A Vow of Glory

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Kendrick galloped on the dusty road, Atme at his side, charging into a horizon brewing with thick, gathering storm clouds. The sky thundered again and again, threatening rain. In the distance, finally coming into view, was the village the woman had told them about, and Kendrick was flooded with relief. It could not have come a moment sooner.

They had been riding for hours, and Kendrick’s apprehension deepened as they continued farther from the safety of Silesia and closer towards the oncoming army, out there somewhere, heading right for them. Kendrick only hoped that they find the village, find the girl, and get back before Andronicus’ men reached them—and before Silesia’s gates closed on them.

Kendrick knew that this was a reckless mission; yet he also knew that this mission was the very core of who he was. He had taken a vow to help those who were defenseless, and that vow was sacred to him. For Kendrick, that was more important than his personal safety, and missions such as these, whether reckless or not, must be taken. He had heard the stories of Andronicus’s brutality, and he knew what his men would do to the girls. That was something he could not allow, even if he had to go down fighting.

Kendrick rode harder, out of breath, giving it everything he had, and was encouraged as the village began to loom larger. It sat as a small dot on the horizon, just another farming town on the outskirts of the Ring, shaped in a circle, like most of them, with but a few dozen dwellings and a rudimentary town wall. He exchanged a knowing glance with Atme and they both rode harder, encouraged, determined to make it there before Andronicus—and rescue the girls.

As they got closer, Kendrick heard a distant rumble and looked up to see, in the distance, a group of a dozen soldiers come into view, galloping towards the village from the other direction. His heart beat faster as he saw they wore the black of the Empire. They were here. And they were both racing for the same town. Kendrick and Atme were much closer than they—but not by much.

The one thing that gave Kendrick comfort was that he did not see the entire army with them; rather, it seemed to be a small contingent. He realized instantly that it was an advance party, scouts, riding ahead to report back to the main army. Wherever there were scouts, the main army was never far behind—usually but a few minutes.

The urgency was even greater as Kendrick screamed and kicked his horse again, and the two of them charged right through the town gates. They rode down the narrow streets and looked side to side, examining all the small, humble dwellings. This entire town was deserted, a ghost town; possessions were strewn all throughout the streets, and it was clear that the villagers had evacuated in a hurry. It was wise of them. They knew what was coming.

They rode block to block until finally, Kendrick spotted a dwelling larger than the others, with a red star painted on it. The House of the Sick.

They rode for it and as they reached the front, they each dismounted and sprinted through the open door. Before they did, Kendrick glanced over his shoulder and saw the scouts getting closer, hardly a minute away.

Kendrick and Atme sprinted through the building, past rows of abandoned beds. For a moment, he wondered if this place were vacant; he wondered if they had found the wrong place, or if the girls had already been moved somewhere. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, and as they did, he heard a soft cry.

They turned and in the far corner of the room lay the two sick girls, supine on their beds. They appeared to be maybe twelve years old, and they weakly reached out for him.

“Help!” one of them called.

The other was too sick to even lift her hand.

Kendrick darted across the room and hoisted one of the girls over his shoulder, moaning, while Atme grabbed the other. They then turned and ran back through the building, charging through the open door and to their horses.

They each mounted the girls on their saddles and prepared to jump up onto the horses—when suddenly, behind them, there came the dozen Empire soldiers, charging like a storm. There wasn’t time, Kendrick realized. They would have to fight.

Kendrick and Atme turned and rushed forward to meet them, putting themselves between the contingent and the girls, drawing their swords with a distinctive ring and raising their shields.

The lead attacker brought his sword down and Kendrick raised his shield and blocked it at the last second—then parried back with his sword at the same moment, slicing the man’s saddle, sending him flying off his horse and crashing down to the ground. Another attacked swung his axe for Kendrick’s head, and Kendrick ducked, then stabbed him in the ribs, sending him off his horse screaming. Another attacker thrust a lance his way, and Kendrick spun and snatched it from his hands.

