Night of the Bold

by Morgan Rice

  Escalon was free again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  Kyra stood alone on the vast Bridge of Sorrows, facing off against Ra in the battle that she knew would determine her fate. She stood there, wielding the Staff of Truth, determined to avenge her father. Ra stood across from her, equally determined as he raised his huge golden sword high. Kyra sensed that the outcome of this fight would determine not only her own fate, but the fate of Escalon as well. This, she sensed, was the final battle of the entire war, the battle her father never had a chance to complete.

  Behind Ra, countless thousands of black monsters were rising from the soil, crossing the Fields of Ore, his sorcerer summoning them from the depths of hell. Above her the four immense dragon-like creatures pierced the air with their shrieks, diving down for Theon. Kyra saw her dragon lying there on the ground, and she wished more than ever she could come to his aid. But he would have to be on his own. She had her own battle to wage.

  Behind her the mainland was filled with the sound of shouts, of men dying, as Anvin led what remained of Duncan’s army, attacking the Pandesian forces despite their overwhelming number, immersing themselves in the greatest war of Escalon’s history. All of them had put their lives on the line, and all of their lives hung in the balance. Kyra felt an extra sense of urgency to reunite with them and help them finish the battle.

  Kyra wanted to be everywhere at once. She wanted to be fighting with her father’s men, and she wanted to be defending Theon—yet she knew that they each had a role to play, and her role was here, on the bridge, facing off against Ra, his sorcerer, and the legions of monsters behind them. Her role was to defend the Bridge of Sorrows, the entry to Escalon, for once and for all. She felt the staff throbbing in her hand, and she knew the time had come.

  Kyra stood there, prepared for Ra to step forward and fight.

  Yet to her surprise, he merely grinned wide and stepped aside.

  As he did there arose a horrific moaning noise, and Kyra looked out to see the thousands of black creatures leaving the Fields of Ore, entering the bridge, charging her. Ra clearly wanted them to do the fighting for him.

  Kyra was amazed at Ra’s cowardice as she watched the beasts run past him, right for her. His sorcerer grinned, too, each smug in their evil, each watching, waiting for these demons to do their dirty work for them. She braced herself, ready for the challenge. This was, after all, a war of good versus evil, of humanity against demons, of freedom versus tyranny. This battle was just the final manifestation of what had always lurked beneath the surface.

  Kyra thought of her dead father, his noble face in death burned in her mind. She could not give up, not now, no matter how badly the odds were stacked against her. Even if the staff failed her, even if her powers failed her, she would not give up. She was, after all, a warrior in her own right, and she had her own two hands to fight with. That was all she’d ever wanted in life.

  Kyra charged, not waiting for her foes to reach her. She raised the Staff of Truth and swung wildly, marking the first impact of the battle as she smashed the first black creature that came her way. It was an awful thing, twice her size, made of a black sticky substance, like clay, dripping, with small red eyes and rows of sharp, yellow teeth. It was a creature that never should have existed.

  As Kyra slashed it across the midsection, her staff became lost in a glob of black tar, sending it exploding all around her. Another creature lunged and grabbed her arm, while another grabbed for her other arm. Kyra did not hesitate—she spun, raised the staff, and cracked one across its chest, then jabbed the other between the eyes, exploding both all over the bridge.

  Kyra leapt into the crowd, swinging her staff like a warrior possessed. She spun and swung, ducking, rising, lowering her staff and bringing it up. She slashed and fought like lightning as she passed through the crowd, lost in a blur as these creatures clawed at her and exploded all around her. Kyra let all her instincts, all her training, take over her as she let the staff guide her. She barely had a sense of what she was doing as she surrendered to the control of the universe, as she truly let go and allowed herself to get lost in the whirlwind of battle.

  Kyra felled one creature after the next, their unearthly moans rising up as she demolished them. They all lunged and clawed for her, yet, despite their greater size, none stood a chance. Within moments, hundreds lay dead on the bridge, lumps of blackened tar, and with each kill, she felt more powerful than she’d ever had.

