A Vow of Glory

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 not 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.

“Then the matter is settled,” Gwen said. “Kendrick, I salute you on your new position.”

Kendrick looked down.

“I am deeply humbled,” he said. “I will serve you with my life.”

“As you always have,” Brom said, stepping forward and clasping him on the shoulder.

They wound their way through the shining, red cobblestone streets, the stone lighting up in the early morning light, and approached a deep and narrow arched alleyway, carved of stone, wide enough for only two people to pass through at a time. At the far end of it, maybe fifty yards away, the light of the Canyon shone through. Several soldiers stood guard, snapping to attention as they approached.

“The entranceway to lower Silesia, my lady,” Srog said.

Gwen entered with the others, all of them marching in the blackness of the tunnel, the only light that of the Canyon at the far end, their footsteps and whispers echoing off the walls. It was an eerie feeling, walking through this long tunnel; Gwen felt as if she were entering a portal to another world.

“We are the same people, up above and down below,” Srog explained, “yet in some ways, the upper and lower Silesias are like two different cities. Those above ground rarely descend, and those down below, clinging to the side of the Canyon, like to stay there. Those afraid of heights don’t do well down below; they jokingly refer to lower Silesians as mountain goats. Yet those who breathe the Canyon air are content where they are, and find no need to come to the ‘flatlands’, as they call it.”

Gwen smiled.

“Otherwise,” he continued, “we are very much one people. Make no mistake about it: if Andronicus should attack, we will all defend as one city. And if the upper city gets overrun, we can fall back on the lower city. That is the great strength of Silesia. That is why it has not been conquered in a thousand years.”

They all reached the edge of the tunnel, and Gwen stood on a small landing. A cold gust of wind hit her in the face, and she looked down at the steep drop below. She grew dizzy. It was as if she were standing on a landing at the edge of the sky, before her nothing but the vast expanse of Canyon. She felt as if she were inside the Canyon itself: one more step and she would go plunging to her death.

Beneath her, built into the Canyon walls, she saw lower Silesia for the first time. Also built of an ancient red stone, its architecture was breathtakingly beautiful, the lower city replete with spires and parapets and dwellings, all built right into the side of the cliff, jutting out from the Canyon a good fifty feet. There was activity below, people swarming about, livestock, children playing, all going about their ordinary lives as if they were living in a normal city, and not dangling on the edge of a cliff, with a plunge beneath them that would send them to their deaths with one wrong step.

Gwendolyn pulled back, feeling nauseated, wondering how these people could live this way.

“Don’t worry, everyone reacts the same way the first time,” Srog smiled. “It takes some getting used to. After a while, you don’t even notice the heights.”

Srog led the way down a narrow, twisting stone staircase embedded in the side of the cliff. Gwendolyn gripped the railing firmly, knuckles white, as they headed down the steps, trying not to peek over the edge as another gust of wind came, so strong it knocked her off balance. She was not necessarily afraid of heights, but this descent was so steep, and so close to the edge, it got to her. She could hardly fathom how people did it—especially how they could let their children play, so care free. She assumed they were all desensitized.

After several flights they reached a broad landing, fifty feet wide with a high railing, and Gwen finally relaxed again. Waiting to greet them as they came down were several dozen lower Silesians, pouring out from side alleyways, seeming to come out of the cliffs themselves. As with the Silesians above, they were a warm and friendly people, all wearing welcoming smiles, and all looking to Gwen with adoration. It was clear that, as with those above, they all looked to her as their leader.

Gwendolyn felt overwhelmed. It was a surreal feeling for her, having all these people looking to her for guidance, and again she felt unsure if she could live up to the task of being the leader they needed. Being a king’s daughter had aged her more quickly than most, yet she was still just sixteen, barely an adult herself. She marveled at how these people put such faith in her. She knew deep down it was only because of her father. Clearly, they had loved him. For that, she loved them back. Anyone who had been loyal to her father earned her love and appreciation.

“My fellow Silesians,” Srog boomed. “It is my honor to introduce our lady Gwendolyn, daughter of King MacGil, the new ruler of the Western Kingdom of the Ring.”

There came a shout and cheer as the crowd rushed forward, several women clasping her shoulder, some of them giving her a hug, others kissing her hand. Others ran their palms on her cheek, and children stroked her long hair. They raised three fingers to their right temple, then slowly pulled them away, saluting her.

Gwen cleared her throat.

“I am here to serve you in any way I can,” she said back to them, raising her voice to be heard over the howling of the wind. “I hope that the gods give me strength to serve you well.”

“You already have, my lady!” yelled a woman from the crowd, and the others answered with a cheer.

Gwendolyn’s brow furrowed with concern.

“It is only fair that you know what lies ahead of us,” she continued. “As you know, the shield is down. As you may not know, Andronicus and his men have already invaded the Ring. It will not be long until they reach our city. We are vastly outnumbered. We will do our best to defend the city. But you must prepare yourselves for war, and for a siege.”

“My lady, our great city has been attacked many times,” called out another citizen. “We do not for death. Not even from Andronicus. If we go down, it will be as free men and women. We want nothing more!”

There arose another cheer from the crowd, then the Silesians began to dissipate, to head back to their fortifying the lower city, boarding windows and securing gates.

