“I’m sorry, my love,” he said. “I wish I could.”
“Sorry is not good enough,” she yelled, pulling back and staring to his eyes, summoning all the fierceness of her own father. After all, she, too, came from a long line of kings. “You are killing my people!”
“I am not,” he said, looking down. “My father is.”
“You and your father are of the same family! The same dynasty. You go along with it.”
He looked up, skittish.
“You know my father. How am I supposed to stop him? This army? I can’t control him,” he said with remorse.
She could see in his eyes how much he wanted to—but how powerless he was in the face of him.
“Anyone can be stopped,” she said. “No one is that powerful. Look at him, there he goes now,” she said, turning and pointing, watching, disgusted, as the elder McCloud carried off on another young, innocent, unconscious girl to be his play thing for the night.
“Your father will be defenseless in there,” she said. “I don’t need you. I can sneak up on him myself and while he is sleeping, strike a peg through his skull.”
Emboldened by her own idea, she reached into the horse’s harness and extracted a long, sharp spike. Without thinking, she turned to go, determined to do exactly that—to kill the elder McCloud on her own.
But as she went, a strong hand grabbed her arm and held her in place.
She wheeled and saw Bronson staring back.
“You don’t know my father,” he said. “He is invincible. He carries the strength of ten men. And he is more wily than a rat. He will sense your approach a mile away. He will strip you of your weapon and kill you, before you even get through the door. That is not the way,” he said. “There are other ways.”
She looked at him closely, examining him, wondering what he was saying.
“Are you saying that you will help me?”
“I hate my father as much as you do,” he said. “I can’t stop his army while it advances. But if his army fails, I am prepared to take action.”
He stared back at her, meaningfully, and she could tell that he was earnest—but she also could not tell if he had the resolve to carry through. He was a good man. But when it came to his father, he was weak.
She shook her head.
“That’s not good enough,” she said. “My people are dying now. They can’t wait. And neither can I. I will kill him now, by myself. And if I fail—at least I will die trying.”
With those words, Luanda threw his hand off of her and turned and marched for the tent, holding the iron spike, shaking with fear, but determined to kill this monster once and for all.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Gwendolyn walked quickly, side by side with Thor in the early morning, twisting and turning their way down the castle corridors, Krohn following. They walked with purpose, heading towards the council chamber, and Gwen took a deep breath, stealing herself for her confrontation with Gareth. The time of reckoning had come, and while nervous, she also felt a great sense of relief. Finally, after all these months, she had the proof she needed to bring her father’s murderer to justice.
She had planned with Godfrey to meet him outside the chamber, with Firth, so that they could all three march in and confront Gareth at this meeting—in front of all the councilmembers—and to publicly prove his guilt. Thor had offered to accompany her, and it was an offer she accepted gladly. After last night, a long, magical night together, she did not want to part from his side, and she felt more secure having him there as backup. Of course the chamber would be filled with councilmembers and guards who would have no choice but to back her up and arrest Gareth once the proof came to light. But having Thor there gave her an extra layer of assurance.
They turned another corner, and Gwen smiled to herself as she thought of her night with Thor. She had slept in his arms amidst the flowers, in the royal gardens, the fall breezes caressing them all night long. They had fallen asleep looking up at the stars, and it had been divine. Her life had been upside down since the death of her father, in a constant state of anxiety and turmoil, but now, with Thor’s return, and with Gareth about to be deposed and Kendrick about to be freed, she felt that things would finally return to a semblance of normal.
As they marched down the final, long corridor that led to the Council chamber, her heart was pounding. She could not underestimate Gareth, and she knew he would not take this well. He had lived his whole life to rule, and he would do anything he could to keep power, to hold onto his throne. He could be a very convincing liar, and she tried to prepare herself for his denials, his recriminations. She just prayed that Firth would be consistent, would be a strong witness against him. She assumed that his testimony, along with the presentation of the murder weapon, which she kept in her waist, would leave no room for doubt.
“You okay?” Thor asked sweetly, reaching over and taking her hand. He must have sensed her nervousness.
Gwen nodded back, squeezing his hand, then letting go.
The two of them continued down the corridor, their footsteps echoing, passing rows of open-aired windows, the early morning light streaking in. She felt what it would be like to march somewhere with Thor by her side. As a couple. It felt good. Natural. She felt a sense of peace in his presence. She felt stronger.
They reached the end of the corridor, and turned and faced the huge, arched oak doors to the council room. She heard muffled voices behind it, and before it stood several guards.
As she stood there, Gwen was confused. Godfrey and Firth were supposed to be waiting for her here, to meet her and walk in together. She had gone over the plan with Godfrey several times—she could not understand where he was. They had both been precise about it. Without them there, how could she proceed?
“My lady?” a guard asked. “I’m afraid a Council session is in progress.”
“Has my brother been here? Godfrey?” she asked.
The guards looked at each other, puzzled.
“No, my lady.”