Kendrick held the lance to his shoulder and charged and knocked another attacker from his horse. He sent him flying back into another attacker, sending them both to the ground. Kendrick then pulled back the lance, took aim and threw it; it sailed through the air and killed another attacker, piercing his armor and impaling his chest.

Kendrick, now weaponless, was vulnerable and had no time to react as another attacker leapt off his horse and tackled him, sending them both to the ground. They rolled and rolled, wrestling, and the soldier drew a dagger, raised it high, and brought it down for Kendrick’s throat.

Kendrick caught his wrist in mid-air and held it there as they engaged in a power struggle, the soldier pushing down with all his might, sneering, and Kendrick barely holding it back, the tip just inches from his face.

Finally, Kendrick managed to twist the soldier’s wrist to the side, then rolled and punched him with his gauntlet across the jaw, knocking him onto his back. He then punched the man one more time, knocking him out for good.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kendrick spotted yet another attacker charging him, gearing up to kick him in the ribs; Kendrick thought quick, snatching the dagger that had fallen from the soldier’s hand, turning and throwing it. The knife sailed end over end and lodged itself in the attacker’s throat, stopping him in his tracks. He stood there, frozen for a minute, then keeled over to the side, dead.

Atme had been busy, too. Kendrick looked over to see five of the six soldiers who’d attacked him dead on the ground, all in various positions, their blood staining the earth. As he watched, Atme finished off the sixth, ducking below a sword slash, spinning around, and chopping of the man’s head with his sword.

Kendrick and Atme both stood there for a moment, breathing hard in the sudden stillness, surveying the damage they had done.

“Like the old days,” Atme said.

Kendrick nodded back.

“I’m glad it was you on my side,” he answered.

There came a chorus of distant horns, and Kendrick felt a great tremor in the earth. He looked to the horizon and saw the faintest glimmer of dust arising. This time, it was not the dust of a dozen men—but the dust of a vast army, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The two of them wasted no time. They turned and ran for their horses, Kendrick mounting behind the sick girl, holding her tight with one arm as she wobbled limply on the saddle, and grabbing the reins with the other. Atme did the same, and in moments they were racing out of the town, through the entrance and back onto the road that led to Silesia.

Kendrick thought of the closing gates, and only hoped that it was not too late.

Gwendolyn stood atop a small hill outside the outer gate of Silesia, waiting, watching, her heart pounding. She had been scrutinizing the horizon for hours, praying for any sign of Kendrick as they counted down the hours, the minutes, until she would have to seal the gates.

“My lady,” Steffen said, still standing loyally beside her, “you must retreat into the city! Waiting out here for Kendrick won’t make him come faster—and it will only jeopardize your safety. Please: retreat to within our walls.”

Gwendolyn shook her head.

“I cannot wait within the safety of our walls while he risks his life out there.”

“But my lady, your people need you. They look to you.”

“They also look to me as an example,” she said, “of fearlessness. In war, that has merit, too.”

“Well then if you won’t go back inside, neither will I,” he said.

Steffen fell silent, and the two of them continued to stand and watch.

Gwendolyn knew he was right, knew it was only a matter of time until she would have to order the outer gates sealed. Her heart was breaking inside.

She began to detect a distant rumbling, and her heart pounded as she looked up to see the entire horizon covered in black. More troops than she had ever seen in her life were stretched out before her, thousands and thousands of them, seeming to stretch across the entire world. In their center rode two dozen flag-bearers, waving the Empire colors high above their heads, and hundreds of trumpets sounded.

“My lady, we are out of time!” shouted Srog, riding up beside her with a dozen troops. “We must seal the gates!”

Gwen looked over her shoulder and saw her men, hundreds of them, anxiously preparing, taking up positions, spread out along the parapets. She then turned and looked back at the horizon. Reality was sinking in: here, at last, was Andronicus. And yet, still, there was no sign of Kendrick and Atme. Her heart fell. Had he been killed? She had never known him to be unsuccessful. How could it be? she wondered. Kendrick was their finest knight. If he had been killed, then what hope was there for any of them?

