Above them, the giant black dragon, Antannyn, screamed out a call to battle. The Glommers answered the call with a frightening bellow and surged up the hill. The Prince Warriors stood straight, knowing that this battle was no longer theirs alone. The Sparks went before them, disrupting the ordered lines of Glommers and cutting down whole swaths of them with their magnificent swords. “Charge!” shouted Rook above the noise of the advancing army. The Prince Warriors let out an answering cry of their own, joining their voices to the Warriors’ song, and charged into the fray.
Finn felt anger rise up in his bones as he saw the Glommers charging toward them. He lunged forward and smashed his sword into one after another, sending them crashing down the hill. This was the anger that used to make him do things he didn’t want to do, the anger that got him locked up in Skot’os in the first place. Now it poured out on these terrible creatures that came at him, wanting to destroy him and his new friends. At least now, he thought, the anger is directed at the right enemy, the true enemy, the one that seeks to kill everything good in the world.
Manuel stayed close to Finn’s side. He thrust out his shield to keep the Glommers away. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to wield the sword in battle. This was so different from their practice sessions. Glommers were everywhere, despite the sweeping devastation reaped by the Sparks. There were always more of them to fill in the gaps.
He saw suddenly that Finn was surrounded, at least six of the Glommers attacking him at once. Rook was busy elsewhere; there was no one around to help but him. Manuel knew he should step in. But his arm was shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the sword steady. . . .
Suddenly one of the Glommers flew backward, as if hit by a blast of wind. Then Manuel saw one of the tall, spectral Warriors slashing with his sword, sending another Glommer flying. Manuel felt his arm grow steadier, seeing this magnificent warrior helping Finn. He saw a Glommer grab for Finn’s arm. Finn yelped in pain, arching backward. Manuel jumped forward, thrusting his sword into the Glommer’s heart. Instantly it let go of Finn and whipped around wildly, like all its circuitry had gone haywire. Finn recovered his balance and thrust his sword into another attacker. He glanced at Manuel and nodded. Manuel nodded back. Then he looked up at the Warrior standing over them. The Warrior lifted his sword in salute.
Brianna and Ivy kept their backs to each other in protection as they moved down the hill, staying close to the ghostly Warriors for extra protection. They had worked out a system; whenever a Glommer came near, Brianna would go for the leg, knocking it over so that Ivy could run her sword through its heart. Their method was wickedly effective. The girls were so much smaller that the Glommers usually didn’t even notice them until they felt the sting of their swords.
Xavier had paired up with Levi, the two of them slicing through Glommers one after the other until they were fewer and fewer. He paused from time to time to check on Evan, who stayed close to Rook. Evan would ram a Glommer with his shield and then thrust his sword into the metal plates in its chest when it was off-balance. He yelled a number with every Glommer he knocked down: “Fourteen! Fifteen! Sixteen!” Xavier smiled to himself remembering the times he’d heard his little brother in his bedroom counting the make-believe dragons that he was slaying. His shrimpy little brother was one big-time Warrior.
The battle was already winding down. Most of the Glommers lay in broken heaps scattered all over by Ruwach’s unseen army, occasional flickers shooting from their pierced chests. The mist, too, seemed to have dissipated, retreating down the hill.
Xavier let down his shield for a moment to give his arm a rest and wiped the sweat off the side of his face. Had they really done it? Broken an entire enemy army? With the help of the Warriors—the Sparks. He wondered how he and the other kids were able to see them. They must have been there all along, from the very beginning. Watching them, protecting them, fighting for them. Ruwach had told them time and again: You have everything you need. And they did.
Suddenly he heard Rook’s voice yelling behind him: “Xavier! Behind you!” He turned, feeling all the blood drain from his face as he saw the huge black dragon, Antannyn, swooping in toward him.
Xavier had no time to think. The huge dragon opened its mouth, revealing rows of jaggedly pointed teeth. Xavier thrust out his sword, which glanced off the black dragon’s thorny head. It snatched the sword in its teeth and wrenched it from his hands, tossing it away.
Xavier stumbled backward, fumbling in his pocket for his seed-shield. The dragon flicked its forked tail over its head, preparing to launch a thorn.
