A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (17 page)

Godfrey ran, Merek, Ario, Akorth, and
Fulton beside him, out from the shadows of the city courtyard, away from the
Empire army pouring through the gates, determined to save Silis. As he reached
an alleyway and prepared to duck into it, he turned back and looked. He was
both delighted and scared to see the hordes of Empire soldiers rushing through
the gates, slaughtering Volusian soldiers left and right. On the one hand, it
was all thanks to him and his men, and it was exactly what he wanted; on the
other hand, the storm he had unleashed looked like it was going to kill
everything in its path—including him.

He still could not understand why Empire
was fighting Empire, and as he took a close look at their armor, he realized it
was a different sort of Empire armor, all black, their helmets with pointy
noses. He looked up high, at the banners they were waving, and he noticed they
were bearing a different insignia. He struggled to read it.

“What army is this?” Merek asked,
wondering aloud the same thing he was.

“Why does Empire kill Empire?” Ario
asked.

Godfrey squinted, trying to make out the
letters on the banner, written in the ancient language of the Empire; he had
been schooled in it as a boy, but he had cut too many classes, sneaking out for
the taverns. Now he wished he had studied harder.

Godfrey tried to decipher it through his
drunken haze, his heart still pounding, still covered in sweat from their crazy
feat of opening the gate and letting these people in. They were getting closer,
but he was dying to know who they were before disappearing.

Finally, he made out the insignia, the
words:
The Knights of the Seven.

It all came rushing back to him, all of
his history lessons.

“They represent the four horns and two
spikes,” Godfrey said. “They are from the far side of the Empire. They would
not attack Volusia unless she had done something to betray them.” He finally
understood. “It’s a personal vendetta,” he added. “They are going to kill
everyone here—including us.”

Godfrey watched as more men—an endless
stream—flooded into the city, slaughtering the overwhelmed Volusians left and
right, throwing axes into their backs as they ran, trampling them with their
horses, a great army of death and destruction taking over the city like ants.
He watched as the army approached a group of slaves, and he was hopeful to see
them liberate them. But he was shocked and outraged to watch the Empire army
slaughter the defenseless slaves, too, all shackled to each other in their
path.

Maybe, Godfrey wondered, he should never
have let them in. Perhaps they were even worse than the Volusians.

“They haven’t come to liberate us,”
Akorth said. “But to murder everything in sight!”

Godfrey, thinking the same thing, watched
them topple an immense statue of Volusia: the fifty-foot statue, made of
marble, slowly fell, landing on top of dozens of Volusian soldiers, crushing
them and shattering with a huge explosion, the pieces scattering in every
direction. Another division of soldiers rushed forward and began setting fire
to everything in sight.

“There!” Akorth yelled.

Godfrey turned and saw him pointing to
the harbor on the far side of the courtyard; there was a row of ships, sitting
there empty.

“We can make it to the harbor!” he
added. “We can still slip out in the confusion, before anyone knows we are
here. This is our chance!”

They all looked to Godfrey, and Godfrey
knew they were right. They were at a crossroads: to their left, the alleyways,
and a chance to free Silis. To their right, finally, freedom.

Not long ago Godfrey would have jumped
at the chance for escape, would have run in his drunken haze, jumped on the
boat, shoved off, and would have sailed anywhere the tides would take him.

But now, Godfrey was changing; something
was stirring within him. Something he hated within himself, but he could not
control. Some damn thing which felt a lot like chivalry. Like honor.

“Silis,” Godfrey said. “She saved us
when she didn’t need to. She did right by us,” he said, turning to the others,
realizing he was speaking from his heart. “We vowed to help her, and we cannot
abandon her now. She will die.”

“We
have
helped her,” Akorth
countered. “We have helped destroy her city—she got what she wanted.”

Godfrey shook his head.

“She did not want death,” he said. “She
was not expecting this. They are going to kill her, to kill everyone in sight.”
Godfrey sighed, hating what he was going to say, but feeling he had no choice.
“We cannot turn our backs on her now.”

