Read Online A Charge of Valor by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Morgan Rice
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Magic, YA), series, Action, Fantasy - Series, SciFi, Monsters, dragon, epic fantasy, teen, teenage, sorcerer, juvenile, sword
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of Empire soldiers were so flummoxed that they all ran back, heading for the set of gates to the outer courtyard. The mob rushed Andronicus and his men, stampeding them, who tried to stand firm but were forced back by the sheer numbers. Like cattle, they were all herded through the far gate, all desperately trying to get away from the arrows, which continued to hail down from all directions. As the Silesian soldiers ran out of arrows, they all drew their swords and charged, at their brothers’ sides.
The number of Empire soldiers was vast, yet they were not well-trained warriors—most of them were just bodies, enslaved peoples in the service of Andronicus. The Silesians, on the other hand, were few in number, yet each and every one of them was an elite warrior, a hardened, well-trained soldier, each worth the weight of ten Empire men. They also had the element of surprise—and most of all, they had fire in the veins. Their backs against the wall. An urge to live. An urge to protect their loved ones. Fury for Gwendolyn. After all, this was their city. And they knew that if they did not win, it would be there their deaths.
Scores of Silesians sounded horns, the noise terrifying, sounded like a limitless army, and more and more of them emerged from the tunnels. They all charged forward as if their lives depended on it, thousands of them meeting the thousands of Empire soldiers.
The fighting was thick and fierce, blood covering the courtyard as sword met sword, dagger, dagger, as men grappled and looked into each other’s eyes, struggling hand to hand and killing each other face to face. Quickly, the tide turned in the direction of the Silesians.
Another horn sounded, and out from the lower gates came charging the Legion, hundreds strong, screaming a fierce battle cry of their own. They raised slings and arrows and spears and swords, and charged into the fray, killing Empire soldiers left and right and helping to turn the tide. The Legion were hardened warriors already, even at a young age, and as they ran, they all screamed out for Gwendolyn, and for Thor.
The Legion did as much damage as the others as they all joined forces seamlessly, pushing the Empire farther and farther back towards the outer gate. Soon the tide of battle turned in their favor, as Empire corpses fell in every direction, and the ones who remained grew panic-stricken and ran. A million Empire soldiers awaited beyond the gates—but there was a bottleneck of soldiers fleeing, and they could not get in.
Andronicus rose in a rage, jumping into the mix, fighting back the fray of soldiers charging him, attacking his own people, grabbing soldiers with his bare hands and smashing their heads together, twisting their necks, killing them on the spot.
“ WE DO NOT RETREAT!” he screamed.
He grabbed swords from soldiers’ hands and stabbed them in the hearts with their own weapons. He was a one-man wave of destruction, ironically, helping the Silesians.
A few others of his closest generals fought, too, as viciously as he.
But there was nothing they could do against the stampede, the endless tide of soldiers racing for them. Despite their efforts, they were forced back, pushed all the way through the outer gate.
Soon there was not a single Empire soldier left within the inner courtyard. The Legion rushed the gate, fighting valiantly, and as they reached it they yanked on the heavy ropes with all they had. More than one Legion member died as they pulled the ropes, exposed, but they did not back away. Finally, the great iron gate lowered and slammed shut, sealing the city from the Empire army.
It landed with a thud, and after that thud there came a momentary silence. It was a silence of shock. A stunned silence of victory. The Silesians had won back their city.
They all erupted in a shout of triumph. Kendrick embraced the others, who were ecstatic, hardly believing it. They had won the battle. They had really won.
*
As the iron gate slammed, Kendrick
The number of Empire soldiers was vast, yet they were not well-trained warriors—most of them were just bodies, enslaved peoples in the service of Andronicus. The Silesians, on the other hand, were few in number, yet each and every one of them was an elite warrior, a hardened, well-trained soldier, each worth the weight of ten Empire men. They also had the element of surprise—and most of all, they had fire in the veins. Their backs against the wall. An urge to live. An urge to protect their loved ones. Fury for Gwendolyn. After all, this was their city. And they knew that if they did not win, it would be there their deaths.
Scores of Silesians sounded horns, the noise terrifying, sounded like a limitless army, and more and more of them emerged from the tunnels. They all charged forward as if their lives depended on it, thousands of them meeting the thousands of Empire soldiers.
The fighting was thick and fierce, blood covering the courtyard as sword met sword, dagger, dagger, as men grappled and looked into each other’s eyes, struggling hand to hand and killing each other face to face. Quickly, the tide turned in the direction of the Silesians.
Another horn sounded, and out from the lower gates came charging the Legion, hundreds strong, screaming a fierce battle cry of their own. They raised slings and arrows and spears and swords, and charged into the fray, killing Empire soldiers left and right and helping to turn the tide. The Legion were hardened warriors already, even at a young age, and as they ran, they all screamed out for Gwendolyn, and for Thor.
The Legion did as much damage as the others as they all joined forces seamlessly, pushing the Empire farther and farther back towards the outer gate. Soon the tide of battle turned in their favor, as Empire corpses fell in every direction, and the ones who remained grew panic-stricken and ran. A million Empire soldiers awaited beyond the gates—but there was a bottleneck of soldiers fleeing, and they could not get in.
Andronicus rose in a rage, jumping into the mix, fighting back the fray of soldiers charging him, attacking his own people, grabbing soldiers with his bare hands and smashing their heads together, twisting their necks, killing them on the spot.
“ WE DO NOT RETREAT!” he screamed.
He grabbed swords from soldiers’ hands and stabbed them in the hearts with their own weapons. He was a one-man wave of destruction, ironically, helping the Silesians.
A few others of his closest generals fought, too, as viciously as he.
But there was nothing they could do against the stampede, the endless tide of soldiers racing for them. Despite their efforts, they were forced back, pushed all the way through the outer gate.
Soon there was not a single Empire soldier left within the inner courtyard. The Legion rushed the gate, fighting valiantly, and as they reached it they yanked on the heavy ropes with all they had. More than one Legion member died as they pulled the ropes, exposed, but they did not back away. Finally, the great iron gate lowered and slammed shut, sealing the city from the Empire army.
It landed with a thud, and after that thud there came a momentary silence. It was a silence of shock. A stunned silence of victory. The Silesians had won back their city.
They all erupted in a shout of triumph. Kendrick embraced the others, who were ecstatic, hardly believing it. They had won the battle. They had really won.
*
As the iron gate slammed, Kendrick
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