The Gift of Battle

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

Gwendolyn crossed the deck of her ship, joined by Kendrick, Steffen, and now Darius, whom she was thrilled to have back with them, as she headed for the bow. Their last encounter with the Empire fleet had been too close, and she knew that if it hadn’t been for Darius and his ingenuity with the cannon, they might all not be alive right now.

She reached the rail and scanned the horizon, the others at her side, hundreds of members of the Ridge behind her, filling her ship and filling the other three ships of her fleet, each manned by Koldo, Ludvig, and Kaden—and her heart leapt as she spotted, on the horizon, the outline of a landmass, one she knew like the back of her hand:

The Ring.

Gwen’s heart slammed and her throat went dry, and she felt a wave of jubilance rush through her unlike any she’d ever experienced. Her homeland. Even destroyed, it was still her home, and now, finally, it lay within reach again. It restored her heart, made her feel as if there were a purpose to life again, a chance for all of them to be together and to build a life again.

Gwen saw the gleam in Kendrick’s eyes, too, in Brandt’s and Atme’s, and she could see that they felt the same way. She also saw the looks of wonder in the eyes of Koldo and Ludvig and Kaden and Darius—and all those of the Empire and the Ridge who had never laid eyes upon the Ring before. Its shores, even from here, were so beautiful, so mysterious, with cliffs that rose high in the air, framed by jagged rocks, a lush green forest behind it, and a mist that hung over it all. Its circular shoreline, most of all, caught the eye, making it feel, even from here, like very special place, like a magical land that rose from the sea.

“So it is not just a myth,” Koldo called out, studying it in awe. “The famed Sorcerer’s Ring truly does exist.”

Gwendolyn smiled back at Koldo.

“Finally,” Ludvig called out, “the two sides of the MacGil family, the Ridge and the Ring, shall be united in one homeland!”

Gwendolyn was feeling the same sentiment, and wanted more than anything to celebrate, especially as she knew that being here, in the Ring, meant that she might see Thorgrin again. She prayed that Lycoples had delivered the message, that he had found the Ring and their son, and would meet her here. She prayed with all her heart—nothing else would make her joy so complete.

But suddenly Gwen’s reverie was shattered as horns sounded on the horizon behind her. She turned and looked back, and her heart stopped to see that the horizon was filled, once again, with Empire ships, all of them having rallied, having pursued her here. There were hundreds of them this time, a massive black fleet covering the horizon, waving the black banners of the Empire, and closing in fast—too fast.

The Empire ships were superior to theirs, and Gwendolyn knew they would reach them soon. She glanced back and forth, gauging how far away the Ring was, and how far away the Empire was, and she wondered if they would make it in time. It would be close, down to the wire.

“And if they overtake us before we reach it?” Kendrick asked, studying the horizon with her.

“They outnumber us ten to one, my lady,” Darius said. “We must reach the Ring before they do.”

Kendrick turned back and studied the horizon critically.

“And even if we do,” he said, “we will be but on the edge of the Ring, at the Wilds. We will still have to cross them—and more so, cross the Canyon.”

“And what good will it do to cross the Canyon without a shield?” Steffen asked. “This is not the Ring we once knew. This land lies unprotected. The Empire will be on our heels. We will not be able to outrun them. At some point, we will have to stand and fight.”

Gwen, thinking the same thing, looked up and searched the skies, waiting, watching, hoping more than anything to hear the screech of a dragon, to see Thorgrin return to her.

Thorgrin, please. We need you now. More than ever. Please return to us, for one last battle. For old times’ sake.

But her heart fell as she saw and heard nothing. Just dark, rolling clouds growing darker by the moment, as if the heavens were angry, as if they knew the bloodshed that was about to happen.

Gwen turned back to the others, resolute. She was alone, as always, and she would find a way to fight alone.

“If we must fight the whole of the Empire,” she said, her voice firm, “then we shall fight. And if we shall die, then we shall die. The battle before us is a battle for our homeland, for ourselves, for our freedom. Whether we win or lose matters little: it is the chance for battle that is the gift.

“Raise the sails!” she yelled, turning to her men. “Take up the oars!”

Steffen and the others scrambled to follow her command, carrying it up and down the ships, as the men rushed to further hoist the sails, to pull harder on the oars. They all redoubled their efforts, their fleet gaining speed as they sailed for the Ring, trying to make land. As Gwen stood there, looking out, she watched, desperate, as the Empire fleet crept toward them like a plague, knowing there was little she could do. She turned and looked back at the Ring, studying the shoreline, and she had an idea.

“Head northeast!” she cried. “For the Shallow Bay!”

They altered their direction, and as they did, Kendrick came up beside her, studying the looming shoreline of the Ring.

“The Shallow Bay is shaped like a horseshoe, my Queen,” he said. “If we enter, if we even make it, we shall be trapped inside.”

She nodded.

“And so will the Empire,” she replied.

He looked back, confused.

“It will force them to funnel in,” she replied. “It is a bottleneck. One million ships cannot fit in at once. A few dozen, perhaps—and these will narrow the odds.”

Kendrick nodded back, clearly pleased.

“That is why Father chose you,” he said approvingly.

