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.
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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.