A Vow of Glory

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kendrick stood before the rebuilt town wall, admiring his handiwork. He, along with a small group of Silver, had been fortifying this wall for days, camped out in this large town on the Eastern borderlands of the Ring, which had been badly damaged by the McCloud raid. As the Legion had been dispatched to repair the smaller villages to the south, Kendrick thought it fitting that the Silver fortify the bigger cities to the east, in the more dangerous territory close to the McClouds. It was the right thing to do, to lead by example.

Their rebuilding efforts had been a success and their time here was almost up. He hadn’t been home in weeks, hadn’t had any news from the world, and he sorely missed King’s Court, missed his sister, his close friend Atme, all of his brothers in the Silver—he even missed his squire, Thor. He wanted to get back to King’s Court as soon as possible, to make sure his sister was safe, and to help her oust Gareth. Having been imprisoned by him, Kendrick, more than most, had felt the touch of his wrath, and he burned to make wrongs right and to put his sister on the throne—for the sake of his dead father, for the sake of King’s Court, and for the sake of the Ring.

The second sun sat long in the sky and it was nearing the end of another back-breaking day of labor, Kendrick supervising a hundred townsfolk as they carried oversized stones and plastered the ancient wall. Kendrick and his men advised them on the best place to fortify and defend, where to build parapets and how to build stone towers that served as lookout points. Before he’d arrived, the openings to this town’s fortifications had all been too wide, there had been no slits in the stone for firing arrows, and the walls were merely a few inches thick. Now, the stone walls stood several feet thick, there was but one entrance in or out of the city, and it was shaped and built in such a way that it could be well-guarded from the inside, held with just a few men. New parapets had been built from which the townsfolk could defend with a few cauldrons of tar and a host of bows.

Kendrick was satisfied. In this new place, but a few hundred well-trained men could fend off a few thousand. These people had desperately needed the eye and labor of professional soldiers and it was now vastly more secure.

As Kendrick stood there, he felt satisfaction from a hard day’s work, from helping his fellow citizens—yet there was something in the back of his mind which troubled him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Earlier this morning he could have sworn he spotted Estopheles, circling up high, screeching in a way that disturbed him. It felt like a warning. Worse, the night before he had been up hours with troubled dreams of this town burning, of all his handiwork being toppled to the ground. He had dreamt this dream not once, but three times, the third time waking him for good, too vivid to allow him to return to sleep.

He did not understand what it all meant. He hadn’t had bad dreams since he was a child, since the night before his grandfather died. He hoped it was not a premonition of something evil.

“My lord!” came an urgent voice.

Kendrick turned to see a messenger come running up to him. It was the boy whom he had appointed to the new position of lookout on the newly-built watchtower.

“Come quick! I spot something on the horizon. I do not understand it.”

Kendrick turned and ran off with the messenger, several of his men following. They cut through the winding streets of this town which Kendrick had come to know by heart, and he ran down the narrow path that twisted up a small elevation at the far end of the city, taking him to the top of a hill upon which they had built the new stone tower. It was the highest ground in the city, and the place at which Kendrick had instructed they should keep a twenty four hour watch. This was the first time the lookout had spotted anything, and Kendrick guessed that it was just a false warning from a skittish boy.

Kendrick reached the top and stood on the narrow, circular platform with the others, and followed the scout’s finger as he pointed at the horizon. It was a clear, blue and yellow day, no clouds as far as the eye could see, with perfect visibility. Kendrick could see for miles, and he looked east, towards the Highlands, towards the McCloud border. As far away as they were, on this day, Kendrick could see the faint outline of the Highlands, the mountain ranges spotting the horizon, shrouded in mist.

As he looked closer, Kendrick, to his surprise, spotted something, too.

“There, my lord,” the scout said, pointing to his right.

At first Kendrick did not see exactly what the scout was talking about. But as he scrutinized the horizon, he began to see it, too. There was a small, faint cloud, in the very distant horizon, appearing a tiny bit thicker than the others, and appearing slightly lower to the ground. As Kendrick watched, it seemed to grow ever thicker, darker.

“It looks like smoke,” the scout said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Kendrick nodded. He was right: it didn’t make any sense. Why would there be a fire on the McCloud side of the Ring? None of his people had launched a raid, as far as he knew.

