Kitabı oku: «A Sky of Spells», sayfa 2
Chapter Three
Reece stood at the edge of the lava pit, looking down in utter disbelief as the ground shook violently beneath him. He could hardly process what he had just done, his muscles still aching from releasing the boulder, from casting the Destiny Sword into the pit.
He had just destroyed the most powerful weapon in the Ring, the weapon of legend, the sword of his ancestors for generations, the weapon of the Chosen One, the only weapon holding up the Shield. He had hurled it down into a pit of molten fire and with his own eyes had watched it melt, flare up in a great ball of red, then disappear into nothingness.
Gone forever.
The ground had begun shaking since, and it had not stopped. Reece struggled to balance, as did the others, as he backed away from the edge. He felt as if the world were crumbling around him. What had he done? Had he destroyed the Shield? The Ring? Had he made the biggest mistake of his life?
Reece reassured himself by telling himself he had no choice. The boulder and the Sword were simply too heavy for them all to carry out of here – much less to climb the walls with – or to outrun these violent savages. He had been in a desperate situation, and it had called for desperate measures.
Their desperate situation had not changed yet. Reece heard a great screaming all around him, and a sound arose of a thousand of these creatures, chattering their teeth in an unnerving way and laughing and snarling at the same time. It sounded like an army of jackals. Clearly, Reece had angered them; he had taken away their precious object, and now they all seemed resigned to make him pay.
As bad as the situation had been moments before, now it was even worse. Reece spotted the others – Elden, Indra, O’Connor, Conven, Krog and Serna – all looking down in horror at the lava pit, then turning and looking around in desperation. Thousands of Faws were closing in from every direction. Reece had managed to spare the Sword, but he had not thought past that, had not thought through how to get himself and the others out of danger. They were still completely surrounded, with no way of getting out.
Reece was determined to find a way out, and with the burden of the Sword off their heads, at least now they could move quickly.
Reece drew his sword, and it cut through the air with a distinctive ring. Why sit back and wait for these creatures to attack? At least he would go down fighting.
“CHARGE!” Reece screamed to the others.
They all drew their weapons and rallied behind him, following as he sprinted away from the edge of the lava pit and right into the thick crowd of Faws, swinging his sword every which way, killing them left and right. Beside him, Elden raised his axe and chopped off two heads at a time, while O’Connor drew his bow and fired on the run, taking out all those in his path. Indra rushed forward and with her short sword, stabbed two in the heart, while Conven drew both of his swords and, screaming like a madman, charged forward, swinging wildly and killing Faws in every direction. Serna wielded his mace, and Krog his spear, protecting their rear flank.
They were a unified fighting machine, fighting as one, fighting for their lives, cutting their way through the thick crowd as they desperately tried to escape. Reece led them up a small hill, aiming for the high ground.
They slipped as they went, the ground still shaking, the slope steep, muddy. They lost some momentum, and several Faws jumped onto Reece, clawing and biting him. He spun and punched them; they were persistent and clung to him, but he managed to throw them off, kicking them back, then stabbing them before they could attack again. Cut and bruised, Reece kept fighting, as they all did, all fighting for their lives to climb the hill and escape from this place.
As they finally reached the high ground, Reece had a moment of reprieve. He stood there, gasping for air, and in the distance, caught a glimpse of the Canyon wall before it was covered by the thick mist. He knew it was out there, their lifeline back to the surface, and he knew they had to reach it.
Reece looked back over his shoulder and saw thousands of Faws racing uphill for them, buzzing, teeth chattering, making an awful noise, louder than ever, and he knew that they would not let them go.
“What about me?” a voice screamed out, cutting through the air.
Reece turned and saw Centra back there. He was still being held captive, beside the leader, and a Faw still held a knife to his throat.
“Don’t leave me!” he screamed. “They’ll kill me!”
Reece stood there, burning with frustration. Of course, Centra was right: they would kill him. Reece could not leave him there; it would go against Reece’s code of honor. After all, Centra had helped them when they’d needed help.
Reece stood there, hesitating. He turned and saw, in the distance, the Canyon wall, the way out, tempting him.
