Gwen turned and saw a soldier raise a spear and bring it down for Steffen’s back. She dove forward and pushed Steffen out of the way, saving him, then watched in horror, helpless, as the spear came down for her instead.

There came the sound of cutting wood, and Gwen looked up to see Godfrey standing over her, sword in hand, having just slashed the attacker’s spear before it could reach her.

Godfrey stood there, looking amazed at what he had just done. The soldier turned to him, drew a short sword, and was about to stab him. Godfrey stood there, dazed, not quick enough to react.

Before the soldier could complete his attack, he screamed out and stumbled forward; behind him stood Kendrick, who had just pierced him in the back with a spear.

Steffen turned, realizing what had just happened, and looked at Gwendolyn.

“Now I owe you, my lady.”

There came another great crash, the walls shaking, louder than any she had heard—followed by a huge cheer amongst the Empire.

Gwendolyn looked down to see, with terror, that the outer gate had been breached. So soon, despite all their defenses, it had given way.

Hundreds and hundreds of Empire soldiers were dead—but it hadn’t even put a dent in their forces. She looked out at the horizon and saw the hordes of the world before them—and more pouring in every second. Below them, with a shout, dozens of Empire soldiers began to rush through the gates.

“Retreat to the inner wall!” Gwen screamed.

Her orders were repeated up and down the ranks, and her men retreated across the narrow wooden skywalks, fifty feet in the air, to the inner wall.

As they all reached the inner wall, they turned, and as instructed, smashed the wooden skywalks behind them, causing all the Empire soldiers pursuing them to fall crashing down to their deaths below. The Empire soldiers who had managed to climb the walls were now stranded on the first row of parapets, unable to pursue. They were stuck. It had worked, exactly as they had practiced.

Down below, Empire soldiers were pouring through, rushing for the inner gate, the city’s final line of defense. But in their haste they didn’t look carefully enough at the ground; if they had, they would have seen that it was a trap, a false covering, beneath which was a moat filled with water.

They all fell and splashed down, into the water, flailing.

Yet even this couldn’t stop them: more and more Empire soldiers, driven relentlessly, forward, poured in, stepping mercilessly on the heads of their fellow soldiers in the water, crushing them and drowning them beneath the water, and not caring. Unlike most commanders, Andronicus wouldn’t stop to take the time to build a bridge: he would use his own human sacrifice to build his bridge.