A Vow of Glory

Srog smiled. A middle-aged warrior with too many lines etched into his face from battle, red-brownish hair, a strong jaw line and no beard, Srog was a man's man, not only a Lord, but a true warrior.

"For your father, I would walk through fire," he responded. "Thanks are not in order. It is a great honor to be able to repay my debt to him in service of his daughter. After all, it was his wish that you should rule. So when I answer to you, I answer to him.”

Near Gwen also marched Kolk and Brom, and behind them all was the ever-present clatter of thousands of spurs, of swords jingling in their scabbards, of shields brushing up against armor. It was a huge cacophony of noise, heading farther and farther north along the Canyon's edge.

"My lady," Kolk said, "I am burdened by guilt. We shouldn’t have let Thor, Reece, and the others head out alone into the Empire. More of us should have volunteered to go with them. It will be on my head if anything should happen to them."

“It was the quest they chose," Gwen responded. "It was a quest of honor. Whoever was meant to go has gone. Guilt does no one any good.”

"And what should happen if they don't return in time with the Sword?” Srog asked. “It won’t be long until Andronicus’ army appears at our gates.”

"Then we shall make a stand," Gwen said confidently, raising as much courage in her voice as she could, hoping to put others at ease. She noticed the other generals turn and look at her.

"We will defend until the last blow,” she added. “There will be no retreat, no surrender.”

She sensed the generals were impressed. She was impressed by her own voice, the strength rising up within her, surprising even her. It was the strength of her father, of seven generations of MacGil kings.

As they continued to march, the road curved sharply to the left, and as Gwen turned the corner she stopped in her tracks, breathless at the sight.

Silesia.

Gwen remembered her father taking her on trips here, when she was a young girl. It was a place that lingered in her dreams ever since, a place that had felt magical to her then. Now, laying her eyes on it as a grown woman, it still took her breath away.

Silesia was the most unusual city Gwen had ever seen. All the buildings, all the fortifications, all the stone – everything was built of an ancient, shining red. The upper half Silesia, tall, vertical, replete with parapets and spires, was built on the mainland, while the lower half was built down into the side of the Canyon. The swirling mists of the Canyon blew in and out, enveloping it, making the red shine and sparkle in the light – and making it seem as if it were built in the clouds.

Its fortifications rose a hundred feet, crowned in parapets and backed by an endless row of walls. The place was a fortress. Even if an army somehow breached its walls, it still would have to descend to the lower half of the city, straight down the cliffs, and fight on the edge of the Canyon. It was clearly a war no invading army would want to wage. Which was why this city had stood for a thousand years.

Her men stopped and gaped, and Gwen could feel that they were all in awe, too.

For the first time in a while, Gwen felt a sense of optimism. This was a place they could stay, away from Gareth's reach, a place they could defend. A place where she could rule. And maybe – just maybe – the MacGil kingdom could rise again.

Srog stood there, hands on his hips, taking it all in as if seeing his own city for the first time, his eyes shining with pride.

"Welcome to Silesia."

Chapter Six

Thor opened his eyes at the crack of dawn to see the gently rolling waves of the ocean, rising and falling in huge crests, blanketed by the soft light of the first sun. The light yellow water of the Tartuvian sparkled in the morning mist. The shipped bobbed silently in the water, the only sound that of the lapping waves against its hull.

Thor sat up and looked around. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion – in fact, he had never felt this tired in his life. They had been sailing for days, and everything here, on this side of the world, felt different. The air was so thick with humidity, the temperature so much warmer, it was like breathing in a constant stream of water. It made him feel sluggish, made his limbs feel heavy. He felt as if he had arrived at Summer.

Thor looked around and saw that all of his friends, normally up before dawn, were all slumped on the deck, sleeping. Even Krohn, always awake, was asleep beside him. The thick tropical weather had affected them all. None of them even bothered to man the wheel anymore – they had given that up days ago. There was no point: their sails were always at full mast with a driving westerly wind, and the magical tides of this ocean constantly pulled their ship in one direction. It was as if they were being pulled to one location, and they had tried several times to steer or change course – but it was useless. They had all become resigned to let the Tartuvian take them where it would.