Gwen cursed herself for allowing him to go. She should have ordered him to stay put. She loved that he lived by his vow of honor—but in this case, chivalry had led to his death.

“My lady, you cannot stand here anymore!” Steffen yelled, and she could hear the agitation in his voice.

Gwendolyn knew the time had come. The army was getting closer, and in moments there would be no chance for her to enter her own city walls. But she just could not bring herself to. Not until she knew for sure that her brother did not make it.

“My lady!” Brom urged, standing beside Srog. “If we wait any longer, our men will die!”

Suddenly, a small cloud of dust caught Gwendolyn’s eye, off to the side; she turned, and on a small side road there, her heart was elated to see, rode Kendrick and Atme, carrying the two girls on their horses. They galloped towards them, outpacing the army, faster, and closer. They had a good hundred yards lead on them, and Gwen’s heart soared to see them alive again.

They had made it. She could hardly believe it. They had made it!

Gwendolyn felt a huge weight lifted off her heart as she turned, mounted her horse, and began riding back for the open gates of Silesia, Steffen, Srog, Brom and dozens of soldiers accompanying her. As they went, more and more troops, waiting patiently for her, filled in behind them, and together they all raced back through the outer gates. As they did, dozens of men, waiting, began to close the massive iron gates from both sides.

They raced through just in time, the gate only left opened a few feet for them, and after they did, Kendrick and Atme, just feet behind her, raced through, too. The second they did, the heavy metal slammed behind them.

They continued riding, through the inner gates, and as they did, a second spiked iron gate slammed behind them.

As Gwendolyn rushed into the inner court, all around her, thousands of troops were rushing into position, chaos everywhere, the energy in the air frantic, the anticipation palpable.

“SOUND THE ALARMS!” she screamed, and as soon as she did, a chorus of horns erupted all around her.

Citizens ran to their homes and barred windows and doors, the courtyard emptying. Once inside, most rushed to their upper windows, leaving them open just a crack, to look out over the square, and to hold bows and arrows at the ready. Every last Silesian man, woman and child, Gwen knew, was prepared to join in and fight to the death here.

Her heart flooded with relief as Kendrick rode up beside her, he and Atme handing the sick girls to their mother, who embraced them with tears of joy, sobbing. She grabbed Kendrick’s leg.

“Thank you,” she said. “I will never be able to repay you.”

Gwendolyn and Kendrick dismounted and embraced.

“You’re alive,” she said over his shoulder, so happy, and wishing for Thor to have the same fate, too. “And you saved their lives.”

Kendrick smiled.

“There are many more to save,” he replied.

Gwen had no time to respond, because suddenly, there came a horrific slamming against the outer gate, so fierce, it shook the entire city.

Kendrick took up his position with the rest of the Silver, while Gwendolyn ran, Steffen at her side, up the winding stone steps to the top of the inner parapet, wanting to get the best view.

As Gwen looked down there came another tremendous crash, and she was shocked by what she saw: Andronicus’ army swarmed outside the city, and dozens of soldiers, in a coordinated charge, rammed their shields into the outer gate, putting their shoulders into it.

That was all just the prelude: these men stepped aside, and there came rolling forward a long, thick iron battering ram, on wheels, manned by two dozen men. They rushed forward, gained traction, and as Gwendolyn watched in horror, they rammed the outer gate, denting it, shaking the walls, and making some of the stone around her crumble.

“Awaiting your command!” Srog said, standing beside her.

“NOW!” she said.

“ARCHERS!” screamed Srog.

Up and down the parapets, archers pulled back on their bows, and found slots through every nook and cranny in the stone walls, taking aim below.

“FIRE!”

The sky turned black with the rain of arrows, thousands of them sailing through the air, finding targets below in the exposed Empire soldiers.

Screams rose up, as dozens of Empire troops keeled over on the ground, dead.

But Andronicus’ army was well-disciplined: hundreds of soldiers took a knee, lined up in perfect rows, and fired right back up at the walls.