“We can’t go back for him!” Indra said, frantic. “They will kill us all.”
She kicked a Faw that approached her and it fell backwards, sliding on its back down the slope.
“We’d be lucky to escape with our own lives as it is!” Serna called out.
“He’s not one of us!” Krog said. “We can’t endanger our group for him!”
Reece stood there, debating. The Faws were getting closer, and he knew he had to make his decision.
“You’re right,” Reece admitted. “He’s not one of us. But he helped us. And he’s a good man. I cannot leave him at the mercy of those things. No man left behind!” Reece said firmly.
Reece began to head down the slope, to go back for Centra – but before he could, Conven suddenly broke from the group and charged, racing down, leaping and sliding on the muddy slope, feet first, his sword out, sliding downward and slashing as he went, killing Faws left and right. He was hurling back to where they’d come from single-handedly, recklessly, throwing himself into the group of Faws and somehow cutting his way through them with sheer determination.
Reece jumped into action close behind.
“The rest of you stay here!” Reece shouted out. “Wait for our return!”
Reece followed in Conven’s tracks, slashing the Faws left and right; he caught up with Conven and provided backup, the two of them fighting their way back down the mountain for Centra.
Conven charged forward, breaking through the crowd of Faws as Reece fought his way all the way to Centra, who stared back, wide-eyed in fear. A Faw raised his dagger to cut Centra’s throat, but Reece did not give him the chance: he stepped forward, raised his sword, took aim and threw it with all his might.
The sword went flying through the air, tumbling end over end, and lodged itself through the throat of the Faw, a moment before it killed Centra. Centra screamed as he looked over and saw the dead Faw, just inches away, their faces almost touching.
To Reece’s surprise, Conven did not go for Centra; instead he kept running up the small hill, and Reece looked up, horrified to see what he was doing. Conven seemed suicidal. He cut his way through the group of Faws surrounding their leader, who sat high up on his platform, looking over the battle. Conven killed them left and right. They hadn’t been expecting it, and it all happened too fast for any them to react. Reece realized that Conven was aiming for their leader.
Conven got closer, leapt into the air, raised his sword, and as the leader realized and tried to flee, Conven stabbed it through the heart. The leader shrieked – and suddenly, there came a chorus of ten thousand shrieks, all the Faws, as if they themselves had been stabbed. It was as if they all shared the same nervous system – and Conven had severed it.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Reece said to Conven as he returned to his side. “Now you’ve started a war.”
As Reece watched in horror, a small hill exploded, and out of it there streamed thousands and thousands of Faws, pouring out of it like a mound of ants. Reece realized that Conven had killed their queen bee, had incited the wrath of a nation of these things. The ground shook with their footsteps, as they all gnashed their teeth and charged right for Reece and Conven and Centra.
“MOVE!” Reece screamed.
Reece shoved Centra, who stood in shock, and they all turned and ran back for the others, fighting their way back up the muddy slope.
Reece felt a Faw jump on his back and knock him down. It dragged him by his ankles, back down the slope, and lowered its fangs for his neck.
An arrow sailed by Reece’s head, and there came the noise of an arrow impacting flesh and Reece looked up to see O’Connor, atop the hill, holding a bow.
Reece regained his feet, Centra helping him up as Conven protected their rear, fighting back the Faws. Finally, they all raced up the remainder of the hill and reached the others.
“Good to have you back!” Elden called out, as he rushed forward and took out several Faws with his axe.
Reece paused at the top, peering out into the mist and wondering which way to go. The path forked two ways and he was about to go right.
But Centra suddenly raced past him, heading left.
“Follow me!” Centra called out as he ran. “It’s the only way!”
As thousands of Faws began to ascend the slope, Reece and the others turned and ran, following Centra, slipping and sliding down the other side of the hill, as the ground continue to shake. They followed Centra’s lead, and Reece was more grateful than ever that he’d saved his life.
“We need to make the Canyon!” Reece called out, not sure which way Centra was going.
They sprinted, weaving their way through the thick, gnarled trees, struggling to follow Centra as he deftly navigated through the mist on a rough dirt trail, covered in roots.
