Gwendolyn stood
on the peak of the Ridge, on the broad, stone platform she had once toured with
the King, and searched the sky. Argon stood beside her, Steffen at her other
side and Krohn at her heels, as she searched the horizon, watching Lycoples
disappear. After Lycoples had flown them back from Argon’s master and had
dropped her and Argon off here, atop the Ridge, Gwen had commanded Lycoples to
depart, to go and find Thorgrin and give him her message. His finding the
Sorcerer’s Ring was their last hope, and Gwendolyn, as much as she wanted to
for selfish reasons, could not keep Lycoples here with her. So she had let go
of her one chance to escape, and instead had chosen to make a stand here, with
the Ring, to not abandon her people, her vow, whatever dangers would come.
Gwen had no
regrets. It was not in Gwendolyn’s makeup to abandon her people, and she had
vowed to the King to help his people, and she intended to keep it. She could
have had Lycoples drop her down below, in the safety of the capital, across the
lake, far away from the front lines of the invasion to come—but that was not
who she was. If a war was coming, this was where she wanted to be, on the
frontlines, rallying the troops, preparing.
Gwen felt her
heart fluttering, felt a familiar tingling sensation in her hands, her arms, as
she steeled herself for battle, as she entered the mental mindset. As she had
flown over the Great Waste, she had watched in awe, terror, and fascination the
endless number of troops of the Empire, all marching for the Ridge—it had
looked as if the entire world were rallying to destroy the place. It was a
surreal feeling to be flying right into the heart of trouble, and not away from
it. It was as if Lycoples had dropped them down right in the eye of the storm.
And she knew, if
Argon’s master’s prophecies were true, that nothing would hold the Empire back,
that the Ridge would soon be destroyed.
But Gwen was not
one to give up easily, or to heed prophecies. Since arriving, she had, on the
contrary, done everything in her power to rally the troops of the Ridge, all of
the King’s knights, to help defend it. She had at first tried to get them to
heed her words and evacuate the Ridge, but they would not hear of it, and she
knew she would never be able to force this people to evacuate their home of
centuries and head out into the unknown. Especially when there was no enemy yet
in sight. Many of them still lived in denial that the Empire would attack.
So Gwen did the
next best thing. She sounded all the horns, which continued to sound even now
as she stood there, all of them sounding in a chorus, again and again, rallying
all the knights in the King’s name, commanding them all to gather at the peak
of the Ridge. The people, still in shock at the news of the King’s death, had
listened, looking for leadership, especially with the King’s eldest sons still
gone and knowing that Gwendolyn was acting with the former King’s will. At
least he had made that much clear to his commanders before he’d died.
Now all the
brave knights of the Ridge stood atop this broad plateau, lining up as far as
she could see, their armor glistening in the sun, all awaiting her command. It
was the entire strength of the Ridge, all standing at attention in the silence,
as they had been for hours.
Yet now they
were all beginning to look to her with skepticism, as the horns sounded again
and again, and as yet another set of reinforcements arrived up the platform.
Standing before
them all was Ruth, the King’s eldest daughter, more proud and fierce than them
all, and holding, in her brother’s absence, the respect of all the men. She
stepped forward, finally, and looked at Gwendolyn fiercely.
“My father is
dead,” she said, her voice deep, strong. “This is no time to rally our men to
the peaks of the Ridge for a fantasy invasion.”
Gwen looked back
at her steadily, admiring her courage.
“The invasion is
real,” Gwen said.
Ruth frowned.
“Then where is
this army? Show them to me and I shall kill them. No army, even if they found
us, can scale the peaks of the Ridge. We have every advantage in the world. But
there is none—you follow a fantasy. You have wasted our men’s time up here. It
is time to return back to the capital and to bury my father. My brothers shall
return soon, and it is Koldo, the eldest born, who shall be in command. Along
with your Kendrick. You are a dreamer.”
Gwendolyn
sighed; she could not blame her. She could sense how antsy the men were, all
for her assurances, and she knew she could not keep an army waiting up here
forever—especially with no enemy. She thought of Mardig, down below in the
capital, his refusal to join the knights, and she wondered what evil he was
plotting down below, after murdering his father. Surely if they returned he
would try to seize power and prevent any defense of the Ridge.
The mention of
Kendrick, too, made Gwen think of him, the battles they had fought in together,
and more than ever, she wished he were here, by her side, wished he had
returned from the Waste already. She could use him to help lead this battle.
More than anything, she was concerned for him: would he die out there?
“My lady is no
dreamer,” Steffen snapped, tensing up, defending her. “If my lady says there
will be an invasion, then there shall be. You should learn to respect—”
Gwen laid out a
hand, though, on Steffen’s shoulder and stopped him. She appreciated his
loyalty, but she did not want to inflame the situation further.
Just then
another platform of men stopped at the top from the Ridge side, and as it did,
Gwen’s stomach dropped to see Mardig appear, flanked already by several of the
former King’s advisors. He scowled at Gwen as he marched right for her.
“What is this?”
he called out, disapprovingly. “I did not approve this. You have no right and
no authority to assemble my father’s men.”
“I have every
right,” she countered, feeling sick at the sight of this murderer. “Your father
gave me that right.”
Mardig stopped
before her and scowled.
“My father gave
you nothing,” he said. “I am in command now. With my brothers gone, I am the
King’s eldest. And I command all of you,” he said, turning to his men, “to
return back to the capital.” He turned back to Gwen. “And to arrest this
woman!” he added, pointing at her.
The men stood
there, a great tension filling the air, all clearly unsure what to do. Krohn
snarled, stepping between Gwen and Mardig, and Steffen lay his hand on his
hilt—and Gwen knew that she would not be imprisoned without a fight.
