A Charge of Valor (6 page)

Kendrick walked slowly through the burnt-out courtyard of Upper Silesia, at his side Srog, Brom, Kolk, Atme, Godfrey and a dozen Silver. They all marched slowly, deliberately, hands clasped behind their heads in a show of surrender.

The small group worked its way past the thousands of watching Empire soldiers, towards the waiting figure of Andronicus at the far city gate. Kendrick felt all eyes on them as they went, the tension thick in the air. The courtyard, despite being occupied by thousands of troops, was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

An hour before, Kendrick had yelled up his surrender to Andronicus, and this group had ascended together, making a show of not carrying weapons as they had marched between the parting crowd of Empire soldiers, on their way to formally kneel before Andronicus. Kendrick’s heart was pounding as they went, his throat dry, as he saw how many thousands of hostile enemy surrounded them.

Kendrick and the others had rehearsed a scheme, and as they approached Andronicus, and Kendrick saw firsthand how huge and savage he looked, Kendrick prayed the scheme worked. If it did not, their lives were over.

They marched, spurs jingling, until finally one of Andronicus’ generals stepped forward, an imposing creature with a deep scowl, and stuck out a rough palm, jabbing Kendrick in the chest. They were stopped about twenty feet away from Andronicus, presumably out of caution. Their soldiers were wiser than Kendrick had predicted; he had hoped to march all the way to Andronicus, but clearly that was something they would not allow. Kendrick’s heart beat faster, as he hoped it did not put a wrinkle in their plan.

As they all stood there, silent, facing off with each other, Kendrick cleared his throat.

“
We have come to surrender before the Great Andronicus,” Kendrick announced, his voice booming, trying to use his most convincing tone as he stood with the others, unmoving, looking up into Andronicus’ eyes.

Andronicus reached up and fingered the shrunken heads on his necklace, looking down at them with something like a snarl, or perhaps a smile.

“
We accept your terms,” Kendrick continued. “We admit defeat.”

Andronicus leaned forward, just slightly, seated on a huge stone bench, and looked down at them with something like a smile.

“
I know that you will,” he said, his voice booming back across the courtyard. “Where’s the girl?”

Kendrick was prepared for that.

“
We have come as a contingent of our most senior and decorated officers,” Kendrick responded. “We came first, to profess our surrender to you. When we are finished, the others will follow, with your permission.”

Kendrick thought that adding “with your permission” was a nice touch, would help it seem even more plausible. He’d learned a great lesson long ago, from one of his military advisors: when dealing with a narcissistic commander, always appeal to his ego. There was no limit to the mistakes a commander might make when you flattered them, when you played up their greatness.

Andronicus leaned back just a bit, barely responding.

“
Of course they will,” Andronicus said. “Otherwise the group of you would be very foolish to appear here.”

Andronicus sat there, staring down at them, as if trying to decide. He seemed as if he sensed something awry. Kendrick’s heart pounded.

Finally, after a long wait, Andronicus seemed to decide.

“
Step forward and kneel,” he said. “All of you.”

The others all looked to Kendrick, and Kendrick nodded.

They all took a step forward and knelt down, before Andronicus.

“
Repeat after me,” the commander said. “We, representatives of Silesia….”

“
We, representatives of Silesia….”

“
Do hereby surrender to the Great Andronicus….”

“
Do hereby surrender to the Great Andronicus….”

“
and vow allegiance to him for the rest of our days and more….”

“
and vow allegiance to him for the rest of our days and more….”

“
And to serve as slaves to him for as long as our days endure.”

The final words were hard for Kendrick to get out and he swallowed hard, until he finally repeated them, word for word:

“
And to serve as slaves to him for as long as our days endure.”

It made him nauseous to do so, and his heart was thumping in his ears. Finally, the pain of it was over.

A tense silence followed, and Andronicus finally smiled.

“
You MacGils are weaker than I thought,” he snarled. “I shall take great pleasure in enslaving you, and in making you learn the ways of the Empire. Now go and fetch the girl, before I change my mind and kill all of you on the spot.”

As Kendrick knelt there, he felt his entire life flash before his eyes. He knew that this was one of those defining moments in his life. If all went as he hoped, he would live to tell the tale of this day to his grandchildren; if not, he would, in moments, be lying here a corpse. He knew the chances were stacked against him, but it was a chance he had to take. On behalf of himself; on behalf of the MacGils; and on behalf of Gwendolyn. It was now or never.

In one quick motion, Kendrick reached behind his back, grabbed a short sword hidden beneath his shirt, stood, and screamed as he hurled it with all his might.

“
SILESIANS, ATTACK!”

Kendrick’s sword hurled end over end, heading right for Andronicus’ chest. It was a mighty throw, with true aim, a throw bold enough to kill any other warrior.

But Andronicus was not any other warrior. Kendrick was just a few yards too far, and Andronicus was just a touch too quick; Andronicus managed to duck out of the way with a moment to spare. He still screamed out in pain, as the blade grazed his arm, drawing blood. It then continued through the air and killed the general standing beside him, lodging in his stomach instead.

On Kendrick’s scream, chaos erupted. All around him the others reached back and drew their hidden swords and decapitated the soldiers standing amidst them. Brom pulled a dagger from his belt, stepped to the side, and slashed it backwards through the throat of a soldier standing close by. Kolk removed a short sling from his waist, placed a rock, and hurled it, hitting a distant soldier, holding a bow, in the head, right before he could fire. Godfrey threw a dagger; his aim was not as true as the others, and the dagger missed its mark, impaling instead the leg of a young soldier.

