by Morgan Rice
Reece grasped the hilt of his sword, and stepped forward.
“Just the kind of odds I like.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Gwendolyn stood before the ice monster, frozen in terror. Beside her, the others stood frozen, too, looking up at the beast in wonder. Gwen was flooded with fear, and a part of her wanted to turn and run, or at least raise her hands up and brace herself from an attack.
But another part of her forced her to be strong, to stand her ground and fight. Some small part of her knew she had the strength, and that she needed to be strong, not just for herself, but for the others. She couldn’t run from her fears; she might die facing them, but then, at least, she would die with honor. After all, she was a King’s daughter, and the blood of royalty ran in her.
The monster swooped its arm around towards her, its five jaws at the ends of its five fingers snapping open and shut as it neared. Gwen, with shaking hands, drew her sword, stepped forward, and swung at it.
The sword missed, the monster much quicker than she’d anticipated. Where his hand had been a second before, there was now nothing but air.
The monster’s jaws snapped open and shut, an awful noise of chattering teeth, and it lunged forward with high-pitched squeaking noises emanating from each of its ten jaws. They lunged right for Gwendolyn.
Gwendolyn screamed out in pain as one of its small jaws bit her arm, clamping down, drawing blood. She tried to pull away, but there was no use: the monster had clamped down tight, and she could feel its teeth sinking into her skin.
Gwen heard a snarl, and Krohn lunged forward and leapt onto the beast, biting the offending finger. Krohn clamped his jaws down on the monster’s hand, refusing to let go, shaking his head left and right, snarling, until finally the monster loosened its grip.
Gwen quickly stepped back, the pain shooting through her arm, and reached up and clasped her arm. Her hand was stained with blood, so she tore off a strip of cloth from the end of her shirt and tied it with a shaking hand around the wound, stopping the blood.
The monster turned to Krohn, in a rage. Another one of its jaws wheeled around, and with a sudden strike, it bit Krohn in the leg.
Krohn yelped, yet he would still not loosen his bite on the monster’s hand, chomping down on the monster’s fingers with all his might, until finally he snapped one of its jaws off. The monster shrieked, and Krohn fell to the ground, taking one of the monster’s fingers with it.
The monster, in a rage, leaned back and swung its arm around, preparing to sink several more of its mouths into Krohn’s back.
Steffen stepped forward, took aim, and fired two arrows in quick succession at the beast. Each arrow lodged itself in the monster’s small jaw, an incredible feat from such a distance and at such a fast-moving target. It caused the monster to turn away from Krohn, sparing him.
It turned instead and faced Steffen, irate, and roared.
The monster charged for Steffen, its arms and jaws flailing at the ends of its fingers, the sound of cracking ice filling the air as it charged for Steffen. Steffen fumbled with his bow, Aberthol lunged forward, his staff before him, boldly raised it with both hands, and jabbed it into the monster’s chest.
Despite the noble effort, the staff blow was useless against such a powerful beast; the monster merely looked down at Aberthol as if he were an annoying insect, reached back, and backhanded him. The sound of ice smacking skin cut through the air, and Aberthol, with a groan, went flying, landing hard on his back on the ice and sliding back several feet before he came to a stop, moaning in pain.
The monster focused again on Steffen. As Steffen backed up, the monster jumped forward, reached down, scooped Steffen up with one hand, raised him high overhead, a good twenty feet in the air, and examined him as if he were a meal. The monster turned Steffen upside-down, then reached over with its other hand, and aimed its snapping jaws for Steffen’s face.
Gwen realized with horror that it was about to eat Steffen alive.
As Steffen had been hoisted in the air, he dropped his bow and arrows, and Gwen, thinking quick, ran over and snatched them off the ground. With shaking hands, she took aim.
Gwen fired several arrows, embedding them in the monster’s side, and, finally, in one of its jaws.
It turned and glared at her, shrieking with rage, and dropped Steffen to the ground. Steffen hurled end-over-end through the air, and hit the ice with a cracking noise. Gwen hoped he had not broken all his bones.