Just then Rook appeared out of nowhere, leaping toward the black dragon, his sword held in two hands over his head. As he landed, his sword pierced the dragon’s neck. Antannyn let out a strangled shriek as its tail wavered and the thorns went wide, missing Xavier entirely. But the dragon wasn’t dead—its neck was too well armored. The dragon swung its massive head toward Rook, snatching him in its jaws with brutal force. Rook tried in desperation to strike at the dragon’s nose with his sword, but Antannyn threw up its head and hurled him into the air. Rook’s body sailed high and then fell, crashing against a boulder halfway down the hill.
“Rook!” Xavier screamed.
Rook didn’t move.
Evan pointed and shouted. The others cried out in horror. They all began to run down the hill toward Rook’s still form. Xavier forced his legs to move, to go to Rook and make sure he was okay, but Antannyn blocked his path.
“Poor Rook,” said a familiar voice. Xavier looked up. There, sitting on the dragon’s back, was Viktor. He was wearing an elaborate suit of armor but no helmet, his handsome face twisted in a sinister, cocky smile. “Shouldn’t mess with the black dragons. I tried to tell Manuel. They can’t be killed by the sword of a Prince Warrior. Too bad Rook didn’t know that.”
Xavier wanted to run at him, to wipe the smile off that mocking face. But then he realized his sword was still on the ground. He raised his shield, forcing the dragon to snap its head back in reaction to the twinkling dome of red lights.
“Do you really think that shield is going to protect you?” asked Viktor with a laugh.
“It stopped the Olethrons,” Xavier said. “It sent them all the way back to Skot’os. To destroy your master’s fortress.”
Viktor’s face changed, the amused expression disappeared. Xavier thought his eyes flared yellow. He shouted something in a language Xavier didn’t understand, and Antannyn flicked its tail over Viktor’s head, releasing a thorn. Xavier saw it coming and stood perfectly still, his arm thrust out before him, the seed-shield sparkling all around him, although every part of him wanted to run.
Resist.
The thorn hit the shield like a jackhammer—and then bounced off. Viktor shouted the command again. Another thorn. Xavier suddenly didn’t care if he shot a hundred thorns. He felt a cold rage burning inside him, overcoming his fear of the dragon. He thought of Rook, lying on the hill. Hurt. Maybe dead.
“Why don’t you come down and fight me, face-to- face?” Xavier said. “One-on-one. You and me.”
Viktor tilted his head, as if thinking about this. “Maybe next time.” He called out another order and Antannyn spread its huge black wings, lifting its head to let out a blast of hot steam. Xavier dove to the ground, grabbed his sword, and leapt up again, hurtling himself onto the dragon’s neck. The dragon shook its head, trying to throw him off, but Xavier clung to the spikes on its neck and climbed up toward Viktor. He heard Viktor laugh and shout another command. Then the dragon lurched under him. It was taking off. Into the air. Flying like a fighter jet. Xavier tumbled over, clutching its neck, barely hanging on. His seed went flying from his grasp, but he still had his sword. Viktor’s now strange, hideous laughter grew louder, echoing in his ears.
The dragon banked and shot upward. Viktor raised his black sword and slashed at Xavier’s hand, trying to dislodge him from the dragon’s neck. Xavier managed
to block the blows with his sword while clutching the dragon’s neck with his other arm. Below, his friends watched in terrified silence.
Xavier threw up one leg and wrestled his body over the dragon’s neck, ignoring the pain of the thorns that seared through him like a branding iron. But then the dragon dove downward and Xavier lost his grip. He felt himself falling and reached out to grab onto something, anything. By some miracle he latched onto one of the dragon’s forelegs, feeling its sharp claws digging into his arm. His legs swung loosely under him as the dragon swooped upward again. This is it, I’m done for, he thought. His head fell back, his eyes lighting on the underside of the dragon’s belly. He saw something pale, right behind the dragon’s foreleg. A patch of unarmored flesh. He suddenly remembered a picture from the Prince Warrior book, a dragon lying on its side, with a sword in its belly. Its belly! Right there, that one spot. Holding on with one arm as the dragon soared higher, Xavier raised his sword and thrust it into that pale patch of flesh.