Gwendolyn stood there, amazed, her first time in the midst of a real battle, and she didn’t even think to react. She felt a strong hand grab her shirt and yank her down, slamming her against the stone. She felt the breeze of an arrow as it sailed through the air, just missing her head, and looked over to see Steffen lying on the ground beside her. She lay there, her heart pounding, realizing how stupid she had been not to get down sooner, as all the other men around her had done. Steffen, once again, had saved her life.

Not everyone had been so fortunate. A boy, hardly older than Thor, stood a few feet away from her, staring down at the men, as if in shock, an arrow through his throat. He stood a second more, then toppled over the edge of the parapet and fell down onto the heap of bodies, fifty feet below.

“ARCHERS!” Srog screamed again.

Again, the Silesians took up their bows, re-strung, and fired down at the Empire.

More screams rang up, and more Empire troops fell.

But there came another volley, right back.

The battle intensified, and arrows sailed through the air in every direction, the Empire taking heavier casualties as most of the Silesians were spared, able to take cover behind the thick stone walls. But as the battle continued, more and more Silesians got killed as they fired. There were perhaps a dozen Silesian soldiers dead, compared to the hundreds of Empire—but the Silesians had fewer men to spare.

It was all happening so quickly, Gwen could barely process it. It had gone from absolutely nothing, from days of calm, of endless waiting, to a sudden, ferocious battle.

The Empire rolled the battering ram towards the gate once again, denting it further and shaking the ground as they struck it with a crash.

Kendrick stepped forward, rallying the Silver.

“CAULDRONS!” he screamed.

Kendrick rushed forward, Atme by his side, along with a dozen Silver, and together they hoisted a huge iron cauldron over the edge of the wall. Moments later, boiling tar came gushing over the edge, pouring down on the soldiers manning the battering ram. In perfect unison, a dozen Silver leaned over with their bows, arrows aflame, and fired.

Screaming erupted as the soldiers caught fire—stopping them just before they had time to ram the gate again.

But within moments, dozens more troops simply pushed the flaming soldiers out of the way and took up the battering rams themselves.

Gwen was struck with a hopeless feeling. The number of Empire troops seemed limitless, and no matter how many they killed, it seemed futile. For every hundred that died, two hundred more appeared. All the while, the horizon just continued to flood with them, as far as the eye could see, row after row, division after division, cramming together like a million worker ants. The death of several hundred Empire didn’t even put a dent in their forces.

Yet on the Silesian side, every single death had an impact. By any measure they were fighting tremendously well, holding off a huge army with a fraction of the men—yet still, they felt every loss—and Gwen saw their ranks beginning to thin, their munitions beginning to dwindle.

It was obvious that Andronicus had no regard for life, that he would just keep sending men to their deaths without another thought. It even seemed as if that were his strategy—to just keep offering up as many of his own men as he could, until the Silesians ran out of arrows, tar, spears. Eventually, they would. Fighting against any other commander would have given the Silesians a chance; but against Andronicus, against a man who didn’t even care about his own people, what chance was there? Gwen wondered. Was he that merciless to sacrifice so many thousands of his own people without a second thought?

As Gwen watched soldier after soldier fall to their deaths below, she realized that he was.

Before she could finish the thought, she caught a glimpse of something sailing at her out of the corner of her eye, and this time, she ducked in time. Inches over her head their sailed a huge, flaming boulder. It soared through the air, over the parapets, and landed inside the city. It landed deep in the ground, like a flaming comet, and impacted with such force that it shook the ground. After it landed it continued to roll, stopping only when it smashed into a stone wall in a burst of fire and flame.

Dozens of these flaming boulders suddenly soared through the air, one shattering the stone wall close to her head. Gwen, on her hands and knees, peaked through a slit to see that a row of catapults had been rolled forward, and dozens of soldiers were arming them with boulders, setting them aflame with some sort of liquid, cranking back the ropes until taught, then slicing to let it go.

The ground and walls shook all around her as these boulders flew through the air like arrows; scream rose up, and dozens of her men died.