Gwen’s heart pounded. Something was wrong. Godfrey wouldn’t not show up. Where could he be? Had he reverted to his ways, had he gone back to the taverns? Was he drinking? And where was Firth? She sensed deep down that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
She stood there, torn, and debated what to do. She couldn’t walk away. Not now. There was too much at stake, and no time left to lose. If she had to do this on her own, then she would.
She was about to command the guards to let her in, when suddenly there came a great rumble of footsteps from down the opposite corridor. She and Thor spun, and saw approaching them a contingent of a dozen soldiers, Brom leading the pack. He wore a deep scowl and a look of grave concern, and he marched quickly, the others on his tail, all members of The Silver, famous warriors each.
“Open these doors at once,” Brom commanded the guards.
“But sire, a Council meeting is in session,” said one of the guards tentatively, looking very nervous.
Brom quickly moved one hand to his hilt, menacing.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” he growled.
The guards exchanged a glance, then quickly stepped aside and yanked open the doors.
Brom, furious, marched right past them, into the Council chamber, followed by his men.
Gwen and Thor exchanged a puzzled look, then followed them in.
Gwen was baffled; this was not going as she had planned. She had to find out what was going on, and to decide if now was the right time to confront Gareth.
As they followed them in, the big doors slammed closed behind them, and a dozen councilmembers, seated in a broad semi-circle, in ancient, oak chairs, all turned. Gareth sat in the center of the room, on his throne, and looked up, surprised. Gareth scowled.
“Well, well,” Gareth said. “If it isn’t Brom. If I recall, you quit this council.”
“I have come to deliver dire news,” Brom said hastily. “Our men tell us of a breach of the Highlands. A full scale invasi
on of the McClouds. Entire villages wiped out. It seems the McClouds have found their opportunity in your reign. They are murdering our people even as we speak. War has begun.”
Gwen felt the wind taken from her; she could hardly believe this news, as she stood several feet behind them, watching the whole thing. She watched Gareth’s face transform, to one of shock. He sat there, frozen, not responding.
“What do you propose we do?” Brom prodded.
“What do you mean?” Gareth asked, nervous.
“I mean, what is your command? What is your strategy? How do you plan to meet their forces? Which formations will you choose? Which armies will you send out? Which will stay at home? And what will be our counterattack? How many fortifications will be manned? And how do you propose we defend the villages?”
Gareth sat there, opening his mouth to speak several times, then closing it. He looked stumped, flustered, clearly in way over his head.
“I…” he began, clearing his throat, then stopped. “I think…maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“Wait and see what happens?” Brom echoed, aghast.
“We can always deal with it later, if they get too close,” Gareth said. “It’s probably just a raid, and they’ll go back home soon. Besides, we have a festival coming up, and I don’t want the preparations for our parties disturbed.”
Brom stared back at him with a look of shock and disgust. Finally, his face turned a shade of purple.
“You are a disgrace to your father’s memory,” Brom said.
With that, Brom turned and stormed from the room, his men following.
Gareth rose and bunched his fists, red-faced.
“You get back here!” Gareth screamed. “Don’t you ever turn your back on your King! That is treason. I will have you arrested! You will do as I command! Brom! BROM! ARREST HIM!”
But the guards stood there, frozen, afraid to go near Brom.
Brom stormed out of the chamber, his men following, and Gwen and Thor turned and hurried out after them.
Back out in the open hall, the doors slammed behind them, Gwen hurried over to Brom as he began to march off.
“Sire!” she yelled.
Brom stopped and turned, still heated.
“My lady,” he said with deference, but impatience. “Your father would have never accepted that,” he added, still fuming.
“I know,” she answered. “My father never would have accepted many things happening here. What do you plan to do? About the invasion?”
“I must act. What other choice do I have? I can’t sit by and watch my homeland destroyed. I will act with or without the authority of the King. I will mobilize our forces on my own. I will take control of the army. It is heresy, but I have no choice. We must defend.”
“That is exactly what you should do,” she said.
He looked at her, and seemed to calm momentarily.
“I am glad to hear a member of the royal family say that,” he said. “It is unfortunate that you are not the one on the throne.”
“There is another member of the royal family you should care about,” she said. “My brother Kendrick sits wallowing in the dungeon. He would be a key asset to your forces. The men love him, and would rally around him. And as a royal family member, he would give you the authority and them the confidence they need to attack.”
He studied her, looking impressed.
“But Kendrick has been imprisoned for murder. For treason.”
Gwen shook her head.
“Lies. All of them. He is innocent. In fact, I have found proof absolving Kendrick of guilt. He was setup by the real murderer.”
Brom looked back at her, wide-eyed.
“And who then is the murderer?” he asked.
“Gareth,” she answered.
Brom’s eyes opened wide in wonder. Finally, he nodded back knowingly.
“We will take care of Gareth when we return from battle,” he said. “In the meantime, you are correct. We will free Kendrick, and he will help lead us in battle. To the dungeons!”
