Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

Romulus stood at the bow of his ship, first in the fleet, thousands of Empire ships behind him, and he looked out at the horizon with great satisfaction. High overhead flew his host of dragons, their screeches filling the air, battling Ralibar. Romulus clutched the railing as he watched, digging his long fingernails into it, gripping the wood as he watched his beasts attack Ralibar and drive him down into the ocean, again and again, pinning him beneath the waters.

Romulus cried out in joy and squeezed the rail so hard that it shattered as he watched his dragons shoot up from the ocean, victorious, with no sign of Ralibar. Romulus raised his hands high above his head and leaned forward, feeling a power burning in his palms.

“Go, my dragons,” he whispered, eyes aglow. “Go.”

No sooner had he uttered the words than his dragons turned and set their sights on the Upper Isles; they raced forward, screeching, raising their wings high. Romulus could feel himself controlling them, could feel himself invincible, able to control anything in the universe. After all, it was still his moon. His time of power would be up soon, but for now, nothing in the world could stop him.

Romulus’s eyes lit up as he watched the dragons aim for the Upper Isles, saw in the distance men and women and children running and screaming from their path. He watched with delight as the flames began to roll down, as people were burned alive, and as the entire island went up in one huge ball of flame and destruction. He savored watching it be destroyed, just the same way he had watched the Ring destroyed.

Gwendolyn had managed to run from him—but this time, there was nowhere left to go. Finally, the last of the MacGils would be crushed under his hand forever. Finally, there would be no corner left of the universe that was not subjugated to him.

Romulus turned and looked over his shoulder at his thousands of ships, his immense fleet filling the horizon, and he breathed deep and leaned back, raising his face to the heavens, raising his palms up to his sides, and he shrieked a shriek of victory.

Gwendolyn stood in the cavernous stone cellar underground, huddled with dozens of her people, and listened to the earth quake and burn above her. Her body flinched with every noise. The earth shook hard enough at times to make them stumble and fall, as outside, huge chunks of rubble smashed to the ground, the playthings of the dragons. The sound of it rumbling and reverberating echoed endlessly in Gwen’s ears, sounding as if the whole world were being destroyed.

The heat became more and more intense below ground as the dragons breathed down on the steel doors above, again and again, as if knowing they were hiding under here. The flames luckily were stopped by the steel, yet black smoke seeped through, making it ever harder to breathe, and sending them all into coughing fits.

There came the awful sound of stone smashing against steel, and Gwen watched as the steel doors above her bent and shook, and nearly caved in. Clearly, the dragons knew they were down here, and were trying their best to get in.

“How long will the gates hold?” Gwen asked Matus, standing close by.

“I do not know,” Matus replied. “My father built this underground cellar to withstand attack from enemies—not from dragons. I do not think it can last very long.”

Gwendolyn felt death closing in on her as the room became hotter and hotter, feeling as if she were standing on a scorched earth. It became harder to see from the smoke, and the floor trembled as rubble smashed again and again above them, small pieces of rock and dust crumbling down onto her head.

Gwen looked around at the terrified faces of all those in the room, and she could not help but wonder if, by retreating down here, they had all set themselves up for a slow and painful death. She was starting to wonder if perhaps the people who had died up above, right away, were the lucky ones.

Suddenly there came a reprieve, as the dragons flew off elsewhere. Gwen was surprised, and wondered what they were up to, when moments later, she heard a tremendous crash of rock and the earth shook so strongly that everyone in the room fell. The crash had been distant, and was followed by two trembles, like a landslide of rock.

“Tirus’s fort,” Kendrick said, coming up beside her. “They must have destroyed it.”

Gwen looked up at the ceiling and realized he was probably right. What else could elicit such an avalanche of rock? Clearly, the dragons were in a rage, intent on destroying every last thing on this isle. She knew it would only be a matter of time until they burst through to this chamber, too.

In the sudden lull, Gwen was shocked to hear the shrill sound of a baby’s cry cutting through the air. The sound pierced her like a knife in her chest. She could not help but immediately think of Guwayne, and as the cry, somewhere above ground, grew louder, a part of her, still distraught, convinced herself that it was indeed Guwayne up there, crying out for her. She knew rationally that it was impossible; her son was out on the ocean, far from here. And yet, her heart begged for it to be so.

“My baby!” Gwen screamed. “He’s up there. I must save him!”

Gwen ran for the steps, when suddenly she felt a strong hand on hers.

She turned to see her brother Reece holding her back.

“My lady,” he said. “Guwayne is far from here. That is the cry of another baby.”

Gwen did not wish it to be true.

“It is still a baby,” she said. “It is all alone up there. I cannot let it die.”

“If you go up there,” Kendrick said, stepping forward, coughing in the soot, “we will have to close the doors after you, and you will be all alone up there. You will die up there.”

Gwen was not thinking clearly. In her mind, there was a baby alive up there, all alone, and she knew, above all, that she had to save it—no matter what the price.

Gwen shook her hand free from Reece’s grip and sprinted for the stairs. She took them three at a time, and before anyone could reach her, she pulled back the metal pole barring the doors, and leaned into them with her shoulder, pushing them up with all her might as she raised her palms.

Gwen screamed out in pain as she did, the metal so hot it burned her palms, and quickly she retracted them; undeterred, she then covered her palms with her sleeves and pushed the doors up all the way.

Gwendolyn coughed madly as she burst out into daylight, clouds of black smoke pouring out of the underground with her. As she stumbled to the surface, she squinted against the light, then looked out, raising a hand to her eyes, and was shocked to see one huge wave of destruction. All that had been standing just moments before was now razed, reduced to piles of smoking and charred rubble.

The baby’s cries came again, louder up here, and Gwen looked around, waiting for the black clouds of smoke to part; as she did, she saw, on the far side of the court, a baby on the ground, wrapped in a blanket. Nearby, she saw its parents lying, burnt alive, now dead. Somehow, the baby had survived. Perhaps, Gwen thought with a pang of misery, the mother had died sheltering it from the flames.

Suddenly, Kendrick, Reece, Godfrey, and Steffen appeared beside her.

“My lady, you must come back now!” Steffen implored. “You shall die up here!”

“The baby,” Gwen said. “I must save it.”

“You cannot,” Godfrey insisted. “You will never make it back alive!”

Gwen no longer cared. Her mind was overcome with a laser-like focus, and all she saw, all she could think of, was the child. She blocked out the rest of the world and knew that, as much as she needed to breathe, she needed to save it.