Young Writers Society

The king stood up and walked over to Thomas, giving him a gentle hug. He then straightened and announced to everyone, a proud smile on his face, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my new son, Thomas, to the family!”

There was thunderous applause everywhere from the beaming lords and ladies, especially Queen Eamol, whose eyes were brighter than the sun.

“Today we welcome Thomas, and have a celebratory feast in his honor. His remarkable resemblance to our son can only be a gift from the gods, knowing how hard it has been for Eamol and I to bear the tragedy that took hiim from us. He will always remind us of him, and for that reason, we shall keep him here in a place of honor and train him as we would have trained our son. I understand that the chefs have prepared quite a feast for us, so without keeping you in suspense any longer, let us get started on enjoying this delicious meal!”

The king clapped his hands, and a long line of servants stepped out, placing exquisite silver dishes in between everyone and whipping the lids off with a flourish, revealing the delicious food inside each one. From what Thomas could see, there was lamb, beef, potatoes, corn, pudding, cherries, and bread. He was certain there was much more, and took only a scoop of everything as it was passed around. Just as he picked up his fork and was about to dive into his plate, there was a commotion out in the hallway.

The conversation died down as everyone turned to face the double doors leading into the dining hall. There were heavy footsteps and screams, then a dirty man threw open the doors and ran inside.

“What is the meaning of this?” the king bellowed, red-faced from embarrassment and anger.

The messenger knelt down, chest heaving. “I do apologize for my entrance, O King. But this news just could not wait.”

“What news?” the king demanded.

“The Shadow Army has attacked, and they are advancing towards the castle!” the messenger cried.

“What?” the king gasped. “How quickly?”

“I estimate you have, at most, 20 minutes.”

The king almost collapsed, but steadied himself. He clapped his hands for silence, and the room went completely quiet. “I do apologize for this disruption, but due to the urgent nature of this news, I believe that we should postpone our celebratory dinner. Anyone who is allied with us, please send messengers to your respective kings, and I shall call my soldiers to arms. I would recommend that you all take our fastest horses and ride away in the opposite direction to stay out of danger. Once again, I am terribly sorry about the timing of this, but we have to take immediate action.”

As anxious chatter began, one of the men stood up near the center, and a hush spread over the hallway again. “We will not go and leave you to face this threat alone, King. I, for one, will rally my troops and fight with you!”

A chorus of “Yes”s and “Hurrah”s sounded throughout the dining hall, and the king nodded in appreciation.

“Very well, then. If you want to fight, then meet me up on the walkway, and I will equip you with a bow and arrows. This kind gesture will not go unrepaid, and if we survive this experience, I will send you home with generous gifts. But if you choose to flee, there is no shame in that.”

Queen Eamol raised her hand. “May I speak, husband?”

“Certainly, my queen,” the king said.

“All the women, come with me, and we shall flee to my cousin’s house in Dencast until the danger has passed. Then you can all return home.”

The women all gathered at that side of the hall, murmuring amongst themselves anxiously, and Thomas hurried up to the king.

“Please, Your Highness, I want to fight.”

The king looked surprised. “Thomas, you are hardly more than a boy.”

“You need all the help you can get, sir, correct? I can make myself useful, and I want to defend this kingdom.”

“Very well, then, Thomas. Can you shoot a bow and arrow?”

Thomas nodded. Never thought I would be glad Mom and Dad made me take those archery classes, he thought.

“Well, then, follow me. We will equip you, and your job is to simply hit everything you fire at, do you understand? Aim to kill,” the king instructed.

Thomas nodded, the anticipation building in his throat. He had been very good at archery and had hit the target almost every single time, but he had never used a bow as a weapon. The idea had seemed absurd to him. Why bother with strings and arrows when you had automatic guns, much easier and more accurate? He never had imagined that this skill could come in hand in a real-life situation.

“I’ll have Gustav take you to a position where you should be relatively safe,” the king said. He pointed to one of the archers and barked, “Gustav! Take Thomas to the 3rd Arrow Point.”

“With pleasure, my king.” Gustav swept an exaggerated bow and handed Thomas a quiver of arrows and a bow. “Follow me,” he instructed, and took off at a jog down some of the hallways.

Thomas kept up with him easily, since he had tried track and field for the first time that spring and had also picked that up. His athleticism was coming in handy now as he darted around corners and up ladders and stairs until they reached a circular room, probably 15 feet wide and 20 feet long at its widest point. There were bars on the window and a slit for Thomas’ bow, and Thomas nodded at Gustav.