“Perhaps it is a random fire that has broken out in one of their cities,” one of Kendrick’s men, beside him, volunteered.

Kendrick nodded, thinking. While that was a possibility, he felt it was not the case. He sensed that something was wrong, that something bigger was happening. Something he did not understand.

Kendrick stood there, wondering, debating what his next move should be. He had been gearing up mentally to leave these borderlands, to return to King’s Court; to lead an expedition now to go and investigate this would take he and his men nearly a full day’s ride in the opposite direction, closer to the Highlands. It was not something he wanted to do unless there was good cause.

There came a sudden commotion, and Kendrick turned to see a lone rider approaching the town from the long road that led in the direction of King’s Court. His heart soared as he recognized the rider immediately: his horse and armor gave him away. It was a man he had known and fought with since the time he could walk. His close friend of the Silver, Atme.

It warmed his heart to see him; but as Kendrick watched him gallop for the town gate, he could tell by his urgency, by his posture, that something was wrong. This was not a casual visit. Atme had urgent business, and Kendrick sensed it was bad news.

He braced himself as Atme charged through the town gate, spotted him, rode to him and dismounted, running up the stone steps for Kendrick three at a time.

“The last time I saw you run like that, you were running from your debts,” Kendrick said with a smile as his old friend arrived, gasping for air, and they embraced. An attendant rushed over and handed Atme a bucket of water, and he took a long drink, then dumped the rest on his head.

“The Empire, the Canyon,” Atme breathed, gasping. “The shield is down.”

Kendrick’s heart stopped at his words. Coming from anyone else, at any other time, he would have assumed it was a joke. But not coming from Atme, and not at this time.

Kendrick could hardly process the implications. The Shield was down. It was not possible. Not with the Destiny Sword in King’s Court.

“What of the Destiny Sword?” Kendrick asked.

Atme shook his head gravely.

“It is no more,” he said. “It’s gone. Stolen.”

Kendrick’s breath froze.

“Stolen,” he gasped. “How could that be?”

“A large group of men stole it in the night. They crossed the Canyon with it, boarded a ship, and they’ve taken it to the Empire.”

It all felt surreal. The Destiny Sword, the life-force of MacGil Kings for centuries, stolen. In Empire hands. The Ring unprotected. Somehow, he sensed that Gareth was behind it.

Kendrick turned and surveyed the new town wall he had just built, and realized that it had all had been for nothing. Without the shield, the entire Empire could invade—and nothing, certainly not this town wall—could stop that.

Immediately, Kendrick thought of his family, of Gwendolyn, Reece, Godfrey. He thought of King’s Court, vulnerable to attack.

“King’s Court must be fortified at once,” Kendrick said.

Again, Atme shook his head ominously.

“There has been a rift. Your sister has left King’s Court and has taken half the people, the ones we care about. They march now for Silesia. The MacGil kingdom is fractured in two. King’s Court is Gareth’s domain now. Gwendolyn sent me for you.”

“We must to my sister, then,” Kendrick said. “To Silesia.”

Kendrick surveyed the townsfolk below.

“Without the shield, these folk will be defenseless,” he said. “These fortifications are designed to hold against McCloud’s troops—not against Andronicus’ million man army. These people will never survive an Empire invasion.”

Kendrick turned to Atme.

“Go to my sister. Ride ahead of me. Tell her I am coming. I can’t return without these people.”

Atme’s face flashed in concern.

“It is noble of you,” he said, “but they will be slow-moving. If you wait to accompany them, you may not reach Silesia in time.”

“That is a chance I must take,” Kendrick said.

Atme stared at his old friend, and nodded slowly.

“I expected no less,” he said. “That is a chance I will take with you. I ride by your side. Always!”

“My lord!” came the panicked voice of the scout, tapping Kendrick on the shoulder.

Kendrick turned and followed his finger as he pointed at the horizon. This time, something distinct came into view.

At first, Kendrick blinked. It was something he had never seen in his entire life. Something which took his breath away—even he, a hardened warrior.

As he watched, the entire horizon morphed to black. It looked as if an army of black ants was slowly covering the globe. It was like all of humanity spilling across the world. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers, wearing the black of the Empire, spread across every inch of the horizon, moving like a swarm towards them.

Andronicus.

His million man army had arrived.