The monster descended for Gwen once again, this time with both hands outreached, all its jaws snapping; Gwen, out of arrows and with nowhere to run, knew it was about to kill her. Still, she did not regret it, as she had at least saved Steffen’s life.
“BY THE LAWS OF THE SEVEN CIRCLES OF NATURE, I COMMAND YOU TO HALT!” boomed a fierce voice.
Gwendolyn turned to see Alistair step forward, hold out a palm, and aim it at the creature. An orange ball of light shot from it and went to the creature, hitting it in the chest.
But the creature turned to Alistair, unafraid, and swatted away the light ball as it approached. The ball went flying harmlessly over his shoulder.
Alistair stood there, shocked. Clearly, she had not been expecting that.
The monster instead turned and rushed for Alistair. It kicked her, its huge claws impacting her chest and sending her flying backwards, skidding across the ice.
Not satisfied, the monster bore down on her, preparing to finish her off.
Gwen took stock of the battlefield, and it did not look good: Alistair was on her back, and Steffen, Aberthol, and Krohn lay moaning, all injured by the monster. Gwen herself lay there, smarting from the blow, and wondered how they could ever defeat this thing. Their weapons were too flimsy against such a creature, and even Alistair’s druid magic had not worked.
Gwen turned and scanned her surroundings desperately, trying to use her wit, desperate to find something, anything that could be used, some way out of here. As she looked, she spotted something, and she had an idea.
There, at the top of one of the ice mounds, sat a large, round ice boulder. It was immense, and perched precariously, a good fifty feet high. It looked like one good shove could knock it from its perch—and the monster stood directly at the base of the ice mound beneath it. If Gwen could somehow dislodge the boulder, she could crush the beast below.
Gwendolyn burst into action. She raised Steffen’s bow, placed an arrow, and took aim, firing at the ice ledge beneath the boulder. Her aim was perfect: she managed to lodge the arrow precisely beneath the boulder, cracking the ice—and the boulder swayed just a tiny bit.
But it did not roll.
There were four arrows left, and with the monster bearing down on Alistair, there was little time to lose. Gwen fired again and again, and with her incredible aim, all four shots hit, as she’d hoped, in the exact same spot. Each time, the boulder rolled a little bit more.
It still sat on the precipice, tantalizingly about to go over the edge; but then it rolled back and stopped. It didn’t work. Gwendolyn was out of arrows. She had failed.
Alistair regained her feet and looked over and noticed what Gwendolyn was attempting to do. As the monster rushed for her, feet away, Alistair turned, raised both palms high above her head, and this time, she aimed for the ice boulder.
A yellow light shot from her palms, aimed up high at the ice mound, and the light flew across the battlefield. As she held the yellow light on the ice, beneath the boulder, it began to melt. Then crack.
Soon, the boulder began to move.
The monster was now just feet away, and Gwen feared that if the boulder did not roll quickly enough, Alistair would be killed before her eyes.
But Alistair, fearless, did not budge and did not back away in the face of the monstrous charge. She merely continued to concentrate, sending light onto the ice.
“ALISTAIR!” Gwen shrieked, running towards her.
The monster reached Alistair, grabbed her, and hoisted her high over its head with a
n awful shriek. Gwen could see that it was about to kill her.
There came a great whooshing noise, then the sound of ice cracking, and Gwen looked over to see the boulder released from its perch and rolling down the ice mound with a fury. Just as the monster pulled Alistair towards its open jaws to eat her, the boulder suddenly smashed into the monster’s back.
The monster was completely crushed. It let out an awful death shriek as it was completely flattened beneath the boulder. Alistair went flying through the air as the monster let go, and she landed far away, luckily, in a snow bank.
Soon, all was still. A heavy silence hung in the air.
