The Gift of Battle (9 page)

Godfrey turned away
from the sight, looking back to the harbor—and he was suddenly filled with
dread. The boats they were heading for were all suddenly set aflame by the
Knights.

Silis stopped,
too, along with all her men, and stared in shock. For the first time since Godfrey
had met her, she seemed to be at a loss.

They all stood
there, breathing hard, hands on their hips, watching their future burn away.
Godfrey realized they were now trapped, and would soon all be dead. There was
no way out.

“Now what?” Ario
asked, turning to Silis.

“How are we
going to get out of here?” Merek asked.

Silis looked
everywhere, scanning the harbor, eyes filled with panic—and he saw from her
gaze that it was over—there was no way out.

Godfrey, heart
pounding, scanned the harbor himself, looking for any sign of hope—just one
empty ship. There were none.

But as Godfrey
scanned the horizon, he saw something that caught his eyes in the distance. He
blinked, wondering if he were seeing things. There seemed to be a small fleet
of ships snaking its way upriver, sailing into the harbor. Those banners…he
seemed to recognize them. But he knew it could not be.

Could it?

As the ships
sailed closer, Godfrey squinted into the sun and saw that they were indeed ones
he recognized: the banners of the Southern Isles. Erec. The greatest knight of
the Silver.

But what was he
doing here, in Volusia?

Godfrey’s heart
skipped a beat as it swelled with joy and hope. Erec. Their greatest knight.
Alive. Here. Sailing into Volusia. His throat went dry with excitement. Godfrey
felt a sudden surge of confidence, felt for the first time that they might
actually make it out of here—when suddenly he realized that Erec was sailing
into a dead end. He saw the iron gate up ahead, and he realized at once that
Erec was in danger.

Godfrey, heart
racing, surveyed the harbor and saw the huge iron crank beside the gate—and he
knew at once that if he did not raise it, Erec and his men, pursued as they
were by the huge Empire fleet behind them, would all soon be trapped. Dead.

And then something
crazy happened: Godfrey no longer felt fear for himself. It was replaced by a
burning urgency to save his friend. Without thinking, he began to run, through
all the chaos, right for the harbor, and for that crank.

“Where are you
going?” Silis called out, horrified.

“To save a
brother!” Godfrey yelled back over his shoulder as he sprinted.

Godfrey ran and
ran, breathing hard but this time not slowing. He knew that by running like
this in the open courtyard he was exposed, and would likely get killed. For
some strange reason, he no longer cared. Instead, he kept his eyes fixated on
Erec’s ships, on that crank, and remained determined to save them.

Godfrey was
surprised to hear footsteps, and he turned to see the others running up beside
him, catching up with him.

Merek smiled
back, equally throwing caution to the wind.

“You better know
what you’re doing,” he called out.

Godfrey pointed
straight ahead.

“Those ships,”
he called out. “Those are Erec’s. We must lift that gate!”

Godfrey looked
out and saw the Empire fleet closing in on them and he ran faster than all the
others, surprising himself, gasping in one last sprint until he reached the
crank.

He jumped up,
grabbed its huge handle, and pulled with all his might.

But it didn’t
budge.

The others
caught up, and as one they all joined in, Silis and her men, Merek, Ario, and
even Akorth and Fulton, all of them leaning on the massive iron crank and
pulling with all their might. Godfrey strained and groaned beneath its weight,
desperate to free Erec.

Come on
, he prayed.

Slowly, the
crank, with a great creaking noise, began to budge. It groaned and protested,
but slowly it moved, and as it did, Godfrey saw the iron gate raise an inch.

They all let go
of their grip, exhausted by the effort.

“It’s going too
slow,” Ario observed. “We’ll never open it in time.”

Godfrey looked
over and realized they were right—the crank was just too massive.

Suddenly, there
came a barking, and Godfrey looked down to see Dray at his feet, a rope in his
mouth, barking frantically. He realized that Dray was trying to tell him
something, and he looked over to see a carriage and several horses, abandoned,
a few feet away. His eyes lit up.

“You’re a
genius, Dray,” Godfrey said.

Godfrey burst
into action, looping one end of the rope over the crank, then running over and
looping the other over the carriage. He then grabbed the whip off the back and
whipped the group of horses again and again.

“RIDE!” Godfrey
yelled.

The massive war
horses neighed, then reared and took off with all their strength.

Suddenly, the
crank began to move, again and again, faster and faster, as the horses ran
farther and farther away.

Godfrey turned
at the sound of groaning metal and was elated to watch the iron gate opening
wide beneath the water. He was thrilled to see Erec’s ships continuing on,
sailing right for it, and finally slipping through the opening, just wide
enough, and into the harbor.

“STAND BACK!”
Godfrey yelled.

Godfrey drew his
sword, rushed forward, and hacked the rope.

The crank wound
furiously the other way, and the iron gate began to shut on itself again,
sealing the harbor just as the last of Erec’s ships passed through.

There soon came
the sound of ships crunching and breaking, and Godfrey watched in awe as
several Empire ships, right behind Erec, smashed into the iron gates and
cracked into a million pieces. Hundreds of Empire soldiers cried out as their
ships were impaled, falling overboard and into the harbor.

Godfrey saw the
joy on the faces of Erec and his men as their fleet sailed into the harbor,
safely inside. There came a shout of triumph, and of joy, and Godfrey knew he
had saved them. He felt elated. Finally, for once, he had done something
worthy.

*

Erec sailed
through the gates, into the Volusian harbor, and his eyes opened wide in disbelief
to look over and see it was Godfrey turning the crank, a dog at his heels, cutting
the rope, opening those gates and saving their lives. As he severed the rope,
the iron gates slammed close, cutting off the rest of the Empire fleet and
leaving Erec and the others free inside the harbor and waterways of Volusia. He
and all his men let out a cheer, as the Empire ships cracked and splintered
behind them.

