Morgan Rice - A Clash of Honor

“So are you saying you don’t love me then?” he insisted.

“I don’t even know you,” she responded. “I’m not saying that I don’t love you. I’m not saying that I do. It is not a word I would use lightly. And not with a stranger.”

“Well, how are you supposed to know me, if you won’t give me a chance?” Reece pressed.

Now it was her turn to blush.

“You are royalty,” she said. “I am a village girl. It would not work out between us.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Reece demanded. “Because I think it could.”

She looked him, her eyes growing serious for the first time, as if finally truly hearing him.

“What are you asking?” she asked.

Reece took a deep breath.

“I’m asking you to come with me. I’m saying that I want to take you away from here. I’m saying that I want you to give us a chance. I mean what I say. I’m not a passerby. I take love very seriously. And I know how I feel about you. I’ve been up all night long-and I can think of nothing else.”

Selese’s cheeks reddened, and she shifted, flustered.

“Tell me,” Reece asked, calming. “Do you not think of me at all?”

Selese looked down to the ground, reddening herself.

“I’ve thought of nothing else since you left yesterday,” she said softly, looking down, as if afraid to admit it.

Reece’s heart swelled. He felt like shouting from the rooftops. He could hardly conceive that she felt the same.

“Then why do you resist me?” he pleaded.

She looked up, her eyes wet.

“You would tire of me in a day,” she said. “I would just be an oddity, the village girl brought to King’s Court. Everyone would gawk at me. You would move on to someone else. I won’t put myself through that.”

“Nobody will gawk at you,” Reece insisted. “Least of all me. I could care less what others think. I want you there. I want you with me.”

She looked into his eyes, and for the first time, he could really feel her feelings for him. He could not wait for an answer any longer: he leaned in, placed a hand behind her head, pulled her close, and he kissed her.

She did not resist. She did not kiss him back, but she did not pull away, either. The feel of her lips on his was exhilarating, and he kissed her as long as he could, not wanting to let go. As he did, he felt transported to another place. He felt that this was the woman he was meant to be with.

Suddenly, a horn sounded, cutting through the morning sky, and Reece turned as the whole village began to run, heading in one direction. He spotted a single man galloping towards the village center, in a hurry, coming from King’s Court. A messenger. He knew instantly that, whatever it was, it could not be good.

*

Thor stood in the early morning light of Sulpa, and turned with the rest of the village as he saw a lone messenger galloping towards him, riding across the wasteland from the road to King’s Court. Thor squinted into the light, wondering if it were an apparition, but the horns sounded all around him, and he knew it was real. At first he felt on guard for battle, but then he realized it was just a messenger, and his heart beat faster. Whatever it was, it could not be good. Not by the way this man was riding.

As the messenger neared, Thor ran out to meet him, and his heart dropped further as he realized who it was. Steffen, the hunch back, the one who had saved Gwen’s life. He was charging hard, and his face was bloodied and covered in sweat, and clearly he had been riding all night. Thor could feel the urgency coming off of him, even from here, and every fiber in his being told him that something was wrong.

Thor ran out to greet him, beyond all the other villagers, at the village gate, and Steffen dismounted, breathing hard, and hurried up to Thor.

He half bowed.

“My liege,” he began, gasping for air.

“Bring him water!” Thor ordered, and a village boy ran up with a bucket of water. Steffen took it, leaned back and drank, gulping it down quickly, then dumping the rest of it over his head.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, took several deep breaths, and looked up at Thor.

“My liege, something terrible has happened,” he began. “It is Gwendolyn.”

Thor’s heart pounded.

“We were ambushed by Nevaruns,” he continued. “At first, just a handful, and we managed to kill them. But then, a greater army came. They overwhelmed us. It was just Gwen and I and Krohn, alone on the hilltop. No one came to our defense.”

Steffen broke into tears.

Thor stepped forward, flooded with panic, grabbed the small man by his shoulders and shook him.

“Tell me what happened!” he demanded. “Is she okay!?”

Steffen shook his head.

“She told me to come find you. I wanted to stay and fight to the end. But she insisted I come and get you. When I left, they were closing in on her. There was nothing else I could do. I don’t know if she’s even alive.”

Steffen wept, and Thor stood there, overwhelmed with guilt. He hated himself for leaving Gwen alone, for not returning sooner. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being taken away, unprotected, all by herself. He felt torn to pieces.

And then he felt a new feeling rising up in his veins: a desire for vengeance, and a desire to save her, if she was alive.

There was no time to waste.

“TO THE HORSES!” Thor screamed out to his Legion brothers, who were already gathered around him, listening to every word.

Within moments Thor was on his horse, as were his brothers, and he kicked it harder than he’d ever had in his life. He rode from this place, riding with everything he had into the wasteland, towards King’s court.

He only prayed that Gwendolyn was still alive.

Thor galloped at the head of the small group of Legion members racing for King’s Court, all of them exhausted, riding all day, without a break, pushing their horses too hard. The second sun was now long in the sky as Thor charged across the drawbridge, through King’s Gate, and past the Royal Guard, not even slowing. His friends kept up with him as they charged beneath the tunnel and out the other side, creating a storm of dust as they entered into King’s Court.

They kept charging, cutting across the court and out a gate on the far side, Steffen leading them to the field where Gwen had been surrounded. Thor’s heart was thumping in his chest as he prayed beyond hope that maybe, just maybe he would find her here alive. And Krohn, too.

But the way Steffen described it, he knew the chances were slim. She could be dead. They both could be.

Thor had to see for himself. He felt so grateful that all of his friends backed him up and rode with him on this journey, refusing to go elsewhere. Not one of them hesitated, even for a moment. He truly felt as if these were his brothers now.

They rode and rode, across fields, up and down hills, and through an immense field of flowers. As they climbed a bend, Thor spotted Estopheles, circling high up, and he felt that they were close. They rounded another hill, and Thor’s heart stopped as he saw the carnage before him. He continued to charge, heading forward, as if into a nightmare.

There, on the hilltop, were what appeared to be several bodies, Nevarun corpses, wearing their distinctive green and yellow armor. He could see the bloodshed even from here, and even more so, he could sense it, in the very fabric of the soil. A great calamity had happened here. And he hated himself for not being here to protect Gwen.

Thor and his men charged to the hilltop, and as they reached the group of bodies, they all dismounted, Thor’s horse barely stopping as he jumped down and ran, searching all the bodies on the ground, desperate, tears flooding his eyes, hoping and praying one of them might be Gwen. He saw the frozen corpses of the Nevaruns, arrows piercing their throats, blood staining the field, and he could see what a vicious battle had happened. He could see at a glance that everything Steffen had told him was true, and he was more grateful than ever to Steffen for doing his best to defend Gwen.