Neverland's Library: Fantasy Anthology

by Mark Lawrence

  The towers were made from long, slender tree limbs with a lookout perched high above the homes. When he grabbed hold of the ladder leading up, Ignis knew it was not going to be easy with one hand. The whole structure seemed to sway with his added weight.

  Once at the top, the stationed guard placed his hands under Ignis’s arms and helped him inside the wooden basket.

  “Thank you so much,” said the guard as he accepted Ignis’s offer. “I was watching you perform, you were remarkable.”

  Ignis smiled. “Thank you. I’m glad you got to— “ Out of his peripheral vision, movement caught his attention. He focused his eyes and watched the ground with unblinking eyes. The tall stalks of grass swayed in an unfelt breeze.

  “What’s wrong?” asked the guard.

  “Something’s out there.”

  Wasting no time to verify Ignis’s words, the guard ignited the tip of an arrow and launched the flaming spear into the air. The arrow stuck in the ground and the small flame ignited several stalks of grass upon impact. The sudden light exposed dozens of pale men — wearing nothing but scaly loincloths — crawling across the ground on their bellies as if they were serpents, heading straight for the town.

  “Oscura!” said the guard.

  A horn blew and Ignis knew then the guard in the other tower had seen the imminent threat as well. The guard beside Ignis lit and launched several more arrows in order to reveal the savages’ true numbers. However, with their position exposed, the Oscura warriors stood and charged, making it near impossible to count the odds.

  “There’s too many of them,” said the guard as he took aim on an enemy warrior. He released his arrow and caught his target in the chest, just above the heart. The Oscura warrior screamed as he toppled over, driving the arrowhead deeper into his chest.

  “Should have known they’d take advantage of the cloud cover. Man your posts!” Pignuis commanded as he unsheathed two short swords from their scabbards. “And whatever you do, protect the dead to the best of your ability. Do not allow them to take a single one of us. I’ll die before I allow them to feast on your bones and I hope you’ll do the same for me.”

  Seeing the townsfolk of Fanguard take up arms and create a line to meet the threat, and with a newfound respect for the bulbous man in charge, Ignis joined the battle. As quick as he could, he climbed down the rickety ladder and headed toward his family’s wagon for his staves. Though he was efficient with a sword, he preferred the staves. The rock hard material could easily bash a skull in on itself, and quite often the staves instilled arrogance in his opponents that he could capitalize on.

  “Ignis, let’s go!” His father waved him toward the wagon.

  The coward is fleeing? he thought as he ran to him.

  “We have to go.”

  “We can’t leave these people, we can help,” Ignis said.

  “It’s not our fight,” his father said.

  “Ignis, don’t argue,” added his mother.

  “We have to help them. How far do you think we could actually get if they fail to hold them back?”

  “They’ll be too busy skinning them to worry about us.”

  The sound of metal clanging was followed by screams as the Oscura warriors reached the town’s limits.

  “They need us, Father. Can’t you see that?”

  “Look out!” His father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward.

  An Oscura warrior had penetrated the line and flanked Ignis. He felt the sudden whoosh of air against the back of his neck and realized then how close he was to death. The sound of steel smacking the wagon’s wood echoed in his ear, followed by scraping metal as his father withdrew his sword.

  “Savage!” his father announced, lunging with his sword.

  The Oscura warrior deflected the blow and quickly parried, but Ignis’s father easily recovered. As the two dueled with neither gaining the upper hand, the ground shook. Ignis’s legs wobbled as he searched for the cause. The fire outside the town’s limits from the arrows slowly faded, but there was a soft orange light illuminating the darkness beyond.

  “Whoa,” he whispered as the shadows at the outskirts of town receded to reveal a great beast approaching. He ran closer.

  “Ignis! Wait!” The command was followed by a scream of agony and Ignis knew the savage had fallen to his father’s blade.

  He disobeyed his father, and forgot to grab his staves in the process.