  Khtha grimaced as he stepped toward her, holding out his palm, clearly frustrated. A red beam of light emitted from it, but Kyra was unafraid. She held out her own palm, sensing her innate power was now stronger than his. White light shot forth, and as it met his beam of light, it made it dissolve.

  Khtha stared back, clearly stunned and horrified.

  He slowly lowered his palm, as if in defeat, and Kyra felt a tremendous power rush through her palm, a power stronger than she’d ever felt. It was the power she had been born with, the power she had been afraid to embrace until now. It was one that she finally allowed herself to embrace, now, as leader of Escalon. If not on behalf of herself, she could embrace it on behalf of all her people.

  She raised her palm higher and intensified the light, and as she did, Khtha finally sank to his knees, crying out. Kyra walked forward, continuing to push the light down toward him. Soon, he slumped over to his side. She could feel his evil power, one that had lasted for thousands of years, that had supported Ra, had supported all of the Pandesian Empire, leaving him.

  A huge ball of white light suddenly shot forth from her palm and consumed him. A moment later, Kyra felt a rush of victory as he disappeared, all that remained a pile of robes on the ground.

  A hole opened in the earth, a column of black light shot up, and Khtha’s shrieks echoed as he was sucked down below ground, the hole sealing up after his departure. Kyra felt a rush of satisfaction knowing that this horrible creature had been extinguished for good.

  As Khtha sank below the earth, there came an awful moaning, and Kyra looked out to see the army of black creatures rising from the Fields of Ore suddenly melt back into the earth, disintegrating now that their master was dead. She breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders aching, still out of breath from the battle.

  Yet her relief was tempered by a fresh concern: on the horizon she spotted, marching for the bridge, millions more fresh Pandesian soldiers.

  Reinforcements had arrived.

  If they reached the bridge, if they crossed into Escalon, everything they fought for would be finished.

  Kyra stood on the bridge, breathing hard, and faced off, finally alone against Ra. His army lay in the distance behind him, and hers behind her. Finally, their time had come.

  Ra raised his golden sword and grimaced, stepping forward.

  “You imagine yourself to be strong now,” he spat, “because you killed a few monsters and a sorcerer past his prime. Yet you are nothing. You are but a girl, and will always be nothing. I am everything. You cannot kill the Great and Holy Ra. I have never been killed and I shall never be killed. I am a god—and man cannot defeat a god.”

  Ra scowled and suddenly charged, slashing down at her with his great sword, groaning as he lowered it for her head. She held her ground, fearless, raising the Staff of Truth, confident in her powers.

  Kyra blocked his blow amidst a great clang and shower of sparks, managing to stop his sword in midair. She then stepped forward, filled with the certainty of her own powers, and kicked him in the chest.

  She watched as the great Ra went flying back, airborne, thirty feet. He landed hard on his back and went sliding across the bridge.

  Ra lay there and looked up, wide-eyed, clearly stunned.

  Kyra approached and he stood, wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, and grimaced. He raised his sword and, letting out a fierce battle cry, charged once again.

  This time Ra slashed back and forth, again and again, the blade whistling through the air, lunging for her.
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  Kyra forced herself to remain calm. She sidestepped as one blow smashed into the side of the bridge, strong enough to take out a chunk of it. He slashed again, a blow strong enough to cut three men in half, and again she dodged and the sword took out another chunk of bridge.

  Kyra, more focused than she had ever been, finally understood what it meant to be in the moment. Feeling the power of her ancestors course through her, the power passed down to her in her bloodline through her mother, she swung the Staff of Truth in between his blows and smashed him across the jaw.

  A cracking noise split the air as the blow sent Ra flying back a good twenty feet, until he smashed against the stone railing of the bridge. He lay there in a heap, unmoving.

  Kyra walked over to him, seeing the power slowly ebbing from him, seeing his look of hubris slowly morph to one of uncertainty. It was a magical thing to watch. And it gave her satisfaction. For her people.

  For her father.

  Indeed, she felt her father’s spirit looking down, coursing through her.

