by Morgan Rice
“So Reece found your love. And the rest of us were looked over. I did not exist for you. It took my doing all of this for you to finally acknowledge me.”
The Queen’s scowl deepened; she was in no mood for Gareth’s sophistry.
"Is it true?" she repeated.
Gareth chuckled.
"The truth has many layers, doesn't it?” he said. "What would it matter if you were poisoned? Your life had turned a corner, you were inching towards the grave. A queen without a king. I can’t think of anything more useless.”
Queen MacGil felt a rage boiling up inside. She felt sick to her stomach.
"You are an abomination of a son,” she spat back at him. “An abomination of a human being. I'm sorry I ever had you.”
"I know that you are, mother,” he said calmly. “I've known that since the day you had me. But you see, there's nothing you can do about it now. Because finally, I am free from your reach, from father's reach. Now, I command you," he said loudly, standing, his face turning red with anger. "Now, you are my subject. And with the snap of my fingers, I can have an attendant kill you. Your life is at my mercy.”
"Do it then," she seethed back, unafraid, equally determined. "Don't be the cowardly boy you've always been. Be a man, as your father was, and have me killed face-to-face. Better yet, draw the sword and do the deed yourself.”
Gareth sat there, trembling.
“You can’t do it, can you?” she asked. “No. Instead, you have your little attendant run around and poison me slowly. You are a coward. You always have been. You are a disgrace to your father’s memory.”
Gareth suddenly reached into his belt, drew a dagger, raised it high and charged for his mother with a horrific scream. As he neared, he brought the blade down, right for her face.
But Queen MacGil was the daughter of a King and wife to another. She had been around violence her entire life, had been trained by the royal guard from the time she could walk. As Gareth charged, she calmly reached over, grabbed a stone bust of her husband, waited until he got close, then stepped aside and swung it for Gareth's head.
She connected perfectly, dodging his blade and impacting his skull, sending him crashing back into a wooden table, knocking it over as he collapsed and slumped against the wall.
Gareth lay there, breathing hard, bleeding from his head, and blinked several times. He tried to sit up, dazed, and wiped the blood from the back of his mouth. At least it had wiped the smile from his face.
“I'm through with you," the queen said down to him, coldly. "From this day forward, you are not my son. I want you to know that. You are not even a stranger. You are nothing to me. I will leave this place, and never come back as long as you rule. I know now, with certainty, that it was you who took my husband from me. And for that, you will rot in hell. “Don't think you will not pay. I've been told the shield is down. Soon the Empire’s men will flood this place and burn it to the ground—and you will burn with them.”
Gareth suddenly laughed, blood pouring from his lips.
"I doubt that, mother," he said. "Many people have tried to kill me. But they do not succeed. This morning my royal taster dropped dead before my eyes—another unsuccessful plot on my life. And yesterday I learned that the closest to me will come to kill me tomorrow at dawn. I have no allies. But I have spies. And I have the devil on my side. You see, no one has ever been able to kill me, mother. And no one ever will. And I am always one step ahead of them, mother. That is the one thing you never understood about me. I am always one step ahead.”
Gareth laughed, shaking, and Queen MacGil had enough.
She turned and stormed from the room, Hafold beside her, and slammed it behind her, hearing her son’s laughter echo and knowing it was the last time she would ever step foot in King's Court again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gwendolyn skipped through a summer field of flowers, bursting with color, her father, young and vibrant and healthy, by her side. She was young, perhaps ten, and he threw her up into the air and swung her as they skipped. She laughed hysterically, thrilled to be here with him. He laughed back, so carefree, a deep, reassuring sound. She felt so safe, so secure in the world, as if nothing could ever change.
The field was flooded with sunlight, brighter than she had ever seen, and as she looked at him, he looked younger and happier than she had ever seen him.
"I'm so proud of you, my child," he said to her.
He reached down and picked her up, grabbing her by the arms and lifting her up high into the air, just as he did when she was a baby, grinning widely. She laughed, exhilarated.
But as he put her down, as her feet touched the ground, she looked down and realized that everything had changed. Before the ground had been covered in flowers—now it was black dirt; before there had been a clear, bright sky—now it was dark and cloudy; before there had been flowers—now they were replaced with a field of thorns.
And worst of all, her father was missing, and she was alone.
Gwendolyn heard a shrill cry, that of a baby; she turned and in the distance, atop a small hill, she saw a bassinet, lodged inside a thorn bush. The cries grew louder, and she approached it tentatively, knowing somehow that it was her son.
A boy.
She reached the bassinet and leaned in and looked—and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the child. Light shone from him, and she could not help thinking that he looked just like her.
She reached down to lift the baby up, but suddenly the bassinet moved. A strong current of water came rushing beside her, and carried the bassinet down a winding mountain trail.
Gwen ran after it, but it was no use. The bassinet flew too quickly, and soon the landscape before her changed to a vast sea.
Gwen found herself standing on a rocky coastline, looking out at a brewing storm.
"NO!" she screamed, reaching out for her baby, wading into the water.
But it was no use. The baby was already far out to sea, carried out on the tide, crying in his bassinet. Gwendolyn felt more helpless than she ever had. She wanted the ocean to take her away, too.