  Dragging a long, slender tale across the green pasture on four short legs that barely bent at the joints, a creature unlike any Ignis had seen in his travels. Its belly hung low, scraping the ground. The orange skin seemed to glow in the darkness and revealed dark, black spots. If not for the massive body, the rounded face with a short nose and beady eyes would not inspire fear within him. Flames danced at the edges of its wide grin, and Ignis knew then it posed a great threat to the people of Fanguard.

  He looked around to see the townspeople locked in battle. Behind him, his father approached, slaying any Oscura warriors foolish enough to cross his path. “We have to get these people out of here,” he said to his father, but the man had his hands full with protecting his unarmed son.

  “Leave our homes to these savages? Never!” said Pignuis as he deflected a strike from an Oscura warrior with one of his short swords and ran his other across the man’s abdomen. Entrails spilled, and the warrior dropped his twisted blade to catch the tubular tissue.

  As Ignis watched Pignuis plant his boot into the Oscura warrior, he felt a strange heat baring down on him. He turned around in time to see a large fireball hurl toward him. Without panic, he quickly rolled to his left, narrowly dodging the large ball of flame. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was in danger. Plumes of flames and dirt launched into the air as it struck the ground just behind him.

  The beast continued its approach. Ignis looked around in hopes of finding someone to aide him in taking down the great beast, but there was no one. Even his mother was too preoccupied to help him stand against this monstrosity. He stepped toward it. The beast’s head tilted back and when it lowered it, another ball of flames shot forth.

  Not wanting the ball of flames to harm anyone, Ignis forced all of his strength to his legs and braced himself. Palms out, nerves steeled, he received the fireball. Though the dragon scales protected his hands, the immense heat caused boils to form on his forearm almost instantly.

  I’ve got to get rid of this, he thought.

  Ignis tilted his hands back, then shoved forward with all his might. The fireball flew back toward the dragon-like creature and struck the beast on its left side. Its rider screamed and fell to the ground and was trampled underneath the beast’s clawed foot.

  He looked at the white swelling orbs on his skin and realized he could not afford to do that again. Even without its rider, the beast continued its march into Fanguard.

  I’ve got to stop it.

  “Ignis!”

  He turned toward Pignuis.

  The man tossed one of his short swords toward him. “Take it down!”

  The weapon clanged against the ground at his feet. He bent at the knees and scooped it up without hesitation.

  With the short sword in hand, he charged the lumbering beast.

  As he drew close, it swiped its massive claws. He ducked and saw the mount’s reigns dangling at the beast’s neck. He changed direction and took his chances. Ignis lunged and grabbed hold of the leather straps and planted his feet against the beast’s leg. Heat radiated from the creature’s neck and he quickly climbed up toward the mount, hewing at its flesh the entire way. Molten blood flowed from the wounds. The beast thrashed its body, but Ignis held the straps steadfast.

  When he reached the mount, Ignis plunged his sword all the way to the hilt into the back of the creature’s neck. A deafening roar echoed on the air as he pulled the blade out and delivered another blow. The beast’s flat head reared up, flames spilled over its bottom jaw as it bellowed in pain.

  “Die!” Ig
nis pulled the blade out once more and with all his strength, drove it into the back of its skull.

  A shockwave trembled across the lizard’s body as its legs no longer had the strength to hold it up. It toppled over to the right, Ignis falling with it. The beast crashed to the ground and succumbed to Ignis’s blade and pinned the boy’s foot under its weight.

  “Ignis!” his father shouted as he ran toward him.

  He struggled to roll the spongy flesh off of him, the heat radiating from the creature searing his unprotected skin. Movement at his left caused him to take his eyes off the task at hand. An Oscura warrior charged toward him, a twisted blade raised over his head.

  Ignis closed his eyes as the savage came within striking distance.

  “No!”

  Father?

  Steel clanged. He opened his eyes to see his father’s blade locked against the savage’s just above the bridge of his nose.

  He saved me.

  Another Oscura warrior charged. With his father vulnerable to attack, Ignis pushed with all his might to free his foot.

