The Gift of Battle (10 page)

 “Is Darius
here?” she asked, urgently.

He shook his
head gravely.

“He is long
gone, carted off to the Capital.”

She looked
dismayed.

“We have crossed
the Waste. We saw the chaos in Volusia, and we awaited our chance to enter. And
then we spotted you.”

“Then join us,”
Godfrey said. “We shall embark from this place, and if there is any chance of
finding Darius, we shall.”

They nodded,
satisfied.

“Perhaps we can
still catch Volusia,” Erec said, circling back to the topic at hand.

Godfrey shook
his head.

“They departed
moons ago,” Godfrey added.

“But why?” he
asked. “Where were they going?”

Godfrey sighed.

“They embarked
for the second Ring,” he said. “The Ridge. They thought it was our only hope.”

Erec narrowed
his eyes, thinking it through.

“And where is
this Ridge?” Strom demanded.

Godfrey shook
his head.

“I do not know
if it even exists,” he replied.

“If it does
exist,” said Silis, stepping forward, “it would be deep in the Great Waste.
There are waterways that snake deep through the Empire that can take us there.
It is a long way, and a roundabout way, and while it leads through the Waste,
it might not ever lead us to your Ridge. But I can lead you there—if you and
your ships are willing.”

Erec sized up
this woman and sensed that she was honest and true.

“I am willing,”
he said. “Whether this Ridge exists or not, I would go to the ends of the earth
for Gwendolyn and the others.”

“But how shall
we make it out?” asked Godfrey, turning and facing the harbor.

Erec turned
around and saw the Empire fleet, beyond the iron gates, blocking the entrance
to the harbor.

Silis stepped
forward and turned, scouring the city.

“This city has
more than just one mere water exit,” she said. “After all, this is the great
Volusia, the city of water. I know waterways that can lead us out, through the
back end of the city, and out into the northern harbor. That will take us out
to open sea, and from there we can pick up the waterways that will take us into
the Waste.”

Erec looked her
in the eyes and then surveyed the city, seeing the canals cut through it,
leading from the harbor, just wide enough to hold his ships single file, and
realized it might be the best plan they had.

“And what of
us?” came a voice.

Erec turned to
see dozens of slaves standing there, still shackled, men of all races, men
whose faces were all etched with pain, men who had been abused their entire
lives by the Empire.

Erec stepped
forward solemnly, so grateful to these men for their help, raised his sword,
and as he walked through their ranks, one at a time he slashed them, severing
their bonds, setting them free.

“Your freedom is
yours now,” Erec said, “to do with as you wish. I, and all of my people, thank
you.”

One of the
slaves, a tall man with broad shoulders and dark skin, stepped forward and
looked him right in the eye.

“What we want
with our freedom,” he said, his voice deep and bold, “is vengeance. You sail
for vengeance—we wish to join you. After all, your fight is our fight, too, and
we can bolster your ranks.”

Erec sized him
up, and saw within him a great warrior’s spirit. He could deny no man a chance
for freedom, for battle, and Erec knew his ranks, too, needed replenishing, and
that there was room on his ships.

He nodded back,
solemnly, stepped forward and clasped his hand. His army had grown larger, Erec
knew, and together, they would sail into this Waste, find Gwendolyn, and crush
whatever Empire force stood in their way.

Thorgrin stood
at the bow of the ship, gripping the rail, and looked out in anticipation as
the tides pulled them deeper into the gloom of the Land of Blood. For the first time since he had begun this journey, he felt a sense of hope, felt closer
to finding Guwayne than he’d ever had. On the horizon, before them, loomed the Blood
Lord’s castle, all black, appearing to be made of mud and to emerge from the
blackened landscape all around it, as if an explosion of mud had hardened and
settled into some awful form of a castle. A sinister glow came from its small
windows, shaped like slits, and they did not make it feel more friendly, but
rather more ominous. Thor could sense the evil of this castle even from here,
and he felt without a doubt that Guwayne lay beyond its doors.

“I don’t like
this,” came a voice.

Thor looked over
to see Reece standing beside him, looking out, concerned. Angel stood on his other
side, joined by Selese, O’Connor, Elden, Indra, and Matus, all of them lined
up, studying the horizon, riveted by the sight.

“It is too
easy,” Reece said.

“The waters are
too calm, the land too serene,” Selese chimed in. “Something is wrong.”

“Guwayne was
taken by an army of creatures,” Matus said. “There should be a battalion of
gargoyles guarding this place, awaiting us. Or the Blood Lord himself.
Something
.
But instead, there is nothing. Are we sailing into a trap?”

Thorgrin
wondered the same thing. In spite of the quiet, the gentle breeze, he could not
relax; a sense of gloom hung over them like a blanket, and the lapping of the
blood-red water against the hull, bringing them ever closer to this place, only
served to increase his wariness.

Before them the
waters of the ocean forked. Straight ahead lay the black castle, while to the
left, a strong current rushed, heading off into a horizon that was filled with
breaking light, the waters turning increasingly light as they went.