Gwen began to notice a great bubbling, at the surface of the water, and moments later, a huge beast emerged, screeching.
A dragon.
The dragon rose higher and higher, the biggest thing she'd ever seen, like a wall before her, blocking out the sky. It leaned back its head and roared, and the sound was the most terrifying she had experienced.
Behind it, a tidal wave suddenly appeared, fifty feet high, rushing at her.
She tried to turn to run, but it was too late.
The wave rushed forward, carrying the dragon with it, ready to crash down and kill her.
Gwendolyn awoke, sitting straight up in a bed she did not recognize, in a room she did not know, breathing hard and looking all around, trying to remember where she was. The light of the first rising sun was breaking through the window, and she jumped to her feet, crossed the room, dressed quickly and splashed cold water on her face from a small stone bowl on the far side of the chamber. She ran the cold water across her scalp and through her hair. She shook her head, trying to shake the awful visions, trying to snap herself back to reality. Reality was dark enough as it was—she didn't need a nightmare to make it worse.
The dream had seemed too real. Her father; the baby; the ocean; the dragon; the world turning so dark. She couldn't help but feel as if it boded awful things to come.
Gwendolyn stood beside the large, open-air window and looked down at the shining city of Silesia; people were already out, this early in the day, preparing their goods for a day of sale. As she looked over the citizens, she also noticed movement, could see them congregating towards the city gate. She followed their direction and spotted a small cloud of dust on the horizon, slowly heading for Silesia, and she realized it was a rider, charging this way. Two riders. And behind them, a group of perhaps a hundred townsfolk.
Gwen relaxed, realizing it was not Andronicus’ army; yet she wondered who it could be. A distant horn sounded,
and Gwen saw the gatekeeper stand tall and blow it again and again.
As Gwen examined the rider out front, slowly coming into focus, she recognized his armor, his horse.
There came a soft knocking on her chamber door, and Gwen spun and crossed the room, and opened the door to see an attendant standing there, bowing at her presence.
"My Queen, I am sorry to disturb you," he said. “But our men have spotted two riders approaching our gates, with an entourage of people. Should I close the gates?”
She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “That is no ordinary rider.”
Her heart filled with joy as she prepared to leave the castle.
“That,” she said, “is my brother.”
*
Gwendolyn took the steps three at a time, excited as she bounded down the spiral stone staircase of the castle, through the corridors and out the front door. She raced across the courtyard, for the main gate, where she saw Kendrick arrive, Atme at his side. Her heart flooded with relief. It was like a piece of her was back home again. With her family so broken, so dysfunctional, having Kendrick here made her feel a bit of normalcy back again.
It was ironic: Kendrick was her half-brother, yet he felt more like family to her than her real siblings. She knew she would have to make some hard decisions as queen, but she hadn’t known how she would possibly be able to order the gates closed and sealed knowing he was still out there. It saved her a heart-wrenching decision.
As she ran for the gates, Kendrick spotted her, dismounted and ran to her, embracing her. She was so happy to see him again. A part of her felt that, if Kendrick made it back, maybe Thor could, too.
"You're alive," she said over his shoulder, a tear running down her cheek. "I'm so happy you’re alive.”
He pulled her back, grinning wide; it felt so good to see another living member of her family, here in this foreign city. He was also the striking image of her father, and seeing him made her feel as if she had a small piece of her father back again.
“I am," he said. “Always. I was told of your travels to this place, of everything that has happened. I am so proud of you for leading these people. They could have picked no finer a leader.”
She smiled, flushed with pride. Coming from Kendrick, whom everyone respected, who was eminently qualified to be the next King, it was high praise indeed.
"These people do not have me to thank for making them safe," she responded humbly. "I am sure they would have found a way to be safe either way.”
Kendrick shook his head.
"They needed a leader. Someone to guide them. You led the way. Many people will live because of you."
“And I see those people following you, as well,” she said, nodding over his shoulder as the hundreds of townsfolk following Kendrick and Atme caught up and began to enter the gates.
Kendrick’s face fell in concern.
"I’m afraid I bear bad news,” he said. “We spotted Andronicus’ army. They march our way.”
Gwen's eyes opened in alarm.
"Are you sure of it?” she asked.
“As sure as it is day,” came a voice.
Gwen turned to see Atme coming up beside Kendrick, looking back with concern. He reached out and took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “My lady,” he added. “I fulfilled the mission.”
Gwen smiled.
“You have brought my brother back to me alive,” she said. “For that, I shall always be indebted. I know who I shall turn to next time I have a mission of the utmost urgency.”
“You trusted me with a most sacred mission, with your family’s life, and for that I will always be grateful,” Atme replied, nodding back.
There came a commotion and Gwen turned to see Srog, Brom and Kolk approach, flanked by several members of the Silver. They all lit up at the sight of Kendrick, hurried over and embraced him.
"Kendrick," Brom said, clasping his forearm. "You serve the Silver well in all that you do.”
"My Lord," Kendrick said back to him.
“You bring much honor upon your father’s memory,” Kolk said.
Kendrick met his embrace.