As Erec looked
over at Godfrey, beaming, he saw him flanked by a group of people he did not
recognize, and he felt a renewed sense of optimism. If Gwendolyn’s brother was
here, perhaps she was, too.

Erec studied the
city with a professional soldier’s eye, and he was confused to see battle
everywhere, a city immersed in chaos, the Knights of the Seven flooding through
the gates and invading what remained of the city, killing the last vestige of
Volusian soldiers, who finally turned and fled. They had been completely
routed. But why? Why would Empire turn on Empire?

With the
Volusians killed and the city vanquished, horns sounded throughout the city,
and Erec watched the Seven begin to depart en masse, leaving the city gates as
quickly as they had rolled in. The vast army of the Knights of the Seven was
already leaving, heading back out into the desert and leaving behind but a
small force of perhaps a thousand men to kill and loot what remained of the
Volusians. Clearly, Erec realized, this war had never been about occupying
Volusia—but rather about a vendetta. Erec studied city streets, the open
courtyards, and amid the thousands of Volusian corpses, he counted perhaps
several hundred Knights remaining—about the same size force of men he had in
his ships. They were a vicious force of killers—but with their numbers equally
matched and the Volusians dead, Erec knew he at least had a chance.

As Erec’s ship
touched down at the edge of the harbor, Godfrey and his men throwing up ropes
to help secure them, Erec leapt from the deck, not waiting for the ramp—the
Knights had spotted them and were charging already, and Erec knew there was no
time.

He landed below
on the golden cobblestone. He was joined by Strom, and all around him his men
did the same, jumping down, lowering the ramps, securing ropes and gathering
their weapons, all hitting the ground running and ready for battle.

Even as the
Knights charged, Erec scanned the faces, looking everywhere for Gwendolyn,
wanting to free her; but not spotting her, he moved on, charging forward,
leading his men, and bracing himself for battle.

There came a
tremendous clash as the Knights of the Seven met his men. The clang of armor
rang through the air as Erec led the way, the first in battle, blocking an ax
blow with his shield, raising his sword and slashing, felling the first knight.

Erec felt ready
for battle, especially after all that at sea. Joined by his brother, his men,
and even Godfrey and the others, he let out a great battle cry as he threw
himself into the thick of the sea of men, prepared to risk it all for freedom.

The Knights,
well-trained, came at him swinging, and if he were a regular soldier, Erec
surely would have fallen. But Erec was too well-trained for that; indeed, he
had been trained since the time he could walk for battles such as this. He
raised his shield as it glimmered beneath the sun and blocked blow after blow,
dazzling his opponents. He also used it as a weapon when he chose to, smashing
some knights in the head and others in the wrist, disarming them. He used his
sword, slashing and jabbing—but he also used his feet and his hands, kicking
other soldiers back and elbowing others. He was a one-man whirlwind of
destruction.

The Knights
focused on him and came at him in waves. He ducked and dodged and spun, slicing
one in the stomach and stabbing another through the heart. He head-butted
another, then thrust backwards and stabbed a soldier behind him, right before
he could bring an ax down on the back of his head.

Erec moved like
lightning, like a fish leaping in and out of water, defending and attacking,
felling men and leading the way. Strom fought beside him, joined by other men
from the Southern Isles, and they fought for their lives, spinning in every
direction as the army closed in. They killed men, yet some of Erec’s men, he
was pained to see, fell, too.

Erec’s shoulders
were tiring, and he, vastly outnumbered, was beginning to wonder how much
longer his men could last—when suddenly he heard a great shout from behind the
Knights. There was chaos in the crowd, and consternation in the soldiers’
ranks, and Erec looked out, confused, to see them being attacked from behind.
He heard a rattling of chains and couldn’t understand what was happening—until
he looked out and saw dozens of slaves, still shackled, rising up from the
streets of Volusia and jumping the soldiers from behind. They descended on them
with their shackles, strangling them, beating them, snatching away their
swords—and the Knights were caught off guard. Sandwiched now between two
forces, they did not know which way to fight.

The battle no
longer theirs, the Knights fell in droves as Erec and his men, re-energized,
made a final push forward, felling them left and right.

Those that
remained soon tried to turn and flee—but Erec and the slaves did not let them.
They surrounded them, cut off their escape, and killed every last one of them.

Soon, all fell
silent. The air was filled with no sound but that of men groaning and writhing
on the golden streets of Volusia. Erec, still breathing hard, heart pounding,
looked everywhere for Gwendolyn, wondering about the fate of his people. But he
saw no sign of her.

Godfrey came
running over and Erec warmly embraced him.

“A face from the
Ring,” Godfrey said, in awe.

“Where is
Gwendolyn?” Erec asked.

Alistair rushed
forward and embraced Godfrey, too, and she studied him, wondering.

“Where is my
brother?” she demanded. “Where is Thorgrin? Where are all the others from the
Ring?”

“Are you all
that remains?” Erec asked, cautious.

Godfrey shook
his head sadly.

“I wish I knew,”
he replied. “Last I saw her, she was alive, with our people, and heading out
into the Great Waste.”

Erec processed
the news, feeling dismayed. He had so hoped and expected to find and rescue
Gwendolyn here. He realized his journey was far from over.

Suddenly, there
came bursting forth from the crowd two people, a girl with fierce eyes and a man
who resembled her, perhaps her brother, who ran with a limp. They ran right up
to Godfrey, and he turned and faced them, seeming shocked.

“Loti?” he
called out. “Loc?”

They embraced,
and Erec wondered who they were.