by Morgan Rice
“No,” she said. “Reece would never abandon a mission. It is not who he is. He did not turn back to safety. He is down there.”
Illepra paused, confused.
“Down where?” she asked.
“Down there!” Selese said, pointing. “He descended to the bottom of the Canyon. He went to search for it.”
“That is madness!” Illepra said. “Who would do something as crazy as that?”
Selese smiled, proud of him.
“Reece is a man of honor. He would do anything for the sake of the Ring.”
She thought, working it out in her mind, and another idea occurred to her.
“He probably went down hastily, as his honor obliged him, but with no plan to ascend. He is trapped. We must go down there. We must help him!”
Illepra shook her head.
“That would be impossible. There is no way down, except for those walls, and I myself cannot climb.”
“There’s another way,” came a voice.
They spun to find an old man standing at the base the bridge, leaning on a cane. He was grizzled, hunched over, with a long white beard and shaggy hair. He wore a ragged cloak and looked as if he’d seen the woes of the world.
“You are brave girls. I cannot deny that. So I will tell you. There’s another way down, to save the ones you love.”
Selese turned and walked towards him, intrigued, and asked, “What other way?”
“I am the watcher of the Canyon. I see all that goes on here. I saw them descend.”
“You did?” Selese asked, wide-eyed.
He nodded.
“They scaled down, without any ropes. You are correct. There is no way out for them. Not without the Linden Rope.”
“The Linden Rope?” she asked.
The old man nodded back slowly.
“A way to get down, to the bottom of the Canyon, and to get back up. It has not been used since I was a youth. But I know where it lies; they still keep it in my village. I can lead you to it. The rest is up to you.”
Selese surveyed him. He stared back with translucent, knowing eyes. He appeared nearly blind.
“Why would you help us?” Illepra asked, suspicious.
He smiled, revealing only a few teeth.
“I admire courage,” he said. “Whether in a man or in a woman. I’m too old for it myself. I’ll give you whatever tools you need to express it on your own. Besides, I hate the Empire.”
Selese looked to Illepra, as if asking whether to trust him, and she nodded back.
But he was already walking, head low, moving along with his cane, as if expecting them to follow.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Reece struggled with all his might as he stood there, bound to the post, his wrists and ankles tied behind him, unable to break free. He struggled desperately, and as he looked over he saw all of his legion brothers struggling, too, all equally unsuccessful. They were all lined up, each bound to a tall, wooden pole, ten feet apart from each other, laid out in a semicircle, so that they could see each other. Before them, hardly twenty feet away, they all faced the huge glowing pit of molten lava.
Small and large chunks of lava spewed intermittently out of the hole, and Reece could feel the heat of it even from here, singing his face. As he watched, a small spark of lava went flying in a high arc and landed on his forearm, burning him. He writhed, screaming, as it burned a small hole on his skin.
Sweating, Reece knew they had to do something fast. The Faws had outwitted them, and now they were all their prisoners, facing certain death. Centra was captive, too, but they must have recognized him as a local, because they kept him apart from the others, two Faws holding his arms roughly, his arms bound, while a third held a small dagger to his throat.
As Reece stood there, he scanned their environs, searching for the Destiny Sword. It was still lodged in the boulder, and the boulder, tied to a long rope, was being hoisted, one pull a time, up the far side of the Canyon. Dozens of Faws pulled at it, and with each pull, it climbed higher up the Canyon. It was ascending the wrong side of the Canyon, the eastern side. Reece knew that if it reached the top, the Sword would cross the Canyon. The Shield would be down, and the Ring would be finished.
He had no time. He had to stop them. But Reece had bigger problems: as it was, it appeared that they would not even make it out of here alive.
The Faws spoke to Centra quickly, in a language Reece did not understand, and as they did, they gestured frantically towards Reece.
“They are telling me to give you a message,” Centra said. “They want you to know with joy and delight that you are about to be killed. You are to be the sacrifice of the day. They want you to know this before you die, so that you can take satisfaction in knowing that you are food for their god. And they want you to suffer from your death even before you experience it.”
Reece half-grinned amidst his pain.
“That’s very kind of them,” he answered.
“What are they talking about?” O’Connor asked aloud. “What kind of sacrifice?”
Centra spoke back to the Faws in their native language, and they immediately answered him. Centra hesitated, then looked over at the pit with apprehension.
“They plan to throw you into the lava pit—”
Centra paused, clearly not wanting to translate the rest of it, but they, unhappy, jabbed him with the dagger. He continued:
“—and watch as it slowly burns the skin off your bodies.”
The group of Faws rose up in a chorus of gleeful laughter, obviously delighted at the spectacle that was about to come. Their laughter was like the chirping of small birds, and it grated on Reece’s nerves.
A dozen of these little orange creatures rushed forward and stood facing their leader, who was bigger than all the others and who sat atop a wooden post. The leader said something in a language Reece did not understand, and the others turned and stared at Krog.
“They have decided to kill Krog first,” Centra said. “They say the weak must always be sacrificed first.”
Krog gulped, writhing to break free.
“Still think it was a good idea to come down here?” Krog called out to Reece.