“There’s only one way to lose those things!” Centra called back. “Stay on my trail!”
They followed Centra closely as he ran, tripping over roots, scratched by branches, Reece struggling to see through the thickening mist. He stumbled more than once on the uneven footing.
They ran until their lungs hurt, the awful screech of those things behind them, thousands of them, closing in. Elden and O’Connor’s helping Krog was slowing them down. He hoped and prayed that Centra knew where he was going; he could not see the Canyon wall at all from here.
Suddenly, Centra stopped short, and reached out with his palm and slapped Reece’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.
Reece looked down and saw at his feet a steep drop off, into a raging river below.
Reece turned to Centra, puzzled.
“Water,” Centra explained, gasping for air. “They’re afraid to cross water.”
The others all stopped short beside them, staring down at the roaring rapids, as they all tried to catch their breath.
“It’s your only chance,” Centra added. “Cross this river and you can lose their trail for now, and gain time.”
“But how?” Reece asked, staring down at the foaming green waters.
“That current would kill us!” Elden said.
Centra smirked.
“That’s the least of your worries,” he answered. “That water is filled with Fourens – the deadliest animal on the planet. Fall in, and they’ll tear you to pieces.”
Reece looked down at the water, wondering.
“Then we can’t swim,” O’Connor said. “And I don’t see a boat.”
Reece looked over his shoulder, the sound of the Faws getting closer.
“Your only chance is this,” Centra said, reaching back and pulling a long vine attached to a tree, its branches hanging over the river. “We must swing our way across,” he said. “Don’t slip. And don’t fall short of the shore. Send it back for us when you’re done.”
Reece looked down at the gurgling water, and as he did, he saw awful little glowing yellow creatures jumping out, like sunfish, all jaws, snapping and making strange noises. There were schools of them and they all looked as if they were awaiting their next meal.
Reece glanced back over his shoulder, and saw the army of Faws on the horizon, closing in. They had no choice.
“You can go first,” Centra said to Reece.
Reece shook his head.
“I will go last,” he answered. “In case we don’t all make it in time. You go first. You brought us here.”
Centra nodded.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said with a smile, nervously watching the Faws closing in.
Centra grabbed hold of the vine and with a scream he leapt off, swinging quickly over the waters as he hung low on the vine, lifting his feet from the water and from the snapping creatures. Finally, he landed on the far shore, tumbling on the ground.
He made it.
Centra stood, smiling; he grabbed the vine as it swung, and sent it back over the river.
Elden reached out and grabbed it, and held it out to Indra.
“Ladies first,” he said.
She grimaced.
“I don’t need pampering,” she said. “You’re big. You might break the vine. You go, and get it over with. Don’t fall in – or else this woman will have to save you.”
Elden grimaced, unamused, as he grabbed the vine.
“I was just trying to help,” he said.
Elden jumped off with a shout, sailed through the air, and tumbled on the far shore beside Centra.
He sent the rope back, and O’Connor went, followed by Serna, then Indra, then Conven.
The last ones left were Reece and Krog.
“Well, I guess it’s just the two of us,” Krog said to Reece. “Go. Save yourself,” Krog said, glancing back over his shoulder nervously. “The Faws are too close There isn’t time for both of us to make it.”
Reece shook his head.
“No man left behind,” he said. “If you won’t go then I won’t.”
They both stood there, stubbornly, Krog looking increasingly nervous. Krog shook his head.
“You are a fool. Why do you care so much about me? I wouldn’t care half as much for you.”
“I am leader now, which makes you my responsibility,” Reece replied. “I don’t care for you. I care for honor. And my honor commands me to leave no one behind.”
They both turned nervously as the first of the Faws reached them. Reece stepped forward, beside Krog, and they slashed with their swords, killing several.
“We go together!” Reece called out.
Without wasting another moment, Reece grabbed Krog, draped him over his shoulder, grabbed the rope, and the two of them screamed as they set off through the air, a moment before the Faws stormed the shore.
The two of them sailed through the air, swaying across for the other side.
