A Sea of Shields (Book #10 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (23 page)

Gwendolyn stood on the upper ramparts of her castle, Guwayne in her arms, crying, Steffen beside her, and looked out at the horizon, facing east. Her heart ripped in two as she saw, filling the horizon, rows and rows of black banners, born by McCloud warriors, thousands and thousands of them on horseback, all charging right for King’s Court. In the distant horizon behind them, black plumes of smoke rose to the sky, clearly from villages they had already plundered.

It was a river of devastation—and it was heading right for her.

Horns sounded again and again, up and down the castle walls, and below, Gwendolyn’s people raced to evacuate King’s Court, as she had rehearsed all these moons. The evacuation was more orderly than she had imagined, no doubt because she had planned and rehearsed it so well, and as she looked below, she was satisfied to see that King’s Court was now nearly empty, all of her people flocking out through the back gates, onto the endless array of horses and carts that awaited them, to take them, as she had planned, toward the shore, toward a fleet of ships that would take them far away from here, to the Upper Isles. To safety.

There came the sounds of the McClouds slamming into her iron gates, again and again, and as the iron began to give, she looked down and realized the McClouds would destroy her city, everything that she had worked so hard to rebuild.

But they would not kill her people. While Gwen cried inside for what would happen to her city, she at least took satisfaction in knowing her people would not be harmed. The McClouds could have the city and all its riches; but her people would live another day.

“My lady, we haven’t much time,” Steffen said, beside her.

Gwendolyn scanned the skies, her stomach in knots, and wished now, more than ever, that Thor could be here, by her side, could arrive with Mycoples, and save them all.

But her husband-to-be was long gone, in some land far away, and who knew if he would ever return.

Thor
, she prayed.
Return to me. I need you.

Gwen closed her eyes, and silently, she willed for him to return. She also willed for Ralibar to appear. Deep down, though, she sensed he would not. Mycoples’s departure had done something to him, and she had not seen him since. It was as if he had fallen into some sort of depression; every morning he used to come to her, but now he did not come. She could not help but wonder if maybe he had abandoned her for good.

Gwen opened her eyes, hopeful—but the skies remained empty, filled only with the cries of men engaged in battle below. No Thor. No Ralibar.

She was on her own, once again. She knew, as she had always known, that she would have to rely on herself, and no one else.

“My lady?” Steffen prodded, his voice mounting with alarm.

“I commanded you to go,” she said to him.

Steffen shook his head.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he said, “but that is one command of yours which I must defy. I will not leave without you.”

Guwayne squirmed and cried in her arms, and Gwen looked down and felt all the love she possibly could for her child. She could not stand to leave her city—and yet she knew there wasn’t much time to get him to safety.

“This is my home,” Gwen said, clinging to this place, hanging on. “My father’s home.”

Gwen stood watching it all, and she could not stand to leave her city, this place where she was born. After all she had done to rebuild it, it would be at the mercy of these barbarians.

“It is time to find another home,” Steffen said.

Gwen searched the skies one last time, hoping for any sign of Thor or Ralibar. She searched the roads, hoping for any sign of the Silver. But the roads, too, were empty. She knew they could not come. They were all far away, deep into their Pilgrimage. The McClouds had timed it well.

Gwen breathed deep, and slowly let it out.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Gwen turned and, clutching Guwayne, who was now screaming, hurried with Steffen across the ramparts, down the spiral staircase. They soon reached the ground floor of the castle, hurried out the back, and they joined in with the rest of the stream of humanity, all heading out the back gates of King’s Court, toward the horses and the carts.

As Gwen and Steffen reached the rear gate of King’s Court, Gwen was touched to see that several attendants stood before it, keeping them open, waiting for her. In fact, all of her people were waiting for her, all sitting in their carts, none of them leaving until she appeared.

Gwen was the last person to pass through the gates. As she did, the attendants pulled back the heavy iron gates, slamming them shut with an echoing bang.

Gwen climbed into a waiting carriage with Guwayne, the last carriage to leave King’s Court. The driver whipped the horse, and she, and all her people, took off at a gallop.

Gwen turned and looked back over her shoulder as they went, and she watched as King’s Court disappeared from view. The sound of those closing gates, of the reverberating metal, echoed through her mind as she watched the city she loved get smaller and smaller, soon, she knew, doomed to become a pile of rubble and ashes. Everything she loved was about to be destroyed.

They were heading for the Upper Isles, for another hostile place, and who knew what sort of life would await them there.

Life, she knew, would never be the same again.

Romulus
marched, leading his army through the smoldering forests of the Wilds, the sounds of thousands of boots crunching leaves behind him, the skies filled with the sound of dragons cries above, and he smiled in triumph. Here he was, invincible, having crossed the ocean with a fleet of ships, leading his army, and the dragons, on the last leg of their march, just moments away from reaching the canyon and being able to destroy the Shield. His time for vengeance, for complete control of the world, had come.

As they went, the dragons dove down and rained fire on the Wilds, destroying miles of forest, decimating the creatures that lived on this side of the canyon. The dragons flushed the creatures out of the woods, and hordes of them, shrieking, charged right for
Romulus
and his men.