“FIRE ON THE CATAPULTS!” Gwen shouted. “Aim for the men manning them!”

Her orders were shouted and repeated up and down the ranks, all along the parapets, and all the archers turned their attention from the troops manning the battering rams to those manning the catapults. A hail of arrows shifted towards them, wounding and killing most of the soldiers.

But the move must have been anticipated by Andronicus’s men, because as soon as Gwen’s archers stood and fired, exposed, they were fired upon themselves, dozens of spears hurling through the air and impaling them, Gwen was horrified to see. Their screams rose up, and their bodies toppled over the edge, crashing down below.

“I want to join!” yelled a voice. “I want to join the fighting!”

Gwendolyn turned and was shocked to see her brother Godfrey approaching, breathing hard, slightly overweight, huffing and puffing in his cloth armor, his face red from exertion, his eyes wide with fear.

“Get down!” she screamed, and Steffen yanked him down just in time, as a spear soared over his head.

“I want to fight!” he cried. “Please! Give me a position!”

Gwendolyn looked at Kendrick, who nodded back.

“You can join my men,” Kendrick said. “Have you ever fired a bow?”

“Of course!” Godfrey said. “Father had us all take lessons.”

“But do you remember?” Kendrick pressed.

Godfrey stared back, wide-eyed, trembling.

“I think so,” he said.

“Take this,” Kendrick said, reaching over and handing him a spare bow and quiver. “And take up a position along this wall, with the archers. Stay low and don’t expose yourself. Await my command!”

Godfrey did as he was told, hurrying over and taking up a position, kneeling down with shaking hands as he took an arrow from the quiver and loaded the bow. He was so nervous that he, fumbling, dropped the quiver, and his arrows all spilled out.

But then he regained himself, loaded an arrow, and stuck his head up for a moment over the stone wall. An arrow sailed by, just missing it, and he knelt back down, trembling.

“I told you to stay down!” Kendrick yelled.

“I’m sorry,” Godfrey said. He looked as if he were about to cry.

“Don’t give into your fear,” Kendrick commanded. “Take a deep breath. Stay low to the ground, always.”

Godfrey shut his eyes and breathed deeply, several times.

“ARCHERS!” Kendrick yelled. “FIRE!”

Godfrey opened his eyes, took aim through a slit in the wall, pulled the bow back with shaking hands, and fired. He watched through the slit in the wall.

His face fell as he realized that he missed.

But he placed another arrow on the bow, his hands a bit more steady this time, and took a knee, took careful aim, and fired.

“I got him!” he screamed in triumph. “I can’t believe it! I really got him!”

Gwen was thrilled to see Godfrey out of the alehouse, fighting by their side. She was so proud of him.

On her other side, not far off, was her new brother-in-law, Bronson, who had been fighting nobly with the others, even with one hand, finding a way to fire arrow after arrow at Andronicus’ men, and taking out many of them. Luanda was somewhere tucked safely inside the lower city, which she expected her to be.

All that was missing, she pained to think, was Thor.

Suddenly there came an unfamiliar noise, a loud creaking, and Gwen craned her neck and peeked through the slits of the stone wall to see what it was. Her heart fell.

Scores of Empire soldiers parted ways to make way as dozens of men pushed forward carts in the mud, on top of which were piled tall, wooden ladders. There must have been a hundred of them, and they heaved the carts closer and closer to the outer wall.

“TORCHES!” Kendrick screamed.

All up and down the parapets, soldiers and their attendants lit their torches.

“WAIT!” Kendrick screamed.

They all waited, the groaning of carts growing louder, Gwen’s heart pounding, as the slew of ladders came ever closer. They were just a few feet away, and every impulse in her screamed out for the soldiers to employ the torches. But she deferred to Kendrick, allowing him, a veteran of battle, to command his men.

She waited and waited, watching the ladders lean up against her wall, sweat forming on her brow.

“NOW!” Kendrick finally screamed.

