A Reign of Steel (8 page)

Romulus
marched across the southern province of the Ring,
watching with glee as his tens of thousands of men charged forward for the
gates of Savaria. Hundreds of citizens of the Ring streamed for the city gates,
and the knights standing guard lowered the huge iron portcullis and slammed it shut
with a bang, just as the last person entered. They raised the drawbridge over
the moat, and Romulus watched, and smiled wider. These Savarians really thought
they could keep him out. They had no idea what was coming for them.

Romulus
heard a great cry, and he looked overhead to see his
host of dragons come flying, circling above, awaiting his command. He raised
his fist and lowered it, and as he did, they dove forward, racing for the
horizon. For Savaria.

The
dragons flew over the massive walls, over the city gates, as if they did not
even exist, and as they came close to the ground, they breathed a wall of fire.

Screams
of thousands arose behind the city walls, helpless civilians slaughtered by the
dragons’ breath, burned alive, trying to run, with nowhere to go. He watched through
the iron gates as knights raised their swords uselessly, their weapons melting
in their hands, down to their wrists, their very armor melting on them,
screaming as they, too, were burned alive.

No
one was safe from the dragons’ wrath. The great walls, meant to keep invaders
out, instead kept the waves of dragon fire in, creating a fishbowl effect. Even
one dragon could have laid waste to the city. Dozens of them rained down an
apocalypse.

Romulus
breathed deeply and took great satisfaction in the
hell before him. He beamed, riding slowly on his horse, as he felt the heat
from the waves of fire. Fire scorched the city walls, flames licking higher and
higher, pouring out through the windows, like a huge blazing cauldron that
could not be quenched.

Romulus
’s men stopped at the edge of the moat, unable to go
any closer because of the intense heat. They waited and waited, until finally Romulus raised his hand, and the dragons fell back, returning, circling again over his head.

The
flames finally subsided, and as they did, Romulus’s men rushed forward and
lowered a long wooden makeshift bridge over the moat. The first battalion raced
over it, holding a long iron pole, and they rammed the iron portcullis, still
in flames. Sparks flew everywhere, as they rammed it again and again; finally,
it caved in, amidst a great cloud of flame and sparks, revealing a wall of
flame behind it.

They
all stood there waiting, as Romulus directed his horse slowly toward the front
line. Behind him, seated on his horse, was his prize, his new plaything—Luanda—her wrists and hands bound, her mouth gagged, her ankles tied to the saddle. She had
been forced to ride with him. He could have killed her, of course, but he much
preferred to prolong her hell, to make her witness what he was about to do to
her homeland. There was something about her, something defiant and evil, he was
starting to like, and he wondered if she might even be an appropriate mate for
him.

Romulus
stopped as he reached the edge of the moat, then gave
a terse nod. Hundreds of his men, awaiting his command, burst into the city
with a great shout and a sound of horns, and soon the city was filled with his
men. He watched with pride as the banner of the Empire was hoisted above its
gates.

Savaria,
he knew, was one of the great cities of the Ring. And now, every person within,
in a matter of minutes, every knight and soldier and commoner and lord, lay
dead. And he had not lost a single soldier. It had been the same for his entire
march from the Canyon, Romulus slowly and meticulously wiping out every town
and village that he encountered, wanting his destruction of the Ring to be
absolute.

Of
course, King’s Court was still free, but he wanted to take his time before arriving
there. He wanted everything destroyed first, not a blade of grass left, as
vengeance for his prior defeat. He would reach Gwendolyn in good time, and her
King’s Court. He would unleash his dragons, and he would make her pay. But not
before he had first destroyed every town in her precious Ring.

Romulus
threw back his head and roared with triumph. For
however long the spell lasted, he was invincible. And as long as he lived,
nothing, and no one, in the world would stop him.

Gwendolyn
rode on the back of Ralibar, hanging on for dear life, wondering how she got
here. Ralibar flew erratically, unlike he ever had before, weaving up and down,
racing through the clouds, as if wanting her off.

“Ralibar,
please, slow!” she cried out.

But
Ralibar would not listen. He was like a different beast, a dragon she did not
know. He roared—a terrifying noise—and dove straight down through the clouds—right,
Gwen saw, for King’s Court.

“I
can’t hang on!” Gwen yelled, slipping.

But
Ralibar flew faster, steeper, and a moment later, Gwen shrieked as she lost her
grip.

Gwen
went tumbling through the air, head over heels, flying straight down toward
King’s Court. And Ralibar, instead of swooping down to catch her, flew off,
away from her.

Gwendolyn
braced herself, shrieking, as the ground rushed up for her.