Gwendolyn, in shock, hurried over to Alistair, rushing to her side, checking to see if she was okay. Alistair lay there, dazed, but she opened her eyes and took Gwendolyn’s hand and allowed her to pull her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” Gwen asked. She felt as if her own sister has been injured, and realized how much she cared for Alistair.
Alistair nodded back, looking shaken but unhurt.
Gwen broke into a smile, relieved.
They turned and hurried over to Steffen and Aberthol, helping each to their feet; they were bruised and beaten, but they would mend quickly. Gwen then hurried over to Krohn, who whined on his side. She helped him up, and he licked her face. He was a bit unsteady but all right, too.
The five of them stood there, dazed and confused, looking out at their surroundings, at these ice mounds, with a whole new respect and wonder. As Gwendolyn scanned the horizon, she was beginning to realize the true danger of this place. For the first time, she wondered if they would ever find Argon.
Had it been madness to come here after all?
*
Gwen hiked and hiked, her knees weak, her body weary, pains radiating in her stomach. They hiked towards the large, scarlet ball of the setting second sun, and they had been hiking all day. It felt like months. There was no end in sight: just the endless monotony of this landscape. She wondered how much longer they could keep this up, before they all just collapsed onto the ice.
They marched and marched through the fantastical valley of the mounds, all of them frozen to the bone. Luckily, since their last encounter, they had not encountered any other monsters. They had passed various small animals, creatures that Gwen had never seen before, most some shade of white, with small, glowing blue eyes—but these all scurried out of their way as they went. Everywhere they went, Gwendolyn searched for any possible sign of Argon, but he was nowhere in sight.
As the last glimmer of sun began to disappear, Gwendolyn began to notice a slight change in the appearance of the landscape. This valley of ice mounds culminated in one huge mound, stretching as far as the eye could see, blocking their path. There was no way forward without climbing it.
They all stopped, hands on their hips, breathing hard, and looked up at the mound, maybe fifty feet high. They were exhausted. They all were hopeless, as if no longer believing they would ever find Argon—much less survive.
“What do you think?” Gwen asked, turning to the others.
“We have no choice,” Alistair said. “Either we climb it, or we turn back.”
Gwen knew she was right. But her legs, shaking, were so exhausted. They all stood there and stared up at the mound.
Finally, Alistair took the first step, and Gwen and the others, weary beyond exhaustion, followed.
Gwen, breathing hard, took one step after the other. It was a steep incline, and they all slipped as they went, Gwendolyn leaning forward with her palms on the ice, sliding, trying to steady herself.
Slowly, foot by foot, they fought their way to the top. As they made it, they all collapsed on their hands and knees.
“I can’t go on,” Aberthol gasped.
As Gwen lay there, gasping, she mustered just enough energy to lift her head, to look out on the other side of the mound. Her eyes opened wide in shock.
Gwen reached over and prodded the others, shoving them, forcing them to look, too.
“Look!” she insisted.
The others slowly raised their heads and saw what she did. The sight took her breath away. There, before them, was another sweeping valley. But this one was different than the others; this one was filled with what looked like ice capsules. As far as the eye could see, there were thousands and thousands of them, each about eight feet tall, a few feet wide, and each containing something.
As Gwen narrowed her eyes, she realized that each contained a body. Inside each was one person, frozen solid. Thousands of people, spread out every ten feet or so, like a huge graveyard, protruding vertically from the ice.
“The Valley of Trapped Souls,” Aberthol said, in awe.
The others all stared, and no one needed to utter a word to know what was on everyone’s mind. There, below, were people. Trapped. Gwen knew that somewhere there, down below, trapped amidst these people, was the person she had come to seek.
She breathed deep, and said what was on everyone’s minds:
“Argon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Andronicus stood beside Thornicus, just the two of them alone on the hillside against the setting suns, surveying the damage from their battle against Romulus. Andronicus stood beside his son, and could not be more proud. For the first time in his life, he felt an emotion other than anger, other than a desire for vengeance. For the first time, he was not burning with a desire to destroy and kill and torture everything in his path. Instead, he was experiencing an emotion he did not quite understand. As he thought of all that Thor had done, as he thought of how Thor had saved his life, twice, he felt more than pride. He felt concern for the boy. He felt something that might even be love.