“We will stay here and alternate,” Gustav announced. “Every 6 arrows, we will switch and reload, then we will switch again, and repeat the process until the battle is over, unless something goes wrong and I give you a direct order. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

Gustav turned around and was about to smack Thomas, then remembered himself. He composed himself, then fixed Thomas with a hard glare.

“Do not let the king hear you call me that. You are higher than me politically and socially, but for the purposes of this attack, I will be giving you suggestions. You can, of course, ignore them, but that will most likely mean the death of both of us. When the king is in earshot, always treat me as if I am a lowly servant and you are the master. We will both be punished otherwise.”

Thomas nodded, now even more scared. Gustav turned back around and fitted an arrow into his bow. “Go fetch us some more arrows, Thomas. Two quivers will not be nearly enough for an attack, and during the assault, it will be dangerous to maneuver throughout the castle.”

“Okay,” Thomas answered, his voice shaking. Gustav shook his head sympathetically, and Thomas ran back downstairs and collided with a servant.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Do you know where more arrows are?”

The servant knelt before him and nodded. “They are in the supply room, my lord.”

“Can you take me there?” Thomas asked.

The servant nodded and led Thomas down a few hallways and into a large room, lit with torches. Suits of armor hung on the walls, and quivers of arrows were stacked on long racks next to polished swords in their scabbards.

Thomas grabbed three quivers and slung one across his back, opting to carry the other two. He jogged back down the maze of hallways, turning left, then right, then left, then right, then right, then right, then up a flight of stairs, and burst into the room.

Gustav grinned with pride. “That's my boy. Good job.”

“Thanks,” Thomas mumbled.

There was an awkward silence for a little, and then Thomas cleared his throat. “How long have you been in the military?”

“13 years next month,” Gustav answered.

“Wow. That's impressive,” Thomas remarked.

“My family wasn't very impressed.”

“Why not? A soldier is an admirable career.”

“They wanted me to be a goldsmith, and even shelled out quite a bit of money to pay for my apprenticeship to a true master, I served there for almost three years, but I hated every day of it. The family disliked me, and the man that taught me thought I was hopeless and told me so. When the draft came, I was relieved. It was a chance for me to get away from the goldsmith, and I thought that it would be a grand adventure, just like any other young man would. It turned out to be just my style, and I've just kept going with it.”

“Are you going to go back to the goldsmith?”

“Probably not. The military is the best spot for me, and if I can last long enough, my parents might forget about it.”

“You really think that?”

“No. But it's worth hoping, isn't it?”

There came a cry from down below, and then Thomas heard someone yell, “To arms, men!”

Excitedly, Gustav grabbed his bow and pointed it out. “I see them,” he told Thomas. “They're about 5 minutes away, at most. I can see the entire army from here, probably about 5,000 men.”

Thomas heard clunking from below them and looked at Gustav anxiously. “What's going on?”

“They're loading the catapult and the cannons.”

Thomas felt the adrenaline rush through his veins. Here he was, about to go to war against others, to use his bow to kill others, to actually help the country that he was now heir to. And to think that just a few hours ago he had been in his room, studying for the SATs! Now he was in a real-life war for his country, with an experienced soldier here in this room.

The reality of his situation sat in. He realized with a pang that he could die here, that an arrow could find its way through the bars and then he would be dead. Even if the arrow didn't kill him immediately, it wasn't like there was a hopsital here or even good medical care. He could lose an arm, or a leg, or his life. His parents would never see him again.

Now he wanted to run as far away from here as possible and find Iowa. This all felt so surreal, like some horrible dream or a nightmare. He wasn't sure if it was a good dream or a bad dream, but it felt too real to be in his subconscious. He pinched himself, and felt the pain and didn't wake up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat, checking his alarm clock to see how much longer he had until school started.

But there was no other option. He had to stay here and fight, and if he died here, so be it. He couldn't imagine that he would ever return home anyway, and life as a prince had to be quite boring. He didn't want to die, but if it happened, then he supposed he would somehow be able to come to terms with it. Plus, dying a noble death seemed as if it would win his memory much more respect than living a life as a ruler and then dying, especially considering he doubted he would be the most comptent ruler.

Then there was a cry, and Thomas heard the sound of a body hit the ground from the room below them. The battle had begun.