Gwendolyn shook these thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time. As soon as she finished with Tirus, assuming she lived, she would send every man she had to rescue Thor.
Gwendolyn focused on Tirus as his face appeared before her, a condescending smile etched into it, exuding bombast. They rode closer and closer, their chain mail jingling, their swords rattling on their hips, their spurs clinking, the smell of horses heavy in the air, mixed with the moist smell of the Canyon in the cold morning air.
Tirus and she stopped a few feet away from each other, and each stared at each other proudly. Tirus sat there, waiting for her to break the silence, clearly reveling in what he thought was his success, in the apology to come.
“You are a wise girl,” he said, finally. “You have made the right decision to surrender to us. One must admit defeat when one is surrounded.”
Gwendolyn’s heart pounded as she sat there on her horse, her posture perfect, staring back into the ball of the rising first sun. Her eyes were cold and hardened, and she felt a new strength within her, the strength of the son she carried. Thor’s son.
She no longer felt afraid. Not of these men, not of anyone, and not of death. Life felt less precious to her than it had, and no threats could get to her.
A heavy silence hung in the air, horses prancing and snorting, as Gwen took her time to respond. She was prepared to signal all of her men to charge, and knew that with the slightest gesture they would—and havoc would break loose.
“Whoever said we decided to surrender?” she responded coldly.
Gwendolyn’s heart pounded, and she could feel the knuckles tightening on the hilts of the swords of her men. In just a moment she would wave her hand and mark the signal to begin the battle that would surely lead to her death, and to everyone else’s. She was not afraid of death. Only of dying poorly. And this time, at least, she would die with her honor intact.
Slowly, Tirus’ face fell, his arrogant smile beginning to drop as he realized from her expression that she was serious.
“Stupid girl,” he said. “Have you come then to tell me that you have signed your death sentence?” he asked coldly, his voice filled with hostility.
As Gwendolyn raised her eyes to survey her men, to prepare to give the signal, she noticed something on the horizon, on the hills behind Tirus’ men; something caught her eye, something she did not expect. Something gleamed in the light, where it shouldn’t. It was the reflection of a shield. But it was not of her men. Or of Tirus’.
Then there came another shield.
Then another.
Over the ridge, there appeared several thousand shields, shining, gleaming in the light.
At first, Gwen was confused. Another army had arrived here, on this battlefield.
But as they got closer, as their banner hoisted over the hill and came into view, she recognized the emblem. Her heart soared. It couldn’t be.
It was.
It was the banner of the Duke of Savaria. Those were his men—along with thousands of others. And leading the pack, she could recognize by his armor, the shiniest silver armor in the kingdom, was her father’s champion. Erec.
Erec had returned. And he had brought with him thousands of men.
And Tirus had no idea.
Now it was Gwen’s turn to smile. She looked back at Tirus and she realized she was going to enjoy this, very, very much.
“On the contrary,” she said calmly back to Tirus, “I believe it is you who you who have signed your death sentence.”
Tirus glowered in anger as his expression morphed into a scowl.
“You are a stupid girl,” he said. “You are about to send many men to their deaths. And you are about to learn what it means to suffer.”
“I have already learned far more about suffering than you will ever know,” she countered. “I am through with trivialities. I will give you one chance to surrender.”
Tirus looked at her in shock, then leaned back his head and laughed with derision.
“You mock me, girl. Either that, or you are completely mad.” He laughed heartily, as did his men. “Why should I surrender when I outnumber you two to one? When your forces are weak, and mine are strong?”
Gwendolyn smiled wide.
“Because if you look behind you, you will see twice as many men as yours over that ridge behind you. You will recognize the armor: those shields belong to the Duke of Savaria and to the champion of the Silver, Erec, and all of his knights. He has returned home, to serve my father faithfully—something you have never done. And if that does not suffice, you can look to your right and to your left, and within those woods you will see thousands more of my men, flanking you from both sides, bows drawn and awaiting my signal.”
Gwen smiled wide.
“So you see, my uncle, it is you who are completely surrounded.”
Tirus grimaced.
“Do you think I’m stupid enough to turn and look at imaginary ghosts on the landscape? This is one last act of desperation on your part,” he said.
But his four sons turned and looked, and as they did, their faces lit with fear, and their horses pranced.
“Father, she speaks the truth,” one of them said.
Grudgingly, Tirus turned and saw himself surrounded, on all sides, by thousands and thousands of men. Erec held the high ground, his thousands of soldiers sitting proudly, lances held high—and at his sides Gwendolyn’s men emerged two thousand archers at the ready.
Tirus turned and looked back at Gwen, this time with an expression of utter shock. His face turned pale, and he slumped a bit, losing his arrogant posture.
Kendrick and the others in her convoy drew their swords, the ring cutting through the morning air.
“Drop your weapons, all of you,” Gwen commanded darkly. “If not, with the slightest wave of my hand I will have a thousand archers release their tension. Now it is you who has a choice to make.”
Tirus’ face finally crumpled in humility and fear. He dropped his weapons down to the ground and gestured for the others to do the same. All around them, his convoy dropped their arms, all hitting the cold ground with a clanging noise.
“I know when I’ve lost,” he said. “You have outwitted me today. I surrender my forces to you.”
“I know that you will,” she said. “It is easy to surrender when you face a sure death. The question for me is whether I choose to accept your surrender, or whether I just take your life instead.”