A Reign of Steel (2 page)

Godfrey
raised his bow with trembling hands, leaned over the edge of the parapet, and
took aim. He meant to pick a target and fire right away—but as he saw the sight
below, he knelt there, frozen in shock. Below him charged thousands of McCloud
soldiers, a well-trained army flooding the landscape, all heading right for the
gates of King’s Court. Dozens of them rushed forward with an iron battering ram,
and slammed it into the iron portcullis again and again, shaking the walls, the
ground beneath Godfrey’s feet.

Godfrey
lost his balance and fired, and the arrow sailed harmlessly through the air. He
grabbed another arrow and pulled it back on the bow, his heart pounding,
knowing for sure that he would die here today. He leaned over the edge, but
before he could fire, a rock cast from a sling flew up and smacked into his
iron helmet.

There
was a loud clang, and Godfrey fell back, his arrow shooting straight up into
the air. He yanked off his helmet and rubbed his aching head. He never knew a
rock could hurt so much; the iron seemed to reverberate in his very skull.

Godfrey
wondered what he had gotten himself into. True, he had been heroic, he had
helped by alerting the entire city of the McClouds’ arrival, buying them
precious time. He had maybe even saved some lives. He had certainly saved his
sister.

Yet
now here he was, along with but a few dozen soldiers left here, none of them Silver,
none of them knights, defending this shell of an evacuated city against an entire
McCloud army. This soldier stuff was not for him.

There
came a tremendous crash, and Godfrey stumbled again as the portcullis was
smashed open.

In
through the open city gates rushed thousands of men, cheering, out for blood. As
he sat up on the parapet, Godfrey knew it was only a matter of time until they
came up here, until he’d fight his way to the death. Was this what it meant to
be a soldier? Was this what it meant to be brave and fearless? To die, so
others could live? Now that he was greeting death in the face, he wasn’t so
sure this was a great idea. Being a soldier, being a hero, was great; but being
alive was better.

As
Godfrey thought of quitting, of running off and trying to hide somewhere,
suddenly, several McClouds stormed the parapets, racing up single file. Godfrey
watched as one of his fellow soldiers was stabbed and dropped to his knees,
groaning.

And
then, once again, it happened. Despite all his rational thinking, all his
common wisdom against being a soldier, something clicked inside Godfrey that he
could not control. Something inside Godfrey could not stand to let other people
suffer. For himself, he could not muster the courage; but when he saw his
fellow man in trouble, something overcame him—a certain recklessness. One might
even call it chivalry.

Godfrey
reacted without thinking. He found himself grabbing a long pike and charging
for the row of McClouds who raced up the stairs, single file along the
parapets. He let out a great scream and, holding the pike firm, he rammed the
first man. The huge metal blade went into the man’s chest, and Godfrey ran,
using his weight, even his beer belly, to push them all back.

To
his own amazement, Godfrey succeeded, driving the row of men back down the
spiral stone staircase, back down away from the parapets, single-handedly holding
off the McClouds storming the place.

When
he finished, Godfrey dropped the pike, amazed at himself, not knowing what had
come over him. His fellow soldiers looked amazed too, as if not realizing he
had it in him.

As
Godfrey wondered what to do next, his decision was made for him, as he detected
motion from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a dozen more McClouds
charging him from the side, pouring into the other side of the parapets.

Before
Godfrey could manage to put up a defense, the first soldier reached him,
wielding a huge war hammer, swinging for his head. Godfrey realized that the
blow would crush his skull.

Godfrey
ducked out of harm’s way—one of the few things he knew how to do well—and the
hammer swung over his head. Godfrey then lowered his shoulder and charged the
soldier, driving him backwards, tackling him.

Godfrey
drove him back, further and further, to where they grappled along the edge of
the parapet, fighting hand-to-hand, grabbing for each other’s throats. This man
was strong, but Godfrey was strong, too, one of the few gifts he had been
graced with in his life.

The
two clambered, spinning each other back and forth, until suddenly, they both rolled
over the edge.

The
two of them went plummeting through the air, clutching each other, falling a
good fifteen feet down to the ground below. Godfrey spun in the air, hoping
that he would land on top of this soldier, instead of the other way around. He
knew that the weight of this man, and all his armor, would crush him.

Godfrey
spun at the last second, landing on the man, and the soldier groaned as Godfrey’s
weight crushed him, knocking him out.

But
the fall took its toll on Godfrey, too, winding him; he hit his head, and as he
rolled off the man, every bone in his body aching, Godfrey lay there for one
second before the world spun, and he, lying beside his foe, blacked out beside
him. The last thing he saw as he looked up was an army of McClouds, streaming
into King’s Court and taking it for their own.

*

Elden
stood in the Legion training grounds, hands on his hips, Conven and O’Connor
beside him, the three of them watching over the new recruits Thorgrin had left
them with. Elden watched with an expert eye as the boys galloped back and forth
across the field, trying to leap over ditches and launch spears through hanging
targets. Some boys did not make the jump, collapsing with their horses into the
pits; others did, but missed the targets.

Elden
shook his head, trying to remember how he was when he first started his Legion
training, and trying to take encouragement in the fact that in the last few
days these boys had already shown signs of improvement. Yet these boys were
still nowhere near the hardened warriors he needed them to be before he could
accept them as recruits. He set the bar very high, especially as he had a great
responsibility to make Thorgrin and all the others proud; Conven and O’Connor,
too, would allow nothing less.

“Sire,
there is news.”

Elden
looked over to see one of the recruits, Merek, the former thief, come running
up to him, wide-eyed. Interrupted from his thoughts, Elden was agitated.