Reece could not allow this; he knew he had to do something fast.
“Take me first!” Reece screamed out.
The Faws grew quiet as Centra translated.
“Why should they take you?” Centra translated back.
“Tell them that their gods are wrong,” Reece called out.
Centra translated, and there came an outraged gasp.
A Faw stepped forward and pointed his dagger in Reece’s stomach, hard enough to cause pain. But Reece was undeterred.
“Tell them that great gods require the sacrifice of the strong!” Reece called out, desperate. “Not the weak! You do your god a great dishonor to give him the weak. I am the strongest here. Take me first!”
Centra translated furiously.
There came a long pause, as their leader stared back coldly at Reece. Finally, he nodded at him with a look of respect.
“Perhaps you are right in this,” Centra translated. “Yes, you will do just fine.”
The Faws let go of Krog and instead turned to Reece.
“Leave him be!” Krog called out.
But the Faws ignored him, and they marched for Reece.
“Pssst!”
Reece heard a hissing noise, and he turned to see Indra, about ten feet away. Her wrists were moving behind her back, ever so slightly, and he looked closely and noticed she held a small dagger hidden in her palm. As she rubbed her wrists up and down, one strand at a time she was severing her twine. They had not bound her ankles, as they had the others, probably because she was a woman.
Indra gave Reece a knowing look, and he gave her one back. When the time is right, he whispered to her.
She nodded back knowingly.
The Faws came up behind Reece and hoisted his pole out of the ground with him still tied to it and carried him through t
he air.
They marched with Reece and the pole over their shoulders, getting closer and closer to the molten pit of lava. As they approached, just feet away, Reece felt the heat growing so strong he had to turn away his face.
Reece was brought closer and closer to the edge of the precipice, and as they raised him high, he felt himself about to be hoisted over the edge.
“It has been nice having you as our guest!” Centra translated.
The chorus of grating laughter, like chirping birds, came again.
Suddenly, there came a scream, and Reece was surprised to realize that it was not his.
Reece saw a dagger lodged in the temple of one of the Faws beside him, who collapsed at Reece’s feet.
Reece looked over and saw that Indra had freed herself, and had thrown the dagger expertly and killed the Faw.
Now was his chance. Reece spun around, the pole he was bound to still attached to his back, and whacked the other Faws hard in the ribs with it, sending them hurtling backwards, screaming, into the glowing lava.
Reece sank to his knees and leaned back against the dagger lodged in the Faw’s head. He yanked it out with his fingertips and quickly cut the ropes binding his wrists, then his ankles, freeing himself from the pole.
Several more Faws rushed forward to grab him, but they were surprised as Reece rose up, free, dagger in hand. He stood and charged them, slashing their throats, and stabbing others in the heart.
Indra broke into action. She ran over and freed all the others, cutting their ropes one at a time with her spare dagger. The other Legion wasted no time: they grabbed their weapons and fought back furiously.
The Faws, though vast in number, were half the size, and not fierce fighters. Their great strength was in numbers, but not in combat. They poured out of the woodwork, from every possible direction, like angry ants, and leapt on their backs with their claws and sharp teeth, causing scratches and bites.
But Reece and his men were undeterred, brave warriors who had faced worse, and they each managed to fight and push them all back.
Dozens of Faws fell all around them.
Yet still the Faws kept coming, thousands of them, pouring in from all sides of the cliffs, from caves. There came a never-ending stream, and Reece realized this would not be easy. Despite their strength, they were vastly outnumbered. He had to act fast. He had to retrieve the Sword and get them all out of there as soon as he could.
Reece turned, scanning for the Sword, and saw that the boulder was well up the side of the Canyon, and still being hoisted. He had to stop it. He could not let it reach the top.
“Cover me!” Reece yelled.
Elden, O’Connor, Indra, Serna and Conven rushed forward, circling around him, clearing a path for him with their swords as Reece charged for the canyon wall. Reece let out a great battle cry and slashed furiously with his sword, as he cut his way through dozens of Faws, the crowd getting thicker by the moment.
Reece finally reached the Canyon wall, and as he did, he leapt up onto a foothold in the slippery rock, and climbed his way high enough up the Canyon to be out of reach of the Faws. The boulder with the Sword in it was perhaps twenty feet above him, and Reece realized he needed to sever the rope. He drew his sword, leaned back, and prepared to chop it down.
Suddenly, a Faw scaled the wall, grabbed his ankle, and yanked Reece backwards. Reece slipped; he went falling through the air and landed on the ground, on his back, winded.
Reece glanced over and saw the boulder was now too far out of reach, the ropes too high for him to cut. And now the wall was swarming with Faws. He’d lost his chance.
He had an idea.
“O’Connor, your bow!” Reece shouted, as he fended off his attackers.
O’Connor kicked two Faws out of his way, and followed Reece’s glance and saw what he was getting at. O’Connor reached back for his bow and took aim. He fired off a shot, aiming for the rope, as Reece had intended.
It missed by a foot. O’Connor was attacked by more Faws, knocking him to the ground, and Reece and Elden rushed forward and killed them.
“Help!” Krog called out.
Reece turned to see Krog doing his best to fight them off, but limping heavily on one leg. Two Faws were on his back, trying to bite his neck.