“Shall we?” Srog asked.

They continued their tour of the lower city, leading them through a series of twisting streets and alleyways, past impressive fortifications, all built into this startling city perched on the side of the Canyon.

Srog led them through an arched stone gate and down a long peninsula of rock jutting twenty feet into the Canyon.

“Canyon Point,” Srog said.

They walked to the end, the wind even stronger here, cold gusts bringing tears to Gwen’s eyes. She looked down and saw her feet enveloped in the mist that rolled in on the breeze. Then she looked up, out into the expanse. She felt dwarfed by the enormity of this spot in the world.

“You stand in the western-most point of the Ring,” Srog said. “We use this platform as a lookout, when the mists are not too strong. From here, you can gain a commanding view of lower Silesia.”

Srog turned back and faced the Canyon wall, and Gwen turned with him. She gasped, amazed at how impressive lower Silesia was. She saw thousands of people milling about their lives, stacked one story beneath the next, as if none knew what was going on above or below them. She could see why this place had lasted thousands of years. It was insurmountable.

“My lady,” Srog said. “On behalf of my people, before the battle begins, we would like to know your position on surrender.”

Gwen turned and saw the faces of all the men darken.

“I think we would all agree this is a once-in-a-lifetime situation,” Srog said. “We have several thousand fine warriors prepared to fight to the death—but they will be up against a million men. Even the best warriors have their limits. We can hold them back, maybe. But for how long?”

“Perhaps long enough for Thor and the others to return with the Sword?” Gwen said.

The others looked at each other skeptically.

“Of course, my lady,” Brom said, “we all love Thor as a son. And we all have great faith in his courage. But even with as much respect as we have for them, we all know the odds of their return are next to impossible. And being practical warriors, we must make contingency plans.”

“My lady, we will stand by whatever you choose,” Srog said, “but we do need to know. Do you at any point plan on surrendering the city to Andronicus?”

“That would be naive,” Kendrick interjected. “We all know Andronicus’ reputation. He kills everyone. A surrender would be to offer ourselves up to slaughter. Or best case, to be his slaves. And he is merciless.”

“Then again,” Kolk said, “if we allow him to control this city and the Western Kingdom, he might make a deal. And if we don’t surrender, we might end up dead, or slaves, anyway.”

As Gwen listened to all the arguments, she felt overwhelmed with the weight of the decision before her. She did not want to make the wrong one. Yet it seemed that, no matter what she did, she could do no right. Either way, people could die.

“Srog,” she said, turning to him, “this may be my father’s court, but Silesia is your city. These are your people. You have lived with them, and fought with them, your entire life. I want to know what you think first. What they think. How do Silesians feel about surrender?”

Srog looked down, grave, and rubbed his beard.

“Silesians are a very warm and friendly people. But they’re also a very proud people. We have never surrendered, not once in the history of the Ring. They don’t know what surrender means.”

He sighed.

“They would follow you, my lady, whatever you choose. But they would not want you to surrender on their account. They value life. But they value honor more.”

“And Kendrick,” she said, turning to him. “What do you think?”

Kendrick furrowed his brow, looking out at the Canyon.

“A difficult decision,” he said. “On the one hand, it is prized to be fearless. Yet one does not want to be the uncompromising ruler who sends all his people to their deaths out of pride. Remember what I said: to be a ruler is different than being a soldier.”

“What would father have done?” Gwen asked.

Kendrick slowly shook his head.

“Father was a stubborn, proud man. He was more warrior than king. The decision you face is not a decision for a warrior. It is a decision for a King. What matters now is what you would do.”

Gwendolyn felt the weight of his words. She turned from the others, took several steps out, to the very tip of the landing, and looked out at the Canyon.

Gwen stood there, thinking. Kendrick’s words rang in her head. They were true. After a certain point she had to stop worrying and thinking of what others thought, what others would decide. She had to stop feeling as if she weren’t qualified enough to make a decision. She thought back to all of her years of study, in the House of Scholars. She thought of all the wars she had studied, all the sieges she had been quizzed on. She pondered the Annals of the MacGils, the history of the Ring. She recalled all the histories of surrender, of protracted sieges. She remembered reading of a few surrenders that had gone smoothly; but she remembered many more that had gone poorly. And none of the invaders were as ruthless as Andronicus.

Gwendolyn also recalled all the rulers she had read about, and the ones who had succeeded and the ones who did not. She felt that being a good ruler was not always about making the most logical decision, but sometimes about making the decision that held the most nobility, the most honor, for the people. She stood there and closed her eyes, willing for her father to help her make the right choice.

As she did, she felt a sudden strength and clarity overcome her. She felt she was not alone: there was the blood of six MacGil kings coursing through her. She was a MacGil, just like all the others. Just because she was a woman, it did not make her any lesser.

She turned and faced the others, her eyes aglow with a fierce determination.

“We may all die here together,” she said, her voice booming with confidence. “But we will not surrender. We will never surrender. That is who we are. And who we are is more important than how we die.”

The men all looked back at her, eyes widening with a new respect, even a look of awe. They all nodded gravely, and she could see they agreed. She could also see in their eyes that they had, finally, found their true leader.