The emotion terrified him, and Andronicus immediately quashed it, pushed it down deep in his consciousness, unable to deal with it. It was an emotion he was unused to, and it was too powerful, too overwhelming.
Instead, he merely looked down at Thor with a much safer emotion, one he could understand: pride in victory. Thor had turned out to be a far greater asset than he could have ever imagined.
He draped his long fingernails over Thor’s shoulder.
“You have saved my life on the battlefield today,” Andronicus said.
Thornicus stood beside him, eyes glazed, gazing out at the carnage. Andronicus wondered if Thor would continue to serve him if Rafi took away the spell. Deep down, he hoped that he would, hoped that Thor had come to love him, too, in his own right, as any son would a father. He secretly hoped that as Rafi lifted the spell, after enough time went by, Thor might become loyal to Andronicus in his own right, might come to see him as the true father that he was.
Andronicus surveyed the damage, saw all of his men dead, saw all of the rebellious Empire men dead, and knew he owed Thornicus his life. That was something he had never anticipated.
All around them there came screams, as Andronicus’ men tortured any surviving Empire soldiers who had betrayed him. Andronicus breathed deeply, satisfied at the sound. It was time to make all the traitors pay, to send a message to anyone else who dared defy him. Romulus was on the run, and Andronicus would stop at nothing to find him and put an end to him for good.
First, though, Andronicus had more pressing matters. He turned and looked up and surveyed, in the distance, Highlandia, destroyed by the rebels. He stood there, hands on his hips, surveying it with chagrin. Highlandia had been his; if it hadn’t been for Romulus attacking him from the rear, if he hadn’t had to turn around to pursue him, they would not have had to abandon the city. Andronicus grimaced as he realized the damage Kendrick, Erec, and the others had done, taking out several thousand of his men while the main army was distracted. They had since fled, who knew where, probably back into the safety of the mountains. Andronicus surveyed the mountains, but it was getting dark and it would be too hard to find them now. In the morning, though, they would flush them out, like weasels, and kill them all. With Thornicus at his side, now anything was possible.
“In the morning
, we will find and kill whomever remains of your former friends,” Andronicus stated.
“I am at your service, my father,” Thor said.
Andronicus was mollified at the words. He turned and looked over at Thornicus.
“I owe you a great debt. No one has saved my life before. Tell me what I can give you in return. Name it. Anything in the Empire is yours.”
Thor gazed out for a long time, as if lost in another world, and Andronicus wondered if he would ever reply.
Then, finally, Thor spoke softly:
“My mother’s ring,” he said.
Andronicus looked down at him in surprise.
“It was stolen from me by one of your men,” Thor said. “I want it back.”
Andronicus nodded.
“You shall have it.”
Andronicus snapped his fingers, one of his generals came running, and Andronicus whispered in his ear, and shoved him off. The general turned and sprinted, rushing to execute his command.
“It will be found quickly, my son,” Andronicus said. “Or else the general himself will be dead by morning.”
Thor nodded, pleased.
“I will also torture and execute personally the man who stole it from you,” Andronicus said.
“I do not need anyone tortured or executed,” Thor said. “I just want it back.”
“They will be tortured and executed whether you like it or not,” Andronicus said back firmly. “That is my way. Soon, it will be your way, too.”
Andronicus sighed.
“In the morning, we will battle and crush the remainder of your former people, and then our kingdom will be complete. Side by side, together, we will rule it forever.”
Thornicus turned and stared back at his father, and Andronicus sensed complete agreement in him.
“There is nothing I would cherish more, my father.”
*
Thornicus lay on the ground in the black of night, close to Andronicus and the rest of the Empire soldiers, beside the crackling bonfire, lying on the cold dirt and rocks. He dreamt troubled dreams.