The group of them turned and hurried down the twisting corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing like thunder. They descended down the spiral staircase, flight after flight, spiraling all the way down, until they reached the lowest level.
Several guards blocked an iron cell door, and they stiffened at attention at the sight of Brom and all The Silver.
“Open this door at once!” Brom commanded.
“My liege,” the guard said, shakily. “I’m afraid I can only open this on royal command.”
“I am commander of the seven legions of the Western kingdom of the Ring!” Brom threatened, resting a hand on his hilt. “I say open this door at once!”
The guards stood there, vacillating, looking at each other, nervous.
Gwen could see a confrontation was about to happen, so she stepped forward in the tense silence and stood between them.
“I am of the royal family,” she said calmly. “My father, bless his memory, was King not long ago. I act with his authority. Open this door.”
The guards looked at each other, then nodded, and slowly reached out and unlocked the door.
Brom and his group marched down to the very end of the corridor and stopped in front of Kendrick’s cell.
Kendrick rushed to it, and pressed his face against the bars, looking pale and gaunt. Gwen felt heartbroken to see him like this, and that she had not been able to free him sooner.
“Open this door,” Gwen commanded the guard, who had accompanied them.
The guard stepped forward and unlocked the cell. The door opened slowly, and out came Kendrick.
Kendrick gave Gwendolyn a big hug, and she hugged him back, tightly.
Kendrick turned and looked at Brom. He saluted, and Brom saluted back.
“The McClouds have attacked,” Brom said. “You will lead one of our forces in battle. We must go at once.”
Kendrick nodded back, somber.
“Sire, it will be an honor.”
“Do you wish to have your squire back?” Thor asked, with a smile.
Kendrick turned and looked at Thor, and his face lit up with a smile.
“I have just returned from the Hundred, sire,” Thor said, “I am ready. And it would be an honor to ride by your side.”
Kendrick reached out and laid a hand on Thor’s shoulder. He looked him up and down, and nodded approvingly.
“I can see that you are. I would have no one else by my side.”
“Let’s move,” Brom said. “It’s past time we teach these McClouds what it means to invade our side of the Ring.”
The group turned and began marching back down the hall.
Soon they were upstairs and marching out the main front doors of the castle. As they exited, standing on Castle Bridge, Thor stopped and faced Gwen.
He looked at her with a look of concern and longing.
“I must join my brothers,” he said guiltily. “I hate to leave you. But I must defend our Ring.”
Deep down, her heart was breaking, but she did not show it. She nodded back.
“I know,” she said, trying to sound strong. “You must go.”
Selfishly she wanted him to stay, but she knew that his going was the right thing.
Thor reached out and touched her necklace, then reached up with the back of his hand and stroked her face. He leaned in and kissed her, and she held it as long as she could.
“I will think of you every minute,” Thor said. “I will return as soon as I can. And when I do, I want to ask you a question.”
Gwen smiled, puzzled.
“What question?”
Thor smiled back.
“It is one, I think, that will change our lives. Depending, of course, on your answer.”
He grabbed her hand, pulled it up and kissed her fingertips, then turned with a smile, and trotted off to join the other men, Krohn following, already running for their horses.
Gwen watc
hed him go with a sense of longing and admiration. She prayed with all she had that she would see him again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Erec galloped through the back streets of Savaria, racing to the tavern. He was eager to pick up Alistair, to rescue her from this place and to ride off with her. He was exhausted from the day’s battle, covered in bruises and cuts, weak from hunger and thirst—but still, he could think of nothing but her. He could not stop, could not rest, until he had her with him.
Dressed in his chain mail, Erec pulled up before the tavern, jumped off his horse and hurried through the door. It burst open and he walked in expecting to see Alistair there, waiting for him.
But he was baffled to see that she was not. Instead, he saw only the bartender, surly, standing behind the bar. Ten large, seedy types sat at the bar before him.
Erec looked everywhere, but saw no sign of her. The patrons grew quiet, however, and the room grew thick with tension. Erec did not understand what was going on.
The bartender nodded to an attendant, who turned and ran through the door to the back room. A moment later, the innkeeper exited, waltzing out with a swagger, and a crooked smile on his face. Erec did not like the look of this.
“Where is my bride?” he demanded, stepping forward.
The innkeeper strutted out towards him.
“Well well well, look who it is,” he said.
As he marched towards him, Erec noticed several of the burly miscreants get up and follow in behind him.
“If it isn’t the knight in shining armor himself,” the innkeeper mocked.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” Erec said. “Where is she?” he pressed, his anger rising.
The innkeeper’s smile broadened.
“Well, it’s funny you should ask. You see, the large sum of money you handed me gave me an idea. I figured if Alistair was worth something to you, maybe she was worth something to somebody else, too. And I was right. Probably one of the better business deals I’ve made,” he said, licking his lips and laughing, as the men laughed around him.
Erec was seething, turning a shade of purple.
Through clenched teeth, he growled: “This is your last chance. Where—is—she?”