Morgan Rice - A Vow of Glory

“My lady,” one of the guards said, clearing his throat, looking gravely concerned. “If I may say, whatever it is that you are about to do, you needn’t do it. All of us are ready to fight to the death for you.”

She smiled back at him.

“I know you are,” she answered. “And that is precisely why I am doing this.”

Without another word, Gwen turned and made her way alone up the final flight of steps, circling and circling, until she finally reached the uppermost level. She stood there, in the field of spikes, all sticking straight up into the sky, her last protection from the hordes of Empire, and walked over to the small platform in the middle and pulled on a heavy rope.

As she pulled, slowly, one pull a time, the platform raised, lifting her higher and higher above the spikes. With each pull, she felt her heart sinking, felt the anticipation of what could be her near death.

Finally she reached the top, above the spikes, and took a step out, onto the landing of upper Silesia. Standing there were dozens of Empire soldiers, who all turned and looked at her, eyes wide in shock. They stood there, gaping, unsure what to do.

Gwen took several proud steps forward, raising her chin and chest, realizing she represented the Ring. Everything she did reflected on her people, and she was determined to be brave and strong.

She looked for the most important-looking soldier she could find, and stepped to him and stared coolly back.

“Bring me to Andronicus,” she commanded, using her most authoritative voice.

The Empire soldiers all looked at each other, dazzled, as if they’d seen a ghost appear in their midst.

Then, finally, the lead soldier nodded back. He turned and walked alongside her, and several soldiers fell in behind them.

The group of them marched, Gwen’s heart pounding, crossing through the inner courtyard of Silesia. Gwen’s heart broke at the site: it was destroyed, ravaged, burnt to embers, and now filled with thousands of Empire soldiers, milling about. As they marched through, all the soldiers on either side of her jumped to their feet, staring at Gwendolyn as if she were an animal in a zoo, as if she were a lamb being led to slaughter.

Gwen’s heart swelled with increasing anxiety. It was too late to turn back now. Now, she was entirely at their mercy.

She prayed to God that she had made the right decision, was doing the right thing. She prayed that Andronicus would indeed honor his word.

A murmur spread throughout the camp, as they all marched out the city gate, and into the huge camp beyond the walls. Gwen was awe-struck at the site: hundreds of thousands of Empire soldiers were camped as far as the eye could see. They all turned and stood and stared at Gwen’s arrival—and a great murmur arose amongst the soldiers.

Gwen was led across the remains of the drawbridge, and towards a huge black tent pitched in the center of the soldiers, which she assumed was Andronicus’ camp.

As they neared it, suddenly its flaps opened, and out of it emerged, ducking low, then raising his head high, Andronicus, wearing a black cape, no shirt, and his necklace of shrunken heads. She could see a new addition to it—the head of Lord Kultin, Gareth’s pit-bull. She tried to look away.

Gwen walked as confidently as she could up to Andronicus. He wore a huge, triumphant smile. He was more beast than man, towering twice as large as any man she’d ever met, and with his long fangs and claws, it was hard for her to believe that he walked on two legs.

“Well well, my little lamb,” he said to her, his deep voice snarling and booming in his chest. “You have taken me up on my offer after all.”

The camp grew silent, as Gwendolyn cleared her throat.

“You vowed not to harm any of my people, or myself, and to let us live in freedom,” she said, “if I would swear allegiance and enter your service. It is an offer I am prepared to accept.”

His grin widened as his eyes twinkled down at her.

“You are very brave,” he said. “You are willing to sacrifice yourself for your people. A very noble trait, indeed. You were wise to accept my offer. You can begin by kneeling before me and taking the Empire vow of allegiance.”

The idea of kneeling before this monster and vowing allegiance to him tore Gwen up inside. Every muscle in her body screamed at her not to. But she forced herself to think of her people down below, of the suffering they would endure if she did not, and slowly, she willed her knees to bend, and took a knee before him.

“Bow your head,” came the harsh voice of Andronicus’ attendant.

Slowly, Gwendolyn lowered her head.

“Repeat after me,” the attendant said. “I Gwendolyn, daughter of King MacGil, ruler of the Western Kingdom of the Ring….”

“I Gwendolyn, daughter of King MacGil, ruler of the Western Kingdom of the Ring….”

“Do hereby acknowledge that the great Andronicus is the one and only ruler of the universe….”

“Do hereby acknowledge that the great Andronicus is the one and only ruler of the universe….”

“That there has never been any greater, and never will be….”

“That there has never been any greater, and never will be….”

“And that I shall forever swear my loyalty to him.”

As she spoke these last words they nearly stuck in her throat, and she felt a sense of nausea spread through her. She paused, wondering if she could go through with it.

“And that I shall forever swear my loyalty to him.”

She did it. She managed to get them out. Finally, it was done. She raised her head, looking up at Andronicus.

A great rumble arose from inside Andronicus’ throat, like a purring sound. It was the sound of satisfaction.

“Very good,” he said. “Very good indeed. You will make a most obedient subject. Now, you can rise.”

Gwendolyn stood, and stared back at him coldly.

“And now you can let my people go,” she said.

Andronicus’s smile widened, as he reached up and fingered his necklace of shrunken heads.

“Well yes, about that,” he began. “You see, sometimes I enjoy being honest. And sometimes I take great pleasure out of a lie. In this case, I’m sorry to say, it is the latter. I promise many things. Some things I keep, and some things I do not. And I am afraid you caught me on the wrong day.”

Gwendolyn’s heart began to pound. Inside, she screamed at herself. How could she have been so stupid?

“Your people,” Andronicus continued, “well, I may not kill all of them, because of what you’ve done here today. But I will kill a great deal of them. And the rest I will enslave. I’m afraid they won’t know what freedom is anymore. But then again, few people do.”

He sighed.

“And as for you my dear,” he said, “you should know that there are no positions of honor in my ranks. There are no leaders but me, and all those who are slaves to me are slaves. Including you.”

Andronicus nodded and two soldiers rushed forward and grabbed her arms roughly.

“Let me go!” Gwen screamed, struggling. “You promised. You promised! Where is your honor?”

Andronicus laughed heartily.

“Honor?” he asked. “That is something I lost long ago. And I am so glad I did. I can’t think of how many battles I would have lost without it.”

His laughter died down.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that an example must be made of you. A particularly brutal example. You see, it is the only way that anyone who dares to defy me will learn.”

Andronicus turned.

“MCCLOUD!” he shrieked.

From out of the ranks, to Gwendolyn’s horror, there emerged the elder King McCloud, his face disfigured, half of it branded, marked by a huge burn mark with the emblem of Andronicus’ Empire.