He felt no resistance—his sword sank all the way in. The dragon’s whole body shuddered; it screamed and began to fall, its wings flailing, spinning like a top. Xavier hung on to the leg and shut his eyes, his breath locked in his throat as Antannyn dropped from the sky and slammed into the earth.
Somehow or other, Xavier landed on the dragon’s belly rather than the hard ground. He let go and bounced off, doing all he could to keep control of his sword as he somersaulted down the hill. The dragon continued to plunge all the way to the very bottom. There it lay still, black smoke billowing off its body. Xavier, when he’d finally stopped rolling himself, struggled to his feet and looked down at the dead dragon, whose armor was now turning to dust and blowing away. The animal inside the armor, if it was an animal at all, was quite scrawny and withered, its wings like spindly sticks.
Viktor was nowhere to be seen.
CHAPTER 35
Rising and Falling
Xavier stood a long moment, staring down at the pile of dragon dust. Had he really just killed Antannyn? The most fearsome dragon in Ahoratos?
He didn’t have much time to celebrate. He spun and ran up the hill, leaping over piles of mangled Glommers. He noticed as he ran that the metal veins on their bodies were disappearing. The humans were beginning to rise, gazing about in confusion.
Sirens pierced the air as police cars, fire engines, and ambulances assembled at the bottom of the hill. People cried and called to each other, trying to figure out what had happened, how they suddenly found themselves on this rocky hill. Xavier ignored them and kept running toward his friends, who were all crowded around Rook.
As soon as he got there, he knew it wasn’t good. He felt his stomach bottom out.
“Rook?”
Evan looked up at his brother, his face dirty and tear-streaked. He shook his head. Xavier knelt down, looking at Rook’s battered face. His eyes fluttered slightly, a smile touched his mouth.
“Cool move,” Rook said in a rasping voice. “Killing . . . a . . . dragon.”
“I’m sorry,” Xavier said, tears filling his vision. “I wasn’t paying attention—you saved me. . . .”
“No, you . . . saved . . . me. . . .” Rook’s chest heaved slightly, as if he couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes closed. His head fell to one side.
“Rook!” said Evan. “Wake up!” Finn slowly bent down and put his arm around Evan’s shoulder. Brianna and Ivy wept together. Levi just stared, blinking hard to avoid tears.
Xavier got up and walked a few paces away, folding his arms. Why would Rook thank him? This was his fault. He’d let down his guard, he never saw Antannyn coming for him. Rook had warned him, intervened, saved his life, and now he was dead.
Policemen and paramedics hurried up the hill carrying stretchers and suitcases of equipment. People gazed at them with vague expressions and shook their heads as emergency crews asked them questions. The metal inside of the Glommers had disappeared, leaving no trace of the enemy.
“Who’s this?” said a paramedic, seeing Rook on the ground.
“His name is Rook,” said Xavier. “He’s . . . a friend.”
“What happened to him?”
“He fell.”
The paramedics rushed over to Rook and took his vitals. They shook their heads, confirming what the others already knew. Rook was loaded on the stretcher as the paramedics prepared to carry him down to the ambulance.
Xavier watched with the others as they carried Rook away, too stunned and grieved to speak. Then Manuel walked up to Xavier, holding out his phone.
“I can’t reach Miss Stanton,” he said. “When I call, the phone rings over and over, but she doesn’t pick up.”
“Maybe she went home or her phone died,” said Xavier. He hardly cared about Miss Stanton, about anything. He wanted to go home. To see his parents. To hope that maybe when he woke up tomorrow morning, Rook would be alive again.
“We should go back to the Rec,” said Levi. “I called my dad. He’s going to meet us there with Mr. Santos as soon as they’re done at the hospital.”
Xavier sighed. “Who’s going to drive?”
“I will.” Finn stepped forward.
Xavier nodded to him. One by one the kids began to climb back up the hill, their hearts heavy with Rook’s death but also swelled with the knowledge that they had won the battle. They had defeated the enemy and saved a lot of people who had been infected by the mist. Their town was safe.