  With both hands on the grip of his sword, Ignis’s father finally achieved the upper hand in the clash and shoved his opponent away. Without missing a beat, and with an uncanny fluidity in his movements, he arced his blade and sliced the savage’s throat. The warrior dropped his sword and clutched his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and spilled to the ground, the viscous fluid in his throat turning his final breaths into an incoherent gargle.

  “Father, lookout!”

  The second warrior capitalized on the distraction and thrust his sword into Ignis’s father’s back. His father winced and exhaled a painful gasp as the tip of the sword protruded from the right side of his abdomen. He then turned around to face his assailant, pulling the sword free from the surprised warrior’s hand.

  “Vile beast!” His father swung his sword, running the blade across the warrior’s chest. Without a tunic or chain mail, flesh parted to steel and both Ignis’s father and the Oscura warrior fell to their knees.

  Finally freed, Ignis inspected his father’s wound. Given the sword’s angle, Ignis doubted it would be fatal. He braced one hand against his father’s back and the other on the sword’s handle.

  “Don’t,” his father said.

  “But—”

  “If you pull it out, I’ll surely bleed to death before I reach the wagon.”

  For the first time in his life, Ignis experienced the fear of losing his father. All that time spent hating the man for what he had done was wasted. He knew that now. “What do I do, Father?”

  “Nothing. They’ll pick me off if I try to walk. You must go. Save yourself and protect your mother. The two of you are all that matters.”

  Tears pooled at the thought. “I can’t leave you.”

  “Behind you!”

  Ignis turned around at his father’s command. An Oscura warrior charged toward him, his twisted blade perched high above his head ready to slice through his skull. His blood boiled at the sight of the pale man and he stepped forward to meet his adversary.

  As the blade descended, Ignis caught the man’s wrists and kicked the savage underneath the scrap of lizard skin around his waist. The warrior fell to the ground in a heap, clutching the tender organ. Ignis picked up the twisted blade and plunged it into the savage’s chest, just above his heart.

  “Come on,” he said to his father as he grabbed hold of his left arm and draped it over his shoulders.

  “You’re being foolish, boy. We’ll never make it,” his father said as he was hoisted onto his feet.

  “Then we’ll die together.” He stepped forward, forcing his father to step in time with him.

  “Well in case we do...I love you, Son.”

  Ignis’s knees buckled and he wasn’t certain if it was his father’s added weight or the weight of his father’s words that caused the slight stumble. “Don’t talk like that,” he finally said after several steps.

  All around them, Oscura warriors were locked in battle with the residents of Fanguard. Men and women fought side-by-side to combat the threat. What he once thought of as a terrible place to live revealed its appeal to him. There was a camaraderie unlike any other in Cruor and he realized, though it pained him to admit it, he was still young and naïve to the world.

  “Their numbers are thinning. We’re going to make it.”

  “Ignis!” He heard his mother’s voice.

  “Julianna, stay where you are!”

  Ignis’s mother ran to them — a bloodstained dagger in each hand. His gaze traveled over her body, searching for signs of injury and seeing her healthy and disobeying his father, forced a smile upon his face.

  Now I know where I get it, he thought.

  “Stay away from them!” Julianna stopped long enough to toss one of her daggers.

  Ignis’s gaze followed the trajectory of the small, jewel encrusted blade and watched as it landed with precise accuracy in the throat of a nearby Oscura warrior. He stumbled forward, fell, and lay in a lump.

  “Julianna, you—”

  “Oh, hush up, Darshawn,” Ignis’s mother said as she crouched low and tucked herself against his father’s side.

  With the burden of his father’s weight eased, Ignis picked up the pace. Their path was clear, but he knew at any moment an Oscura warrior could strike and take them down. By the time they were a mere ten paces from the family wagon, cheers echoed in the night.

  “They’re retreating!” someone shouted.

  “Roku and Keagan, pick off as many as you can,” Pignuis yelled to the two sentry towers. “Don’t let them drag anyone away!”