Gwen’s heart raced as the land of the Ring loomed but several hundred yards away, the strong coastal winds bringing them closer. The Shallow Bay jutted out, two long peninsulas on either side, like a horseshoe, with a narrow opening of less than fifty yards, and she sailed her ship, leading her fleet right inside it.

As they entered its calm waters, sheltered here from the wind and ocean currents, the other ships sailed up beside her, Koldo and Ludvig and Kaden staring back, awaiting direction in what was, for them, a new land.

Gwendolyn studied the topography of the Ring, and she was shocked to see how much it had changed since they had left. The Wilds were now overgrown, their thick, dark wood leaning over, growing into the water, thicker and blacker than she had ever seen it. Of course, it made sense; the patrols of the Silver had not been here in moons to clear it out, and the Wilds, she knew, were likely filled with savage beasts again. This would not make their trek to the Canyon any easier.

Another horn sounded, and Gwen turned to see the Empire fleet closing in, entering the bay, trapping them in here, the forefront of their fleet, a dozen ships, entering at once. She turned back and saw the shore still a hundred yards away, and she knew they would not make it in time.

She felt torn. Here they were, so close to home after all this time, and she wanted more than anything to disembark. Why could the Empire have not given her but an hour’s more lead? Just an hour to touch down on her homeland, to feel it beneath her feet once again? It broke her heart.

She knew that, at this point, it would take a miracle, and she searched the skies again, hoping for any sign of Thorgrin.

But, again, there was none. Her heart fell. Had he made it? Was he, too, lost to her?

Gwen gritted her teeth and resigned herself to the battle before her. They would have to make a stand; they had no choice. They would all die here, she knew—and yet there was no place she’d rather die than fighting for the Ring. At least they would not die a foreign death, a lonely death in a strange land, in the waste of Empire, in lands unknown, so far from home. She would die here, where her father had died, and his father before him.

“We fight!” she yelled, turning to her commanders.

They all could see the seriousness of her expression, and as a somber air fell over them, they all knew the time had come. It was time to put their battle faces on.

Hardly had she issued the command than the first shot appeared across the bow. Gwen looked up as she heard the whistling of a thousand arrows, and she saw the sky blacken with the Empire’s first volley.

“Shields!” she cried.

All of her men, prepared for this, raised their shields and took a knee in tight formations, huddling close together. Gwen joined them, pulling Krohn in tight beside her, raised her oversized shield, and took a knee with the wall of soldiers.

The thump of arrows hitting wood sounded all around her, as arrows landed on the deck like rain, some splashing into the water, not enough distance to reach them—but most hitting wood. Gwen felt her arm jolt as more than one hit her shield. She was surprised at the force with which the arrows hit, even from so far away.

Finally, all fell silent, the volley ended, and she and all her men slowly stood and looked out.

“ARCHERS!” she commanded.

Dozens of her archers stepped forward, raising their bows in neat lines.

“AIM FOR THE SAILS!”

Her men did as she commanded, firing back, and the sky blackened again—this time with her own arrows, flying back across the harbor. Her men aimed high, something the Empire was clearly not expecting, as they all took cover down below and the arrows sailed harmlessly over their heads.

Nor were they expecting the damage it did: thousands of arrows punctured the sails, filling them with holes, leaving them in tatters; soon, the sails flapped wildly in the wind, useless. Their ships immediately lost speed, and while they continued to advance, it was not nearly as quickly.

Gwen’s ships, on the other hand, continued to sail at full speed, and as another volley of Empire arrows came back at them, this time they were mostly out of range, most arrows landing harmlessly in the sea. But a few of her men cried out, pierced by arrows despite their shields, too many slipping through. She knew time was short.

Gwendolyn looked back to the shore, closer, but still far enough away. She knew she had to take this fight to the land; out here, in the open sea, they were sitting ducks. But as she turned and looked, she saw more and more Empire ships filing into the harbor, and she knew the odds were not good.

“FIRE!” she yelled.

Her men unleashed another volley of arrows, these into the soldiers, Gwen taking up a bow and firing along with them, and she watched in satisfaction as more than one Empire soldier was hit and fell.

But an Empire volley came right back at them, and Gwen and the others took cover once again.

Back and forth the volleys went, the Empire ships slipping ever closer, until Gwen finally looked back and saw the shore but twenty yards away. Her men were dying, and she knew they had to make it. They were so close now. She could almost feel the land beneath her feet, and if the water wasn’t still so deep, she would have had her men jump.

Suddenly, Gwen heard a noise which made her heart sink. It was a sparking noise, the sound of a fuse being lit. She turned, and her heart stopped to see an Empire cannon being turned and aimed right for them.

“GET DOWN!” she yelled.

But it was too late: there came a terrific boom cutting through the air, followed by an echo, and suddenly, an explosion of wood.

All was chaos, as the ship beside Gwen was smashed to bits, dozens of her men dying, shrieking as they fell overboard, some in flames. The boat, Kaden’s, immediately began to sink, half the men sliding down the deck, falling over the edge and into the water.

Kaden fell with them, and he helped rally them, keep them afloat, as Gwen and her men immediately threw them ropes and helped them climb onto her ship, saving those who were not too wounded to climb.

The Empire took advantage of their weakness and fired another volley of arrows, taking aim at those climbing the ship, and as men were being pulled back up, more than one of them, impaled by an Empire arrowhead, slipped back into the water, dead.

