A Reign of Steel

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Gwendolyn stood on the upper ramparts of Tirus’s fort, looking out at the horizon, as she had been for hours, watching the sea. Her expression was grim as she held Guwayne in her arms, Argon’s words thundering in her mind. Had everything Argon said been right? Or had they just been the words of a dying, delusional man?

Gwen wanted to think the latter, but she could not help but fear his words were true.

As she looked out, as she watched and waited, the cold wind brushing her face, she had a sinking feeling that her time here on earth had come to an end. She felt an inevitability to her life now, as if they had come to their final resting place here on these craggy, desolate isles. She wished, more than anything, that Thorgrin were here, that he would return and be by her side. With him by her side, she felt as if she could face anything.

Yet somehow she knew that he would not. She prayed for his safety. She prayed that, wherever he was, he would be okay. That he would remember her. Remember Guwayne.

As Gwen blinked, watching the clouds, suddenly, on the most distant horizon, something came into view. At first it was very faint: it was a motion, a movement in the dark clouds. Then she saw wings, one set, then another. A dragon came into view. Then another.

Then another.

Gwen’s heart sank as her worst nightmares came to life: a host of dragons filled the distant horizon, screeching angrily, flapping their great wings. It was death, she knew, coming for them all.

“Sound the bells,” Gwendolyn said calmly to Steffen, who stood waiting patiently nearby.

Steffen turned and ran off, and up and down the ramparts bells tolled, warning her people. Down below shouts arose, as people scrambled to take cover, running into caves, to underground passages, as Gwen had prepared them—anywhere they could to escape the dragons’ breath.

Deep down, Gwen knew it was a futile effort. Nothing could escape a dragon’s wrath—much less the wrath of a host of dragons. She knew that whomever the dragons missed, Romulus’s men would finish off.

Moments later, Gwendolyn saw the ocean fill with black. There were black ships—Empire ships—as far the eye could see. It was an entire world of ships; she did not know so many ships could exist in the world. She marveled that all of them would want to descend on such a small island. That all of them were coming just for her.

Gwen suddenly heard a screech overhead, so close, and she looked up, wondering, bracing herself. She was shocked to see Ralibar. He had appeared from somewhere on the island, screeching, flapping his great wings, his talons extended. She assumed that he would be flying away, away from the destruction that came for them, that he would save himself.

But to her surprise, Romulus flew straight ahead, flying out, all alone, to greet the oncoming army. He flew with all his might, and he did not slow as he sped to bravely face them all. Gwen’s heart soared at Ralibar’s courage. He knew he would die facing them, and yet he did not flinch in battle. This one dragon, so bold, so proud, flying up to sacrifice his life, to die in battle, to defend Gwendolyn and all her people—and to take out as many dragons as he could.

Gwendolyn clutched Guwayne tighter, turned from the ramparts, and hurried down the spiral stone stairs. The time had come.

Gwendolyn walked quickly and deliberately along the rocky shoreline by the ocean’s edge, clutching Guwayne, the two of them all alone. Far off, she could hear the dragons cry, and she knew it was too close; there wasn’t much time left now.

Gwen listened to the sound of the waves lapping gently on the shore of this smooth bay on the rear of the island that led out to the ocean, its current strong as the tide was pulling out to sea. She walked over to a small boat, one which she’d had made just for this purpose, eight feet long, with a mast just as high and a small sail. The boat was large enough for a child.

A single child.

Gwen sobbed as she clutched Guwayne tight one last time, leaned over, and kissed him. She kissed him for as long as she could, until Guwayne began to cry.

As Gwen began to lower him, he grabbed her hair and pulled it. She continued to lower him until he was safely in his bassinet inside the boat, wrapped up in blankets and wearing his wool hat.

Gwendolyn sobbed, kneeling by his side, as Guwayne wailed.

Gwen looked out at the ocean, at the horizon, and her heart was torn in two. She could not bear the thought of sending her child out there into the unknown. Yet she knew it would be selfish to keep him here with her. Staying here meant an instant and cruel death. Out there, he would probably die, too. But at least he might have a chance. It might be one chance in a million, floating somewhere, out there, on the vast and open sea. But who knew where the tides, where the fates, might take him. Perhaps, she prayed, they would take him to safety. To a mother and father who loved him. Perhaps he could be raised by someone else, become a great warrior, live the life he was meant to live. Maybe, just maybe, this child would have a chance, could live on for them. She wished, more than anything, that she could give this to him; but she knew she could not.

“I love you, my child,” she said, meaning every word, unable to hold back her tears.

And with those final words, she knelt down, grabbed the boat, and gave it a shove.

It was a small boat, and it rocked as she shoved it into the calm waters. The light current slowly and gently pulled it out to sea. Guwayne’s cries, instead of fading, grew louder and louder as the current pulled him, all alone, into the expanse of an empty, gray sea.

Gwendolyn watched him go, his eyes flashing, the color of the sea, and she could not take the sight anymore; she closed her eyes and prayed her last prayer with all that she had:

Please, God. Be with him.