“Help!” Krog screamed.
Krog was slipping off of Reece’s shoulder, and he grabbed the vine; but it was now wet with the spray of the rapids, and Krog’s hands slipped right through the vine as he plummeted down. Reece reached down to grab him, but it all happened too fast: Reece’s heart plummeted as he was forced to watch Krog fall, just out of his grasp, down into the gushing waters.
Reece landed on the far shore and tumbled to the ground. He rolled to his feet, prepared to rush back to the water – but before he could react, Conven broke from the group, rushed forward and dove headfirst into the raging waters.
Reece and the others watched, breathless. Was Conven that brave, Reece wondered? Or that suicidal?
Conven swam fearlessly through the gushing current. He reached Krog, somehow not getting bit by the creatures, and grabbed him as he flailed, draping an arm around his shoulder and treading water with him. Conven swam against the current, heading back to shore.
Suddenly, Krog shrieked.
“MY LEG!”
Krog writhed in pain as a Fouren lodged in his leg, biting him, its shiny yellow scales visible over the current. Conven swam and swam until finally he neared shore and Reece and the others reached down and dragged them out. As they did, a school of Fourens jumped into the air after them, and Reece and the others swatted them away.
Krog flailed and Reece looked down and saw the Fouren still in his leg; Indra pulled her dagger, bent over and dug it into Krog’s thigh as he shrieked, prying the animal out. It flopped on shore, then back into the water.
“I hate you!” Krog seethed to her.
“Good,” Indra replied, unfazed.
Reece looked at Conven, who stood there, dripping wet, in awe of his fearlessness. Conven stared back, expressionless, and Reece noticed with shock that a Fouren was lodged in his arm, flopping in the air. Reece couldn’t believe how calm Conven was, as he reached over slowly, yanked it out and threw it back into the water.
“Didn’t that hurt?” Reece asked, confused.
Conven shrugged.
Reece worried for Conven more than ever; while he admired his courage, he could not believe his recklessness. He had dived headfirst into a school of vicious creatures, and didn’t even think twice about it.
On the far side of the river, hundreds of Faws stood there, staring out, infuriated, chattering their teeth.
“Finally,” O’Connor said, “we’re safe.”
Centra shook his head.
“Only for now. Those Faws are smart. They know the river bends. They’ll take the long way, run around it, find the crossing. Soon, they’ll be on our side. Our time is limited. We must move.”
They all followed Centra as he sprinted through mud fields, past exploding geysers, navigating his way through this exotic landscape.
They ran and ran, until finally the mist broke and Reece’s heart was elated to see, before them, the Canyon wall, its ancient stone shining. He looked up, and its walls seemed impossibly high. He did not know how they would climb it.
Reece stood there with the others and stared up with dread. The wall seemed even more imposing now than it had on the way down. He looked over and saw their ragged state and wondered how they could possibly scale it. They were all exhausted, beaten and bruised, weary from battle. Their hands and feet were raw. How could they possibly climb straight up, when it had taken all they had just to descend?
“I can’t go on,” Krog said, wheezing, his voice cracking.
Reece was feeling the same way, though he did not say it.
They were backed into a corner. They had outrun the Faws, but not for long. Soon they would find them, and they would all be outnumbered and killed. All of this hard work, all of their efforts, all for nothing.
Reece did not want to die here. Not in this place. If he had to die, he wanted to die up there, on his own soil, on the mainland, and with Selese by his side. If only he could have one more chance to escape.
Reece heard a horrific noise, and he turned to see the Faws, perhaps a hundred yards away. There were thousands of them, and they had already skirted the river, and were closing in.
They all drew their weapons.
“There’s nowhere left to run,” Centra said.
“Then we’ll fight to the death!” Reece called out.
“Reece!” came a voice.
Reece looked straight up the Canyon wall, and as the mist cleared, there appeared a face he at first thought was an apparition. He could not believe it. There, before him, was the woman he had just been thinking of.
Selese.
What was she doing here? How had she arrived here? And who was that other woman with her? It looked like the royal healer, Illepra.