Gwen turned and saw the situation getting desperate, more and more Empire ships sailing into the harbor, and many with cannons. She saw a soldier with a torch leaning to light another fuse—and she knew that in a moment, another one of her ships would be taken out.

As Gwen watched, wanting to take action but knowing there was no time, she was shocked to see a spear go through his back and out the other end. The soldier stood there, stunned, and suddenly fell face first, dropping his torch harmlessly on the deck.

Gwen could not fathom what had possibly happened and she wondered if she were seeing things—when suddenly she spotted a single ship, what appeared to be a commandeered pirate ship, flying a banner she recognized, cutting through the Empire ranks. Her heart raced to recognize the people on board—there, at the bow, was Reece, joined by O’Connor, Elden, Indra, Matus, Stara and Angel. They sailed solo, cutting through the ranks of Empire ships from behind, clearly none of the massive fleet of the Empire expecting to be attacked from behind by a sole ship.

Reece and the others sailed headlong into danger, hurling spears left and right, taking out dozens of Empire soldiers before they even realized what was happening. They aimed for those manning cannons, sparing Gwendolyn, and they cut a path right through, between ships, as they broke through the ranks and entered the bay.

They never slowed, even as the Empire caught wind and fired arrows at them. They fired back and continued sailing, their commandeered pirate ship sleeker and faster than all the others, sailing all the way to Gwendolyn’s ship.

Gwendolyn realized at once that this was the diversion that she and her men so desperately needed; she could no longer afford to sit there, trading volleys with the Empire, which was still closing in. Nor could they afford to race for the shore—which they would never make in time—and which would leave Reece and the others alone in the harbor, vulnerable to attack.

Instead, they had to do what was counterintuitive, what the Empire would never possibly expect: they had to attack.

“TURN ABOUT!” Gwen yelled, “AND ATTACK!”

Her men glanced back with stunned expressions—but none hesitated to execute her command. All of her ships slowly turned around and sailed headlong, straight for the Empire fleet.

The Empire commanders of the dozen or so ships before her stared back, baffled, clearly not expecting this; they immediately scrambled to man their cannons.

And that was exactly what Gwen wanted them to do. She knew that if she came close enough, it would render their cannons useless, the angle too steep to maneuver for firing. It would give Gwen and her people the advantage, forcing their ships to battle each other one on one, cause a backlog, and allow her men to fight hand-to-hand. They could board the Empire ships and kill them in close range—and once they boarded Empire ships, the greater fleet would be stymied, as Empire could not fire upon Empire.

Gwen saw the looks of wonder and consternation on the Empire faces as her fleet approached theirs. They turned their cannons frantically, and she could see their look of dismay as they realized the angle was too tight.

“FIRE!” she yelled.

Her rows of archers fired volley after volley, killing the stunned Empire at close range, while Kendrick and the others hurled spear after spear.

Moments later her ships reached theirs, bumping into them roughly with a jolt—and the second they did, dozens of her men threw their ropes and hooks and tied the ships together, while dozens more, swords drawn, let out a great battle cry and followed Kendrick, Koldo, Ludvig, Kaden, Ruth, Darius—and even, Gwen was surprised to see, Godfrey—as they all threw caution to the wind and leapt overboard onto the Empire ships, Dray following Darius.

At the same time, Reece’s ship reached theirs, and Reece and the Legion joined in, leaping onto Empire ships from the side.

The stunned Empire soldiers barely knew how to react—and it was clear that the last thing in the world they were prepared for was a direct attack.

Gwen’s men sprinted all throughout the Empire ship, up and down the decks, each zeroing in on another Empire soldier, and fighting them one on one. They slashed and stabbed as they ran, spreading through the unprepared ship like a storm. Darius shouted and tackled two soldiers, knocking them to the ground and punching them before wresting their swords away and stabbing them. Gwen could see the vendetta against the taskmasters in his eyes. He was a one-man killing machine as he gained his feet and tore through the ship, killing Empire left and right, Dray at his heels, killing all those that dared come too close.

The men of the Ridge were no slouches either. Led by Koldo, Ludvig, Kaden and Ruth, they landed on the Empire decks with a great battle cry and never slowed, stabbing the stunned Empire left and right, darting through their ranks and meeting soldiers as they charged for them. Kendrick, Brandt, and Atme led the remainder of the Silver, along with more soldiers from the Ridge, and Godfrey, Gwen was proud to see, joined them as they fought brilliantly, wielding swords, axes, flails, and spears, catching Empire soldiers by surprise and hunting them down. The soldiers outnumbered them and fought back intensely—but they were no match for the superior fighting skills of the Silver.

Even Godfrey managed to do well, ducking beneath a sword slash and raising his shield and bashing an Empire soldier in the head. He then grabbed the disoriented soldier from behind and threw him overboard.

Reece and the Legion attacked the Empire ships from the other side, fighting to meet up with Kendrick in the middle. Reece fought like a man on fire, like a man fighting for his homeland, as he ducked and rolled from several slashes, and wielded his halberd brilliantly, it flashing beneath the sun as the stabbed several men. Indra threw her spear, killing two soldiers at once, then ran and extracted it and threw it again. Elden swung his battle-ax sideways and, with a great blow, knocked two Empire soldiers over the rail and into the sea. Matus swung his flail, knocking swords from hands before they could do damage, and then impaling soldiers in their chest. And O’Connor wielded his bow as if it were alive, firing up and down the ship and saving his brothers before they were struck.