The Silesians rose up with a great shout, leaned over, and lit the ladders. One by one, the wooden ladders began to burn.

But not all the Silesians were successful: several of them, as they stood, were shot through the chest and eyes and throat with arrows; others were killed by spears and javelins. Gwen watched in horror as dozens of her men toppled over the edge, hurling down in a chorus of screams.

Many ladders were on fire—but many had also made it to the walls, already filled with Empire soldiers scrambling up like mad.

The Silesians broke into action, led by Kendrick, as he ran to the nearest ladder, raised his axe and swung, chopping it and sending it crumbling to the ground.

But Kendrick paid dearly for it: he shouted out in pain as an arrow pierced his bicep, blood squirting everywhere. He reached over and yanked it out, with another great scream.

His attendant was not so lucky; an arrow pierced him through the throat, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Soldiers up and down the parapets ran for the ever-increasing number of ladders, trying to fend them off. Godfrey, to his credit, stood and ran for one, screaming in his first battle cry; he seemed as if he had overcome something within him. As he approached, an Empire soldier was just reaching the top, about to climb over the stone wall, when Godfrey charged and ran his spear right through him.

The Empire soldier shrieked, staring blankly Godfrey, who stared back, equally shocked; he hesitated for a moment, then began to fall backwards. But before he did, he reached out and grabbed Godfrey by the shirt and yanked him back with him.

Godfrey screamed as he went rushing towards the edge. He reached out at the last second and grabbed the stone, bracing himself before he went over. He was struggling with all he had, but his grip was slipping. Gwendolyn saw that he was about to die.

Gwendolyn, without thinking, rushed into action. She sprinted forward, grabbed a forgotten sword from the ground, its hilt bloody, and right before her brother lost his grip, she rushed forward, raised the sword and chopped off the soldier’s hand which was grabbing Godfrey.

The soldier, screaming, fell backwards down the ladder, taking several men with him. Godfrey stumbled backwards, free from the grip, and looked over at Gwen wide-eyed, in shock.

“The ladder!” she screamed.

She ran forward and grabbed one end of the ladder, and he snapped out of it and grabbed the other. Steffen, right behind her, came up in the middle. Together, the three of them heaved and pushed the ladder off the wall, sending it crashing down to the ground.

But there were too many ladders and not enough men to be everywhere at once; the first bunch of Empire soldiers jumped over the parapets, and soon, the parapets were filled with them. Gwendolyn’s heart pounded as she saw men running towards her from all sides.

“SWORDS!” Srog screamed out to his men.

Hand-to-hand fighting broke out all around her, preoccupying her men and forcing them to abandon attacking the soldiers below. This left the Empire men freed up to concentrate once again on ramming the iron gates of the outer defenses; again and again, the battering ram shook the walls, with enough force to make Gwen and the others stumble.

The gates were riddled with huge dents, and beginning to buckle.

“My lady, we have to get you inside, to safety!” Steffen yelled, frantic.

But Gwendolyn did not want to leave her men; she was about to look over the wall, to assess the damage being done to the gates, when suddenly an Empire soldier jumped over the railing beside her, reached over and backhanded her, sending her flying backwards. Gwen’s world filled with pain as she reeled from the sting of the blow on her face, shocking her.

The soldier then pounced on her; Gwendolyn rolled out of the way at the last second, as the soldier went to punch her and just missed, punching stone. She drew a dagger from her belt, spun around, and thrust it into the back of the soldiers neck. His body went limp.

Gwen felt numb; she could scarcely believe she had just killed a man. It made her sick. Inside, she was shaking.

But she had no time to consider it: another soldier approached and swung his sword down right for Gwendolyn’s face. She had no time to react; she braced herself, raising her hands for imminent death.

At the last second there came a great clang; she opened her eyes to see Steffen beside her, blocking the blow with his sword, only a few inches to spare, struggling mightily to keep it from her. Gwendolyn rolled out of the way, grabbed a loose shield, spun around and smashed the soldier in the side of the head. Steffen then kicked him, leapt to his feet, and stabbed the man in the throat.