She
landed hard on a floor of mud, feeling the pain in every part of her body. Yet
also alive.

Gwen
got up slowly, wondering how she could have survived. She looked all around and
barely recognized King’s Court. It was all in ruins, and she lay in the center of
it, the only person left alive.

She
heard a baby’s cry, and she spun, immediately recognizing her son’s wailing.
She saw, on the far side of the square, Guwayne. He lay there all alone, crying
up to the heavens.

Heart
breaking, Gwen tried to run for him, but as she did, she found herself
stumbling in the mud.

“Guwayne!”
she cried.

Gwen
ran, stumbling, until finally she reached him. She scooped him up and held him
tight, crying, rocking him. She could not understand how he had gotten here,
all alone.

Gwendolyn
looked up and saw standing before her, beneath the great arched gate to the
city, her father. King MacGil. He was expressionless, his face hard and cold,
and he stared back, grim.

“My
daughter,” he boomed, his voice sounding so far away. “Leave this place. Leave
it at once.”

Gwen
gripped Guwayne, crying and screeching in her arms; she was about to respond,
to ask her father what he was doing here, what he was warning against, when
suddenly she heard a flapping of wings. She craned her neck and looked up to
the sky, and she finally saw a dragon swooping down from the clouds. At first
she was elated, expecting it was Ralibar; but then she was horrified to see
that it was not him. It was a hideous dragon, yellow in color, one she had
never seen before, with long, razor-sharp teeth, a head too big for its body,
and wings covered in spikes and thorns.

The
dragon arched its neck, shrieking to the skies, then lowered its head and breathed
fire, right for her. A wall of flame raced through the air, and Gwen screamed
and clutched her baby to her chest to protect him from the heat. She flinched
and ducked, yet try as she did to get away, she felt the flames slowly burning
her alive.

Gwen
woke screaming. She sat up in bed, breathing hard, looking everywhere, trying
to brush off the flames. She jumped out of bed, and it took her a moment to
realize it was just a nightmare.

Gwen
stood in her castle chamber, sweating, breathing hard. Slowly, she caught her
breath and looked out and saw the first of the rising suns through her window, the
room spreading with violet. She looked over and saw Guwayne sleeping soundly in
his crib beside her bed. She breathed deep, realizing all was well in the
world.

Gwen
crossed the room, splashed water on her face, then gravitated toward the arched
open-air window. She looked out, bracing herself for the worst after that dream.

But
all was peaceful in her kingdom. Her entire court was asleep and no one stirred.
From all appearances, there was no reason to fear.

Yet
as Gwen stood there, her dream hung over her like a blanket. She sensed that
the visions she saw were real; she sensed it was all a warning, that she had to
get out of this place—and get her people out of this place. They had to
evacuate. She could not wait another moment.

Gwendolyn
quickly dressed, crossed her chamber, and threw open the door.

Her
guards turned and stared at her, stiffening at attention.

“My
lady,” one said.

She
looked back at him with the gravity of a Queen. She was resolved—whatever the
fallout would be.

“Sound
the evacuation horns,” she commanded. “Now.”

There
was no mistaking the authority in her voice, and her attendants looked at her,
eyes widening in surprise. But they executed her command, and immediately
running off and hurrying to do her will.

Gwen
turned, scooped up Guwayne, and prepared to gather her most precious things. She
took one long last look at this castle chamber, then went to the window and
looked out at King’s Court for the last time. She knew she would never see it
again.

*

Gwendolyn
stood in the center of the courtyard of King’s Court in the early morning sun,
surrounded by thousands of her people, an agitated and angry mob. Beside her
stood Steffen and Aberthol and all her counselors, along with her brothers, Godfrey
and Kendrick. They stood by her side, in support of the Queen, as the mob
confronted her angrily. Around the periphery of King’s Court stood hundreds of
her soldiers, watching warily, holding their weapons, prepared, on her nod, to
take action on those people who refused to evacuate.

After
the horns had sounded, her people had all gathered here in the courtyard,
soldiers forcing them from their homes; now here they stood, bleary-eyed, an
angry mob facing her, demanding answers. She had never seen her people so upset
with her, and she did not like the feeling. This was not the experience of
being Queen that she had come to know.

“We
demand answers!” someone yelled from the crowd, and the huge mob cheered angrily.

“You
cannot just take us all from our homes like this!” cried out another.

“Why
are you demanding evacuation? We’re not under attack!”

“I
shall not run from my birth-given home while in the most fortified city on
earth!”

“We
want answers!”

The
crowd cheered again. Gwendolyn faced them all, feeling hated by her people. Yet
deep down, however hard it was, she knew she was doing the right thing.