All around them, screams erupted of the wounded Empire soldiers, none of them expecting the surprise attack.

On cue, at the same moment, on all sides of the courtyard Silesian soldiers suddenly emerged from the ground, from the walls. They came up with a great battle cry, aiming arrows, darkening the air with them. Thousands of arrows crossed the courtyard, felling Empire soldiers in every direction. They were attacked from so many sides, the soldiers were at a loss as to which way to turn; many of them, in their panic, ended up attacking each other.

Kendrick was thrilled to see his plan was working perfectly. Srog had informed him of the hidden tunnels connecting lower Silesia to the upper city, built in the case of a siege, for a last-resort element of surprise. All the soldiers had waited patiently, all of them in place, waiting for Kendrick’s cue.

Thousands of them now emerged, firing with such speed and aim that it gave the Empire soldiers no time to react. Kendrick charged forward and entered the fray, snatching a sword from a dead Empire soldier and attacking the soldiers nearest him, joined by his friend Atme and the others. The Empire soldiers, panicked in the chaos, turned and ran in every direction, not even sure which way to go.

The Silesians were gaining the advantage. Kendrick felled a dozen men before he even had to raise a shield in defense. Atme fought back to back with him, as he always had, doing equal damage. With every stroke he thought of Gwendolyn, thought of revenge.

The thousands of Empire soldiers were so flummoxed that they all ran back, heading for the set of gates to the outer courtyard. The mob rushed Andronicus and his men, stampeding them, who tried to stand firm but were forced back by the sheer numbers. Like cattle, they were all herded through the far gate, all desperately trying to get away from the arrows, which continued to hail down from all directions. As the Silesian soldiers ran out of arrows, they all drew their swords and charged, at their brothers’ sides.

The number of Empire soldiers was vast, yet they were not well-trained warriors—most of them were just bodies, enslaved peoples in the service of Andronicus. The Silesians, on the other hand, were few in number, yet each and every one of them was an elite warrior, a hardened, well-trained soldier, each worth the weight of ten Empire men. They also had the element of surprise—and most of all, they had fire in the veins. Their backs against the wall. An urge to live. An urge to protect their loved ones. Fury for Gwendolyn. After all, this was
their
city. And they knew that if they did not win, it would be there their deaths.

Scores of Silesians sounded horns, the noise terrifying, sounded like a limitless army, and more and more of them emerged from the tunnels. They all charged forward as if their lives depended on it, thousands of them meeting the thousands of Empire soldiers.

The fighting was thick and fierce, blood covering the courtyard as sword met sword, dagger, dagger, as men grappled and looked into each other’s eyes, struggling hand to hand and killing each other face to face. Quickly, the tide turned in the direction of the Silesians.

Another horn sounded, and out from the lower gates came charging the Legion, hundreds strong, screaming a fierce battle cry of their own. They raised slings and arrows and spears and swords, and charged into the fray, killing Empire soldiers left and right and helping to turn the tide. The Legion were hardened warriors already, even at a young age, and as they ran, they all screamed out for Gwendolyn, and for Thor.

The Legion did as much damage as the others as they all joined forces seamlessly, pushing the Empire farther and farther back towards the outer gate. Soon the tide of battle turned in their favor, as Empire corpses fell in every direction, and the ones who remained grew panic-stricken and ran. A million Empire soldiers awaited beyond the gates—but there was a bottleneck of soldiers fleeing, and they could not get in.

Andronicus rose in a rage, jumping into the mix, fighting back the fray of soldiers charging him, attacking his own people, grabbing soldiers with his bare hands and smashing their heads together, twisting their necks, killing them on the spot.

“
WE DO NOT RETREAT!” he screamed.

He grabbed swords from soldiers’ hands and stabbed them in the hearts with their own weapons. He was a one-man wave of destruction, ironically, helping the Silesians.

A few others of his closest generals fought, too, as viciously as he.

But there was nothing they could do against the stampede, the endless tide of soldiers racing for them. Despite their efforts, they were forced back, pushed all the way through the outer gate.

Soon there was not a single Empire soldier left within the inner courtyard. The Legion rushed the gate, fighting valiantly, and as they reached it they yanked on the heavy ropes with all they had. More than one Legion member died as they pulled the ropes, exposed, but they did not back away. Finally, the great iron gate lowered and slammed shut, sealing the city from the Empire army.

It landed with a thud, and after that thud there came a momentary silence. It was a silence of shock. A stunned silence of victory. The Silesians had won back their city.

They all erupted in a shout of triumph. Kendrick embraced the others, who were ecstatic, hardly believing it. They had won the battle. They had really won.

*

As the iron gate slammed, Kendrick turned to the others; he had never seen these brave warriors, who he had fought with through so many conquests and battles, ever as elated as they were on this day. They could all now breathe a collective sigh of relief. Against all odds, they had pushed back Andronicus’s men. Their risky plan had worked.

For the first time in as long as Kendrick could remember, he actually felt optimistic. Maybe, he thought, they could hold this city after all; maybe they could actually hold out against Andronicus. Here they stood, in the last remaining free sliver of the Empire. Right now, it was theirs. And no matter what happened in the future, on this day, Andronicus could never nullify the victory they had achieved.

As the men fanned out across the courtyard, relaxed their guard, collected their wounded, celebrated, embraced, as more and more citizens of lower Silesia ascended to see for themselves the victory that had been achieved—suddenly, something happened. Their world was shaken by a tremendous crash, one strong enough to make the ground beneath them shake. It was the sound of metal meeting metal. Followed by an animal’s enraged scream.