Gwen turned and saw a soldier raise a spear and bring it down for Steffen’s back. She dove forward and pushed Steffen out of the way, saving him, then watched in horror, helpless, as the spear came down for her instead.

There came the sound of cutting wood, and Gwen looked up to see Godfrey standing over her, sword in hand, having just slashed the attacker’s spear before it could reach her.

Godfrey stood there, looking amazed at what he had just done. The soldier turned to him, drew a short sword, and was about to stab him. Godfrey stood there, dazed, not quick enough to react.

Before the soldier could complete his attack, he screamed out and stumbled forward; behind him stood Kendrick, who had just pierced him in the back with a spear.

Steffen turned, realizing what had just happened, and looked at Gwendolyn.

“Now I owe you, my lady.”

There came another great crash, the walls shaking, louder than any she had heard—followed by a huge cheer amongst the Empire.

Gwendolyn looked down to see, with terror, that the outer gate had been breached. So soon, despite all their defenses, it had given way.

Hundreds and hundreds of Empire soldiers were dead—but it hadn’t even put a dent in their forces. She looked out at the horizon and saw the hordes of the world before them—and more pouring in every second. Below them, with a shout, dozens of Empire soldiers began to rush through the gates.

“Retreat to the inner wall!” Gwen screamed.

Her orders were repeated up and down the ranks, and her men retreated across the narrow wooden skywalks, fifty feet in the air, to the inner wall.

As they all reached the inner wall, they turned, and as instructed, smashed the wooden skywalks behind them, causing all the Empire soldiers pursuing them to fall crashing down to their deaths below. The Empire soldiers who had managed to climb the walls were now stranded on the first row of parapets, unable to pursue. They were stuck. It had worked, exactly as they had practiced.

Down below, Empire soldiers were pouring through, rushing for the inner gate, the city’s final line of defense. But in their haste they didn’t look carefully enough at the ground; if they had, they would have seen that it was a trap, a false covering, beneath which was a moat filled with water.

They all fell and splashed down, into the water, flailing.

Yet even this couldn’t stop them: more and more Empire soldiers, driven relentlessly, forward, poured in, stepping mercilessly on the heads of their fellow soldiers in the water, crushing them and drowning them beneath the water, and not caring. Unlike most commanders, Andronicus wouldn’t stop to take the time to build a bridge: he would use his own human sacrifice to build his bridge.

Unfortunately, it began to work. The bodies created a human bridge that the rest of the soldiers could run across.

“ARCHERS!” Kendrick screamed.

Dozens of Silesians prepared their bows with arrows, lit by their attendants. Gwen looked down at the slick film of oil they had prepared on the waters, and prayed that this worked.

“FIRE!” Kendrick screamed.

They shot the flaming arrows into the waters and as they did a great flame spread across the surface of the water. Shrieking arose, along with the awful smell of burning flesh, as the men below were burned alive.

There appeared to be at least a thousand men dead, piled up between the walls. It would have been enough to stop any other army, to end any other siege.

But this was not any other army.

Andronicus’s men were limitless, and were as indispensable as dogs. Unbelievingly, more and more men poured in. They kept charging, with no regard for their own lives, right into the flames, right past the burning bodies.

When these men died, even more men charged.

The soldiers bodies put out the flames, and soon there was no other way to stop them. Gwendolyn’s men fired down everything they had left. But as another hour went by, they depleted almost all of their munitions.

And still, Andronicus’s men kept coming.

The Empire finally rolled forward another battering ram, right over their own bodies, and with a great heave, they smashed it against the inner iron gate.

The entire wall shook, and Gwendolyn stumbled and fell. Beneath her, the gate was already halfway off its hinges.

Before Gwen and her men could regroup, the ram smashed it again—and with a great crash, it smashed open the inner gate.

A cheer arose among Andronicus’ men, as moments later, they all came pouring into the inner court.

Gwen and her men exchanged a horrified glance. His men were inside.

Now, there was nothing left to stop them.