Gwendolyn joined in, leaping onto the ship with the others and leading the remnants of her men, Krohn at her side, snarling and killing several soldiers as they approached. Whomever Krohn did not kill, Steffen did, the clanging of swords all around her as he blocked blows on all sides. Gwen ran before her people, raising her bow and firing three arrows, killing three Empire soldiers who charged her from three sides.

Now that Gwen’s men had boarded the Empire ship, she figured they would be safe from the sea of Empire arrows firing down from the fleet. But she was shocked as she heard their distinctive whistling, and as another volley landed on the ship all around her.

Shrieks rang out as soldiers all around her were shot—not only hers, but Empire soldiers, too, killed by their own people, their own arrows, shot in the back. Gwen ducked, barely missing an arrow as it sailed past her and found a target in a soldier’s throat. Another volley came, and Gwen could not believe that the Empire would keep firing on their own people, killing as many of their own men as hers. They were ruthless; they didn’t care about their own men, as long as they killed her.

More volleys came, more shrieks rose out, with nowhere to hide; the Empire ranks began to thin out, and so did hers. Even with her men fighting brilliantly, all of them hand-to-hand, all of them taking the battle to the Empire, even with her having taken control of several Empire ships, still, with all of these arrows, the tide was turning against them. More and more Empire ships were entering the harbor, and as more arrows sailed down, Gwen realized they had taken this fight as far as they could. They had gotten farther, had done more than anyone could have expected of them, but now it seemed, there were no moves left to make.

Gwen cried out as an arrow pierced her arm, grazing it, and she reached over and felt the blood trickling down—and as she let down her guard, two Empire soldiers came charging for her, raising their swords and bringing them down before she had time to react.

The sound of metal rang out and she was showered with sparks as Steffen stepped forward and blocked the blow of one soldier, then wheeled around and stabbed him in the gut. At the same time, Krohn, beside her, snarled and leapt and sank his teeth into the other soldier’s throat, forcing him to drop his sword and pinning him to the ground.

Gwen, her arm bleeding and in terrific pain, many of her men dead or wounded, looked out at the harbor, filled with more and more black, and knew this was a lost cause. They had come so close—and yet they remained so far. They would die here, in this harbor; she knew that for sure.

She looked up and searched the skies, saw no sign of Thorgrin, of the dragon, and her heart sank. She searched everywhere for Argon, but saw no sign of him.

It was all over now.

Then suddenly, scanning the horizon one last time, Gwen saw something that filled her with hope, with possibility. There, gleaming on the horizon, came a fleet of golden ships, approaching the Empire from behind. There must have been hundreds of them, and their banner, she was elated to see, was one that she recognized: the Southern Isles.

She knew instantly that there could be only one person leading this fleet, and as she looked, she saw that he was, indeed, standing at the bow of the lead ship.

There, shining beneath the sun in his golden armor, was Erec.

And he had brought an army with him.

Erec rushed forward on the deck of his ship, his veins pumping with adrenaline, flanked by Strom and his men as he led the fleet from the Southern Isles, dozens of ships, thousands of the finest warriors in the world, all ready to lay down their lives to take back the Ring. All ready to leave the Southern Isles behind and make the Ring their new home—or die trying in the process.

As Erec sailed into the Shallow Bay, he expected conflict—yet he had not expected her to be in such dire straits. His heart fell to see her trapped, surrounded, to see thousands of Empire ships blocking their way. He had hoped to reach her sooner.

His fleet moved quickly now as they hoisted the sails to full mast, his men rowing for their lives, rowing to save Gwendolyn. The one advantage they had was that the Empire did not expect an attack from behind; Erec hoped they wouldn’t spot them coming until was too late.

Erec sailed his fleet into the bay, attacking the rear of the Empire fleet like a sudden storm, and as they bore down on them, he shouted out his first command.

“FIRE!”

Up and down his ships, his men fired arrows and hurled spears, turning the sky black with their weapons as they whistled through the air.

They landed with a deadly precision, and hundreds of Empire soldiers fell. So preoccupied were they with attacking Gwendolyn before them, they were woefully unprepared to handle an attack from behind.

Erec did not give them a chance to collect themselves. He put his ships into full battering mode, directing them all to follow him single file, and to ram a path through the Empire blockade. He led the way, and with his iron-tipped hull, he smashed into the first Empire ship, creating a hole in its side and sending dozens of its men overboard with the collision.

The Empire ship listed and bobbed out of the way, and as Erec’s ship sailed past, all of his men fired arrows and hurled spears, killing all of its soldiers at close range before they could mount a defense.