Reece rushed forward, as did Indra, and at the same time they each knocked a Faw off, Reece using the hilt of his dagger, and Indra stabbing one in the back.
Krog looked at Reece with gratitude.
Reece rushed back to O’Connor’s side, helping fight off the Faws and helping him regain his feet.
O’Connor grabbed his bow, took aim once again, hands shaking, and fired three more shots with his last three arrows.
On the third and final shot, there came the sound of snapping twine, as he landed a perfect, impossible shot.
There came a great whooshing noise, and suddenly the boulder came hurling down, like a meteor from the sky, and crashed into the Canyon floor with a huge reverberating thud.
Reece was elated. They had stopped it from rising to the wrong side of the Canyon wall. Now they had to get it and get out.
“The Sword, quick!” Reece called out.
He and his men fought their way towards it, through the Faws, attacking left and right, until they finally all made their way to the boulder. Elden and O’Connor held the front line, fighting Faws off, while Reece and the others reached down and tried to hoist the boulder.
But it was too heavy. It wouldn’t budge.
All around them, more and more Faws were closing in.
“Those poles!” O’Connor said. “I saw them hoist it earlier. The weight of the Sword is heavy—but only if touched directly. If we use a barrier, like the poles, it lightens its weight.”
Reece joined with Conven and Indra and Serna and Krog as they jammed the poles beneath the boulder. As one, they all began to move it.
Reece was shocked; O’Connor was right. The Sword was not meant to be touched by the human hand. But with an intermediary, like wooden poles, they could hoist the boulder like any other rock.
They hoisted the boulder onto their shoulders with the poles, and began to march away with it.
Reece saw they were in trouble. They had, despite all odds, achieved the impossible; but now, there was no possible way out. There were thousands of Faws before them, more and more pouring in, and it was a long hike to the other side of the Canyon, and an even harder hike to get up. If they could even get the Sword up. They couldn’t do it under combat. In fact, they’d be lucky to even fight their way out of here alive.
There was just no way to bring the Sword. And yet, at the same time, Reece knew they could not just leave it here, could not return empty-handed. And they could not leave it in the hands of the Faws, who would let it rise in the other side of the Canyon, and lower the Shield.
Reece frantically surveyed his surroundings, desperate for a solution.
And then, suddenly, he had one.
Reece saw the glowing lava pit, in the center of the battlefield, and as much as it pained him, he knew he had no choice. If he could not bring the Sword back, he would have to destroy it.
But would destroying the Sword for all time destroy the Ring, too? Would it destroy the Shield? He did not know. But he had no other choice. It was a desperate situation, and all he knew was that if he did nothing, then the Sword would definitely get in the wrong hands, and the Shield would definitely lower, and the Ring would definitely be destroyed.
He had to risk the uncertainty.
“TO THE LAVA!” Reece commanded.
With one last desperate push, Reece and the others bore the boulder on their shoulders and marched their way towards the pit, Elden and O’Connor fighting off the Faws all around them. Every step was a struggle on the muddy Canyon floor. Foot by foot they slogged their way through, and soon, Reece’s face was hot with the glow of the lava.
They stood there, at the precipice, arms shaking, and Reece looked down at the molten fire.
The others realized, with horror, what he was about to do.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” O’Connor screamed.
Reece was not sure. But there was no other way out.
“INTO THE LAVA!” Reece commanded.
They all followed orders, and as one, they all began to hurl it over. Reece felt the tremendous weight on his shoulders and arms as they hoisted the boulder and hurled it, the Sword in it, over the edge, into the molten pit of fire.
As it sank, the entire earth quaked beneath them, the greatest earthquake Reece had ever felt, strong enough to knock them all off of their feet.
And as Reece watched it melt, he stared into the flames, and all he could think was: what have I done?
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Thor stood there, sword in hand, facing Gwendolyn, who knelt before him, eyes swollen with tears. He tried to remember. He saw her face, and in some dim part of himself, it meant something to him. But he could not remember what. Did he know her?
All about them, in the broad clearing, soldiers on both sides stopped their fighting, all staring, the war at a standstill as Thor faced Gwen, the Queen of the MacGils. Thor looked into her eyes, beautiful eyes, examined her face, and he tried to summon it.
Something came back to him…..flashes…he was not sure what. He could not piece it together.
“Thorgrin, it’s me,” Gwen said, crying. “Come back to me. It’s Gwendolyn. I love you. I’m so sorry for everything I said. You are nothing like your father. I love you. I love you.”
Thor stood there, sweat rolling into his eyes, and his hands shook as he held the sword over her. A part of him understood her; but another part of him had no recognition.
“THORNICUS, MY SON!” Andronicus boomed. “Do not believe her! She is the enemy. The enemy of your father. She is filled with lies. She has come to betray you. If you are my one and only son, you must answer me now. Kill this woman. Kill her for me. Kill her, and prove your loyalty to me once and for all time.”
Thor heard his father’s words, and they resonated through him, like a command that controlled his limbs, that he could not shake. It was as if he had spoken the words himself. They were more than a command. They were like his own will, spoken aloud.