Gwen
stepped forward and there came a lull, as all eyes turned to her in the
silence.

“I
had a dream,” Gwen called out to the crowd. “A dream of destruction, coming for
us.”

“A
dream!” someone yelled.

The
entire crowd laughed derisively.

“Are
we to uproot and leave our whole lives behind for your dreams?”

The
crowd cheered, and Gwendolyn felt her face flush, embarrassed.

“Gwendolyn
is your queen, and you shall treat her respectfully!” Steffen yelled out
angrily.

Gwendolyn
laid a reassuring hand on his wrist; she appreciated his support, but she did
not want him to incite the crowd further.

 “If
you wish to leave based on your dreams,” one of them yelled out, “then do so!
We shall find ourselves a new ruler!”

Another
cheer.

“We
will not leave!” another yelled.

The
crowd shouted, rising to a fever pitch.

Godfrey
rushed forward beside her and faced the crowd, waving his arms.

“Gwendolyn
has always been a good and fair queen to you!” he yelled. “She has stood by you
through thick and thin. Now you must return the favor. If she has cause to
believe we should evacuate, then you must listen!”

“Even
good queens can make bad decisions!” a crowd member yelled, to the cheers of
others.

Gwen
looked out at the faces, and she could see every one of them was angry,
determined, and perhaps afraid. None of them wanted to venture out into the
unknown. She could understand.

“I
understand how you feel!” Gwendolyn yelled out. “But my decision is not based
on dreams alone. It is based on prophecies. Ancient prophecies that I’ve read. Portents
that I’ve seen coming. Argon’s predictions. I do not believe King’s Court will stand
much longer. I want you all in safety before it happens. I know it is hard for
you to leave your homes. I myself do not wish to leave my home. I love King’s
Court. But I ask you to trust me. I understand the unknown is hard. But it will
be safer than where we are now.”

“How
can we trust you when you show us no danger?” one of them yelled, and the crowd
cheered in agreement.

“We
shall not leave           !” another yelled.

As
the crowd roared and cheered, Gwendolyn could not believe what she saw before
her. Were the masses so fickle? Could they really love her one moment, and hate
her the next?

Gwen
recalled something her father had once said to her, something she hadn’t
understood at the time.
The masses will love you and the masses will hate
you. It is a trap to be swayed by either.

“I’m
sorry,” Gwendolyn said, “but I am your leader, and I must decide what is best. If
you do not leave voluntarily, my soldiers will have to forcibly escort you out
of the city. This city is being gated up and evacuated—and no one will stay
behind. Not on my watch.”

Boos
and jeers rose up, and a man stepped forward and faced Kendrick.

“This
is why a woman should not rule over us,” the man said. “A woman gives in to her
fickle dreams. You are King MacGil’s firstborn son. We would rather have
you
lead us.”

The
crowd cheered behind him, and Gwen could not believe what she was hearing.
Kendrick reddened.

“This
is
your
time,” the man continued. “Take over the rulership of the MacGils.
The Silver will answer to you. We shall not listen to her—but we shall listen
to you.”

Gwendolyn
looked at Kendrick, dismayed, and wondered how he would react. She knew that he
did not agree with evacuation. This was his chance, indeed.

A
tense silence fell over the crowd until finally Kendrick spoke up.

“I
stand with my sister!” he boomed. “I shall always honorably serve my Queen—whether
I agree with her or not. That is what our father would want. And that is our
code of honor.”

The
crowd, surprised and disappointed, raised their fists and jeered.

“SILVER!”
Kendrick boomed. “Your Queen has spoken. Fulfill her command! Evacuate this
city at once!”

A
chorus of horns sounded, and the crowd jeered and shoved as thousands of Silver
closed in on them, corralling them toward the gates. The crowd pushed back,
fighting them. But the Silver were armed, wore armor, and were an elite
fighting force, and the crowd was no match for them. The Silver pushed them slowly
and steadily, all the way to the city gates.

Slowly,
the city emptied, one person at a time.

Gwen
stood watching it all, and she came up beside Kendrick as he watched, too.

“Thank
you, my brother,” she said, laying a hand on his wrist. “I shall never forget
this.”

He
turned to her and nodded, yet his face was grave.

“I
hope you know what you’re doing, my sister,” he said.

Gwen
looked at him, feeling torn herself, as she watched her people leave this city
and prepared to join them.

“I
hope so too,” she said.

She
joined Kendrick, Godfrey, Steffen, Aberthol, and all of her advisors as they
followed the masses, exiting the gates of King’s Court, this time, Gwendolyn
knew, for good.