A Rite of Swords. Morgan Rice
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did not. My goal was not to kill the dragons. It was to retrieve the Sword.”
“But again, you did not.”
“Even worse,” another said, “you have now unleashed the dragons against us. Reports are coming in of their attacks, all throughout the Empire. You have started a war we cannot win. It is a great loss for the Empire.”
Romulus stopped trying to respond; he knew it would only lead to more accusations and recriminations. After all, these were Andronicus’ men, and they all had an agenda.
“It is a pity that the Great Andronicus himself is not here to chastise you,” said another councilmember. “I feel sure that he would not let you live the day.”
He cleared his throat and leaned back.
“But in his absence, we must await his return. For now, you will command the army to send legions of ships to reinforce the Great Andronicus in the Ring. As for you, you will be demoted, stripped of your arms and your rank. Stay in the barracks and await further orders from us.”
Romulus stared, disbelieving.
“Be glad that we don’t execute you on the spot. Now leave us,” said another councilman.
Romulus bunched his fists, his face turning purple, and stared down each of the councilmen. He vowed to kill each and every one of them. But he forced himself to refrain, telling himself that now was not the time. He might get some satisfaction out of killing them now, but it would not yield his ultimate goal.
Romulus turned and stormed from the room, his boots echoing, walking through the door as the servants opened it then slammed it shut behind him.
Romulus marched out of the capitol building, down the hundred golden steps and to his group of waiting men. He addressed his second-in-command.
“Sir,” the general said, bowing down low, “what is your command?”
Romulus stared back, thinking. Of course he could not obey the Council’s orders; on the contrary, now was the time to defy them.
“It is the command of the Council that all Empire ships at sea return home to our shores at once.”
The general’s eyes opened wide.
“But sir, that would leave the Great Andronicus abandoned inside the Ring, with no way of returning home.”
Romulus turned stared at him, his eyes going cold.
“Never question me,” he replied, steel in his voice.
The general bowed his head.
“Of course, sir. Forgive me.”
His commander turned and rushed off, and Romulus knew he would execute his orders. He was a faithful soldier.
Romulus smiled inwardly to himself. How foolish the Council had been to think that he would defer to them, would carry out their orders. They had vastly underestimated him. After all, they had no one to enforce his demotion, and until they got around to figuring that out, Romulus, while he had power, would execute enough commands to prevent them from gaining power over him. Andronicus was great, but Romulus was greater.
A man stood on the periphery of the plaza, wearing a glowing green robe, his hood pulled down, revealing a wide, flat yellow face with four eyes. The man had long skinny hands, fingers as long as Romulus’ arm, and stood patiently. He was a Wokable. Romulus did not like to deal with this race, but in certain circumstances he was compelled – and this was one of those times.
Romulus walked over to the Wokable, feeling its creepiness from several feet away as the creature stared back with its four eyes. It reached out with one of its long fingers and touched his chest. Romulus stopped cold at the contact from the slimy finger.
“We have found what you have sent us for,” the creature said. The Wokable made an odd gurgling noise in the back of its throat. “But it will cost you dearly.”
“I will pay anything,” Romulus said.
The creature paused, as if deciding.
“You must come alone.”
Romulus thought.
“How do I know you are not lying?” Romulus asked.
The creature leaned in and came the closest it could to a smile. Romulus wished it hadn’t. It revealed hundreds of sharp, small teeth in its rectangular jaw.
“You don’t,” it said.
Romulus looked into all of its eyes. He knew he should not trust this creature. But he had to try. The prize it dangled was too great to ignore. It was the prize Romulus had been searching for all his life: the mythical weapon that, legend had it, could lower the Shield and allow him to cross the Canyon.
The creature turned its back and began to walk away, and Romulus stood there, watching it.
Finally, he followed.
Chapter Eleven
Gwendolyn rode on the back of Mycoples, behind Thor, holding him tight, the wind rushing through her hair. It was cold, but it felt so refreshing. She was beginning to feel alive again.
In fact, Gwendolyn had never felt so happy as she did now. All felt right in the world again. She could feel her baby, kicking in her stomach, and could sense its joy at being near Thor. Gwen burned with excitement to tell Thor the news, but she was waiting for the perfect moment. And ever since they had left the Tower of Refuge, they had not had a moment to talk.
It had been a whirlwind of battle and adventure, the two of them flying on Mycoples, Gwendolyn watching in awe as the beast wiped out scores of Andronicus’ men. She felt no pity for them. On the contrary, she felt satisfied, felt her desire for vengeance slowly being fulfilled. With each Empire soldier they killed, with each city and town they liberated, she felt wrongs being made right. After all the defeats, after watching her homeland destroyed, it felt good to finally be victorious.
After liberating Vinesia, Kendrick and his men began to make their way back to Silesia. Gwendolyn and Thor decided to fly back on their own and meet them there. With Mycoples, they were so much faster than the horses and had plenty of time to spare. Thor had directed Mycoples to take them on an aerial tour of the Western Kingdom. As they flew, Gwen looked down with satisfaction to see scores of Andronicus’ men wiped out, lining the ground everywhere from the Highlands to the Canyon. The Western Kingdom, she was relieved to see, was completely free.
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