Soon, Thor’s men, exhausted, were swinging more slowly. And yet the undead never stopped pouring out from the earth, a never-ending stream.
Thor found himself breathing hard, as were the others. The undead were starting to break through their ranks, and his men were beginning to fall. There were just too many. All around Thor there arose his men’s screams as the undead pinned them down, sinking their fangs into the soldiers’ throats and sucking out their blood. With each soldier a creature killed, the undead seemed to grow stronger.
Thor knew they had to do something fast. They needed to summon a tremendous power to counteract this, a power stronger than he or Alistair had.
“Argon!” Thor suddenly said to Alistair. “Where is he? We must find him!”
Thor looked over and saw Alistair getting tired, her strength waning; a beast slipped past her, backhanded her, and she fell, screaming. As the beast leapt on top of her, Thor stepped forward and thrust his sword through the creature’s back, saving her at the last second.
Thor reached out a hand and yanked her quickly to her feet.
“Argon!” Thor screamed. “He’s our only hope. You must find him. Now!”
Alistair gave him a knowing look, and raced into the crowd.
A creature slipped by, his claws plunging for Thor’s throat, and Krohn rushed forward and leapt up on it, snarling, pinning it down to the earth. Another creature then plunged onto Krohn’s back, and Thor slashed it, killing it.
Another creature jumped onto Erec’s back, and Thor rushed forward, pried it off, grabbed it with both hands lifted it high overhead and hurled it into several other creatures, knocking them down. Another beast charged for Kendrick, who did not see it coming, and Thor took his dagger and stabbed it in the throat, right before it sank its fangs into Kendrick’s shoulder. Thor felt that this was the least he could do to begin to make up for facing off against Erec and Kendrick and all the others. It felt good to be fighting on their side again, on the right side; it felt good to know who he was again, and to know who he was fighting for.
As Rafi stood there, arms out wide, chanting, thousands more of these beasts were spilling out from the bowels of the earth, and Thor knew that they would not be able to hold them back much longer. A swarm of black enveloped them, as more undead, elbow to elbow, rushed forward. Thor knew that soon, he and all of his people would be consumed.
At least, he thought, he would die on the right side of battle.
Chapter Two
Luanda fought and thrashed as Romulus carried her in his arms, each step taking her farther from her homeland as they crossed the bridge. She screamed and flailed, dug her nails into his skin, did everything possible to free herself. But his arms were too muscular, like rocks, his shoulders too broad, and he wrapped her so tight, holding held her in his grips like a python, squeezing her to death. She could barely breathe, her ribs hurt so badly.
Despite all of that, it was not herself she worried for most. She looked up ahead and saw at the far end of the bridge a vast sea of Empire soldiers, standing there, weapons at the ready, waiting. They were all anxious for the Shield to lower so that they could race onto the bridge. Luanda looked over and saw the strange cloak that Romulus was wearing, vibrating and glowing as he carried her, and she sensed that somehow she was the key to his bringing down the Shield. It must have something to do with her. Why else would he kidnap her?
Luanda felt a fresh determination: she had to free herself – not just for herself, but for her kingdom, her people. When Romulus brought down the Shield, those thousands of men awaiting him would charge across, a vast horde of Empire soldiers, and like locusts, descend on the Ring. They would destroy what was left of her homeland for good, and she could not allow that to happen.
Luanda hated Romulus with everything she had; she hated all of these Empire, and Andronicus most of all. A gale swept through and she felt the cold wind grazing against her bald head, and she groaned as she remembered her shaved head, her humiliation at the hands of these beasts. She would kill each and every one of them if she could.
When Romulus had freed her from being tied up in Andronicus’ camp, Luanda had at first thought that she was being spared from a horrible fate, spared from being paraded around like an animal in Andronicus’ Empire. But Romulus had turned out to be even worse than Andronicus. She felt certain that as soon as they crossed the bridge, he would kill her – if not torture her first. She had to find some way to escape.
Romulus leaned over and spoke in her ear, a deep, throaty sound which set her hairs on edge.
“It won’t be long now, my dear,” he said.
She had to think quickly. Luanda was no slave; she was the firstborn daughter of a king. Royal blood ran in her, the blood of warriors, and she feared no one. She would do anything she had to to fight any adversary; even someone as grotesque and powerful as Romulus.
Luanda summoned all of her remaining strength and in one quick motion, she craned back her neck, leaned forward and sank her teeth into Romulus’ throat. She bit down with all her might, squeezing harder and harder, until his blood squirted out all over her face and he shrieked, dropping her.
Luanda scurried to her knees, turned and took off, sprinting back across the bridge for her homeland.
She heard his footsteps bearing down on her. He was much faster than she’d imagined and as she glanced back, she saw him bearing down on her with a look of pure rage.
She looked ahead and saw the mainland of the Ring before her, only twenty feet away, and she ran even harder.
Just steps away, Luanda suddenly felt an awful pain in her spine, as Romulus dove forward and dug his elbow down on her back. She felt as if he’d crushed her as she collapsed, face-first, onto the dirt.
A moment later, Romulus was on top of her. He spun her around and punched her in the face. He hit her so hard, her entire body flipped, and she landed back in the dirt. The pain resonated throughout her jaw, her entire face, as she lay there, barely conscious.
Luanda felt herself being hoisted high over Romulus’ head, and she watched with terror as he charged for the edge of the bridge, preparing to cast her over. He screamed as he stood there, holding her high overhead, preparing to throw her.
Luanda looked over, down at the steep drop, and knew her life was about to end.
But Romulus held her there, frozen, at the precipice, arms shaking, and apparently, thought better of it. As her life hung in the balance, it seemed Romulus debated. Clearly, he wanted to throw her over the edge in his fit of rage – yet he could not. He needed her for to fulfill his purpose.
Finally, he lowered her, and wrapped his arms around her even tighter, nearly squeezing the life out of her. He then hurried back across the Canyon, heading back towards his people.
This time, Luanda just hung there limply, reeling from the pain, nothing more she could do. She had tried – and she had failed. Now all she could do was watch her fate approach her, step-by-step, as she was carried across the Canyon, swirling mists rising up and enveloping her, then disappearing just as quickly. Luanda felt as if she were being taken to some other planet, to some place from which she would never return.
Finally, they reached the far side of the Canyon, and as Romulus took his final step, the cloak around his shoulders vibrated with a great noise, glowing a luminescent red. Romulus dropped Luanda on the ground, like an old potato, and she hit the ground hard, banging her head, and lay there.
Romulus’s soldiers stood there, at the edge of the bridge, staring out, all of them clearly afraid to step forward and test whether the Shield was truly down.
Romulus, fed up, grabbed a soldier, hoisted him high overhead and threw him onto the bridge, right into the invisible wall that was once the Shield. The soldier raised his hands and screamed, bracing himself for a certain death as he expected to disintegrate.
But this time, something different happened. The soldier went flying through the air, landed on the bridge, and rolled and rolled. The crowd watched in silence as he rolled to a stop – alive.
The soldier turned and sat up and looked back at all of them, the most shocked of all. He had made it. Which could only mean one thing: the Shield was down.
Romulus’ army let out a great roar, and as one they all charged. They swarmed onto it, racing for the Ring. Luanda cowered, trying to stay out of the way as they all stampeded past her, like a herd of elephants, heading for her homeland. She watched with dread.
Her country as she knew it was finished.
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.