With an opening created in the Empire fleet, Erec continued to smash through the blockade, his ships falling in behind him, until finally he burst through the other side, into the Shallow Bay. As they passed, Empire soldiers, their ships in close proximity, fired back; some tried to leap onto Erec’s ship, but Erec and Strom led their men in a defense, stepping forward and stabbing and slashing the attackers, kicking them backwards over the rail, back into the sea. The soldiers of the Southern Isles were too hardened, had seen too much battle, for them to be deterred by any foe, and to ever back down. Days like this, battles like this, were what they lived for, what they dreamt about as small children. Erec’s men fought like men with their lives to lose, and soon the Empire soldiers realized what a mistake they made in trying to board. The waters were filled with flailing and wounded Empire soldiers, their ubiquitous splashes filling the air.

Alistair stood on the deck, near Erec, and as more than one Empire soldier broke through the ranks and charged for her, assuming he had found low-hanging fruit, she, standing there poised, calmly raised a palm and aimed it at the men. As she did, the soldiers stopped in their tracks, falling backwards and landing flat on their backs, dead.

Erec glanced over in the thick of battle, and he had no worry for her; he could see her power had been restored, and that she was stronger than ever. The Empire men could not get within ten feet of her.

As Erec’s fleet progressed further into the Shallow Bay, he directed ships to the Empire ships that were surrounding Gwendolyn and her men. He rammed these, breaking through the blockade and finally freeing her and closing the gap, so that he and his ships now joined up with hers, all of them one unified force, facing the Empire together.

Erec saw the thrilled look on Gwendolyn’s face, on the faces of all her men, Kendrick, Brandt, Atme, all his Silver brothers. He could hear the shouts of joy from their men at their having broken through and joined the battle just in time.

Yet they had no time to celebrate. The Empire fleet was regrouping quickly, and bearing down again. Erec turned and saw hundreds more ships filtering into the bay.

“What now, Queen?” he asked Gwendolyn, knowing her next decision would decide the outcome of this battle—and trusting her, as he would her father, to decide well. To pay her respect, after all, was like paying respect to King MacGil, a man whom Erec had dearly loved.

All the commanders looked to Gwendolyn and as she looked back and forth from the Empire fleet to the shores of the Ring, Erec could see she had come to a decision.

“Bring all of our ships close together,” she announced, “and set them on fire.”

Erec was, at first, shocked at her command; but as he watched the Empire ships filling the harbor, he realized it was brilliant. A great conflagration would create a bottleneck, stop up the harbor for a while and keep the Empire forces at bay; it would give them enough time to disembark and swim for shore, and gain them some time, even, to enter into the Ring. They could not possibly win this battle on land, either; but on foot, at least, in the homeland they knew, they could put up the fight of their lives.

Burning the ships was a bold act. It was the bold decision of a fine leader.

“My Queen,” Koldo said, “if we burn our ships, we have nothing left. We have only the Ring, and no other choice.”

Gwendolyn nodded.

“And that is exactly why we should,” she replied. “The Ring is our home now. For life or for death. There can be no other option.”

Erec heard the horns, saw the Empire regrouping, and watched them positioning the cannons on their ships; he knew it would only be a matter of time until they fired.

Gwen nodded, and Erec gestured to his men, as did all the other commanders, and they quickly lit and passed out torches. They all touched them to the sails, to the deck, to any surface they could find. And soon, the ships were all aflame.

A massive wall of flame spread their way, and Gwen joined the others as they all leapt from the ship, jumping out into the sea, thousands of their people entering the waters, swimming for shore, for their new and final home.

Now, they had no choice.

Reece cut and hacked his way through the Wilds, elated to be back in the Ring, his heart pumping as he ran alongside his brothers, all of them making their way as fast as they could from the shore. Not far behind, in the Shallow Bay, the Empire, he knew, was regrouping, pursuing, and making its way closer with each passing moment. Reece and the others did not have a second to lose.

As Reece ran alongside his Legion brothers and Stara, Gwendolyn, Kendrick, and all the others, he hacked at the brush and was amazed at how overgrown the Ring had become since they had left. Huge branches blocked the path, scratching them every which way, and as he went, he held onto Stara’s hand with his free hand; she still weak from her journey.

It was surreal to be back in the Ring again, and it was surreal, after all this time, to be back at his sister’s side, to be reunited with his brothers, Kendrick and Godfrey, with the Silver members, Erec, Brandt, and Atme. He was anxious to spend time with them—but now, there was no time. They were all too busy running for their lives, trying to distance themselves from the Empire and reach the Canyon.

He knew they were in a desperate situation; as he checked back over his shoulder, he saw great plumes of black smoke rising on the horizon, what remained of their burning fleet. He could already hear the shouts and horns in the distance, and he suspected the Empire had already gotten around the burning ships and reached the shore. He suspected that soon enough they would reach them, and that it would only be a matter of time until they were vastly outnumbered on land.

Reece looked ahead, already running for what felt like hours, covered in sweat, and he knew that soon they would arrive at the Canyon. But then what? The Shield was no more; they had nothing to protect them from the hoards of the Empire. Even if they managed to cross the Canyon, they would all be killed inside the Ring, or forced to flee it again. He wondered what Gwendolyn had in store.

As he ran, Reece sensed motion out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly he spotted a beast, tall, the size of a gorilla, with smooth, green skin, long claws, and glowing red eyes, leap out of the woods. It leapt right for Stara, and Reece reacted. He approached, swung his sword, and sliced it in half before its claws tore her apart. It had been the tenth such beast he had killed in the last hour, the road littered with the carcasses of these things. As if their people didn’t have enough to worry about, they now also had to consider the thousands of beasts that roamed the Wilds.