  Kyra leaned over, grabbed his chest, and pulled him up. He grimaced down at her as she held him up high overhead with one hand, feeling more powerful than ever. She looked deep into his eyes, the soulless black eyes of her foe, of the man she would vanquish.

  “For my father,” she said calmly.

  Kyra threw him, sending him sliding forty feet across the bridge, smashing into the rail on the far side.

  Ra crawled to his hands and knees, coughing up blood, then finally stumbled to his feet. He looked unsure as he raised his sword and pathetically charged for her.

  “No one can kill the Great and Holy Ra!” he shouted. “NO ONE!”

  He charged this time with both hands holding the sword high overhead, aiming for her head, to kill her once and for all. Kyra did not wait. She charged forward with all she had, racing to greet him before he could her. As she ran forward with lightning speed, she let out a great battle cry herself, feeling the power of the world course through her. She raced forward and lunged the Staff of Truth through his chest. The Staff of Truth magically sharpened at its tip, as if anticipating her needs and morphing to suit her. Ra shrieked as it punctured him, and went out the other side.

  Ra fell to his knees and dropped his weapon, gushing blood. He looked up at Kyra with eyes wide in shock.

  “You…have…killed…what…could…not…be…killed,” he struggled to say.

  And then he dropped face first to the ground.

  Dead.

  Kyra felt a rush of satisfaction, as she felt her father’s spirit shining down on her, avenged. She felt Escalon, avenged. She felt her mother smiling down with pride, felt her destiny fulfilled. The ruler of the vast Pandesian Empire, of most the world, was dead at her hands. She had become the warrior they had always dreamt she would be; she had become the leader of Escalon, cutting off the head of the great Empire.

  Yet Kyra had little time to reflect on her victory. A million of his men still marched for the gate, while behind her Anvin and his men fought off what remained of the Pandesian army inside Escalon, and Theon fought for his survival

  A rumble like thunder shook the earth, and Kyra spun to see one of the four beasts dive down and smash into the earth right beside Theon, grabbing Theon’s tail with its claws and hurling him. Her heart dropped to watch Theon spin end over end through the air. He landed on hard rock, tumbling in a great cloud of dust.

  The other three beasts followed, close on Theon’s tails. Yet Kyra watched with pride as Theon spun, jumped to his feet, and sank his teeth into one beast’s throat as it lunged to finish him off. Theon caught the beast by surprise, unwilling to let go. The beast writhed every which way, trying to shake Theon off, but was unable to. Theon held on for dear life, even as he was smashed into rock on either side, and finally the massive beast stopped writhing, limp.

  Dead.

  No sooner had it died than the three others pounced on Theon’s back. Kyra’s heart slammed; she knew that if she didn’t do something soon he would die.

  Kyra sprinted across the bridge and as she reached the far side, cracked one of the beasts across the back with the Staff of Truth. She felt the vibration of the staff course up and down her arms as a white light shot forth from it, and she heard the crack reverberate. The creature shrieked and spun for her, and as it did, she cracked it across the face.

  She felt the definitive power of the blow. It suddenly stiffened and dropped to its side, dead.

  Another beast jumped off Theon’s back, snarled, and lunged for her, coming at her with lightning speed. The Staff of Truth hummed in her hand, and, listening to it, she raised it and threw it.

  The stuff buzzed through the air like a spear and pierced the beast’s chest, all the way through and out the other side. It landed face-first in the dirt and slid all the way up to Kyra’s feet, dead.

  The fourth and final beast jumped off of Theon and turned for Kyra, but as it flew for her, Theon rose from the ground, leapt into the air behind it, and dropped onto its back. Theon held on for dear life as the creature let out an awful roar, writhing like mad, trying to throw him off but unable. Theon finally managed to slam it down to the ground, pinning it down, wrestling with it, refusing to let go.

  The creature rolled, but Theon rolled with it. The two of them rolled, again and again, until finally they neared the edge of the cliff, the roaring waters far below where the Sea of Sorrow met the Sea of Tears. As they rolled one final time, Theon reached up with his talons and dug them into the beast’s throat.