“It seems like
the way out,” O’Connor said, turning, as they all looked to the left, to the
breaking light. As Thor followed the waters, he saw the landscape, too,
changed, from black to green; in the far distance, it appeared the waters
widened back into ocean, demarcated by the waterfalls of blood. They were
right: it certainly seemed like freedom lay that way.

Thor turned and
looked straight ahead: freedom from the Land of Blood was not what he was
seeking. He wanted Guwayne, whatever the cost. And Guwayne, he knew, lay
straight ahead, in the very heart of the land of gloom.

They stuck to
their course, continuing straight ahead.

Up ahead the
waterway funneled to a long, narrow canal leading to the castle, and as the
mist lifted, Thor peered ahead and saw, blocking the entrance to the canal, an
arched stone drawbridge and a small gatehouse. With the entranceway blocked,
they had no choice but to bring their ship to a stop before it, all of them
puzzled by this entrance.

Thor spotted a
sole figure standing on drawbridge, facing them. The gatekeeper was, oddly, a
woman, unarmed, with long red hair the color of the sea spilling down the sides
of her face, all the way until they touched the water. She stood there and
stared back at Thorgrin with her large glowing blue eyes, perfectly still,
barely clothed, and Thor stared back in wonder, mesmerized.

“I don’t like
this,” Matus said softly. “One woman left alone to guard the castle? It must be
a trick.”

Slowly, their
boat came to a stop before her, and as they floated there, she stared back, her
eyes locking only on Thor’s, and smiled back.

“I am no woman,”
she corrected, having clearly overheard them, “but a gatekeeper. The gatekeeper
to the one and only gate there is, to the one and only Lord of all.” She stared
right at Thor, her eyes so intense they nearly burned through him. “The Lord
who holds your son.”

Thor flushed,
filled with a sense of determination, of outrage.

“Stand out of my
way, woman,” he demanded, “or so help me God, I will kill anyone or anything
that stands in the way of my son.”

But she only
smiled back in response, unmoving, and smiled wider.

“Come to me,”
she said. “Come to me and remove me from this bridge—and your son shall be
yours.”

Thor,
determined, wasted no time. Without hesitating, he rushed forward on the deck,
jumped up onto the rail, then leapt off of their ship, onto the stone
drawbridge.

“Thor!” Angel
called out, concern in her voice.

But he already
stood on dry land, on the stone bridge, before the woman. He stood there
scowling, one hand on the hilt of his sword, prepared to use it if need be.

But the
strangest thing happened: as Thor stood there, facing her, slowly, he felt his
heart melting inside. A numbing sensation took over his body, his mind, and as
he stared back at her, he began to find it hard to concentrate. It was as if
she were casting a spell, and he was slowly falling under it.

He blinked,
trying to shake it off, but try as he did, he could no longer think of harming
her.

“That’s it,” she
said, her voice soft. “Kneel. Kneel before me.”

Thor hardly
realized what he was doing as his legs acted on their own accord and he knelt
before her. She reached up, and he felt her soft hands running through his
hair, her palms so smooth, her voice so comforting. He found it impossible to
concentrate on anything else.

“Thorgrin!”
Reece called out in alarm, as the other chimed in, too.

Thor heard the
voices but he, still in a haze, felt unable to look away, unable to look
anywhere but at this woman’s eyes.

“You don’t need
them, Thorgrin,” she said, her voice so soft, so hypnotizing. “Send them back
home. Allow them to go. Back to their freedom. You don’t need them now. You are
with me now. You are home now—the only home you’ll ever need. You will stay
here with me. On this drawbridge. Forever.”

Thor felt himself
melting deeper into this woman’s spell, believing everything she said and not
wanting to be anywhere else. Everything she said made perfect sense. Why would
he ever want to be anywhere else? He was home now. He felt it.

“Tell them,
Thorgrin,” she whispered, stroking his face. “Tell them to leave without you.”

Thor turned to
his shipmates, barely recognizing them through his haze.

“Go,” he called
out. “Leave me here.”

“NO!” Angel
shrieked. “THORGRIN!”

Suddenly a great
tide came, and Thor watched as the ship started to be drawn away from him. It
forked down to the river, to the path to freedom, out of the Land of Blood, its currents moving faster and faster. Within moments, it was getting smaller,
disappearing, drifting off into the horizon, and as its currents picked up,
Thorgrin knew it would never, ever return again.

But Thorgrin no
longer cared. He wanted the ship to disappear. He wanted to be all alone. He
was happy in this woman’s arms, and he wanted to stay like this forever.

And ever.

“THORGRIN!” Angel
cried, already so far away, a cry filled with despair, with longing, as they
disappeared from view, their ship taken off to another world entirely.

Volusia stood
atop the parapets of the Empire capital, staring out at the vast desert before
her, streaked scarlet by the breaking dawn, and took in the sight with awe.
Surrounded by all her generals and advisors, she looked over to see all of them
looking ashen. She could not blame them.

