A Rite of Swords. Morgan RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I was just able to.”
Her eyes opened with hope as she realized something else.
“Then the Shield is up again,” she said hopefully.
Thor nodded back solemnly.
“Andronicus is trapped,” he said. “We have already liberated King’s Court and Silesia.”
Gwendolyn’s face rose in relief and joy.
“It was you,” she said, realizing. “You freed our cities.”
Thor shrugged modestly.
“It was Mycoples, mostly. And the Sword. I just went along for the ride.”
Gwen beamed.
“And our people? Are they safe? Did any survive?”
Thor nodded.
“They are mostly alive and well.”
She beamed, looking younger again.
“Kendrick awaits you in Silesia,” Thor said, “as do Godfrey, Reece, Srog, and many, many others. They are all alive and well, and the city is free.”
Gwendolyn rushed forward and hugged Thor, holding him tight. He could feel the relief flooding through her.
“I thought it was all gone,” she said, crying softly, “lost forever.”
Thor shook his head.
“The Ring has survived,” he said. “Andronicus is on the run. We will return, and we will wipe him out for good. And then we will rebuild.”
Gwendolyn suddenly turned her back to him and looked away, staring out at the sky, wiping away a tear. She wrapped her cloak tight around her shoulders, and her face filled with apprehension.
“I don’t know if I can return,” she said, hesitantly. “Something happened to me. While you were away.”
Thor turned and faced her, holding her shoulders.
“I know what happened to you,” he said. “Your mother told me. There is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.
Gwendolyn looking at him, her eyes filling with surprise and wonder.
“You know?” she asked, shocked.
Thor nodded.
“It means nothing,” he said. “I love you as much as ever. Even more. Our love – that is what matters. That is what is unbreakable. I shall avenge you. I shall kill Andronicus myself. And our love, it will never die.”
Gwen rushed forward and hugged Thor tight, her tears pouring down his neck. He could feel how relieved she was.
“I love you,” Gwen said in his ear.
“I love you, too,” he answered.
As Thor stood there, holding her, his heart pounded with trepidation. He wanted now, at this moment, more than ever, to ask her. To propose. But he felt he could not until he had first told her his secret, until he told her who his father was.
The thought of it filled him with shame and humiliation. Here he was, having just vowed to kill the very man they both hated most. And with his very next words, how could he announce that Andronicus was his father?
Thor felt sure that if he did, Gwendolyn would hate him forever. And he could not risk losing her. Not after all that happened. He loved her too much.
So instead, his hands trembling, Thor reached into his shirt and pulled out the necklace, the one he’d found among the dragon’s treasures, with a rope made of gold and a shining golden heart, laden with diamonds and rubies. He held it up to the light, and Gwen gasped at the sight.
Thor came up behind her, and clasped it around her neck.
“A small token of my love and affection,” he said.
It hung beautifully on her, the gold shining in the light, reflecting everything.
The ring burned in his pocket, and Thor vowed to give it to her when the time was right. When he could muster the courage to tell her the truth. But now was not that time, as much as he hoped that it could be.
“So you see, you can return,” Thor said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “You must return. Your people need you. They need a leader. The Ring, without a leader, is nothing. They look to you for guidance. Andronicus still inhabits half the Ring. Our cities still need to be rebuilt.”
He looked into her eyes and could see her thinking.
“Say yes,” Thor urged. “Return with me. This Tower is no place for a young woman to live out the rest of her days. The Ring needs you. I need you.”
Thor held out a hand and waited.
Gwendolyn looked down, wavering.
Then finally, she reached out and placed a hand in his. Her eyes turned lighter and lighter, glowing with love and warmth. He could see her slowly coming back to the old Gwendolyn he once knew, filled with life and love and joy. It was as if she were a flower, being restored before his eyes.
“Yes,” she said softly, smiling.
They embraced and he held her tight and vowed never to let her go again.
Chapter Seven
Erec opened his eyes to find himself lying in Alistair’s arms, looking up at her crystal-blue eyes, which shone down with love and warmth. She wore a small smile at the corner of her lips, and he felt the warmth radiating off her hands, and through his body. As he checked himself, he felt entirely healed, reborn, as if he had never been injured. She had brought him back from the dead.
Erec sat up and looked into Alistair’s eyes with surprise, finding himself wondering once again who she really was, how she could have such powers.
As Erec sat up and rubbed his head, he immediately remembered: Andronicus’ men. The attack. The defense of the gulch. The boulder.
Erec jumped to his feet and saw his men all looking back towards him, as if awaiting his resurrection – and his command. Their faces were filled with relief.
“How long have I been unconscious?” he turned and asked Alistair, frantic. He felt guilty he had abandoned his men for so long.
But she smiled back at him sweetly.
“But for one second,” she said.
Erec could not comprehend how that could be. He felt so restored, as if he had slept for years. He felt a new bounce in his step as he jumped to his feet and turned and ran for the entrance to the gulch and saw his handiwork: the huge boulder which he had smashed now stopped it up, and Andronicus’ men could no longer get through. They had achieved the impossible and had fended off the much larger army. At least for now.
Before he could celebrate, Erec heard a sudden scream come from up above and looked up: there, atop the cliff, one of his men screamed, then tumbled backwards, end over end, and landed on the ground, dead.
Erec looked down and saw a spear impaled in the man’s body, then looked back up to see a host of activity, shouts and screams erupting everywhere. Before his eyes, dozens of Andronicus’ men appeared at the top, fighting hand-to-hand with the Duke’s men, going blow for blow, and Erec realized what had happened: the Empire commander had split his forces, sending some through the gulch, and sending others straight up the mountain face.
“TO THE TOP!” Erec commanded. “CLIMB!”
The Duke’s men followed him as he ran straight up the mountain face, sword in hand, scrambling up the steep ascent of rock and dust. Every several feet he slipped and reached out with his palm, scraping it against the stone, grabbing hold, doing his best not to fall backwards. He ran, but the face was so steep it was more climb than run; each step was hard fought, armor clanging all around him as his men huffed and puffed their way, like mountain goats, straight up the cliff.
“ARCHERS!” Erec screamed.
Down below, several dozen of the Duke’s archers, scaling the mountain, stopped