The two of them hung there, on the side of the cliff, a long and thick rope coiled around their waists and hands. They were coming down quickly, on a long, thick rope, one easy to grasp. Selese reached back and threw the rest of it down, dropping a good fifty feet through the air, like manna from heaven, and landing at Reece’s feet.
It was the way out.
They did not hesitate. They all ran for it, and within moments were climbing up, as fast as they could. Reece let everyone else go first, and as he jumped up, the last man up, he climbed and pulled the rope with him as he went, so that the Faws could not get it.
As he cleared the ground, the Faws appeared, reaching up and jumping for his feet – and just missing as Reece climbed out of reach.
Reece stopped as he reached Selese, who waited for him on a ledge; he leaned over and they kissed.
“I love you,” Reece said, his entire being filled with love for her.
“And I you,” she replied.
The two of them turned and headed up the Canyon wall with the others. They climbed, higher and higher. Soon, they would be home. Reece could hardly believe it.
Home.
Chapter Four
Alistair sprinted her way through the chaotic battlefield, weaving her way in and out of the soldiers as they fought for their lives against the army of undead rising up all around them. Moans and shrieks filled the air as the soldiers killed the ghouls – and as the ghouls, in turn, killed the soldiers. The Silver and MacGils and Silesians fought boldly – but they were vastly outnumbered. For each undead they killed, three more appeared. It was only a matter of time, Alistair could see, until all of her people were wiped out.
Alistair doubled her speed, running with all she had, her lungs bursting, ducking as an undead swiped for her face and crying out as another scratched her arm, drawing blood. She did not stop to fight them. There was no time. She had to find Argon.
She ran in the direction she had seen him last, when he was fighting Rafi and had collapsed from the effort. She prayed it had not killed him, that she could rouse him, and that she could make it before she and all her people were killed.
An undead appeared before her, blocking her way, and she held out her palm; a white ball of light struck it in the chest, knocking it backwards.
Five more appeared, and she held out her palm – but this time, only one more ball of light emerged, and the other four closed in on her. Her powers, she was surprised to realize, were limited.
Alistair braced herself for attack as they closed in – when she heard a snarling noise and looked over to see Krohn, leaping beside her and sinking his fangs into their throats. The undead turned on him, and Alistair found her chance. She elbowed one in the throat, knocking it over, and ran.
Alistair pushed her way through the chaos, desperate, the ghouls increasing in number by the moment, her people beginning to be pushed back. As she ducked and weaved, she finally emerged into a small clearing, the place where she remembered seeing Argon.
Alistair scanned the ground, desperate, and finally, between all the corpses, she found him. He was lying there, slumped on the ground, curled up in a ball. He lay in a small clearing and clearly he had cast some sort of spell to keep others away from him. He was unconscious, and as Alistair rushed to his side, she hoped and prayed he was still alive.
As she came closer, Alistair felt enveloped, protected in his magic bubble. She took a knee beside him and took a deep breath, finally safe from the battle all around her, finding respite in the eye of the storm.
Yet Alistair was also struck with terror as she looked down at Argon: he lay there, eyes closed, not breathing. She was flooded with panic.
“Argon!” she cried out, shaking his shoulders with both hands, trembling. “Argon, it’s me! Alistair! Wake up! You have to wake up!”
Argon lay there, unresponsive, while all around her, the battle was intensifying.
“Argon, please! We need you. We cannot combat Rafi’s magic. We do not have the skills that you do. Please, come back to us. For the Ring. For Gwendolyn. For Thorgrin.”
Alistair shook him, you still he did not respond.
Desperate, an idea came to her. She lay both palms on his chest, closed her eyes and focused. She summoned all of her inner energy, whatever was left, and slowly, she felt her hands warm. As she opened her eyes, she saw a blue light emanating from her palms, spreading over his chest and shoulders. Soon it enveloped his entire body. Alistair was using an ancient spell she had once learned, to revive the sick. It was draining her, and she felt all the energy leaving her body. Getting weak, she willed for Argon to come back.
Alistair collapsed, exhausted from the effort, and lay at Argon’s side, too weak to move.