Through the thick trees, Reece caught glimpses of the sky, and he searched it, hoping for a sign of Thor, of Lycoples. He missed his best friend dearly.

But he was nowhere to be found. Reece missed his friend, but he was resigned they would have to fight this final battle on their own.

They turned a corner, and as they broke through the dark woods, Reece looked out and was awestruck at the vista before them: the Canyon. The sight left him breathless, as it had always done. Looking at it now, it was like the first time he’d ever laid eyes upon it—a huge chasm in the earth, stretching nearly as far as the eye could see, mist swirling inside it. It made him feel tiny in the scope of the universe.

They ran for the Eastern Crossing, an endless bridge spanning the Canyon. In the past, the idea of crossing to the other side would have made him feel safe and secure, knowing that when they crossed, they would be protected by the Shield. But now, with the Shield down, it was like any other bridge, leaving them as vulnerable to attack as anywhere else.

They all came to a stop, congregating at the base of the bridge, Gwendolyn out front as they all looked to her. It was a huge group of people, comprising Kendrick and the former Silver; Erec and the men of the Southern Isles; Gwendolyn and Koldo and the exiles of the Ridge; and, of course, Reece himself and his Legion brothers. It was an entire nation ready to start life again, bent on re-entering the Ring.

“Women and children first!” Gwendolyn called out. “The elderly, the young, and all citizens who cannot fight—all of you cross now, enter the Ring. The rest of us, all those who can fight, will stay here and guard your way until you have crossed.”

“You must not!” a citizen yelled out. “Come with us! The Empire advances with a million men, while there are but hundreds of you. How can we cross and leave you here, to your death?”

Gwendolyn shook her head firmly.

“Cross!” she commanded. “Go deep into the Ring, find refuge. We will kill as many of them as we can. Perhaps they will stop with us.”

“And if you do not succeed?” asked another citizen.

Gwen looked back, somber, serious in the silent day, the only sound that of the howling wind. Reece could see the resolve in his sister’s face.

“Then we shall die together in one last act of valor,” she replied. “Now go.” Gwen gave a command to her men, and they stepped forward and prodded the people onto the bridge; but the people stood there, clearly not wanting to leave Gwen’s side, devoted to her as a leader.

Koldo stepped forward and faced them.

“By the authority of my father,” he boomed, “King of the Ridge, I command my people to go! Cross that bridge!”

Yet his people stood there too, unmoving.

“And all of you of the Southern Isles,” Ere called out. “Go!”

Yet his people stood there, too, none willing to budge.

“If you die here, then we shall die here with you!” someone yelled back, and there came a shout of approval amongst the people.

Yet suddenly Reece heard a noise behind him, one that raised the hair on the back of his neck, and he turned to see, breaking out of the woods, into the clearing, the Empire army. It was an awe-inspiring sight—thousands of them broke through the Wilds, letting out a great battle cry, swords raised high, and closing in on them. Behind them, there emerged thousands more; it seemed as if the entire forest were filled with them, row after of soldiers marching ahead, looking like death itself had appeared for them.

With their backs to the Canyon, the exiles of the Ring, the Ridge, and the Southern Isles—all of them—were trapped. They had nowhere left to run.

“GO!” Gwen shrieked, facing her people.

This time, her voice carried a great authority, and this time, they listened. The women and children, the elderly, the crippled, all those citizens unable to fight, finally turned and began to run across the bridge, heading for the mainland of the Ring.

“Close positions!” Gwendolyn yelled out to her soldiers who remained behind.

Kendrick and his knights, Erec and his warriors, Alistair, Koldo, Ludvig, Kaden and their knights, Reece and his Legion, her brother Godfrey and his friends, Darius, Steffen—and all the warriors who could fight—all of them came in close, hardening in a tight wall around Gwendolyn, all of them blocking the entrance to the bridge, bracing for an attack.

Reece, standing beside his sister, turned to Stara and Angel, who still remained by his side.

“Go,” he urged Angel. “Go with the others!”

But she stood there and shook her head.

“Never!” she said.

Reece turned to Stara.

“Go,” he said. “I beg you.”

But she looked at him as if he were crazy—and with a distinctive ring, she drew her sword.

“You forget who I am,” she said. “My father was a warrior; my brothers were warriors. I was reared on the Upper Isles, a nation of warriors. I am a greater warrior than you. You can run if you wish—but I am staying here.”

Reece grinned back, remembering why he liked her.

As the Empire thundered closer, all of them stood there, all of them united, all of them prepared to make one last stand together. They all knew they wouldn’t make it—and yet none of them cared, and none of them lost resolve. Just being able to stand here on this battlefield today, Reece knew, was a gift. Win or lose, they had been granted the gift of battle.

Only one person, Reece realized, was missing; only one other person would make this all complete. It was the man his heart ached for dearly, his best friend, his partner in battle: Thorgrin. Reece glance up at the skies, hoping, wishing—and yet still, there was nothing.

The Empire shouts grew louder, their running shaking the ground, as they came closer, closer… Soon they were but feet away, charging at full speed, so close that Reece could see the whites of their eyes. He braced himself, anticipating a terrific blow to come as several Empire raised their sword and zeroed in on him.