They all gaped at him, disbelieving.

“That is freedom there,” Akorth said,
pointing, frantic. “Do you not understand?”

“You disappoint me,” Fulton said. “You, Godfrey,
of all people, infected with this trait called honor?”

Godfrey looked back firmly, resigned.

“I will not leave this city,” he said, “not
without saving her. If you wish to go, I understand. I won’t stop you—and I
don’t blame you.”

The others exchanged a glance, then
finally, Akorth shook his head.

“We’re too damn stupid to let you die
alone,” Akorth said.

“If we survive this,” Fulton added, “you
owe me the best damn drink of my life.”

Godfrey smiled wide, as the others clasped
him on the shoulder and they all turned and ran, ducking into the alleyways
before the army could catch up.

They darted through the alleyways,
twisting and turning, taking shortcuts, clinging to the walls and hiding in the
shadows, until they finally reached Silis’ palace, still safe on the far side
of the city. The Empire army had not reached it yet, though Godfrey could hear
their shouting not far behind, and he knew they would reach it soon.

Godfrey ran through the wide, arched
opening into her palace, running up the steps three at a time, racing past the
guards and not stopping as they shouted at him. He ran up floor after floor
until finally, gasping for breath, he reached her floor and sprinted down the
hall to her chamber, the guards close behind.

He burst open her door, its wood
shattering, and found her lying there, relaxing on a chaise lounge. She jumped
up, startled, as they all burst in—and at the same time, her guards ran up from
behind and grabbed Godfrey.

“What is the meaning of this?” she
demanded.

Several more of her guards poured into
the room, surrounding Godfrey and his men.

“Volusia is overrun!” Godfrey called
out, gasping for breath. “Come with us! Quickly! There is still a chance to
escape!”

Silis, eyes widening in shock, turned
and rushed to the doors to her balcony and threw them open. As she did, a wave
of noise entered the room—the calamitous shouts of men killing and ransacking.

She stepped back from the balcony,
horrified, as she looked out, and Godfrey knew she must be witnessing the
devastation to her city.

“Let him go,” she commanded her men, and
Godfrey was relieved to feel the hands off of him.

She turned and examined Godfrey, staring
into his eyes, and her face filled with gratitude and surprise.

“You came back for me,” she said,
realizing. “You risked your lives for me. Why?”

“Because I promised I would,” Godfrey
replied truthfully.

She laid a soft hand on his wrist.

“I shall never forget this,” she said.

“Let’s go now!” Merek called out. “We
still have a chance to make the ships!”

She shook her head.

“We would never reach them,” she said.
“We’d never make it out of the harbor.”

Godfrey suddenly realized she was right,
and realized that by coming here, by acting selflessly, he had actually saved
his own life.

She looked at them and spoke earnestly.

“I have the perfect place, built for
times like this,” she said. “A secret chamber, hidden far beneath this palace.
You will join me.”

“My lady!” one of her men protested.
“There is not room for them all!”

She turned to him coldly.

“They came back for me,” she said. “I
will make room.”

She turned and hurried through the room,
and they all followed her as she opened a secret door in the wall and entered a
hidden spiral staircase. As Godfrey followed her in with the others, the stone
wall closed perfectly behind them, concealing them in the darkness. Silis
grabbed a torch from the wall and led them down, flight after flight, deeper
and deeper into the blackness. As they went, Godfrey could hear the shouting of
the army getting closer, surrounding the palace.

When they finally stopped Godfrey was
confused, as the stairs seemed to end in a stone wall. But Silis nodded to her
guards, they pulled a lever, and the stone wall slid open, revealing a hidden
door, eight feet thick. They pushed it open with all their might, as Godfrey
and the others watched, amazed.

Silis turned to them and smiled.

“Loyalty,” she said, “has its rewards.”