It's not like they knew where in the Empire to go anyway, Thor mused. As long as the tides took them to dry land, he figured, that would be good enough.

Krohn roused, whining, then leaned forward and licked Thor’s face. Thor reached into his sack, nearly empty, and gave Krohn the last of his dried meat sticks. To Thor’s surprise, Krohn did not snatch it from his hand, as he usually did; instead, Krohn looked at it, looked at the empty sack, then looked back at Thor meaningfully. He hesitated to take the food, and Thor realized Krohn didn’t want to take the last piece from him.

Thor was touched by the gesture, but he insisted, pushing the meat into his friend’s mouth. Thor knew they would be out of food soon, and prayed they reached land. He had no idea how much longer the journey could take; what if it took months? How would they eat?

The sun rose quickly here, growing bright and strong too early, and Thor stood as the mist began to burn off of the water and he went to the bow.

Thor stood there and looked out, the deck rocking gently beneath him, and watched as the mist dissipated. He blinked, wondering if he were seeing things, as the outline of a distant land appeared on the horizon. His pulse quickened. It was land. Real land!

The land appeared in a most unusual shape: two long, narrow peninsulas stuck out into the sea, like two ends of a pitchfork, and as the mist lifted, Thor looked to his left and right and was amazed to see two strips of land on either side of them, each about fifty yards off. They were being sucked right down the middle of a long inlet.

Thor whistled, and his Legion brothers arose. They scrambled to their feet and hurried beside him, standing at the bow, looking out.

They all stood there, breathless at the sight: the shores were the most exotic he had ever seen, densely packed with jungle, soaring trees clinging to the shoreline, so thick it was impossible to see beyond them. Thor spotted huge ferns, thirty feet tall, leaning over the water; yellow and purple trees that seemed to reach into the sky; and everywhere, there were the foreign and persistent noises of beasts, birds, insects, and he did not know what else, snarling and crying and singing.

Thor swallowed hard. He felt as if they were entering an impenetrable animal kingdom. Everything felt different here; the air smelled different, foreign. Nothing here remotely reminded him of the Ring. The other Legion members all turned and looked at each other, and Thor could see the hesitation in their eyes. They all wondered what creatures lay in wait for them inside that jungle.

It was not as if they had a choice. The current brought them one way, and clearly this was where they needed to disembark to enter the Empire’s lands.

"Over here!" O'Connor yelled.

They rushed to O’Connor’s side of the railing, as he leaned over and pointed down at the water. There, swimming alongside the ship, was a huge insect, a luminescent purple, ten feet long, with hundreds of legs. It glowed beneath the waves, then scurried along the water’s surface; as it did, its thousands of small wings started buzzing, and it lifted just above the water. Then it went back to gliding along the surface, then it plunged below. Then it repeated the process all over again.

As they watched, it suddenly rose up, higher in the air, to eye level with the boys, hovering, staring at them with its four large green eyes. It hissed, and they all jumped back involuntarily, reaching for their swords.

Elden stepped forward and swung at it. But by the time his sword reached the air, it was already back in the water.

Thor and the others went flying, crashing on the deck, as their boat came to a sudden stop, lodging itself on shore with a jolt.

Thor's heart beat faster as he looked over the edge: beneath them was a narrow beach made up of thousands of small jagged rocks, bright purple in color.

Land. They had made it.

Elden led the way to the anchor, and they all hoisted it and dropped it over the edge. They each climbed down the chain, jumping off it and landing on shore, Thor handing Krohn to Elden as he went.

Thor sighed as his feet touched the ground. It felt so good to have land – dry, steady land – beneath his feet. He would be fine if he never set sail on a ship again.

They all grabbed the ropes and dragged the boat as far onto shore as they could.

"Do you think the tides will take it away?" Reece asked, looking up at the boat.

Thor looked at it; it seemed secure in the sand.

“Not with that anchor,” Elden said.

"The tide won’t take it," O’Connor said. "The question is whether someone else will.”

Thor took one long last look at the ship, and realized his friend was right. Even if they found the sword, they might very well return to an empty shore.

"And then how will we get back?" Conval asked.

Thor could not help but feel as if, every step of the way, they were burning their bridges.

"We shall find a way," Thor said. “After all, there must be other ships in the Empire, right?"