It was a
magnificent sight before them: the world looked like one giant battlefield. The
entire world seemed to be blanketed by the Knights of the Seven, their
distinctive black banners flying high in the wind, their glistening black armor
covering the desert like a plague, leaving not a single space free. This was
unlike anything she had ever seen. It was not like the small force that had
come before; rather, this was the entire army, all of the assets of the Empire
unfurled before her. They were as numerous as grains of sand by the sea. It was
as if the army had no end.

The banners
alone, flying so high above the troops, were thick enough to blot out the sun.
They rippled wildly, their sound audible even from here, though their front
lines were several hundred yards away.

“Goddess?” asked
one of her generals, panic in his voice. “They have the capital surrounded.
There’s no escape this time.”

“Nor is there
any chance we could withstand their attack,” added another. “Not for long.”

Volusia, wanting
to see for herself, slowly turned in a wide circle, taking in the panorama. She
saw the black army spread out as wide as could be, encircling them like a great
ring. It was a greater army than she’d ever laid eyes upon—she did not know
such force of numbers was possible. While she knew this might be the end of her,
she felt grateful to be alive to see such a sight. There seemed no end to the
number of soldiers that were alive in the world.

“Your sorcery
won’t help you now,” added one of her advisors. “Not with the Volks gone. You
will have no magic at your disposal—just brute force. It will be us against
them. It is a battle we could never win.”

“To even attempt
a defense would be suicide,” added a general. “We have no choice—we must
surrender.”

“Raise the white
flag,” added an advisor, “and broker a truce. Perhaps they will show mercy.”

Volusia stood
there, a tense silence falling over them, as she studied the horizon.

“This is no mere
army, Goddess,” said a general. “This is the force of the entire Empire, the
might of the world, descending upon our city. You have led us to ruin.
Surrender. There is no other choice.”

As Volusia
stared out at the horizon, she tried to block out their voices. Their points
were all true, she knew; with the Volks gone, she no longer had the power of
sorcery. And yet, in a strange way, that made Volusia happy. All of this time,
she had relied upon the external power of the sorcery of others. All along, she
had secretly wanted to rely only on her own power. Because, deep down, she
felt, she knew, that she was a goddess, that she was invincible. That she did
not need the Volks. That she did not need anyone.

And now,
finally, the time had come to prove herself, to show the world the power of the
great Goddess Volusia. To show them that she, and she alone, could stop an
army, had power enough within her to stop the entire world.

After a long
silence, Volusia turned to her men and smiled.

“You are wrong,”
she said. “It is
they
who don’t have a choice. They will all surrender
to me, the great Goddess Volusia—or they will all pay the price.”

They all stared
at her, dumbfounded, speechless.

Volusia would
waste no more time with them, these men who would never understand until they
saw it for themselves.

“I alone will
confront them,” she added. “Now open the gates.”

Her generals,
faces frozen with fear, looked back at her as if she were mad.

Volusia turned
and descended from the ramparts, down the stone steps, all of her men following
hastily. She crossed through the golden courtyard of the Empire’s capital,
ceremoniously, all of her soldiers, all of her people, stopping what they were
doing to watch her go. She walked alone toward the massive gates to the city,
feeling her destiny bubbling up within her. Finally, the time had come.
Finally, it was time to show the world who she truly was.

The huge, arched,
golden gates opened slowly, creaking, as dozens of soldiers turned the cranks.
She walked right for them, the first rays of sunlight pouring through between
the gap, lighting her grotesque face.

Volusia
continued walking, out of the safety of the capital, out into the desert,
feeling the cobblestone beneath her feet give way to sand, crunching beneath
her boots. Alone, outside, she continued to walk, slowly, one step at a time,
never looking back.

Volusia could
feel the eyes of thousands of her own soldiers upon her, watching her nervously
from within the city capital—and could feel, even more so, the eyes of the
millions of soldiers of the Knights of the Seven stopping and gazing at her.
Still, she never stopped. She was a Goddess, after all, and she would stop for
no one. She needed no one. She could take on the forces of the world all by
herself.

Horns sounded
throughout the enemy camp, and Volusia watched as all of the formations broke
into action. Thousands of divisions rallied, charging forward with a great
battle cry, eager for her head. Eager to tear her apart.

Still, she kept
walking. She took another step, and another. Volusia closed her eyes, raised
her palms to the sky, leaned back, and let out a great shriek. As she did, she
willed for the world to bend to her will. She willed for the Earth to split
before her, to swallow up this army. She commanded the heavens to strike down,
the clouds to rush to her will, and lightning to kill their men. She willed for
every power in the universe to rush to her aid. She
commanded
it.

Volusia stood
there, bunching her fists, willing and waiting as the men rushed closer, the
galloping of their horses shaking the ground, filling her ears.

And yet nothing
happened.

There was no
lightning, no earthquake; there were no clouds.

Instead, there
was just the sound of silence.

Sickening, awful
silence.

And she, alone,
was about to be destroyed by an army.