She sensed movement, and she looked over and to her amazement saw Argon begin to stir.
He sat up and turned to her, his eyes shining with an intensity that scared her. He stared at her, expressionless, then reached over, grabbed his staff, and gained his feet. He reached out one hand, grabbed hers, and effortlessly yanked her to her feet.
As he held her hand, she felt all of her own energy restored.
“Where is he?” Argon asked.
Argon did not wait for an answer; it was as if he knew exactly where he needed to go, as he turned, staff at his side, walked right into the thick of battle.
Alistair couldn’t understand how Argon was not hesitant to stroll into the soldiers. Then she understood why: he was able to cast a magical bubble around him as he went, and as the undead charged him from all sides, none were able to penetrate it. Alistair stuck close to him as he marched fearlessly, harmlessly through the thick of the battle, as if strolling through a meadow on a sunny day.
The two of them made their way through the battlefield, and he kept silent, marching, dressed in his long white cloak and hood, walking so fast that Alistair could barely keep up.
He finally stopped at the center of the battle, in a clearing, opposite which stood Rafi. Rafi still stood there, holding both arms out at his sides, his eyes rolled back in his head as he summoned thousands of undead, pouring out of the crevice in the earth.
Argon raised a single palm high overhead, palm up, facing the sky, and opened his eyes wide.
“RAFI!” he screamed in challenge.
Despite all the noise, Argon’s scream cut through the battle, resonating off the hills.
As Argon shrieked, suddenly the clouds parted high above. A white stream of light came flying down, from the sky, right to Argon’s palm, as if connecting him to the very heavens. The stream of light grew wider and wider, like a tornado, enveloping the battlefield, enveloping everything around him.
There came a great wind and a great whooshing noise, and Alistair watched in disbelief as beneath her the ground began to shake even more violently, and the huge crevice in the earth began to move in the opposite direction, slowly sealing itself backup.
As it began to close on itself, dozens of undead shrieked, crushed as they tried to crawl out.
Within moments, hundreds of undead were slipping, sliding back down to the earth, as the crevice became more and more narrow.
The earth shook one last time, then grew quiet, as the crevice finally sealed itself, the ground whole again, as if no fissure had ever appeared. The awful shrieks of the undead filled the air, muted from beneath the earth.
There came a stunned silence, a momentary lull in battle, as everyone stood and watched.
Rafi shrieked and turned and set his sights on Argon.
“ARGON!” Rafi shrieked.
The time had come for the final clash of these two great titans.
Rafi ran into the open clearing, holding his red staff high, and Argon did not hesitate, racing out to greet Rafi.
The two met in the middle, each wielding their staffs high overhead. Rafi brought his staff down for Argon and Argon raised his and blocked it. A great white light arose, like sparks, as they met. Argon swung back, and Rafi blocked.
Back and forth they went, blow for blow, attacking, blocking, white light flying everywhere. The ground shook with each of their blows, and Alistair could feel a monumental energy in the air.
Finally, Argon found his opening, swinging his staff from underneath, upwards, and as he did, shattering Rafi’s staff.
The ground shook violently.
Argon stepped forward, raised his staff high overhead with two hands, and plunged it straight down, right through Rafi’s chest.
Rafi let out an awful shriek, thousands of small bats flying out of his mouth as his jaw remained wide open. The skies turned black for a moment, as thick black clouds gathered from the heavens, right over Rafi’s head, and swirled down to earth. They swallowed him whole, and Rafi howled as he spun through the air, yanked upwards, into the skies, heading up to some awful fate that Alistair did not want to imagine.
Argon stood there, breathing hard, as all finally fell silent, Rafi dead.
The army of undead shrieked, as one at a time, they all disintegrated before Argon’s eyes, each falling into a mound of ashes. Soon the battlefield was littered with thousands of mounds, all that remained of Rafi’s evil spells.
Alistair surveyed the battlefield and saw there was only one battle left to wage: across the clearing, her brother, Thorgrin, was already facing off with their father, Andronicus. She knew that in the battle to come, one of these determined men would lose their lives: her brother or her father. She prayed that it was her brother who came out alive.
