A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Godfrey stood there, surrounded by a room of hostile Empire soldiers, expecting to be killed—when suddenly, a great horn sounded, shaking the room. It came from somewhere in the distance, persistent, sounding again and again, a dark, foreboding sound, something the likes of which Godfrey had never heard—and the soldiers all turned as one and ran from the room.

Godfrey stood there, sweating, perplexed, staring out at an empty room—only Akorth, Fulton, Merek, and Ario beside him, along with the bartender behind the bar.

Godfrey turned to the others but they all stared back, equally baffled.

“The horns of war,” the bartender explained, stopping what he was doing, his voice grave.

“What does it mean?” Merek said.

The bartender shook his head.

“An enemy is at the gates. Volusia is under siege.”

Godfrey raced from the tavern with the others, all of them bursting out onto the streets of Volusia. Godfrey was dimly aware of how lucky he had been the war horns had sounded when they had, sparing him from a sure pummeling or even death back in the tavern. Yet as he ran through the panic-filled streets, he was not so sure of his good fortune. He saw thousands of Volusian soldiers mobilizing, racing to the city gates, locking and bolting them and preparing for war.

They all ran toward the city gates, all eager to see what was happening, and as he got closer and burst out of an alleyway, Godfrey finally got a peek through the city gates—and as he did, his heart stopped at the sight: there, lining the horizon, were tens of thousands of Empire soldiers, dressed in their all-black armor, hoisting the banners of the Empire—and marching right for Volusia.

Godfrey had never seen an army that size, and the way they marched, so disciplined, he could see it was a professional army. They bore professional siege equipment, too, rolled on massive wooden platforms, along with a host of catapults—and Godfrey realized that they intended not only to conquer this city—but to obliterate it.

Godfrey was baffled. He did not understand why the Empire army would march on an Empire city, what business they possibly had here. Had the Empire erupted into a civil war?

Godfrey scanned the city and amidst the chaos saw the slaves of Volusia all being auctioned off in the city squares, saw thousands more slaves in the streets, being led to the auction block—and he remembered who the real enemy was. The Volusians. The Empire wanted to destroy this city—and so did he. He wanted all these slaves set free, and perhaps, he realized, this was his opportunity.

The conquerors at the gates, he knew, might be worse than the conquerors here; but if these Volusians prevailed, the slaves would never be free. Besides, Godfrey desperately wanted revenge for Darius and his people. This was as good of a chance as he was going to get.

Spears and arrows began to fly through the iron bars of the city gate, and Volusian soldiers began to cry out and fall as they crisscrossed the courtyard to take up positions all along the city walls. Volusian soldiers, meticulously disciplined, marched single file along the ramparts, obeying the shouts of their commanders, taking up positions. They prepared cauldrons of burning oil and they knelt and fired bows and hurled spears, killing scores of soldiers on the far side of the gates. It was a massive army invading, but it was a massive city they attacked, well-fortified, and Godfrey knew this would be an epic battle. It could go on for months.

Unless he had something to say about it.

Godfrey and the others knelt in the shadows, along a city wall, all of them looking out, watching the war unfold before them. Godfrey exchanged a look with the others.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Merek asked with a mischievous smile.

Godfrey smiled back.

“And what might that be?” Akorth chimed in, worried.

“Let the Empire in,” Godfrey explained. “Let them have the run of the city.”

“That is madness!” Fulton said. “They might kill us!”

Godfrey shrugged.

“The Volusians will definitely kill us,” he replied. “The Empire might not. And if they do, at least this way they will kill the Volusians first, exact our revenge for us, and we can free these slaves.”

Akorth and Fulton, panicked, frowned and shook their heads.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Ario asked, calm and collected, as always.

Godfrey watched the Volusian soldiers turning the huge crank to the gates again and again, beginning to close the massive golden doors behind the city gates—and he had an idea. He leaned over and stroked Dray’s head.

“Dray,” he commanded. “Go. Avenge Darius. Attack those men!”

Dray needed no prodding: he barked and bolted across the courtyard, doing exactly as Godfrey bid, raising up a cloud of dust as he left a trail.

Dray reached the first soldier and sank his teeth into his ankles—and the soldier cried out, dropping the crank.

“NOW!” Godfrey said.

Godfrey rose to his feet and charged, and the others followed on his heels, Akorth and Fulton, huffing, trailing the group.

They reached the crank and all grabbed hold of it—but could not budge it.

“Turn it the other way!” Godfrey said.

They all turned it the other way, and as Godfrey pulled with all his might, slowly, the city gates began to re-open.

Soon, Volusians caught on. Godfrey ducked as a spear flew by his head, and as he looked up, he saw a squad of Volusians locking eyes on them and tearing off down the ramparts right for them.

“LOOK OUT!” Ario yelled.

Ario picked up a spear, took aim, and hurled it—pushing Godfrey’s head down just in time to miss a throwing ax. Godfrey turned to see the spear impale a Volusian soldier a few feet away, attacking them from behind.

Merek drew his sword and killed another Volusian as he attacked them from the other direction.

They all focused again on the crank, and Godfrey kept turning, his hands burning, determined not to let go. He knew, though, that their time was limited, the pack of Volusians bearing down and getting closer with every moment. The door opened wider and wider, moving at a snail’s pace.

Godfrey looked up and saw the Volusians were but feet away, about to kill them—but still he would not abandon the crank. He heaved one last time, with all the others, and finally, the gates opened just wide enough.

There came a great shout as there appeared, rushing through the open gates, hundreds of Empire soldiers, streaming in. The Volusian soldiers, overrun, had no recourse but to turn and flee as the momentum pushed them back into their own city. Before their eyes, Volusians were slaughtered, hacked down by the pursuing Empire army, and finally Godfrey felt vindicated. He recalled Darius and his men, butchered in these very same streets by the Volusians—and he knew there was justice in the world.

Godfrey knew that, in the chaos, this was their chance to escape this city.

“Let us go!” Akorth urged, pointing to the rear alleys which could lead to freedom.

Godfrey wanted to leave this place, he truly did.

But he knew he could not. Silis, the Finian woman, would be vulnerable in this invasion. If they did not help her, she would be dead. She had saved him—and he owed her.

“No!” Godfrey called out. “Not yet. We have an obligation to fulfill first. Follow me!”

He turned and ran across the courtyard, Dray barking at his heels, hoping the others would follow—but determined to proceed, even if they did not. For the first time in his life, it was not personal gain that was driving him—but valor. Duty.

He heard footsteps and turned to see the others right behind him, all of them determined, whatever the cost, to do the right thing.