* * *
Manuel kept trying to reach Mary on the way back to the Rec. The others sat quietly, staring out the window as ball fields, movie theaters, pizza parlors swept by. They passed the high school and realized that the pod was gone. Vanished.
“All the pods have gone,” said Levi, checking his phone. “Just disappeared.”
“How are we going to tell Miss Stanton about Rook?” said Brianna, her eyes still red-rimmed from crying.
“It’s all my fault,” Xavier said.
“No, man,” said Levi. “It’s Ponéros’s fault. All of it. Rook did what he wanted to do. He wanted to help defeat the enemy. And he did.”
“Hard to believe it’s really over,” Ivy said in a soft voice.
“Yeah,” Xavier answered.
Only it wasn’t.
* * *
Brianna burst through the doors of the Rec, calling out, “Miss Stanton!” She saw her sitting in a chair at the middle of one of the long tables, staring into space. Something about her gaze seemed a bit strange. She didn’t speak. In fact, she seemed to be crying.
“Miss Stanton, why weren’t you answering . . .” Brianna said. Then the office door opened, and someone came out. Brianna froze, recognizing the confident saunter, the dark hair, the charming, insolent smile.
“’Bout time you all got here.”
The others had come into the center as well; they stood staring in shock as Viktor moved toward Miss Stanton, who flinched as he came near. She seemed unable to move at all, even though there wasn’t anything physically holding her. Viktor sat on the table near her, one leg bent up, the other swinging down casually. He leaned back on one arm and tossed the other arm over his knee, like he was having his picture taken.
“She’s keeping my stuff warm for me,” Viktor said.
Brianna saw then that Miss Stanton was not sitting on a chair at all. She was sitting on the trunk. The trunk where they kept their armor. And their books.
Brianna’s gaze returned to the handsome, dark-haired boy she’d almost had a crush on.
“She let me in,” Viktor said. “I didn’t have to force my way in. I guess I sounded a little like Rook. I’ve been practicing that. Look at her. No armor. No protection. You shouldn’t have left her so defenseless.” He made a tsk tsk noise with his tongue. “I had to break the news to her that Rook was dead. She didn’t take it very well. And when I told her I’d killed him, that sort of sent her
over the edge.” He paused as Mary broke into a fresh round of sobs. “But I like her. She’s so weak and pathetic. I’m taking her back with me. In exchange for the loss of my dragon. Along with all this.” He patted the trunk. “I’ve got all your books in here. They’ll make a nice addition to my collection. I have thousands of them, you know.”
“You stole them?” Brianna asked tightly.
“Some of them. Most of them were just—left behind. Abandoned. Forgotten. Like your dad’s.” He pointed to Manuel. “Pretty easy pickings.”
“Why, you . . .” Manuel started. Finn held him back, shaking his head.
“You can’t have those books,” Levi said, coming to stand by Brianna. “They belong to us.”
“Do they?” Viktor chuckled sarcastically.
“You can’t have Miss Stanton either,” said Ivy. “Let her go!”
“Make me.”
Brianna pulled the Krÿs from her belt and slammed it against her chest, extending her sword. She stood like the fiercest of warriors, one foot planted in front, the other in back, as if readying herself for battle. Levi and Ivy raised their swords as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with Brianna, undaunted by Viktor’s threats. Xavier stood by Levi, no longer hesitant or intimidated by Viktor, prepared for whatever needed to be done. Next to him was Manuel, his sword no longer wavering in his hand. Finn, confident and self-assured, stepped up next to Evan, who despite his small size seemed to stand tallest of all. They were ready to face the enemy, to face any battle in which they were called to fight.
“Look at you all,” Viktor said with a short laugh, his eyes darting from one to the other. “All dressed up so pretty. Look at those fancy swords. But here’s the truth: none of you can help your precious Miss Stanton now. You see how this goes? The unprotected ones are all mine.”
“You’re wrong,” said Brianna in a clear voice. “Miss Stanton, tell him to let you go.”
The Prince Warriors and the Swords of Rhema Page 20