Romulus
rushed forward, sword held high, and chopped off the head of one wild beast after the next, as all of his men joined in. It was a bloodbath, the men destroying everything in their path like a plague of locusts, killing whatever the dragons had left over.
Romulus
had not had this much fun since he was a boy.

Romulus
marched and marched, feeling victorious, triumphant, prepared for the greatest victory of his life. In moments, he would destroy the Shield, invade the Ring, take King’s Court, and murder Gwendolyn. He would have what his predecessors, even Andronicus, never had: complete dominion of the world. He would enslave and torture everyone in sight.

Romulus
smiled and breathed deep at the thought. He could almost taste the bloodshed now.

The sorcerer had prophesied that
Romulus
would destroy the Shield—but he had not specified exactly how.
Romulus
could only assume that, with all these dragons in his power, their joined force would ram it, destroy it, and lead the way for him to cross the canyon, into the Ring. After all, how could the strength of the Shield stand up to these dragons?

Romulus
finally rounded a bend, and as he did, he breathed deep, in awe at the sight which never got old: there, before him, was the vast canyon, its mists rising up, luring him to approach. There was his destiny.

Romulus
marched right up to the edge of the canyon crossing, the vast bridge spanning the two worlds, and as he did, he looked up to the skies and waited. He closed his eyes and commanded his host of dragons to race forward, right for the invisible Shield.

He opened his eyes and watched as they all flew overhead, right for the gaping canyon, his heart pounding with excitement. He braced himself for the destruction. For his moment.

But as
Romulus
watched, he was shocked to see all the dragons slam into the invisible wall and bounce back. The dragons shrieked in fury, circled around, and bounced into it again and again and again.

But they could not get past the Shield.

Romulus
stood there, baffled, crushed with disappointment. How could the Shield possibly withstand the power of all these dragons? He was meant to enter the Ring. It had been prophesied. What had gone wrong?

Romulus
, burning with frustration, knew he had to test the Shield another way. He reached over, grabbed one of his men, and hurled him into the invisible Shield.

The man flew into it face first and as he did, he shrieked as he was eviscerated, burning up, landing in a pile of ashes at their feet.

Romulus
fumed. It couldn’t be. What had gone wrong? Had he been led astray? Would he have to turn back, in humiliation, once again? The thought was too much for him to bear.

It made no sense. He was lord of the dragons. There was nothing on this planet—nothing—that should be able to stop him.

Romulus
stood and stared, the mainland of the Ring looking so far away. As he stared, all of his hopes and dreams began to melt. For the first time, his sense of unstoppable power began to feel shaken. What was he missing?

As
Romulus
stood waiting, watching, realizing with humiliation he would have to turn around, abandon his plans once and for all, suddenly, slowly, something appeared in the distance. It was a woman. She walked slowly, on the far side of the canyon, and stepped foot onto the bridge.

She moved tentatively at first, one step at a time. She held her arms out to her side, and with each step she took, she came a little bit closer.
Romulus
recognized her.

Could it be? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

It made no sense. A woman was voluntarily crossing the bridge, toward his side of the Ring. A woman he recognized. The one and only woman he needed most in the world:

Luanda
.

Luanda
stood before the vast bridge spanning the canyon, and with a cold, hardened heart, numb to the world, she looked out at the sight before her. On the far side of the canyon, in the land of the Wilds, there were thousands of Empire soldiers, led by
Romulus
, standing there, hoping to cross. Above them hovered a host of dragons, screaming, flapping their wings against the invisible Shield that held them out.
Romulus
himself stood before the far end of the bridge, hands on his hips, watching.

Luanda
felt ready to end it all as she took her first step onto the bridge, all alone, with nothing left to live for. A gust of wind met her in the face, icy despite the summer day, matching her mood. With Bronson dead,
Luanda
was cold, embittered, her heart dead inside. She knew there was a baby in her stomach, but now it was a cruel joke, a baby without a father, a baby doomed by fate. What other cruel tricks would life have for her? Would it take her baby from her, too?

It was time, she felt, to leave this world. To leave this Ring. To leave this planet.

But before she did, she first, more than anything, felt a burning desire for vengeance on Gwendolyn. She felt a need to wreak destruction on Gwendolyn and the MacGils, on her former family, on King’s Court, and everything good left in the Ring. She wanted them all to suffer, to know what suffering felt like, as she had. She wanted them to know what it felt like to be an outcast, an exile.

Luanda
, numb, took another step onto the bridge. Then another.

She knew that
Romulus
wanted her to cross. She knew she was the key. She knew that when she crossed to the other side, the Shield would lower.
Romulus
would enter the Ring with his men and his dragons, and he would crush it forever. And that was exactly what she wanted. It was the only thing left that she wanted.

Luanda
took another step, then another. Halfway across the bridge, she closed her eyes and held her arms out wide, held her palms out to her side. She continued to walk, eyes closed, leaning her head back, up to the heavens.

Luanda
thought of her dead father, her dead mother. Her dead husband. She thought of all that she had once loved, and how far away all of it was for her now.

She felt the world move beneath her feet, heard the cry of the dragons, smelled the cool moisture of the swirling mists, and she knew that in just moments, she would be across, in Romulus’s arms. Surely, he would kill her. But that no longer mattered.

All that mattered was that she had not been there in time to spare her husband from death.

Please, Bronson,
she prayed.
Forgive me.

Forgive me.