A Sea of Shields. Morgan Rice
MacGil’s expression darkened, and he drew his sword. The distinctive sound cut through the room, making every head turn.
“I said she’s mine!” he screamed.
His face was bright red, hair matted with sweat, and the entire room watched, riveted by the deadly tone.
Everything stopped abruptly and the room grew quiet, as both sides of the room watched, frozen. The McCloud, a large, beefy man, grimaced, took the woman, and threw her roughly to the side. She went flying into the crowd, stumbling and falling.
The McCloud clearly didn’t care about the woman; it was now obvious to all that bloodshed was what he really wanted, not the woman.
The McCloud drew his own sword, and faced off.
“It will be your life for hers!” the McCloud said.
Soldiers backed away on all sides, allowing a small clearing for them to fight, and Godfrey saw everyone tensing up. He knew he had to stop this before it turned into a full-fledged war.
Godfrey jumped over the table, slipping on mugs of beer, scurried across the hall, and ran into the midst of the clearing, between the two men, holding out his palms to keep them at bay.
“Men!” he cried, slurring his words. He tried to stay focused, to make his mind think clearly, and he sincerely regretted having drunk as much as he had now.
“We’re all men here!” he shouted. “We are all one people! One army! There’s no need for a fight! There are plenty of women to go around! Neither of you meant it!”
Godfrey turned to MacGil, and MacGil stood there, frowning, holding his sword.
“If he apologizes, I will accept it,” MacGil said.
The McCloud stood there, confused, then suddenly his expression softened, and he broke into a smile.
“Then I apologize!” the McCloud called out, holding out his left hand.
Godfrey stepped aside, and the MacGil took it warily, the two of them shaking hands.
As they did, though, suddenly the McCloud clasped the MacGil’s hand, yanked him in close, raised his sword, and stabbed him right in the chest.
“I apologize,” he added, “for not killing you sooner! MacGil scum!”
The MacGil fell to the ground, limp, blood pouring onto the floor.
Dead.
Godfrey stood there in shock. He was just a foot away from the soldiers, and he could not help but feel as if somehow this were all his fault. He had encouraged the MacGil to drop his guard; he was the one who had tried to broker the truce. He had been betrayed by this McCloud, made a fool of in front of all his men.
Godfrey was not thinking clearly, and fueled by drink, something inside him snapped.
In one quick motion, Godfrey bent down, snatched the dead MacGil’s sword, stepped up, and stabbed the McCloud through the heart.
The McCloud stared back, eyes wide in shock, then slumped down to the ground, dead, the sword still embedded in his chest.
Godfrey looked down at his own bloody hand, and he could not believe what he had just done. It was the first time he had ever killed a man hand to hand. He never knew he had it in him.
Godfrey had not been planning to kill him; he had not even thought it through carefully. It was some deep part of himself that overcame him, some part that demanded vengeance for the injustice.
The room suddenly broke into chaos. From all sides, men screamed and attacked each other, enraged. Sounds of swords being drawn filled the room, and Godfrey felt himself shoved hard out of the way by Akorth, right before a sword just missed his head.
Another soldier – Godfrey could not remember who or why – grabbed him and threw him across the beer-lined table, and the last thing Godfrey remembered was sliding down the wooden table, his head smashing into every mug of ale, until finally he landed on the floor, banging his head, and wishing he were anywhere but here.
Chapter Six
Gwendolyn, in the wheelchair, Guwayne in her arms, braced herself as the attendants opened the doors and Thor rolled her in to her mother’s sick chamber. The Queen’s guard bowed their heads and stepped aside, Gwen clutching the baby tighter as they entered the darkened chamber. The room was silent, stifling, airless. Torches flickered dimly on either wall. She could sense death in the air.
Guwayne, she thought. Guwayne. Guwayne.
She said the name silently in her head, over and over to herself, trying to focus on anything but her dying mother. As she thought it, the name brought her comfort, filled her with warmth. Guwayne. The miracle child. She loved this baby more than she could say.
Gwen wanted her mother to see him before she died. She wanted her mother to be proud of her, and she wanted her mother’s blessing. She had to admit it. Despite their troubled past, Gwen wanted peace and resolution in their relationship before she died. She was in a fragile state right now, and the fact that she had become closer to her mother these past moons only made Gwen feel even more distraught.
Gwen felt her heart clench as the doors closed behind her. She looked about the room and saw a dozen attendants standing near her mother, people from the old guard whom she recognized, who used to watch over her father. The room was filled with people. It was a deathwatch. At her mother’s side, of course, was Hafold, her dutiful servant to the end, standing guard over her, not letting anyone close, as she had all throughout her life.
As Thor wheeled Gwendolyn close to her mother’s bedside, Gwen wanted to get up, to lean over her mother, to give her a hug. But her body still ached with pain, and in her condition, she was unable.
Instead, she reached out with one hand and held her mother’s wrist. It was cold to the touch.
As she did, her mother, lying there unconscious, slowly opened one eye. Her mother looked surprised and pleased at the sight of Gwen, and she slowly opened both eyes, and opened her mouth to speak.
She mouthed words, but they came out as a gasp. Gwen could not understand her.
Her mother cleared her throat and waved her hand for Hafold.
Hafold immediately bent over, leaning her ear close to the Queen’s mouth.
“Yes, my lady?” Hafold asked.
“Send everyone out. I want to be alone with my daughter and Thorgrin.”
Hafold looked briefly at Gwen, resentfully, then replied, “As you wish, my lady.”
Hafold immediately rounded everyone up and ushered them out the door; then she came back and took her position again at the Queen’s side.
“Alone,” the Queen repeated to Hafold, with a knowing look.
Hafold looked down, surprised, then gave Gwen a jealous look and stormed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Gwen sat there with Thor, relieved they were all gone. A heavy blanket of death hung in the air. Gwendolyn felt it – her mother would not be with her much longer.
Her mother clasped Gwen’s hand, and Gwen squeezed hers. Her mother smiled, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I am pleased to see you,” her mother said. It came out as a whisper, just audible.
Gwen felt like crying again, and she tried her hardest to be strong, to hold back her tears for her mother’s sake. Yet she could not help herself; tears suddenly came pouring out, and she cried and cried.
“Mother,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. For everything.”
Gwen felt overcome with sorrow that they had not been closer in life. The two of them had never fully understood each other. Their personalities had always clashed, and they could never see things the same way. Gwen was sorry for their relationship, even if she was not to blame. She wished, looking back, that there was something she could have said or done to make it different. But they had