Stara stepped forward, drew her bow, took aim, and fired—killing a soldier but a few feet away, the first to draw blood in the battle.

The first Empire blows came like a wall, like an avalanche. Reece raised sword and shield, blocking multiple blows at once from all sides. He spun around with his shield and smashed one in the head, then continued spinning and stabbed one in the gut. But that left his flank exposed, and another soldier smashed him in the ribcage with his shield, sending him down to the ground, his head already ringing from the blow.

The battlefield filled with the clang of armor, of swords, the cacophony of two walls of metal smashing into each other, as men fought men up and down the ranks, brutal, bloody, hand to hand, neither giving in an inch. The air was quickly filled with the sound of men’s shrieks, as bodies fell and blood stained the ground.

Under Koldo, Ludvig, and Kaden’s command, the brilliant soldiers of the Ridge did not wait for the Empire, but charged themselves, leading with swords and axes, felling a dozen men before the Empire could regroup. As Empire soldiers reached them, swinging for their heads, they ducked and let them fly right by—then spun around and slashed, letting their momentum send them falling face-first in the mud. Kaden was especially impressive, blocking a soldier’s blow before it killed his brother Ludvig, then stabbing the man in the gut. Ludvig looked at his younger brother with surprise and gratitude.

“You saved me,” Kaden said. “You didn’t forget me in the desert. Did you think I really would not pay you back?”

Erec led his men of the Southern Isles with a different strategy, all of them lined up in their golden armor, perfectly disciplined, one fine-tuned unit as they stepped forward and, on Erec’s command, all hurled spears together. A wall of spears sailed through the air, felling dozens of approaching Empire—and causing the Empire soldiers behind them to trip and fall on their corpses.

Barely had they regrouped when Erec’s soldiers hurled another round of spears—then another.

When they ran out of spears, Erec and his men rushed forward with a shout, drawing their swords, and stabbed the wounded where they fell—before turning to the next wave of attackers. Erec ducked and dodged several blows, then kicked one soldier, knocking him back, then spun around and chopped off another’s head. He used his shield as a weapon, too, smashing and stunning his opponents before following up with his blade. He was an unstoppable force, a one-man army. And his men, Strom in the forefront, were nearly as good as he.

Gwendolyn, standing in the middle of it all, raised her bow and dropped one soldier after the next before they got close to her. Around her were Kendrick, Brandt, and Atme standing guard, watching over her. When Gwen ran out of arrows and the Empire soldiers got too close, Kendrick stepped forward, slashing them, keeping them at bay, Brandt and Atme and the rest of the Silver joining, rallying around their Queen. Steffen stood right beside them, guarding Gwendolyn from all directions, slashing and tackling any man who came too close. And if anyone slipped through the cracks, Krohn leapt up again and again, taking down one soldier after the next, as he hovered around Gwendolyn.

Alistair stood close to Gwen, and she reached up with her palms, aimed them at the soldiers, and shot out red balls of light. They felled soldiers left and right, knocking them down from ten feet away.

Godfrey did his best to fight, wielding a sword awkwardly beside Akorth, Fulton, Ario, and Merek. But he was no warrior, and after a few clumsy blows, he soon found himself off-balance, staggering, exposed. A particularly large soldier stepped forward, grimaced, and raised a battle-ax high—and Godfrey knew he was about to die.

There came a clang of metal, and Godfrey looked over gratefully to see Darius holding out his sword, blocking it, sparing his life. Merek rushed forward, too, and stabbed the soldier in the gut. And when another soldier lunged for Darius’s exposed back, Dray rushed forward and bit off his ankle.

Ario wielded his sling, as did Angel, and the two of them took out dozens of soldiers. Akorth and Fulton tried to fight, but within moments their shields were stripped from them, and they, too, were on the verge of death. But Dray spotted it, and rushed forward, and spared them, snarling as he bit their attackers, giving Akorth and Fulton a chance to scurry to their feet and flee.

From Koldo to Erec to Kendrick to Darius to Alistair to Gwendolyn, they all stood and fought together, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of warriors united in will, united in love for their homeland, none giving up, none backing down. They all fought for the Ring, for the last place they had left in the world, this land that was more than just a place.

But as the suns sank lower and hour blended with hour, Reece, exhausted, sweat stinging his eyes, covered in blood, heaps of corpses at his feet, felt his shoulders getting tired. He was slowing, getting sloppy; his response time was not as fast and he began to swing lackadaisically. As he looked around, he noticed all his men were tiring. More and more death shouts rang out—and not on the Empire side. His ranks were thinning.

Reece cried out as he received a slash wound on his neck, but he forced himself to drive it from his mind. Stara stepped forward and stabbed his attacker in the gut with her spear.

It was small consolation. Knowing he was going to die, a part of Reece, despite himself, hoped this wound would finish him, that this would all finally be over—while another part of him hoped this day would never end. He wanted to kill as many men as he could before he went, to die with honor, to fight up to his very last sword slash in this, the greatest battle he knew he would ever fight in his life.

But as yet another wave of fresh Empire soldiers emerged from the wood, he did not know how much longer he could last.

Please, God, he prayed, lend my shoulders strength. Allow me to raise my sword one last time. Give me the strength to die with honor.

