Before Erec could turn, another creature kicked him in the back of the shoulder blade, knocking his sword from his hands. A third creature kicked him hard behind his knee, sending him down.
Erec lay on the ground and looked up to see his friend Brandt get kicked in the chest and go down, too, beside him, unconscious.
He looked up and saw he was surrounded. Lying there, alone, defenseless, there was nothing left for him to do but to watch helplessly, as they all, as one, prepared to finish him off.
Finally, Erec knew, his time of death had come.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Selese paced her cottage, mindlessly fingering an assortment of herbs, looking out the window at her small village, and thinking only of Reece. Ever since he had left her town, she had been able to think of nothing else. His name rung in her head like a mantra. Reece.
Reece.
The King's son. The one she had spurned. The one she had saved. She had been so foolish to be so cold to him, to send him away like that.
Not because he was a King's son.
But because, despite what she’d told him, she had loved him too.
Caught off guard by his advances, by her feelings for him, Selese had put on a good show, had acted as if she had thought he was crazy, irrational, to profess his love for her so quickly. But deep down, she had loved him back—possibly even more than he had loved her. There was something about his personality, his passion, his honesty, that had drawn her in like a magnet. She had just been unable to express it. Afraid to admit it. Afraid he would think she was crazy.
She had been so stupid, so defensive, so juvenile. She hadn’t had the courage to have been as honest as he was. Because she had also been afraid. Afraid to believe it was true—and afraid that it could go away as quickly as it had come.
Now that he was gone, and had been gone for days, Selese felt the persistent feeling in her heart that hung over her like a cloud, and she knew that it was real. She knew from the ache in her stomach, the pain in her chest, the fact that she could not stop thinking about him, not stop seeing his face, hearing his voice, every waking minute. She knew that her love for him was more real than ever anything she'd ever felt in her life.
Selese had been up for two nights, tormenting herself about how she could have done things differently. And how she could make things right.
She stood there, looking out the window, fiddling with the herbs, choosing which she would take and which she would leave. Beside her, her sack was packed with her belongings. She was ready to leave this place and never come back. She was determined to seek out Reece and begin a life with him.
Whatever it took, she would find him. She would give him another chance—and ask for another chance herself. Maybe, just maybe, she hoped and prayed, he would say yes. Not because she wanted out of her village; she loved her village. Not because he was a King's son; she could care less if he was a pauper. But because of that something in his eyes, in his voice, that something between them. Because of how much he loved her. Because of the way he spoke to her.
As she stood there, watching the dawn break, she mentally prepared herself to say goodbye to this place. She closed her eyes and said a prayer to every god she knew, praying that she would find him, and that he would not send her away. Eyes closed, she memorized the way her cottage looked, the way her potions were spread out, her herbs hung. She hoped that one day she could live together with Reece somewhere in a place like this.
That was when she heard the noise. It was an unusual noise, one she hadn't heard in years, and at first she thought her ears were deceiving her. But she listened more closely, and knew that it was real. It was the sound of insects, scattering their way across the baked desert floor. Thousands of insects; millions of them. It was a noise of frenzy. The very vibration of it ran through her body.
A nation of insects didn’t run, Selese knew, unless something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
She turned and bolted from her cottage, stood outside and watched the desert. Sure enough, she spotted them: a line of insects, racing away, as if running from a disaster.
Or from an army.
Selese, heart pounding, slowly turned, afraid to see what she would discover. She looked back in the other direction, the direction the insects were running from, and her throat went dry: the horizon was black with men. It appeared to be the entire planet, marching right towards her village, an enormous force of destruction. The insects were wise; they knew when it was time to run.
Her village, still asleep, lay right in their path. And Selese was the only one awake.
Selese sprinted across the town square, charged up the steps, and rang the town bell, again and again, yanking the coarse rope with all her might. Slowly, the town woke, people coming from out of their homes, half awake, looking up at her as if she were mad.
She pointed at the horizon.
"An army!" she screamed.
The townsfolk finally turned and looked out, and their horrified expressions showed that they, too, saw what approached. Terrified shouts rose up, and more and more of them filtered out of their homes. A state of panic flooded the town, as they all began to flee from the village.
Selese’s heart pounded as she saw the army bear down on them, picking up speed. Her first instinct was to turn and flee with the others. But she forced herself to first run, cottage to cottage, all throughout the village, and make sure everyone was awake, accounted for. She woke up several families, helped children gather their possessions and saved more lives than she could count.
Finally, when everyone else was taken care of, she prepared to flee herself. She started to head back to her own cottage to gather her sack—but then she realized there wasn’t time. She would have to leave her things behind if she wanted to survive.
Selese turned and fled out the village gates with the others, joining the mass exodus. They charged across the empty desert, under a burnt-orange sky, heading somewhere north. Somewhere towards Silesia.
And somewhere, she prayed, towards Reece.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Godfrey sat hunched over a bar, in a seedy pub in a forgotten corner of Silesia, flanked by Akorth and Fulton, as he took a deep drink and admired the strong ale of this city. He emptied it, setting down his fourth mug of foaming red ale, and it went right to his head. He was feeling overwhelmed by the colors of this place: everything in this city was red, from the bartender’s red outfit, to the tables and chairs—even his ale. It was starting to make him dizzy. Either that, or the beer.
But that was hardly foremost in Godfrey's mind: as he buried his head over the bar with his compatriots, he tried to forget his woes, to forget the imminent war. Most of all, Godfrey hated himself. He knew he should be out there, supporting his sister, his brother, out with the others, trying his best to help defend the city. But he just couldn’t bring himself to. That was the way he had always been, since his youth: when hard times came, he was unable to face them. Instead, he would retreat to the bar and drown his sorrows.