They were barely fifty yards away from the rear of Tirus’s fleet when, finally, she was ready.
“FIRE!” she cried.
A thousand arrows suddenly filled the air from Gwen’s fleet of ships, all aflame, all sailing in a high arc. Gwen held her breath as she watched them lighting up the dawn.
A moment later they landed, blanketing Tirus’s fleet.
“FIRE!” she yelled again.
Her men fired volley after volley, flaming arrows lighting up the sky like a plague of locusts, and landing on Tirus’s ships.
There arose cries of confusion, and of pain, as some of Tirus’s ships suddenly went ablaze. A half dozen ships, in the rear of his fleet, were so badly hit that they went up in a quick succession of flames, men trying frantically to put out the flames, but unsuccessful. They leapt, on fire, into the ocean.
The rest of the fleet, though—dozens more ships—were out of reach of the arrows, or managed to put out the blazes fast enough so that no real damage was done. They all slowly turned around to face Gwendolyn, an army vastly larger than hers. They gave up the chase in the harbor, but now they set their sights on Gwen.
They were intimidating, this well-coordinated fleet of warships bearing down on them, and Gwen knew that if her ropes didn’t work, she and her men would be dead within minutes.
Gwendolyn raised her hand and lowered it sharply, the sign she had prepared. As she did, she watched Kendrick and his men yank the heavy rope on one end, and Godfrey and his men on the other. The rope rose higher, just above the water’s surface, one hundred yards wide, and they quickly wrapped it around new boulders, again and again, securing it.
They had waited until the last moment, until Tirus’s fleet was too close to see the spikes protruding from the water. Tirus’s men finally noticed it—but too late.
Tirus’s fleet, unsuspecting, sailed right into the trap. The sound of splintering wood tore through the air, followed by the sound of wood groaning. Kendrick and Godfrey and all the Legion boys manned their positions fearlessly, holding onto the ropes with their bare hands, to make sure they didn’t loosen. They held on for dear life, groaning against the weight of the ships.
Tirus’s fleet continued to lodge itself into the spikes, one after the other, too late to turn around, all lined up side by side in the narrow harbor, all sailing in haste to destroy Gwendolyn. Within moments, the ships began to buckle, then to list. The bows began to nosedive, straight down into the water, as the ships fell apart into a million pieces.
Tirus’s men cried out in terror, falling from the off-balance ships, flailing in the ocean as the great currents sucked them down. Within moments, his fleet, sailing so proud, indomitable just moments before, was completely wiped out.
Gwendolyn’s men let out a great cheer of victory as Tirus’s fleet plummeted down to the depths of the sea.
“ATTACK!” Gwen screamed.
Gwendolyn’s men raised the mainsail, and they picked up wind and sailed and rowed with all they had, full speed right into the harbor, to reinforce Reece and what was left of her fleet. As they neared, she could already see Reece and the others wading in the waves up to their knees, fighting hand to hand, outnumbered by all Tirus’s men on shore.
That was about to change. A chorus of horns sounded, marking the arrival of Gwen’s feet, and Tirus’s soldiers on shore began to stop their fighting and look up at the arriving fleet in fear.
“AIM HIGH AND FIRE!” Gwen shouted.
Her men unleashed hundreds more arrows in a high arc, sailing through the air, over the heads of Reece and her men, and striking Tirus’s soldiers on shore. Screams filled the air, as one after another soldier dropped to the sand, bloody, as the sky darkened with arrows. Volley after volley rose up and landed, and soon, nearly every man on the beach, save her own, was dead. Whoever remained turned and fled.
Gwen was close enough to see Reece’s face as he and the others turned and looked up at her in shock, in awe, and in gratitude.
They had survived. Victory was theirs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Romulus stood at the base of the Canyon crossing, his million-man army behind them, and looked out in a seething rage. Up above, his dragons shrieked as they threw themselves, again and again, into Argon’s invisible shield blocking the Canyon, infuriated, unable to cross. Romulus looked up, watching, wondering what could have happened, wondering what force could be strong enough to withstand all these dragons.
Romulus knew that he had destroyed the Shield for good—and he had been told by every sorcerer that the Shield would not rise again; that the Ring was his forever; and that no force on earth could stop him.
Romulus did indeed occupy the Ring—his men now occupied every corner of it, on both sides of the Highlands. They had razed every town, reduced them to rubble, to ashes, and there was not a single thing left to rebuild. The Ring belonged to him now. It was now Empire territory.
And yet here Romulus was, unable to leave the Ring, trapped inside, with this invisible Shield that had somehow been erected by Argon. As Romulus peered out across the Bridge, he wondered what had happened here, and how to destroy it. And most of all: where had Gwendolyn escaped to?
Romulus turned to Luanda, who stood by his side.
“Where has your sister gone?” he demanded.
Luanda stood there, no longer bound, finally loyal, not running anywhere. Romulus took satisfaction in seeing her, a woman he thought he would never break, once so fiercely independent, now subservient to his will, like everybody else. All of his beatings had worked; she was now like every other slave, ready to do his bidding. One day, he might even marry her—and when he’d had enough of her, he’d kill her just as quickly. Of course, she did not know that yet. She would be in for a rude surprise.
Luanda looked out at the horizon, and seemed to be thinking.
“She wouldn’t try to make a home in the Wilds,” she replied. “She would know there is no home for her there. She must be bringing her people to the ships; she must have had them prepared. There is only one place she could sail that is close, friendly territory, a place she probably would not think you would ever venture. A place hidden in the stormy northern seas: the Upper Isles.”
Romulus examined the Canyon crossing, saw the footprints of thousands across it, and he wondered. If he could get past this shield, he would take half of his million man army, lead them to his ships, and set off for the Upper Isles. He would surround every inch of it, and destroy it to oblivion.