Godfrey held his sword with two shaking hands, Akorth, Fulton, Merek, and Ario beside him, Darius close by with Loti, and Dray at his heels, and he willed himself to hold his ground, to overcome his fears. The Empire kept advancing in endless waves, as if there were no end to the soldiers in the world, a fresh wall of men coming to kill him. He knew this was the end, and a part of him, shaking with fear, wanted to get it over with, to turn and run.

But another part of him forced himself to stay strong, to throw caution to the wind. He was tired of running, of being afraid, as he had his entire life. Something had been changing inside him, and now that he was back in his homeland especially, this place where his family had fought so bravely, for so many generations, he was having a realization. He realized he had been resisting his entire life: resisting his father, resisting his brothers, resisting his role in the royal family, resisting the life of a warrior. Resisting responsibility. Resisting valor.

For the first time in his life, he realized how much energy all of this resisting took. For the first time, staring death in the face, he no longer wished to resist—he wished to join in. To embrace his family. To embrace his lineage. To become a hero like his father, like his brothers. He wanted honor. Honor, he realized, had always been lingering right in front of him, just out of reach. He had always been afraid to reach out and grasp it, to embrace it. But now, finally, he realized how easy it was. To achieve honor, one merely had to act with honor, to act in an honorable way. One could embrace honor at any time; it was always waiting for you, like a parent that never stopped believing in you.

Godfrey stepped forward with a great battle cry, and he released all of his pent-up fear, his rage, his desire to protect himself. He raised his sword high and brought it straight down on an Empire soldier who went to stab him, and as he did, he sliced through the soldier’s armor and slashed him across the chest. He was surprised by his own strength, his own speed. That soldier had been twice his size, and surely had killed many men.

Godfrey looked down, shocked, as the soldier fell before him. He couldn’t believe what he had just done; he was a stranger to himself. And he liked this stranger.

Beside him, Darius fought brilliantly, weaving in and out of the soldiers, killing the Empire with a vengeance, two, three, four at a time, while on his other side, Loti threw spears and her brother Loc, even with his limp, wielded, with his one good hand, a long machete, felling soldiers all around him.

Merek and Ario fought like men possessed, Merek slashing men with his dagger and Ario hurling with his sling and disarming soldiers. Akorth and Fulton at one point seemed to lose their courage and begin to retreat to the bridge with all the other citizens and women and children. But Godfrey was surprised and elated to see them have a change of heart, to see them turn back and throw themselves into the battle. They were overweight, awkward, off-balance, but they used their weight well, managing to tackle several soldiers down to the ground. Rolling on the ground, they used found large rocks and used them to bash their attackers unconscious.

Godfrey, veins pumping with adrenaline, with the thrill of battle, with the sense of purpose of defending his family, his only homeland, finally felt a sense of purpose in the world. He felt closer to his father than he’d ever had, closer to his people, to Kendrick and the knights. For the first time, he felt like one of them. For the first time he understood, finally, what chivalry meant. It meant not giving into your fears; it meant losing yourself in battle; it meant giving up your life for those you loved. For the first time, Godfrey was gasping for air, covered in wounds—and not caring.

He would die today, he knew that for sure—especially as fresh waves of Empire soldiers burst through the wood—and yet he no longer cared. He would die, at least, with valor.

Gwendolyn stood by the edge of the Canyon, pushed back all the way to the edge, as were all her men, all fighting for their lives but no longer able to hold back the Empire tide. The two suns nearly setting, they had been fighting the entire day, had put up a more heroic defense than she could have ever dreamt, and for that, she was so grateful.

But now, the tide had turned. She heard a whine, and she looked over to see several Empire soldiers kicking Krohn and bashing him with their shields; she saw Kendrick stabbed in the arm as a half dozen Empire soldiers surrounded him; she saw Darius drop to his knees, smashed by a war hammer on his shoulder; she saw Dray take an arrow in his paw, collapsing; and she saw Erec and his men, Koldo and his men, all of her people being pushed back in an unstoppable wave.

Soon, she knew, there would be nowhere left to back up to. In but a few feet, they would all be pushed over the edge of the Canyon, to their deaths below.

Gwendolyn, in one final act of desperation, looked up, searched the skies, and prayed.

Thorgrin, my love. Where are you? I need you now. I need you more than ever.

Gwen watched, eyes fixed on the sky, as an Empire soldier stepped forward, raised a shield, and smashed the bow and arrow from her hand, then bashed her on the head.

She stumbled and fell on her back, too numb to even feel the pain anymore. She looked up from this vantage point, searching the skies, her ears ringing, all the world seeming to be a daze. She tried to focus, her vision blurry, as she saw an Empire soldier stand over her and raise a sword with both hands. She knew her time had come.

But as she continued to look up, beyond him, over his shoulder, Gwen was sure she saw something. At first she thought it was her eyes playing tricks on her.

But then, as she looked closely, her heart leapt with joy. She felt like weeping.

Because there, bursting through the clouds, diving down low with a look of vengeance, of fury—of utter confidence—came a man she loved and knew as she loved herself. He was the sum of all her hopes and dreams, of everything she’d ever wanted, and he was here. Finally, here.

There, flying down for her, was Thorgrin.