“Boy,
I told you to never interrupt—”

“But
sire, you don’t understand! You must—”

“No,
YOU don’t understand,” Elden countered. “When the recruits are training, you
don’t—”

“LOOK!”
Merek shouted, grabbing him and pointing.

Elden,
in a rage, was about to grab Merek and throw him, until he looked out at the
horizon, and he froze. He could not fathom the sight before him. There, on the
horizon, great clouds of black smoke rose into the air. All from the direction
of King’s Court.

Elden
blinked, not understanding. Could King’s Court be on fire? How?

Great
shouts arose on the horizon, the shouts of an army—along with the sound of a crashing
portcullis. Elden’s heart sank; the gates to King’s Court had been stormed. He
knew that could only mean one thing—a professional army had invaded. Today, of
all days, on Pilgrimage Day, King’s Court was being overrun.

Conven
and O’Connor burst into action, shouting out to the recruits to stop what they
were doing, and rounding them up.

The
recruits hurried over, and Elden stepped forward beside Conven and O’Connor, as
they all quieted and stood at attention, awaiting orders.

“Men,”
Elden boomed. “King’s Court has been attacked!”

There
came a surprised and agitated murmur from the crowd of boys.

“You
are not yet Legion, and you are certainly not Silver or hardened warriors that
would be expected to go up against a professional army. Those men invading
there are invading to kill, and if you go up against them, you may very well
lose your lives. Conven, O’Connor, and I are duty bound to protect our city,
and we must leave now for war. I do not expect any of you to join us; in fact,
I would discourage it. Yet if any of you wish to, step forward now, knowing you
may very well die on the field of battle today.”

There
came a few moments of silence, then suddenly, every single boy standing before
them stepped forward, all brave, noble. Elden’s heart swelled with pride at the
sight.

“You
have all become men today.”

Elden
mounted his horse and the others followed, all of them letting out a great
cheer as they charged forward as one, as men, to risk their lives for their
people.

*

Elden,
Conven, and O’Connor led the way, a hundred recruits behind them, all galloping,
weapons drawn, as they raced toward King’s Court. As they neared, Elden looked
out and was shocked to see several thousand McCloud soldiers storming the
gates, a well-coordinated army clearly taking advantage of Pilgrimage Day to
ambush King’s Court. They were outnumbered ten to one.

Conven
smiled, riding out in front.

“Just
the kind of odds I like!” he shouted, taking off with a great cry, charging out
in front of everyone, wanting to be the first to advance. Conven raised his battle-ax
high, and Elden watched with admiration and concern as Conven recklessly attacked
the rear of the McCloud army by himself.

The
McClouds had little time to react as Conven swung his ax down like a madman and
took out two of them at a time. Charging into the thick of the soldiers, he
then dove from his horse and went flying through the air, tackling three
soldiers and bringing them tumbling off their horse to the ground.

Elden
and the others were right behind him. They clashed with the rest of the
McClouds, who were too slow to react, not expecting an attack on their flank. Elden
wielded his sword with wrath and dexterity, showing the Legion recruits how it
was done, using his great might to take down one after the other.

The
battle became thick and hand-to-hand, as their small fighting force forced the
McClouds to change direction and defend. All the Legion recruits joined the
fray, riding fearlessly into battle and clashing with the McClouds. Elden noticed
the boys fighting out of the corner of his eyes and he was proud to see none of
them hesitating. They were all in battle, fighting like real men, outnumbered
hundreds to one, and none of them caring. McClouds fell left and right, caught
off guard.

But
the momentum soon turned, as the bulk of the McCloud men reinforced, and the
Legion encountered professional soldiers. Some of the Legion began to fall.
Merek and Ario took blows from a sword, but remained on their horses, fighting
back and knocking their opponents down. But then they were hit by swinging
flails, and knocked off their horses. O’Connor, riding beside Merek, got off
several shots with his bow, taking out soldiers all around them—before being
struck in the side with a shield and knocked off his horse. Elden, completely
surrounded, finally lost the element of surprise, and he took a mighty blow to
his ribs from a hammer, and a sword slash on his forearm. He turned and knocked
the men off their horses—yet as he did, four more men appeared. Conven, on the
ground, fought desperately, swinging his ax wildly at horses and men who
charged by—until finally he was hit from behind by a hammer and collapsed
face-first in the mud.

Scores
more McCloud reinforcements arrived, abandoning the gate to face them. Elden
saw fewer of his own men, and he knew that soon they would all be wiped out.
But he didn’t care. King’s Court was under attack, and he would give up his
life to defend it, to defend these Legion boys whom he was so proud to fight
with. Whether they were boys or men no longer mattered—they were shedding their
blood beside him, and on this day, alive or dead, they were all brothers.

*

Kendrick
galloped down the mountain of pilgrimage, leading a thousand Silver, all of
them riding harder than they ever had, racing for the black smoke on the
horizon. Kendrick chided himself as he rode, wishing he had left the gates more
protected, never expecting such an attack on a day like this, and most of all,
from the McClouds, whom he thought were pacified under Gwen’s rule. He would
make them all pay for invading his city, for taking advantage of this holy day.

All
around him his brothers charged, one thousand strong, the entire wrath of the Silver,
forgoing their sacred pilgrimage, determined to show the McClouds what the Silver
could do, to make the McClouds pay once and for all. Kendrick vowed that by the
time he was done, not one McCloud would be left alive. Their side of the Highlands would never rise again.

As
Kendrick neared, he looked ahead and spotted Legion recruits fighting valiantly,
saw Elden and O’Connor and Conven, all terribly outnumbered, and none backing
down to the McClouds. His heart soared with pride. But they were all, he could
see, about to be vanquished.