"It is an honor to have a knight of your repute in Silesia," Srog said, their forearms clasping firmly.
"The honor is all mine, my Lords," Kendrick said back. "In fact, I owe you a great debt for taking in my sister and half of King’s Court.”
"The debt is mine," Srog said. "It the least we can do to honor your father, who was always good to us. He could have taxed us far more than he did, and he chose not to.”
Kendrick half-bowed his head in appreciation, then his brow furrowed with concern.
“I’m afraid I arrive bearing grave news,” Kendrick said, clearing his throat. “Andronicus’ men follow not far behind us.”
“We laid our own eyes upon their forces,” Atme added.
There came a gasp among the men. Gwen felt a pit in her stomach.
“How long?” Brom asked.
“It could be a day. It could be more. It is a wall of devastation, and nothing will stop them.”
The others looked at each other, gravely.
“We saved these townsfolk,” Kendrick said, gesturing to the people who filed in through the gates, “but other towns will not be so fortunate. There isn’t time to save them all. We must prepare, if there's any hope of defending this place.”
"Is there any hope?" Gwen asked, watching his expression closely.
He looked at her gravely, and she saw the answer in his eyes. Her heart sank further.
"We must do the best we can do,” he answered. “We are in the hands of the fates."
"Then there is less time than we thought," Kolk said.
"We must fortify the city at once," Srog said.
"Now that you're safely within our gates,” Brom added, “we can begin to seal the outer walls.”
"We were waiting for you," Gwen explained.
Kendrick looked back at her, and she could see that he was touched.
“Then I owe you a great debt,” he replied.
"Sound the horns,” Gwen commanded, taking charge. “We have no more time to waste.” She turned to Srog. “Command your men to begin the fortifications.”
Srog shouted up to a soldier, high up on the walls, and he turned and shouted to several others. Several took up horns and blew them, the sound echoing throughout Silesia. Soldiers began to filter from their barracks and head along the wall towards the outer fortifications.
"My lady," Srog said, turning to Gwendolyn. "You have seen but the upper city of Silesia. Our people down below, in lower Silesia, who live amidst the canyon walls, await your visit. In this time of trouble it would reassure them greatly to meet you. May I suggest that we all survey the city together?"
“I would be honored,” Gwen said.
Gwen turned and accompanied Srog and the others as the men fell in behind them, the large and growing group walking through the streets of Silesia, heading towards the entrance to the lower city. As they walked, the soldiers all speaking to each other in an excited but agitated way, Gwen fell in besides Kendrick. It was natural walking beside him, as they had since they were children in King’s Court, yet Gwen had something pressing on her mind which she needed to share.
"I feel guilty, being appointed ruler," she said softly, out of earshot of the others. "Yes, it was what father wanted. But you are his firstborn. And you are a man. And, with Erec gone, you are the de facto leader of the Silver. All the soldiers respect you. You've fought side by side with each of them. And me? What have I done? I feel as if I've done nothing to merit all this. All I have done is been our father's daughter. And not even his firstborn daughter.”
Kendrick shook his head.
"You don't see your own virtues," he said. "You are far more than that. Father was not a rash man. Or a foolish one. All of his decisions, he made wisely. And choosing you was the wisest of all. It is not strength or military prowess that makes a great ruler. A great soldier, maybe—but no
t a great ruler. It is not about one’s ability to wield a sword, or even about the way other men look up to you. That might make a good ruler—but not a great one.
“A great ruler is forged of wisdom. Knowledge. Temperance. Compassion. Insight. And it is you who possess all of those qualities. That is what father saw in you. That is why he chose you. And I must agree with him. Do not underestimate yourself. And don't feel guilt. I am content with my lot. You deserve it, and I wish for nothing more than to serve you, whether you are my younger sister or not.”
Gwen felt a rush of love for him, as she always had. He always knew exactly what to say, ever since they were small children.
"I appreciate your kindness, brother,” she said. “But I still feel as if you've been passed over. And that doesn't sit right with me. If I am to rule, I want you to help me rule. I want you to have a position of import. I would like to name you as ruler of our armed forces. I want all of them—the Silver, the Legion, the King’s Men—to answer to you. After all, there is no one I trust more, and no one better fitting. You are a MacGil, too, and it will inspire the men to have you in court.”
"That is not something you need to do, my sister,” he said softly, humbled. “I love you equally, no matter what.”
"I know I don't need to," she said. "I want to.”
Before he could say another word, she turned to Srog.
“Srog!" she called out.
"Yes my lady," he said, rushing up to her, Brom and Kolk beside him.
"I appoint my brother Kendrick in the new position of ruler of the armed forces,” she said formally. “I would ask all the generals of all the forces assembled here to answer to him. Of course, you will lead your men, and Kolk and Brom, you will lead yours, but Kendrick will take direct control of the Silver, and you will all answer to him. I realize my brother is far younger in years than you are. But I also know it is what my father would have wanted, and I can think of no one more deserving.”
"My lady, it is a wise choice, and admire your sharing of power. We will gladly answer to Kendrick who, after all, is our bravest and finest warrior.”
“As will we,” answered Kolk and Brom heartily.