  The beast shrieked, blood gushing down its scales, and Theon raised it by its throat and threw it.

  The creature plummeted through the air, flailing, until it impacted with the sharp rocks below and splashed into the waters, dead. The waters turned red with its blood, and within moments it was swarmed by red sharks.

  Kyra breathed deep with relief. She had never been so proud of Theon. She knew that his father, Theos, was looking down with pride, too, at his son. Theon, after all, was the last dragon standing. He had become, as the prophecies had predicted, the King of the Dragons.

  Kyra summoned her staff and it came flying through the air and landed in her palm. She turned and looked back out at Anvin and the men, battling what remained of Ra’s army, still outnumbering her father’s men greatly, with their thousands of soldiers who remained inside of Escalon. Kyra knew she had to help them.

  Kyra took off at a sprint. She raised the staff and slashed down through the air as she ran, and it hit the ground with a great cracking noise. A rippling reverberated through the ground as white light emanated from the staff and spread through the Pandesian camp. Kyra watched as several hundred soldiers fell, their cries rising up through the air, the white light destroying them.

  The remaining Pandesian soldiers began to turn in panic and run, and Kyra watched with satisfaction as Anvin and his men hunted them down, the momentum finally in their favor. She knew that Anvin and her father’s men would fight brilliantly, and that soon enough not a single Pandesian soldier would remain alive on the mainland of Escalon.

  Suddenly, though, a rumbling filled the air, and Kyra gripped the staff tight. She felt it humming in her hands as she turned and faced the bridge. She watched as there, on the far side, an entire nation of Pandesian soldiers, reinforcements, crossed the Fields of Ore. It was an unstoppable force, filling the world, and it marched for the Bridge of Sorrows bridge like a nation of ants.

  They had already reached it, and as they mounted the bridge, Kyra could feel the ground shaking beneath her. It was like the weight of the world, thunderous, monotonous. She knew that if they reached her side, Escalon would be finished.

  Kyra ran to the center of the bridge, knowing she had to be the lure. She had to let as many of them mount the bridge as she could, had to sacrifice herself, if that’s what it took, to save Escalon.

  Kyra waited and waited, until the soldiers, marching like a drumbeat, filled the bridge, nearly reaching her. They drew the
ir swords in perfect discipline as their commander shouted, and as a horn sounded, the thousands of men came charging right for her.

  Kyra waited and waited.

  Patience, she urged herself. Discipline. For your father.

  Finally, as the soldiers were but feet away, Kyra raised the Staff of Truth high and brought it straight down, to the floor of the bridge beneath her feet.

  There came a sharp cracking noise as she felt the tremendous power of the staff reverberate through her arm, up through her skull. She felt the bridge of Sorrows, which had lasted for centuries, which had connected Escalon to the mainland for thousands of years, buckle.

  A moment later, the bridge split in two and collapsed.

  Kyra felt the ground give way, and felt herself plummeting through the air, in free-fall. She knew she was falling to her death.

  Yet she felt no fear. After all, the air was filled with Pandesian soldiers, thousands of them, falling all around her. She would, after all, die with honor. It was a noble death, the final piece of the puzzle to free Escalon forever, and it had been worth it.

  As Kyra prepared to meet her death, the sea rushing up to meet her, a screech suddenly filled the air. A moment later she felt talons grab her from behind, felt herself being hoisted back up through the air. A moment before she had impacted, she had been saved.

  Kyra looked up to see her old friend Theon. He had caught her.

  As she flew, she saw millions of Pandesian soldiers trapped on the far side of the ocean, backed up in the Fields of Ore, unable to cross. Escalon, finally, was unreachable.

  It was free.

  The dream her father, her ancestors, had harbored for thousands of years had come to pass. They were no longer a nation of subjects. They were a nation now of free men and women.

  Theon slowly let Kyra down amidst all of her father’s men, all shouting triumphantly as they finished off the last of the Pandesians on the mainland. They all turned to her, as one, and let out a great shout. Their cries filled the air as they all looked to her with adulation, as a warrior among men, as their ruler. She felt her father smiling down upon them all.