Erec stood at the stern of the ship,
looking out as the early morning sun broke on the horizon, thrilled to be moving
again. Finally back on the river after the long night of festivities, he led
his fleet as they continued upriver, toward Volusia. Alistair stood beside him,
and Erec reached out and clasped her hand. She looked up at him and smiled, and
he felt elated as he thought of their baby girl. It was the greatest honor he
could imagine, and it made him feel a new sense of purpose in life.

Erec checked over his shoulder and on
the horizon, disappearing, he saw all the villagers, still lined up at the
shore, waving their gratitude and goodbye to them. His heart broke as he watched
them disappear, recalling how gracious and kind these people had been to him
and his men, and how grateful they had been for his liberating them. They waved
him on with love even though they knew he was heading to Volusia instead of forking
upriver in the other direction to save their neighboring village and help liberate
them once and for all. Their unconditional gratitude made him feel even worse.

Erec checked the horizon, and downriver,
in the distance, he could begin to see the faint outline of the Empire fleet,
thousands of ships, still a good day’s ride behind him but closing in fast as
they pursued him upriver. Apparently they had broken through the blockade, and
now that their fear of traveling by river at night had passed, they had set off
at first light of dawn. Erec knew he could not elude them forever: an epic
battle loomed on the horizon.

Erec checked his sails, pleased to see
them at full ballast, his ship moving quickly as they took the tides upriver. He
looked ahead, and as he did, he saw looming quickly, a huge fork in the river.
To the right, he knew, the river wound its way to Volusia; to the left, as the
villagers had told him, it twisted its way to their sister village, to the
Empire fort, to the place they had begged him to go. Erec knew if he forked
right and skipped the fort, the villagers back there would surely be dead; and
yet if he forked left, it would risk his men’s lives, give the Empire a chance
to catch up, and delay his entering Volusia, if at all. He would be imperiling
his men for a battle not their own, and on a river filled with monsters.
Indeed, even from here, as Erec looked left, he saw the waters in that
direction swirling with snakes, even in the daylight.

“What will you decide, my brother?” came
a voice.

Erec turned to see Strom standing beside
him, hands on hips, looking out at the fork, a concerned expression on his
face.

“I know what you are thinking, my
brother,” Strom continued. “Even though we were separated from childhood, I
still know you better than you know yourself. You’re thinking you want to go
save these villagers. Whatever the cost. Whatever the odds. I know you are, because
that is
who you are
.”

Erec looked back at him, realizing he
was right.

“And you, my brother?” he asked. “Could
you do any differently?”

After a long, somber silence, Strom
shook his head.

“You and I,” he replied, “are the same.
Driven by honor. Whatever the cost. It is not only what we do—it is
how we
live
.”

Erec studied the waters, the fork
looming, and knew he was right.

“Though I am the better fighter, of
course,” Strom added with a smile.

“It would not be a wise decision, my
lord.”

Erec turned to see one of his trusted
commanders, coming up on his other side. He knew he was right.

“Wisdom is important,” Erec replied.
“But sometimes it must defer to honor. Life is sacred—but honor is more sacred
than life.”

“Many men will die,” the commander
added.

Erec nodded.

“All of us will die,” Erec replied. “At
one time or another. What you still fail to understand is that I do not fear a
mission into danger when honor is at stake. Rather I embrace it, with joy, from
the bottom of my heart. The challenge, the insurmountable odds of that river,
that is what we live for.”

Erec looked in front of him, studying
the river in the morning silence, the only sound that of the water lapping
against the hull, the tides becoming rougher as they neared the fork. Erec
glanced back and saw the Empire fleet, much closer already. And he knew what he
had to do.

“Full sail ahead!” he yelled, stepping
forward, turning the wheel, and directing the ship left, toward the village,
away from Volusia.

Erec looked over and saw Alistair’s
approving face by his side, saw Strom smiling back, his hand already on the
hilt of his sword, and he looked back out at the looming fork. As their boat
turned away, toward waters unknown, he knew, he just knew, that this was where
he was meant to be.