Suddenly,
Gwendolyn heard a sound, like an arrow whizzing by, and she looked up to see
one of Mardig’s entourage standing there, face frozen in shock, with an arrow
through his throat.
It was followed
by a thunderous battle cry, a commotion like a hundred claps of thunder—and
suddenly, all was chaos.
Gwen turned and
was utterly shocked to see the platform rise on the far side of the Ridge, and
dozens of soldiers appeared, dressed in the black armor of the Empire. Barely
had they set foot on the ground when dozens more men appeared, scaling over the
sides of the walls with grappling hooks. They all let out a shout, drew their
swords, and charged her men.
And barely had
they begun when dozens more soldiers appeared behind them—in wave after wave.
Gwen saw her
knights standing there, stunned; clearly, they had not expected this. How could
they? Not once in their history had they been invaded.
“CHARGE!” Gwen
shouted, stirring them out of their daze and leading them forward, as she drew
her sword, to meet the attackers.
The horns
sounded, more urgently now, and her men met her command, snapping out of it and
rushing to stop the invaders.
A great clash of
armor ensued. It was an all-out war, fierce, bloody, hand-to-hand battle, as
men fought with swords and shields, axes and hammers, felling each other on
both sides. Gwen hurled a spear, killing a fierce soldier before he could bring
an ax down for her head, and then she raised her shield as another soldier
attacked her with a hammer. The strength of the blow shook her arm, sent her
down to her knees, and as her attacker raised his hammer again, she did not
think she could resist another blow.
There came a
snarl, and Gwen looked up gratefully to see Krohn charge forward, leap into the
air, and clamp his jaws on her attacker’s throat, pinning him down on his back.
But barely had
Gwen a chance to get her wits, when another soldier appeared, raising a sword
and lowering it for her face. She braced herself, unable to block it in
time—and there came yet another clang of metal. She rolled out of the way and
looked over, gratefully, to see Steffen blocking with his sword, sparing her
from the fatal blow. Steffen then swung his sword around and chopped off the
soldier’s legs.
Back and forth
the battle went, the stunned knights of the Ridge slowly getting over their
shock and fighting for their lives.
“FIGHT FOR YOUR
HOMELAND!” Ruth called out.
Ruth fought more
fiercely than most of the men, and she led a contingent of knights at they cut
through the crowd, swinging and slashing left and right, felling attackers in
all directions. She did not stop slashing, cutting through their ranks like a
whirlwind, until she reached the last soldier, just climbing the cliff, and
kicked him hard—sending the first Empire soldier, shrieking, back over the side
they had come from.
Gwen, catching
her breath, noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and she flanked back
to see Mardig fleeing. She could hardly believe her eyes—there he went, the
coward, turning and running, panic in his eyes, back to the safety of the Ridge
side. Even worse, once he reached it, he took the only empty platform for
himself, boarding it and preparing to descend alone, to escape.
“STOP HIM!” Gwen
shrieked.
Several of her
soldiers turned to chase him—but it was too late. He was already lowering the
ropes, and already out of their reach, descending quickly, alone, leaving them
all abandoned up there and fleeing the battle like the coward he was.
Gwen was filled
with hatred and loathing. There was nothing she hated more than cowardice.
Gwendolyn turned
and looked for Argon, hoping for his help. But he was nowhere to be found.
Somehow, he had disappeared.
Gwen realized
she was alone now, and alone for a reason—she had to win this fight on her own
merits. She looked back and saw her knights beginning to take back ground, to
hold the line of Empire ranks scaling the walls like ants. She surveyed the
battlefield and realized immediately their weak point: the Empire was using the
platform, depositing one cart after another filled with soldiers, reinforcing
their ranks. She knew they had to put a stop to it.
“THE PLATFORM!”
Gwen cried.
She steeled
herself, grabbed a bloody sword off a corpse, and rushed into the battlefield,
raising her shield. She ran right into the thick of men, and she raised her
shield as soldier slashed at her left and right. Krohn and Steffen accompanied
her, guarding her on each side, and thanks to them she was darting through the
ranks unscathed, save for several bruises and scratches.
Gwen finally
neared the far side of the plateau, heading for the platform, arriving yet
again with more soldiers, and as she did, Ruth saw what she was doing and
joined her with several men. They attacked, fighting the new crop of soldiers
hand to hand as they exited the platform, and Gwen knew this was her chance.
While they were all distracted, she had to put an end to that platform,
delivering more soldiers to them by the second.
Gwen charged
forward recklessly, putting caution to the wind, forgoing the protection of the
others. A terrific sword slash knocked the shield from her hand and bruised her
wrist; yet still she kept running. Another soldier came at her, slashing down
at her, and she dodged—but not before he could slash her arm. She cried out in
pain but kept running, grasping her wound to staunch the bleeding.
Gwen ran
single-mindedly until she reached the platform, then in one last desperate
move, she raised her sword, lunged forward, and cut the ropes.
She felt the
satisfying feeling of cutting rope, then there came the sound of wood groaning,
followed by wood bouncing off the stone and crashing through the air, like a
meteor about to hit earth.
Gwen inched up
to the edge and looked over the side, hardly believe what she had just done.
She saw the platform tumbling, hurling down over the side, still filled with
dozens of Empire soldiers, all of them shrieking. It fell down like a boulder
and it landed below with an explosion, killing dozens of men as it landed on
them, crushing them.
At first Gwen
was elated, feeling that she made a huge difference in the battle; but then,
standing there, breathing hard, she looked over the edge and saw exactly what
the platform had landed on, what was down below—and her heart stopped.
There, spread
out below as far as the eye could see, was the largest army, the largest force
of assembled men, she had ever seen. It stretched to the horizon in every
direction. It was a sea of swarming black. She could not even see the ground.
There must have been a million men. Perhaps more.