  “Is it over?” Ignis’s mother asked as they reached the wagon.

  “I think so,” he said, looking over his shoulder to see townsfolk catching their breath.

  “Good. Let’s get your father inside. We need to remove this sword.”

  “And I’m going to need some mead,” added his father.

  “What are you lazy dogs lounging for?” Pignuis yelled to the crowd. “You can rest when the wounded have been moved to the infirmary and the dead have been collected. I want guards stationed on the outskirts of town in case any of those vermin are brazen enough to try that again. Let’s put some hustle into it!”

  When the wagon’s rear door closed, Ignis could no longer hear Pignuis’s bullish voice barking orders. He had to admit, after seeing the man in battle and the way he commanded his people, the man deserved respect.

  “All right, Darshawn, we’re going to lay you down on your side. Try not to move.”

  “What can I do?” Ignis asked, wanting to help his father the way he had helped him.

  “We’ll need some clean water and rags,” his mother said.

  “Right.” Ignis exited the wagon and grabbed the bucket that dangled on a hook underneath the rear end. He remembered seeing the well over by the tavern and headed in that direction.

  Wails of pain and suffering filled the air as the townsfolk dragged or carried the injured to safety. He wished he could help, but vowed to after his father was taken care of. Once at the well, he had to wait his turn as two women were already ahead of him, filling their buckets. He could only assume they were taking them to the infirmary.

  With his bucket full, he returned to the wagon to find his mother had cut away his father’s shirt and two daggers were placed over the open flame of a lantern.

  He looks like a skewered malikboar, Ignis thought.

  “Good,” his mother said at his return, “I need you to hold him down while I pull the sword free.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, not wanting to cause harm.

  “Just push your weight down on him, but keep your hands away from the wound.”

  Ignis nodded, then followed her command.

  “Make sure you pull the blade out straight,” his father said when Julianna reached for the hilt.

  She shoved a wooden spoon into his mouth. “Darshawn, I know what to do. Just try to relax and bite d
own if you need to.”

  His father looked so helpless with his wide, teary-eyed gaze. Ignis watched with unblinking eyes as his mother’s hand slowly gripped the sword’s handle. She hesitated and eyed him, obviously checking to see if he was ready. She nodded and he braced himself against his father. With a quick yank, his father’s back straightened as he screamed. The sword clanged against the wood floor when his mother dropped it to quickly soak a rag in the water bucket.

  “Here,” she handed him a wet rag, “wash the edges of the wound while I clean this one.”

  As Ignis pressed the cloth against his father’s wound, Darshawn grunted in pain and squeezed his eyes shut. With both wounds cleaned, his mother removed the daggers from the lanterns flame and handed him one.

  “We have to try to do this at the same time,” she said. “We don’t want to prolong the pain.”

  Ignis nodded.

  “Quickly, before the steel cools.”

  He followed her lead and placed the red-hot steel against the wound. The wooden spoon slipped from his father’s lips as he screamed in agony. Flesh sizzled as a ribbon of smoke snaked into the air.

  When the blades were finally removed from his skin, his father was left panting. Sweat beaded his brow and Julianna quickly patted him down with a fresh, wet rag.

  “It’s over,” she whispered as she stroked his cheek with a loving hand.

  Darshawn took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and succumbed to the overwhelming pain.

  “Is he—?”

  “No, Ignis, he’s just resting.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, then asked: “Do you need me anymore?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to go outside and help the others.”

  She nodded in understanding. “All right. But be careful!”

  “I will.” He kissed her forehead and headed out the door. When he turned around to catch the door in order to stop it from slamming and disturbing his father, someone grabbed hold of his left hand and twisted his palm up.

  The door closed and Ignis turned his body to see who dare touch him.

  “I knew it!”

  Ignis stared down at the exposed dragon scale in the palm of his hand, his protective gloves incinerated and barely clinging together. He yanked his hand free from Pignuis’s pudgy hands.